#she's really good at baking and preserves/jams. if only she was good at cooking. or good at not being a bitch to her kid/grandkid

[david-watts]

it’s nearly two am why did my brain go ‘the only thing that will satisfy you now is a ham and pickles sandwich made from leftover christmas ham and a fresh loaf of plastic bread’ like c’mon

[thornychairman]

Analysis of @aetherceuse/Lusamine's dietary restrictions + suggested meal plan

Okay since I have actual experience concerning meal plans and special dietary needs and Lusamine here basically has unlimited resources, it's actually rather easy to make meals for Lusamine. A lot of you will look at this list and think either an ED or be all this is really difficult, but honestly it's actually very easy to cook for Lusamine once you eliminate what she won't have.

The no meat rule is easy; it rules out one food type but we can easily get protein from mother sources. So this means her diet will be primarily plant based. Not hard, vegans exist after all!

No alcohol just means it's been eliminated as a drink, but if it's used as a cooking element it will get rid of the one thing she takes issue with -- getting her drunk. When cooked or baked into something, the distinct taste will remain, but the actual mind altering content will have been cooked out! So Lusamine can still have a nice red wine, just not as a drink. It can most likely be used to help flavor something as part of a stew -- she's Kalosian after all, so while as an adult she would refuse meat and alcohol, she would have had tasted some Kalosian stews before.

Nothing overly sweet? That does not eliminate sweet things entirely. Honestly as a patisserie, I do hate the factory made sweets sometimes because the amount of sugar in them can hurt your mouth on first bite a lot of the time, cavities or not. It's like an unpleasant electric shock. But anyways this means she CAN have something sweet, it just needs to be more mellow. Subtle. Also just because on kind of flavor is taken off the table, it doesn't mean the others are. People!!!! Look!!! There are spicy flavors. Sour flavors. Bitter foods. Savory!!! Good umami!!! If you concentrate too much on what flavor she doesn't like you are ignoring the fact she CAN eat others.

Shelf stable foods, canned goods and frozen foods means she doesn't like processed foods, which is fair! While it's not financially stable to not buy foods like these as the main stays of our grocery list, for a woman like Lusamine she can afford getting things fresh or have it freshly made, especially since she has a hired chef to do all the cooking. And if you say she can't have peanut butter or jam, I will tell you now, fresh nut butters and jams/jellies are great. They're a pain to make and you gotta eat it all quick but if have hired someone to do all the prep work well she can still enjoy them! Not that she would it may be too pedestrian for her anyways, but artisanal versions of certain shelf foods are not entirely out of the question for her. And before any of you ask, pectin and agar agar exist as plant based gelatins so she can totally have jam or 'jell-o' if she wanted (probably not unless it was very bougie). This ties into the no preservatives or dyes kind of thing. Basically no processed foods in general. We going with a farm to table kind of gal. She probably has her own farm/direct source, especially if you factor in how this woman is worried someone would try to poison her. She'd control all factors and have her food grown to her specifications. Probably bioengineered fruits and veggies for optimal nutrition.

No black tea or coffee? That's fine! Everyone can have drink preferences (see the no alcohol either portion). And anyways, caffeine not only if addictive and can give you heart problems if you drink too much, did you know it's a diuretic? That stuff makes you pee. Like...a lot. And as a busy, busy woman she'd probably want to keep the bathroom breaks to a minimum. This links to the no caffeine rule. This rules out energy drinks but that stuff is so chemical nobody should drink those.

And we get to the no oily foods, which to me means no fries foods. However this leaves out other methods such as roasting, saute, stir fry (small amount of oil just so nothing sticks) boiling and stewing! Also steaming and a variety of other methods. Honestly, people should be avoiding too much fried food, it's nice as a treat, but you shouldn't be balling at someone else not eating fried food or any food that has too much oil. Most likely things like curry would be out, unless it's Japanese curry, as I know some styles of curry give you some pretty oily results.

So now that I have analyzed Lusamine's restrictions, here's a sample meal plan she might have during an average day. :)))

LUSAMINE'S MEAL PLAN

BREAKFAST

Vegan eggs, sunny side up; vegan honeyed ham; baguette slices with fresh made rawst berry jam; one serving of fresh fruit. Water as a drink and palette cleanser.

Vegan eggs are made from mung bean protein (white yolk) and yellow tomatoes (yellow yolk). The yolks can be prepared in advance and kept in the fridge before they are needed so prepping them is needed every day. An example of an egg yolk recipe: [HERE]

Vegan ham is made from tofu and wheat gluten. The honey glaze can be actual honey if Lusamine will allow it or a honey-alternative, such as maple syrup. Otherwise, the ham itself can be just made to be a savory flavor, instead. Example of vegan ham recipe: [HERE]

Baguette by default has no elements that need to be changed as traditional French baguette does not need anything besides basic ingredients. However, sugar needed for yeast to rise is exchanged with honey. Here an example baguette recipe: [HERE]

Jam from stores is full of refined sugar and other nasty chemical ingredients. So something fresher is a must! It can be kept well in the fridge when sealed, so preparing it once every few days depending on the initial amount made is only needed. An example recipe for jam: [HERE]

One portion of fruit can be anything, but considering the sweet (but not too sweet) contents earlier, it'd be best to balance it all out with some refreshing and sour, like sitrus berry.

LUNCH

Soy sauce tofu-veggie stir fry; one serving of brown rice; one glass of fresh juice with a little bit of carbonated water.

The stir fry meets the requirements of protein and vegetables with minerals and fiber with something flavorful; this can be adjusted to make it a bit spicy as well for something with the occasional kick. Example of recipe: [HERE]

Brown rice is healthier than white rice, giving it a bit more fiber and giving Lusamine a needed portion of carbohydrates.

Due to not liking things that are too sweet, but making it watered down alone is just boring, a bit of carbonated water can make any juice more interesting! 2 parts juice to 1 part carbonated water is the recipe you're looking for! Perrier works best for this.

DINNER

Vegan spaghetti with marinara and chickpea meatballs; water or juice with carbonated water as a drink depending on Lusamine's taste for the day.

The spaghetti noodles! This is where the carbs come in for the evening meal. They can be made without eggs if you want to keep going vegan. Here is a recipe for them: [HERE]

A classic marinara is needed for this meal and can satisfy some need for vegetables and fruit, but you can turn it into a vegetable sauce by adding small chopped veggies such as carrots, celery, mushrooms for added flavour and fiber! Here is a recipe for a classic marinara that you can add to as needed: [HERE] In Lusamine's case, the can of tomatoes would be replaced with fresh tomatoes.

Chickpeas are a great source of plant based protein! In order to fulfill this classic meal, this is the best way to have non-meat meatballs! Recipe for them is [HERE].

If Lusamine decides on a carbonated drink, remember to go for the 2:1 ratio!

DESSERT

II Lusamine deigns to have a dessert or serve up a dessert that she is able to partake in, this is the best one, especially considering the heated climate of Alola: TOFU ICE CREAM! The taste is subtler, not as sweet as it can be adjusted according to the natural sweetness of the fruits used. Of course, instead of refined sugars it would be natural sugars used to sweeten the recipe. Here is a recipe for six different flavours: [HERE]

[foreficfandom]

The Arcana - Cooking For MC (Headcanons)

-- Asra -- 

Life as a street orphan makes cooks of us all. If he wasn’t a child desperately stealing fruit, he was a teenage magician earning coppers to buy scraps from the butcher and bartering for old, bruised squash. He quickly had to learn how to stretch his meager rations as far as he could, and cooking was the way to do it.

He’s come a long way from the one single pot he and Muriel would squat over while hiding away in the docks. Now, he and you happily enjoy a consistent diet of fresh groceries, sometimes he cooks and sometimes you do. 

All his cookery he learned in Vesuvia - pasta, lentils, chickpeas, tomatoes, cumin, basil, ocean seafood. The both of you don’t quite earn enough to splurge on the good cuts of beef, but you never have to worry about going hungry. 

And you don’t have to worry about bland, burnt food, either. Asra can reliably hold his own in the kitchen. He doesn’t exactly follow recipes, just tosses together stuff according to what feels right in his heart. A holdover from the days where he had to improvise all his food. 

There’s more holdovers; he hates tossing away uneaten food, or groceries that have gone bad. He’ll keep the chicken bones to make into a broth for tomorrow. He never peel potatoes or fruit ‘cause the skins contain valuable nutrients. He cringes at people who throw away the heads of fish. The leftover fat in the pan is made into gravy, or pastry frosting, or soap. Occasionally, he and you give away your leftovers to the urchins that hang around the neighborhood. 

When it’s his turn to cook, expect traditional Vesuvian cuisine like flatbreads, hummus, and vegetable soup. Herbs used in the shop are sometimes thrown into the dish, like thyme or myrtle leaves. Asra’s cooking regularly gets to grace your stomach, and it’s very lovely and nice uwu

-- Julian -- 

Everybody who knows Julian holds vehemently that he can’t cook worth a damn. He’s not gonna poison you, but it’s true that he can’t do more than toss various things into a pot and pray that it comes out edible. 

So when he’s forced to cook, everything ends up tasting like the same sort of bland, unspiced mush. And it’s almost always boiled, never roasted or fried. He just seems incapable of not burning anything, so he avoids pancooking ingredients if he can avoid it. And even his soups tend to have burnt residue at the bottom.

Not only that, but traditional Nevevion cuisine ... can be an acquired taste in itself. Like pickled herring covered with beet mayonnaise, cold aspic on toast, and really, really salty fish roe. He grew up eating actually good food cooked by his adopted family, but it’s unfortunately easy to turn a cabbage and potato recipe into nasty gross mush, especially under Julian’s hands. 

He knows he’s shit at cooking, but sometimes it can’t be avoided. Ready-made takeout isn’t always available in their world, so if someone needs to eat, they usually gotta cook. Cue boiled chicken and carrots a-la Julian. At least he added some salt, this time. He blames his Nevevion heritage for lacking an affinity for spices.

With shitty cooking skills come an ability to eat anything. Julian doesn’t turn down a dish if he’s hungry, even if it’s some bullshit. Except for spicy stuff - it’s like the only pain he doesn’t get off on. Just a little jalapeno in his rice will turn his entire face red and give him hiccups.

So say you don’t have time to cook dinner for the both of them tonight, he’d much rather the two of you go eat at an inn than force your divine tongue to be sullied by his dreadful meals. However, he can be taught to cook if you two can find the time, and will eventually get the hang of it. You and Julian in the kitchen, warm and cozy, teaching him how to make a good macaroni? Now that’s an afternoon date in the making.

-- Nadia -- 

Growing up royal meant Nadia never had to cook for herself. To some, it’d be very improper for someone of Nadia’s standing to ever cook, especially in the same kitchen as the servants. But in-between her piano lessons and fencing training and literacy/history/mathematic/public speaking tutoring, she also devoted some personal time in reading up on skills she wouldn’t have been taught - like gardening, jewelry craft, and also cooking and baking.

She had this stint of candy-making when she was a teen, after seeing sugarspun candies in the market that were shaped into different, multi-colored animals and flowers. She would sneak into the kitchen and, with the help of particular cook friend, make candied nuts, meringues, taffies, marzipan. And with the skills she learned making candies, she also learned how to bake and cook various things.

Rarely did she ever get to exercise her cooking skills beyond a mere pastime. She had no one to cook for, nor enough spare time. So very few people knew she bakes a mean butter cashew cake.

One day, she just kinda absentmindedly mentions that she knows how to cook a few things, so you insist she show you, which kinda takes her off-guard and she’s a little nervous, because it’s been a long time since she busted out the ol’ apron, and what if you don’t like what she makes??

She goes to the kitchens and almost bails out, even briefly entertains the thought of passing off the chef’s cooking for her own, but chases that thought from her mind. The palace servants gets to witness the Countess roll up her sleeves with a determined grunt and go ham on some pistachios. 

You wait patiently in the solar (as she instructed), and Nadia brings up a beautiful tray of brightly colored nut-flour sweets with tea. Nadia herself is a little worse for wear, with a dusty face and tangled hair. But she’s thrilled to see you enjoy her cakes. They taste wonderful, doubly so because of the love she put into them.        

-- Muriel -- 

He almost always cooks for himself, ever since his street urchin childhood, and his skills have only improved while living in the woods. He’s no longer scraping mussels off of dock beams to boil in a thin cauldron, he’s hunting 8-feet-tall elk and using every inch of the animal, from boiling the hooves for aspic, to making sausages out of the intestines (the antlers are powdered for their magical properties).

It’s rarer that he ever wants for something he can’t produce himself. He boils his own sea salt, curdles his own cheese, presses his own oil. The problem is that he doesn’t make an effort to make delicious-tasting food. Unlike Julian, who cooks like shit but still enjoys the finer things in life, Muriel has access to super fresh and good-quality ingredients but is ruled by his practicality.

Living in the woods is tough. If the harvest was bad and all Muriel has is last autumn’s rice harvest, then its porridge for the next month. There’s nothing for it; hunting is unreliable even in an expert’s hands, fishing only a tad less so, and a simple wet season or early frost can ruin a garden quicker than a plague. 

Muriel may have said he didn’t need your help around the hut, but your help truly did make a difference when it came to food security. An extra set of hands made for less time and lighter work. Your influence also shined through his cooking; now, he actually does care if something tastes good, because you were eating it with him. Muriel could survive just fine on perpetual pottages, but you deserved better.

Hence, roasts that are actually seasoned, bread with jam and butter, and salt not just for preserving purposes. 

Cooking stopped becoming just a means, but a creative outlet for Muriel. He wanted to treat you, and in turn it became something special for himself, too. 

-- Portia --

The Devorak siblings have one collective braincell, and Portia’s got dibs on it. So she’s got the cooking skills that seemed to have eluded Julian, and she’s very good; the best out of the six. 

As a hand-maiden, cooking isn’t part of her duties, but to even get hired she had to prove she could hold her own in the kitchen on par with royal cuisine. It’s beyond simply being able to replicate a recipe, she knows how to carve game into the right cuts, memorize the seasonal harvests, estimate temperatures by touch, and other complicated kitchen sciences. 

Portia spent her life traveling on ships, so she’s witness many a worldly cuisine and it’s influenced her skills. Nothing impresses a table more than introducing some ‘exotic’ spice and using it right. Her own personal favorites are from all corners of the land. Her dinner spread can consist of Hjalle shrimp pancakes, Galbradian green bean broth, Prakran flatbread, and lamb roasted in an underground oven like they do in Firent.  

Once she has the opportunity to cook (or bake) for you, be prepared for a storm. You’re never gonna have to want for good cuisine again, not if Portia has anything to say about it. Even the little things she makes, like her strawberry jam or workhouse-style bread, taste great. You ask her why she doesn’t pursue a career in cuisine, and she replies that cooking is an outlet for her, not a job. Plus, she’s far from a ‘truly skilled cook’, according to her. That honor’d go to Mazelinka. 

A lot of her budget she’ll happily relinquish to cooking, such as imported spices or the expensive cuts of game. She knows that the smallest difference in quality - such as in the salt, or vinegar, used - can make or break a dish. Her kitchen is always fully stocked with groceries and ingredients. One of her big splurges was investing in an icebox, and before she had you, a magician, in the picture, she was indeed buying ice to keep her meats fresh.

Whether its a wrapped lunch or weekend roast dinner, Portia will always want to spoil you in the best way she knows how; through your stomach. Your waistline might be less happy, but like heck Portia’d take pudge as a negative.

-- Lucio --

He’s been Count for over two decades, but before that he was a rough-and-tumble mercenary. And before that, he grew up in the infamous Scourge Lands, where etching out a living was always a matter that teetered on the brink of a knife.

He had to learn how to live tough. The Scourge Lands are no lush forest like Muriel’s backyard, it’s a flat tundra with limited vegetation and even lesser animals that aren’t more likely to kill you before you kill them. The entire clan’s been living off of bitter turnips for weeks, but finally a family of boars are scouted. Now you just have to take down a bear-sized boar while circling around five others who all want to gore you. 

Even cooking can be a struggle. Life as a mercenary meant trying to strike fires on cold, damp wood in a freezing drizzle, and keeping it lit long enough to roast the skinny fish you managed to spear. It meant knowing which plants were edible and which caused three nights of stomach pains, and also being willing to resort to digging up grubs when you’re really on the brink of starvation.

So does he know how to cook? Yeah, he can roast meat over a fire and know when its safe from pathogens, but other than that he’s lost. He was so happy to finally have cooks and servants to serve him entire banquets. Never did he learn (nor want to learn) how to bake bread, or fry potatoes, nevermind suckling pig or creme brulee. 

If come a time where you and Lucio are away from the precious palace kitchens, he’ll rely on his wallet to buy the two of you a nice meal. If the two of you are lost in the wilderness, don’t worry, Lucio to the rescue and you can trust him to forage something, and grill it on a hot rock. No salt, though. Not even water to wash it down, if you’re really unlucky.

Still, it’s kinda a surprise to eat Lucio’s emergency field cooking, because it’s not awful. The best anyone can do in the circumstance, even. Make sure to tell him that, he’s always fishing for compliments. 

[hiromisuzukimicrojournal]

Nocturnal Daisy

She simmers diced apples in a milk-pan with honey. At dawn, she cooks the confiture with overripe and rotten fruits. An apple that she found in the backyard of her apartment is Red Delicious, it has been forgotten in the back of the refrigerator for a week. Preserving the sweet sweetest Red Delicious with honey in amber colour is a dream she has just before waking up. Suddenly, a knife-wielding man is reflected on the surface of the glass jam jar, to which the confiture has been transferred from the pan. No, a hairtail in a shiny, water-repellent tailcoat sparkles in the morning sun outside her window. She recognizes it as usual. Since the factories were closed in the town that once prospered with paper manufacturing, most of the private houses and shops have been abandoned. Surrounded by deep forest, the island is a quiet town under the ocean. The hairtail mimics the sunlight shining into the deep sea. He stands at about the same height as an adult human male, swims in a thin and flat body, emits a silvery steel blue colour on the seabed. The hairtail is laughing, showing his sharp and ferocious teeth.

She goes to work at 8:00 am at the same time as the only bakery in the town opens. While relying on the good smell of yeast, a sleepwalker in her dream feels the gentle flow of the sea and arrives at the store. A boulanger, the bakery owner sleeps together with the dough kneaded after the sunset and bakes the breads from 2:30 am, before sunrise. Waiting for a store clerk, he puts out Danish pastries, croissants, baguettes in the display rack to cool. She is in love with him. In her imagination, she is in love with the bakery owner who will go to bed at 8:00 pm, get up at midnight, wear a toque blanche and start baking breads. When she fantasizes about the stories between the pages of books in the dark, he may be sweating with the heat of the oven. In the dim light of the kitchen, he must be stirring the sugar and egg white with hazelnuts and lemon juice until meringue will become the sweet foam. But, in fact, she does not know who the store owner really is. An old lady comes to the store every morning and buys a pie baked with chocolate syrup and custard cream spread in thin layers between the dough. The store owner carefully wraps the pie in translucent waxed paper. The old lady is in love with the pie. The beautiful pie, like the ancient strata that have their own histories on the ocean floor. Like the stories of each pebble that might have been brought by many years of river flow.

"Would you take home the edge of the white bread? I have cut it too thin and you see, there was a hole in the middle."

The bakery owner closes the store late in the afternoon and gives me a piece of unsold bread. "Make an apple confiture sandwich for a midnight snack. Watch out for the hole," he says, looking at the woods through the hole in the middle of the bread. "Be careful not to fall from the hole into the darkness forever. The time in the forest at night is deep and long," he says, wrapping his whole body in a hoodie as if he is changing into a diving suit in preparation for the coldness. Then he melts into the cove at dusk.

In her room, she is reading books left behind by the closed paper mills and printing factories. The books, having seen better days, are shabby due to the humidity of the sea breeze and the sighs of the trees in the forest. A silverfish lives in the books. Silverfish is not a fish. Its name comes from the appearance of wearing shiny scales. It is a nocturnal insect that usually lives in old books and eats used paper, blurred black and white photographs, and bookbinding glue. The silverfish running away from the light seems to be a fish swimming in a rock reef. As she turns the page of a book in her study under the stairs, the silverfish swiftly escapes under the wooden floor, scared by the suddenly lit lamps. Tonight, she intends to lie down on the couch and enjoy the rest of a story with apple confiture put into a cup of tea. However, there are many holes in the pages. The silverfish eats the pages she has just finished reading, so she cannot reread the texts she inadvertently passed by.

‘If it wasn’t for the mist we could see your home across the bay,’ said Gatsby. ‘You always have a green light that burns all night at the end of your dock…’ Possibly, it had occurred to him that the colossal significance of that light had now vanished forever. Compared to the great distance that had separated him from Daisy it had seemed very near to her, almost touching her. It had seemed as close as a star to the moon.

Part of Chapter 5 in the novel The Great Gatsby, written by F. Scott Fitzgerald in 1925, has been eaten up by the silverfish. Someday, the silverfish's stomach will be full of letters. In the end, even the leftover letters will be lost after the traces of the silverfish have gone. She pours a drop of brandy into Darjeeling tea. Her memory fades. Finally, she fills the brandy to the brim of teacup. She falls asleep, even though the hands of clock only point to 9:30 pm. It dawns on her that the light of memories and stories has now vanished forever.

✽ ✽ ✽  

About This Story: The heroine of this story dreams in her dream and loses a dream in her dream. Many stories and histories that have been handed down all around the world for a long time are nothing more than illusions. She obtains an ecstatic experience due to the contact with the flow of the time or place in illusion. Chocolate Daisy blooms in the night. The nocturnal flower will give off an ephemeral sweet scent and emit the dim light in the dark.

✽ 

Short Story & Art Work // Nocturnal Daisy

© hiromi suzuki, 2021

published in époque press the 10th edition of é-zine on the theme ‘Ecstasy’ (October 1, 2021)

…

via époque press

[goron-king-darunia]

Annon-Guyg What sort of hobbies do you think the 12 Symphonia Characters like to do?

Emil obviously likes cooking, but as a personal headcanon, I think he’d like woodworking. He obviously puts a lot of care and effort into making his food look cute, so I bet if you gave him some chisels and soft wood he’d be able to make cute little sculptures. He might need practice with harder wood though because you can sculpt fruit, veggies, and soft wood with dexterity, but you do need strength AND control to carve larger pieces of hard wood. I speak from experience. Marta is a little tougher. I’m sure she’d like dancing, but that’s a couple’s hobby and she deserves a hobby she can do when Emil’s not around. Reading’s too much of a cop-out answer and I feel like drawing just plays into stereotypes about certain types of girls and pigeonholes her as “unathletic” even though she obviously needs to be athletic to do all the fighting she does with Emil. I guess she could do solo dancing or go to mixers and just dance with strangers or her dad, but... maybe she likes... designing dresses? But that’s not very athletic either. I dunno. Marta’s tough. Most of her interests in-game revolve around being cute and being with Emil. I guess she could enjoy doing Katz quests. She took the one about delivering soup from wife to husband VERY seriously so maybe she’d love to do a Cupid Delivery Service where she offers speedy delivery exclusively to couples? Richter is also a tough one. I’m pretty sure out-of-game material has said he was interested in meteorology before Sybak (which makes it even sadder that he and Aster went off to see Ratatosk to FIX the weather. Yes, Aster was confirmed to be the one to theorize about and find proof of Ratatosk, but I feel like it was Richter who had the most concern about the weather patterns and noticed it early on.) So maybe Richter’s hobby is making and releasing weather balloons to do meteorological research? Or maybe he moonlights as a weatherman. XD I’m sure he also likes relaxing hobbies like stargazing and watching koi fish in a pond. And... now that I think about it, those headcanons are basically just “He likes Aster (stars) and Aqua (fish)” and I never realized that before. My headcanons are the dumbest things, wow, are they all puns?! XD The one thing we do have confirmation of is that Sybak made him resent reading because “that’s all they ever let him do” implying that at one time he might have enjoyed reading for pleasure. Other hobbies probably include being Aster’s unofficial babysitter because in any universe where Aster is alive, Richter clearly thinks he needs constant surveillance, and not just because Richter worries for Aster’s safety. XD Lloyd very clearly enjoys making things like jewelry and he’s good at it, but he also procrastinates A LOT. Ergo, it’s definitely a hobby and not a profession because he only seems to do it when he gets inspired or REALLY has to like for the key crest for Colette.  Genis obviously has his kendama to help him concentrate, but that’s less a hobby and more of a mage focus. I bet he really likes board games, particularly trivia games and logic puzzles. Colette would probably LOVE to be a dog-walker. But “petting and walking dogs” is kind of an easy one so... I bet she also likes making fruit preserves and jams and she probably likes baking too. I’m sure Raine absolutely loves reading, but I bet she also loves going to museums and historical sites because of her ruin mania. That’s a bit too easy though so... I bet she likes to collect things for scrapbooks. Not sure if photographs exist in Aselia, given the atrocious wanted posters for Lloyd and friends, but they do have holographic technology so presumably photographs exist in areas with sufficient tech. And if not, maybe Rain draws pictures of her friends in the scrapbook? I bet it’s full of pressed herbs and flowers. She also DEFINITELY likes experimenting in the kitchen even though everyone wants her to stop because she makes inedible things. (I can only wonder what Raine and Richter would make in the kitchen together and what a BAD INFLUENCE Raine would be. “It’s totally okay to experiment in the kitchen! That’s how we discover new flavor combinations.” “Ah, I see. Then I’ll try this. Thank you for the advice, Raine.” And then Emil screaming in the background “IT’S NOT OKAY TO EXPERIMENT WITH HOW LONG TO COOK THE CHICKEN GUYS! THAT’S HOW PEOPLE DIE FROM SALMONELLA! PLEASE! GUYS! PLEASE STOP!”) Sheena is hard too. I’m definitely getting ballroom dancing vibes so maybe that’s something she and Marta could do together? I’m sure she’d like video games if they existed in Aselia but I bet she’d always fall into holes in the video games too. Like, even Animal Crossing. She could bury the pitfall seed herself and then immediately accidentally step on it. If coffee exists in Aselia, I bet she just likes going to coffee shops to hang out. She probably also likes small animals and science considering how often she was at Sybak and how she became good friends with Corrine. Zelos very obviously likes flirting with ladies but that’s more a lifestyle thing than a hobby. I bet Zelos really likes traveling and doing things by himself, particularly in Sylvarant where fewer people know his status as the Chosen of Tethe’alla where he can just be free to do what he wants. Presea and Regal obviously run the Pawpad Playmate Society together, but I think Presea’s other hobby is obvious. She likes making charms and knickknacks. I bet she and Emil could do that together. Regal probably has a very stressful time being the president of the Lezareno company. I’m pretty sure the anime showed him swimming at one point in a huge pool, so I bet he likes swimming as a hobby. I also bet he likes chess. Kratos is also difficult. Something sufficiently “dad” like as a hobby would suit him, but I can’t very well say “stamp collecting.” I’m not saying this is his hobby but it would be funny if Kratos ran a museum exclusively dedicated to items he lost 4000 years ago and found in weird places. Like, he 100% knows the thing he has is just the fossilized remains of a toothbrush he had when he was a young man before becoming an angel, but he puts it in the museum as “a handle for a bladed weapon that obviously belonged to a skillful warrior. Probably one of the first examples or a deconstructable blade.” As far as hobbies go, I’m not sure. Kratos is probably very good at whatever his hobby has been over the years since he’s had thousands of years of practice. I get major blacksmithing vibes off him, but that’s kind of encroaching on Dirk’s turf and we know Lloyd went to Dirk for smithing things and not Kratos so I don’t think smithing is his thing. I can see Kratos going to libraries and correcting history textbooks out of spite like “No, I was fucking there, this definitely did not happen like you say it did.” I used evidence where I could but obviously a lot of these are headcanons so anyone can add on and agree or disagree!

[lickstynine]

I would greatly appreciate requests or suggestions for Kiera and Nicola

I wanna write but I have zero ideas. I wrote more about them below so prompters have more to work from.

Here's a brief timeline:

They met when Kiera was at Nicola's Uni for an exchange program in spring of '07

Nicola transferred to Kiera's Uni to start his second year, fall of '07.

Kiera graduated in Spring of '09

Nicola (barely) graduated the spring of '10

They got married in 2012

They had their first son, Callum, in 2013

They had their second son, Leo in 2016

Nicola has been in inpatient mental health care since late 2016

Why is he in inpatient, you ask? He’s schizophrenic. Here’s some details on that:

It didn't really start to manifest until they'd been together a few years.

A lot of it is influenced by his overall terrible experiences in the church when he was younger, and the two main voices in his head are a manifestation/amalgamation of all the corrupt/hypocritical/etc religious figures he grew up around.

He worries a lot about the end of the world and is plagued with that classic Catholic Guilt™.

Though he'd been symptomatic for a while, Nicola didn't get bad until later, after Callum was born. He had a few really bad episodes followed by short psych holds, but for a while there were more calms than storms.

Leo was conceived during one of the calms, but after he was born, Nicola got a lot worse.

He actually committed himself voluntarily during a lucid moment because he realized he was a danger to his family (and himself, but he didn't really care about that part).

He's gone through a lot of experimenting with antipsychotics, but medicating mental health is fucking difficult. There was one that seemed to be working for a while, but the side effects got too severe to continue taking it.

At the moment he's spending his time talking to a shrink he low-key wants to strangle and trying new drug cocktails in hopes they eventually find one that steadies his brain without melting his other organs.

Kiera tries to visit fairly often, but the institution isn't super close to home and she either has to bring the kids or find someone to watch them

They write each other a lot, though sometimes Nicola's letters are a bit of a mess, especially if the meds of the day are messing with him. Kiera's just happy to hear from him, and she tries to have the boys draw a picture or something to go in the envelope.

And here's some more general info about them:

Kiera works at a small antique jewelry shop. She also makes and sells her own jewelry online.

Nicola has worked a lot of random retail jobs, and is currently unemployed. 

Kiera likes to garden in her free time. She grows both food and flowers, and loves to make jams, preserves, pickles, etc.

Nicola likes to write music and poetry, but he doesn’t plan or want to make either a career.  He doesn't really have a career goal.

Kiera likes to bake, and she especially likes making things with her fresh fruit.

Nicola likes cooking (which is good cause he’s much better at it than Kiera). He’s the type who will put on music in the kitchen and just live there all afternoon.

Kiera is more introverted, while Nicola is more outgoing and social. In uni, he was definitely the one who wanted to go to parties, and he's the one who likes hosting parties now that they're adults with a home. He respects that she isn't big on huge crowds, though, so parties aren't huge or frequent.

They both love coffee. Kiera drinks machiattos or lattes, iced in the summer. Nicola prefers cappuccino no matter the temperature.

Kiera can't hold her alcohol well at all, and rarely drinks as a result.

Nicola can handle his liquor, but he'd rather just have a glass of wine with dinner.

Kiera gets carsick, and motion in general did her in badly when she was pregnant.

Nicola is generally the hardier of the two. He has a good immune system and doesn't really get motion sick either.

Despite his bad history with the church, Nicola is still religious. He definitely believes in God, just maybe not God exactly as his parents and priests put it.

Kiera grew up in a more positive but still very Catholic household, and she's always had a very strong faith. But she's struggling because she feels like despite doing everything right and practically turning her house into a shrine for the patron saint of mental health, Nicola hasn't gotten any better.

Nicola has both his parents, all his grandparents, two brothers, and a sister, as well as many aunts and uncles and cousins. He’s not close with any of them, though, except his baby sister, Carmelita (I say baby cause she’s fifteen years younger). She writes and calls all the time.

Kiera has both her parents, but only her maternal grandparents. She two younger siblings - sister Erin and brother Casey. Erin is only a year younger, so they’re very close. She also has like a dozen cousins, and is on good terms with nearly all of them. She’s especially close to Siofra, as Sheef, Kiera, and Erin are the only girl cousins on that side of the family (besides one who’s twenty years their junior)

Callum looks just like Nicola, except he has Kiera's green eyes. He has a good relationship with his dad because he's old enough to remember a time when Nicola was more stable. He really idolizes his dad, though he may be taking after Nicola in some less fortunate ways as well. He's very rambunctious and a bit of a troublemaker, but not malicious.

Leo looks like Kiera, but he got his father's blue eyes. He doesn’t remember Nicola being home at all, but he still likes to visit his dad. He's not as fiesty as his brother, but he's very curious. He's sweet and sensitive - shy like his mum, but creative like his dad.

[wellward-a]

senses and other oddly specific headcanons.

tagged by:  i stole this from lexie :^) tagging: nah just steal it

1. what does your muse smell like?

mary doesn’t use very many fragranced products, as she has sensitive skin and will get itchy if she uses the wrong kind of detergent. so she generally has a... dusty-clean laundry and books scent to her, without strong notes of anything particularly soapy or otherwise distinct, except for when she uses perfume--something old-fashioned and floral, absolutely no notes of musk or smoke or anything like that.

2. what does your muse’s hands feel like?

soft and warm 🥰 she’s very prone to dry skin, so she’s usually very scrupulous about moisturizing, and you’re usually going to get some lotiony-soft babey hands. she keeps her nails pretty short and neat, but usually not polished.

3. what does your muse usually eat in a day?

mary is usually a 3 meals a day person, but, particularly because she lives alone, her meals are on the light side and have more like, snacking/graze-y vibes than anything heavy or very time-intensive. when eve was living on-and-off in the cottage they did do larger, heavier dinner (mary probably put on a little weight when they got together just cuz she ate much more with eve around), especially because they couldn’t go out in greendale (mary’s rules) and mary was often trying to make up for the missed experience by doing something nice while staying in.

breakfast is usually some form of toast with jam (made it herself!) and maybe an egg, and a lot of tea; lunch is some kind of sandwich or she might, cautiously, accept some food from greendale high’s cafeteria, or step out to dr. cee’s; dinner is usually salad, a little plate with some of her own pickles and preserves, and... i must admit that i don’t put it past her, if she’s just by herself that night, to just hit up some tuna out of a can like. yolo. girl needs her protein. what’s she gonna do roast a prime rib for one. especially after the possession lol no red meat thank you. also she’s a depression and WWII baby, so she feels affection for processed meat can products. also deli meats.

4. does your muse have a good singing voice?  

she can carry a tune! i do think she plays an instrument or two, so she probably does that better than she sings. but she gets by.

5. does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks?  

mary’s entire being is a nervous tic... she’s particularly prone to nervously cleaning her glasses which she can do like 25x per minute when she gets really revved up. she’s as prone to nervously talking as she is to excitedly talking--they’re opposite forms of the same energy, u know--so yeah, she’ll just start wording and not stop. also nervous smiling. she has a bad habit of getting engrossed in things and not being able to snap herself out. part of why her Dinner 4 One up above there, when she’s just by herself, is so light and doesn’t involve much actual cookery is because she’ll lose track of time really easily and burn things! she has to actively Devote herself to a cooking (or baking) project without doing stuff in between for that not to happen. she also has a bad habit of Piling Things. Piles. so many piles. everywhere.

6. what does your muse usually look like/wear?  

mary usually looks moderately eccentric and old-fashioned. her characteristic victory roll hairstyle is about 20 years out of date by the time of the show, and she tends to dress sort of... shapeless, and a bit unusual, leaning toward heavy, tactile fabrics like wool and corduroy, and color choices that are distinctive (green stockings/light brown pumps/dark gray or black everything else in ep1?), as well as unusual patterns (bruh... her shirt has little fox terriers on it). she wears browline glasses that don’t quite complement her face. if she were to dress up, she's most likely to wear a cocktail dress along the lines of this, probably w some kind of brooch, and/or a flowered pin in her hair. if she were going to a formal work function she would wear a skirt suit, also somewhat dated/old fashioned. in both these scenarios she would prefer to wear all black or gray, and it would be quite out of the ordinary for her to do a Big Bold Colour.

7. is your muse affectionate? how much? how so?  

yes, horribly so. mary’s a very loving person and she loves to talk to someone about how much she loves them, she loves to hold their hand all the time and pet them and kiss them, she loves to have them around. there’s something very domestic and... Married™ about her affection because she likes to just. be living her life in the same place as Her Person and she wants them there to wake up with, there for breakfast, a call to chat in the middle of the day, etc. and she wants their lives to be v integrated.

8. what position does your muse sleep in?  

i feel like she’s a side sleeper

9. could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?  

only if she stepped on a creaky floorboard

[tally-kiza]

Horrorswap and Horrorswapfell Headcanons

So I decided to make Horrorswap and Horrorswapfell headcanons. There’s not a lot of stuff out there for it, so I wanted to throw my hat into the ring, and see what I could come up with.

This isn’t typical scary Horrortale, btw. These are soft-Horrortale inspired by popatochisssp’s HT skeletons.

(this is slightly edited and revised as of 02/25/2020 so if things seem different than before, thats why)

Horrorswap Sans (Boston)

- The famine was particularly hard on him. Alphys’s abuse really injured his head, and combined with the effects of starvation, Sans was eventually diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. His brother was always so worried when Boston started spending days in bed or sprinting throughout the underground setting up violently painful puzzles and traps, shouting about humans, but having an explanation assuaged his worries a bit. At least then he knew how to help. 

- Speaking of Alphys, when Sans became captain of the Royal Guard and bore the brunt of her anger, it left permanent damage to his bones and teeth, leaving them cracked and crooked, with strange blood stains on them (his own marrow/blood, not a human’s).

- Despite everything, he's still Sans. He’s sunny, but less so than he use to be, and even when he’s feeling miserable, he tries his best to be friendly and cheerful. ...It’s difficult though. It’s so tempting sometimes to just curl up and forget about the world, but... even though he does do that occasionally, he never stays like that for long. He keeps going through the day, trying his best to live and forget about the past.

- On better days though, he can be pretty cheerful and friendly! He likes talking to other people and hearing what they have to say.

- Boston goes to therapy regularly to cope with his trauma. He tries to convince his brother to go too but Citrine’s been stubborn so far.

- During the famine, one of his favorite things to take his mind off the stress was creating things. Like drawing maps of what the stars in the sky look like, and designing diagrams of spaceships that he likes. Very space-oriented things usually, since he’s always loved it so much. It’s... very difficult to make these though most of the time. His concentration and focus is basically nonexistent when he’s starving, so he can mostly only create when he’s recently eaten. Making them is his favorite hobby on the surface.

- Adores farmers markets. There's so many possibilities! Buying cool new foods, selling the things he’s made, meeting and talking to cool new people! He loves them, they’re so fun.

- Uses the fruits from his brother’s gardens to make preserves! Saves jars of jams, jellies, and other preserves in the cabinets for whenever he needs to use them when he cooks. They’re delicious and he always has a lot of fun making them with his brother.

- Has a collection of lava lamps! They’re so satisfying and relaxing to watch. He loves them, and they always help him feel less stressed.

- Along that same vein, he likes stim videos! Pretty much all kinds of them. they’re very relaxing to him.

- He hates the silence... It reminds him so much of Snowdin during the famine. Cold, empty, devoid of life and joy... He cringes whenever there’s too long of a silence. Boston will almost always have some kind of noise on in the background, whether it be music or tv show or an audiobook. It really eases his fears.

- Stars, he loves food. So much. He loves watching stress-free cooking shows and learning new recipes to cook. Trying something new and making food for him and his brother is one of his favorite things. 

- Awkwardly genuine. He tries really hard to fit in on the surface and be a good person to make up for what he's done. Every so often he’ll say or do something really dark and completely forget he can’t do that anymore on the surface. Sans will berate himself really hard afterwards, so he really appreciates the reassurances he gets that it’s okay.

- Admittedly, he had lost hope of ever seeing the stars... He thought they’d be stuck underground, starving to death forever... But when he and the others emerged out of the Barrier in the middle of the night, he finally saw the infinite blanket of stars twinkling above them. He’s never been quite so happy in his whole life, as he collapsed on the ground and sobbed with the pure relief of finally being free and finally seeing the stars.

Horrorswap Papyrus (Citrine)

- After getting into a big fight with Alphys and interfering when she tried to hurt Sans, he ended up with a big bad hole in his skull. Sans had to use all the healing magic he could find to save him. When Citrine woke up, his skull was throbbing and he could barely remember what happened.

- Very apathetic at times. It’s hard to care about stuff when he’s stuck underground and feels like they’re going to die soon... It'll take a lot of years on the surface for him to be anywhere close to normal again. Also doesn't have the energy to be nice to people sometimes. So he just isolates himself and doesn’t interact with them.

- That being said, it is possible to befriend him. It’ll be a long journey but With the right circumstances and if you’re good to Boston, Citrine ends up being a pretty great friend.

- Pretty touch-repulsed unless he’s close with someone. After many years of being friends with them, he can be pretty cuddly. If you’re lucky, he’ll drape himself over you like a cat.

- Like the other lazybones, the hole in his skull gave him memory problems but not as severe as the others'. Still has all his long-term memory, he just forgets recent things (like where he put his keys) ver easily.

- Since he has no suckers to chew on during the famine, he chews on sticks as a replacement. It's left his teeth chipped and scraggly. He gets them fixed on the surface, and hoards all the suckers, honey, and pocky he can find.

- Loves plants. Has a mini garden on the surface. Grows his own food and everything. Boston is so supportive of him and helps him when he’s struggling with it.

- Probably has a slight case of osteoporosis? And maybe the other horror!skeletons would as well. So his spine is kinda bent, unfortunately. 

- Still really loves puns. Dark ones make him kind of uncomfortable (he doesn't like anything that reminds him of the underground) but his favorites are plant and music puns. They're perhaps the quickest way to get him to warm up to you.

- Still appreciates memes. Doesn’t outwardly show a positive reaction to them, but they make him chuckle inwardly. Will deadpannedly meme at you when you least expect it.

- Has an unfortunate case of MVRSF: Monotone Voice and Resting Stony Face.

- Pretends he’s fine when there’s clearly something wrong. Refuses to accept help and burden anyone. He just... doesn’t want to cause any more problems. He insists he’ll be alright....

- Stars, he just? loves Hozier’s music?? so much??? It’s so ethereal and chill and it always calms him down when he’s stressed. And music! Just music in general is his one true lomfve. He can’t get enough of it. Starts learning to play the kalimba on the surface. It has such a lovely sound. He’s a little rusty at it, but he tries hard. Hozier songs are his favorite songs to play on it.

Horrorswapfell Sans (Knox)

- Like Horrorfell Papyrus, after the famine began, he sobered up. Sans didn't have the time nor energy for all his usual grandiose. Like with all the Fell skeletons, he blames himself that the human killed so many people, and it's really taken a hit to his ego. His self-esteem is a lot lower than it used to be.

- Didn't take of any of Alphys's shit, and refused to let her abuse him. They fought quite a bit however, resulting in chipped misaligned teeth and long scars on his eyesocket and side of his face. The eyesocket with those scars lost its eyelight, so hes unfortunately blind in that socket now. Scraps with Snowdin-folk have left scars and marks all over his and body, but nothing too deep, luckily.

- An incredibly responsible and capable skeleton. Like, he gets shit done. Insanely productive at times with laser-like focus. He was basically the only reason his brother survived during the famine; Knox motivates Clover to get out of bed and live.

- Mildly paranoid on the surface. He's worried that something bad will happen and is lurking around the corner, so he's incredibly suspicious everything. Especially people he doesn’t know.

- In addition to being mildly paranoid, he also is easily stressed, and has anxiety and depression. He has... a lot on his plate, to say the least. The famine gave him a lot of trauma, but frequent therapy helps a lot, once he’s comfortable opening up to strangers. His brother Clover is a great help, he’s the most helpful, supportive brother and friend he could’ve asked for. 

- Oftentimes he wears a dark cloak that makes him look like the Grim Reaper. Enjoys scaring people with it and making them think he actually is the Grim Reaper. It’s one of the great joys he has in life.

- Favorite type of music is opera and classical. He likes how quickly it can go from soft and peaceful to fast and dramatic and dynamic.

- Secretly likes baking, especially baking cupcakes, but sshhhh! No one can know. ...Mostly just because he’s new to baking and not very great at it yet, so he’s self-conscious. But! He hopes knows he’s gonna be great at it someday. And his brother is always there to cheer him on and nom all the sweet treats happily.

- He's very sly. Makes the most subtle, hidden, and deady traps out of all the skeletons, and with his silvertongue can easily turn people's words against them. 

- But... once you have his trust and his friendship, he wouldn’t dream of doing that to you. Knox isn’t someone who takes friendship lightly, so he’d never dare manipulate your words or hurt you in any way.

- Also very formal and serious. Not much of a casual skeleton, and doesn’t like letting down his walls. It’s part of his distrustful nature. Makes him pretty difficult to befriend, honestly. But it is possible, in the right circumstances.

- Sans isn’t passionate for many things on the surface, but sewing is definitely one of them. He got into it when he was younger, and starting sewing and creating more during the famine like Boston to keep himself distracted when he wasn’t working or patrolling. He enjoys it so much on the surface, that he starts doing tailoring and sewing commissions. Probably even becomes a tailor or something similar eventually. Altering clothes is the one thing he feels like he hasn't failed at, so he likes it.

Horrorswapfell Papyrus (Clover)

- Animalistic. The famine probably hit him the hardest out of all of them, mentally at least. He started acting more and more dog-like over time. Nothing extreme, he just has bad habits that he’s picked up. Hostile and distant towards strangers, growling at people with too high LV, whining if you won't cuddle him. It's pretty cute tbh.

- Once hen him and Alphys got into a fight over Sans, she threw her axe at him, and left a pretty big cracked hole in his skull. When Sans saved him with the DT, one of his eyelights became enlarged and beaming red. The other eye "overloaded” in a way from the influx of magic so it became basically unusable. Even though there’s no physical damage to it, keeping it uncovered hurts sometimes so he keeps an eyepatch over it.

- Wears beanie hats! Clover’s self-conscious about his crack, so he covers it with adorable beanie hats. He has a whole collection of them of many different types. He also likes how they make him feel cute.

- His slitted pupils make him look so adorable when they dilate when he's excited.

- Basically a cat. Drapes on top of his s/o for cuddles. Naps in the sunbeams. Complains when you don't pay attention to him. Kills pests for you. Just a 7 foot tall teddy bear kitty skeleton ;w;

- Looooves chicken nuggets. They’re his favorite food and nomming them after a bad day always makes him feel better <33. Calls them chimken nuggies.

- Also loves love songs! Especially the soft and sweet and heartfelt ones. They're so nice and calming to listen to. He really likes to hum along to them when he's drawing.

- Pretty quiet. He didn't talk a lot underground so as to not draw attention, so he rarely talks anymore. Doesn’t speak much around people he doesn’t know in public, but in private with people he’s close too he’s more comfortable talking. When Papyrus does talk, it's rather slow and his voice cracks occasionally.

-  Before the famine, Clover ate hard candies. But after he ran out of candies when the famine started, he wanted to have the same sensation so he started chewing on sticks and pebbles. It's left his fangs misaligned and cracked. They're partially repaired on the surface, but there wasn't a lot the dentist could do. So he just replaced them with more gold teeth. He has four now, instead of one.

- Has a panic disorder. He's terrified of going back underground. Only his brother and his s/o can calm him down from his panic attacks. Also has generalized anxiety. If he’s in front of strangers, he’ll try to hide it with aggression out of fear of looking weak.

- Papyrus used to love reading, but after his head wound, it was difficult to concentrate and understand what he was reading. So he stopped. But on the surface, he discovered the magic of audiobooks and uses them all the time! He can often be found wearing headphones listening to audiobooks in the background.

- Him and Knox eventually get two sweet darling therapy cats. They’re the most helpful nicest floofs he’s ever known and he loves them to bits. The cats are incredibly sweet and helpful when the skellies are having a bad day, and always makes them feel so much better.

- Works as a commission artist when he gets to the surface! He tried other jobs before, but they were always so stressful so he never worked there for long. He never lost his passion for making art during the famine, even though remembering how to was difficult sometimes. But once he relearns all his skills again, he loves working from home as an artist. It's the best job he could've ever asked for.

-He’s just Babey. A wonderfully sweet, wholesome, precious babey skellie ;w;

[tifu-today-i-fucked-up]

TIFU by letting my GF know how I feel about the way she cooks

Yeah... I'm in hot water now.

So my GF is a vegan [who sometimes eats fish/seafood from certain sources] and she usually cooks for the both of us because I only know how to cook meat and beans (she doesn't like beans). Well, recently she was able to pull some strings and bring home a good month's supply of really convincing imitation meat for me to toy around with.

Early this morning I got up, went to grab my ingredients, and surprised her with a beautiful burger and a clean kitchen after her run. I made it smash-burger style with 3 patties, caramelized onion, pepper jam, a Sriracha Aioli and yellow mustard (I hate vegan cheese and wasn't going to be caught dead using that abomination on anything I make). She absolutely loved it (this was undoubtedly the most delicious thing I ever made) and surprisingly asked for seconds. These were really big burgers so I was surprised she wanted another one so I was ready to go cook another one... this is when the issue started.

You see, she didn't see any of my ingredients so when she realized I bought a normal processed burger bun she started complaining about my choice in bread. I was making her seconds and before this was pretty happy, but then she spent the entire process looking ungrateful and complaining about the bread I was using. She starts saying how I should have gotten homemade bread and how this processed bread is filled with preservatives that I am filling my body with. I respond that it works taste wise. She says the processed bread makes it taste worst, I then take out a piece of lettuce and say 'fine, we'll make yours into a lettuce wrap'. We move on from the subject as she probably sensed I was annoyed and things go back to being sweet again.

I finish her burger and she opts for the processed bread as I am washing the lettuce and, even though I could have said anything, I stay quiet and do a low chortle. She takes a bite of the amazing burger (I'm happy I was able to recreate it tbh since all the ingredients were off the top of my head) and she goes "I just don't know why you would use such a bad ingredient". I respond, being the moron I am, "I won't point out how you ruin great ingredients and you don't point out how I make bad ingredients taste great, ok?". I thought it was funny... turns out she is a lot more self conscious about her food than I thought and now she thinks I hate her food and she doesn't want to cook for me anymore.

Let me be clear... her food usually tastes good. She just loves to put food/ingredients in the freezer that don't need to be there (who freezes ketchup?) and she tends to burn things due to getting distracted and having to start over.

Now here I am, a man who undoubtedly was going to get some, reduced to a broken fool who is typing his freshly baked fuckup onto Reddit. I've only ever complimented her cooking, even though I'm not a vegan, so I never realized she was as sensitive about her cooking as I am of mine.

TL;DR got salty at my girlfriend for complaining about my cheap ingredients. Told her she ruins good ingredients all the time. She takes it super personally and now I'm writing a TIFU on reddit about how I will have to make my own food from now on.

submitted by /u/Unhelpful_Idiot [link] [comments]

[savinscripts]

CHAPTER 6:

❝ I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. ❞

While Faye and Fane had been shopping, Carrington had found the - somehow mostly unrusted axe - in the work shed. He’d managed a decent pile of firewood after also finding a sharpening blade in the dust and decay. A few turns over the edges had improved the blade’s cut. It would still need cleaning and another good sharpening after, but for the moment it served it’s purpose. He’d hauled the wood inside, putting a decent amount in both fireplaces in his and Faye’s rooms. He’d left a pile for Fane’s room by the back door, not wanting to trespass where he wasn’t invited. Yet.

He stripped the bed linens from both rooms (opting again to wait until the others returned to do Fane’s) and made a pile in the washroom.The heat seemed to be creeping it’s way through the house. The clunk of the furnace could be heard every now and then. But it was still frigid. A small part of Carrington hoped they could all bunk down in one room tonight. To conserve heat, of course. As appealing and welcome as a bed to himself and a bit of real privacy was, he had grown accustomed to the presence of the others. Even Faye. Who’s presence never failed to irk him. For reasons he kept to himself.

He busied himself in the kitchen after, cleaning the stove and making sure the gas worked. Going through cabinets that had been bare for decades. By the time the sound of the other’s return could be heard, Carrington was in great need of a shower. Dirt and cobwebs and dust covered his clothes. He was sweaty despite the cold air as he moved through the front door to help unload.

“You wanted to cook tonight, so long as it tastes good I couldn’t care less,” Fane said as they turned onto the road that led up to the estate. “Though maybe deep fried chicken would be good,” honestly the thought of decent food already had Fane starving for dinner. “I say surprise us. Also, do you want me to talk to Carrington and see what his issue is? I want to help if I can….” He wouldn’t presume, but he wanted to try and help ease things between them all. Pulling up outside, it was then a matter of unloading the several bags they’d picked up and Carrington’s arrival at the door was a welcome appearance. Though by the state of him he’d been damn well busy in the mean time, “someone’s been busy,” Fane grinned at the other man his eyes crinkling with just a touch of affection as he looked at Carrington.

Carrington ignored him, though it might’ve been said a touch of red appeared in his features that was clearly, clearly down to the cold air outside. “Bedding’s in the washroom, gas is working and I’ve cut down some wood for the fireplaces. Seems like the heating is kicking in so… I guess the pipes aren’t broken.”

Fane eyed him for a moment before nodding, “alright that’s good, help us take this inside-- we’ll unpack while you go and get washed down. ‘Cause frankly, you look like you’ve just climbed out of a tomb and then been dragged backwards through a hedge” he was teasing of course, but he figured that Carrington wouldn’t mind the chance to freshen up. “We also got you some clothes,” but they could sort all that out once they were inside.

“Chicken it is then. With a few surprises thrown in.” They’d stocked up on the usual spices and oils and things they would need for baking and such, so Faye was already mentally going through what she’d need for dinner. They’d gotten a few fresh things too, but those would have to be eaten within the week. Depending on how long they were here, Faye would love to start a garden for fresh vegetables. Maybe there were some wild berry bushes around that could be cultivated. Strawberries, blueberries, etc. She knew how to make preserves and jams.

But she was getting ahead of herself there. It had barely been half a day. Who knew what would happen in the coming weeks. They would have to see. For now though, they were almost back to the house. Faye felt a bit of trepidation as she saw Carrington standing on the front steps. She wondered if everything Fane had told her was true. She wondered how she felt about it if it was.

“Yeah. Sure.” That was all she said about it as they pulled to a stop. She got out and grabbed an armful of bags from the back, walking past Carrington as he came down the steps after his short conversation with Fane. He didn’t offer to take the bags from her, and Faye didn’t ask him for help.

Carrington watched her pass by with a slightly irritated expression. He grabbed his own armful of bags and headed inside. It didn’t take long to unload between the three of them. Once everything was in the kitchen, Faye set to unpacking - setting aside what she would need for dinner - while Carrington thanked Fane for the clothes that had been purchased for him and went upstairs to clean up.

Faye set the items out with a bit more force than necessary, feeling every bit the odd one out now that they were back. Despite Fane’s assurances to the contrary. She snagged a bag of potatoes and dumped a few into the sink for peeling before setting a pan of oil warming on the stove. Her movements were short and precise, and she didn’t talk at all while she worked. If Carrington wanted to continue to be an ass, so be it. Maybe he wouldn’t choke on dinner.

You would have had to have been an idiot to not notice the shift in atmosphere as soon as they had gotten out of the car, and Fane hung back a little as he observed the silent charade playing out in front of him. He could see what Faye meant now that it had been pointed out to him, and where he lingered by the car ended up scratching his chin wondering how the best way to go about everything was. Talking to Carrington first probably, getting him to talk to Faye.... A plan of action was coming to mind as he watched Faye disappear with a bag of food inside followed by Carrington.

It took a few trips back and forth to unload everything, locking the car and heading into the slowly warming house Fane glanced after Carrington as he made his exit to go and wash up. He was dragged out of his thoughts by the staccato clanking of tins and items Faye was putting out, too loudly and forcefully for something not to be wrong. He sighed through his nose at the display, childish really, and he couldn’t help a small flare of frustration over why it seemed so hard for them to get along.

After a few moments of watching, Fane walked over moving to catch her hand mid-air and slow her fast and sharp movements. Their hands rested on the can now that it was set on the countertop and Fane stayed there for a few seconds waiting for Faye to either acknowledge him or say something. “Let me go and talk to him… You said you trusted me earlier… Trust me to try and find a way to make this easier for us all.” Fane fell quiet then, hoping he could reassure her enough to settle her nerves “I was serious about what I said earlier… I want to make this work between us all.”

It was either take it out on the cans, or go upstairs and have a good cry. And Faye wasn’t about to cry over being treated like she didn’t exist. Or that her presence was a nuisance. Faye didn’t cry. Ever. So it turned to anger and frustration instead. She wanted to believe there was a larger issue there. That whatever reason Carrington had to despise her so much - or seem to - it was rooted in something Faye was unaware of. It seemed she was unaware of a lot these days, considering the things she’d learned in the car.

She could feel Fane’s eyes on her, but it wasn’t enough to stop her from mistreatment of the tins and jars. When his hand caught hers, effectively forcing her to acknowledge him, she simply stared down at the countertop. What could she say that hadn’t already been discussed? ‘I told you so’? Hardly.

Her fingers flexed over the jar, but his hand over hers held her fast. Her expression flickered, and she opened her mouth to say something scathing about the third member of their little group. But she shut it before anything petty could come out. She wouldn’t lower herself to his level. “I need a canopener,” she said. But she glanced at him from under the fall ofher hair. There was anger there, but also hurt. Confusion.Talk to him if you want, the expression said. I trust you. But I’m not expecting any miracles.’

Upstairs, Carrington had wasted no time in finding the hottest shower setting he could stand and stepping beneath it. He’d methodically washed himself, a process that took less than five minutes, and now stood beneath the spray. His hands were braced against the shower wall, and his head hung down as the water beat down over his neck. The hiss of the spray blocked out everything else, and the resulting cocoon of warm white noise was a blessed relief to Carrington. He had a habit of going until he couldn’t anymore. Running, running, running, and then falling down from sheer exhaustion. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d simply… let himself be. The plane ride over perhaps. But Faye had ruined that with her moaning.

That woman…

She drove him mad. The way she managed to get under his fucking skin by just being in the same room. When he shouldn’t have given two shits about her. Or Fane for that matter. He didn’t… care about people. Not anymore. Not for a long time. Though it seemed as if once again he had no say in the matter. As much as he tried to deny it, to push it all off on being situational, he was starting to care. And it was nobody’s fault but his own. So he let the water drown it all out, if only for a bit. And wished, not for the first time, that everything he felt, everything he was starting to feel, would just wash away down the drain with everything else.

With the silent affirmation to let him go given, Fane gave her hand a soft squeeze and lightly touched her waist. A small but genuinely affectionate and caring gesture, her well-being mattered to him and he wanted her to know that fact. “Alright, I’ll grab one for you,” with that he withdrew and went to rummage through the drawers until he came upon one “hopefully it still works, otherwise you might have to use a knife.” He slid it across the countertop and with a small dip of his head he headed back down the hall towards the stairway.

Fane heard the sound of running water from the hallway outside, and with next to no preamble made his way through the doors of Carrington’s bedroom and made a direct line for the bathroom. Next to no consideration given to whether or not Carrington would be bothered by his intrusion, in fact, Fane didn’t care about that right now needing to get to the bottom of all of this. And if that meant making Carrington uncomfortable, well, then so be it. Plus, it was hardly as if it would be the first time Fane had seen the other man naked; he’d gotten him that way several times over since their first encounter and while it was a sight to behold Fane also knew well enough how to keep his mind schooled enough to deal with the shit that mattered.

Apparently, Carrington hadn’t heard his entrance and Fane took a few moments to admire the lean line of the man’s back and the round curve of his ass with a small tip of one eyebrow. Could he be blamed for admiring the view? He didn’t think so, but eventually he knew that he couldn’t just stand here forever. “So,” he spoke up watching the other man tense just a fraction in surprise at the sudden intrusion “you going to explain what the hell your attitude and beef with Faye is all about? Because, I distinctly remember telling you to get it together.” Folding his arms, Fane leaned back against the counter waiting to see what response, if any, he received.

Faye stayed silent as Fane squeezed her hand and moved off. She caught the can opener as it was eventually slid her way, giving him a tight smile to let him know she heard him. He moved off then, and Faye threw herself into the task of making dinner.

Upstairs, Carrington was so lulled by the water and the warmth that he didn’t notice the shift in the air as someone entered. Though when Fane spoke up, his eyes flew open and he tensed slightly. Not enough for most to recognize, but Fane wasn’t most. Though what followed only served to make the tension worse. Fucking Faye. Of course. It had only been a matter of time, he supposed, until she’d pouted enough that Fane took notice. And of course, he was the bad guy. As always.

True to his stubborn, defiant nature, Carrington didn’t answer. He stayed where he was under the hot spray, back to Fane, and seriously debated telling him to fuck off. That it was none of his concern. It lasted a few moments, then something in Carrington said ‘try.’ It was a small voice. But Carrington knew who’s it was. Goddamn her.

He shut off the water and turned to look at Fane through the fogged up glass. Raking a hand through his hair, he stepped out, not bothering to cover up as he snagged one of the new towels from the shelf. “She send you up here?” he asked as he dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist. The words were short and tightly said. Carrington moved off the sink where he’d sat his razor and shave soap. He wiped the fog off the glass and stared at himself for a moment before leaning heavily on the ceramic basin.

“Well?”

Fane wasn’t an idiot, he was observant, so of course it was only a matter of time before he noticed and either said or did something about it. Explaining his presence now, waiting patiently on Carrington to give some sort of answer to whatever he’d seen going on downstairs. Fane’s fingers lightly tapped on his arm, the mist fogging up his glasses to the point he pulled them off and set them aside on the counter.

“Please, I’d love to know why… Any time… You know, before the hot water runs out” Fane prompted his words a little clipped and shorter than usual. He didn’t think of Carrington as a bad person, or the bad one in this situation. But he also wanted to try and understand why he was behaving like this. He got no answer, save for the creak of the tap as the water cut off and Fane shifted over to make room for the other man as he dried himself off.

“No,” the word was spoken softly and Fane reached out to gently stroke up the damp curve of his spine, slow and affectionate. “I offered to come up here and try to understand why you seem so intent on being an asshole towards her.” Fane debated on telling him the whole truth, and since it seemed to be a day for them he exhaled through his nose “she thinks you hate her, thinks you want her to leave… And, I think she’s been considering it ‘cause she doesn’t feel like she belongs here with how you treat her.” Fane’s fingers curled a little against Carrington’s skin, his voice remained quiet and lacked judgement “and honestly, I can’t say I blame her in all honesty.”

Carrington knew Faye was watchful. And he had cut down on actually saying anything to Faye when she crawled his last nerve. When he did speak, at least if Fane was around, he made a point to be neutral with his words. But he had a harder time schooling his expressions. Or his avoidance. His mother would have boxed his ears if she’d witnessed him passing by without at least offering to help Faye with her bags.

Too bad she was dead.

Like everyone else he’d ever cared about.

Carrington gripped the countertop a bit harder than he had to. His hands flexed and released as Fane answered his question. The only indication that he’d heard a word of it was the slight jump of the muscles in his jaw. But when Fane touched his back, a soft breath of air found it’s way out. Carrington’s eyes fluttered closed. They even tightened a bit as Fane went on. Telling him in no uncertain terms that if he was trying to drive Faye away, it was working. And that Fane didn’t blame her for wanting to go.

His fingers flexed again, and he stiffened as his eyes opened again. “What would you have you have me do then? Apologize? Beg forgiveness? Tell her she should stay?” Carrington stood brusquely, walking away from Fane’s touch and out into the bedroom. Partly because he couldn’t stand the way Fane was looking at him - softly, and without judgement - or the way his touch made Carrington want to give him anything he asked for. Anything at all. Even his stubborn, traitorous heart.

Because that just wouldn’t do, would it?

Would it?

“If she wants to go…” Carrington rummaged through his new clothes, discarding the towel on the bed and replacing it with a pair of cotton joggers. He very pointedly didn’t look back at Fane. “Probably for the best.” It was a good lie, he thought. And six months ago he would’ve been impressed with himself for maintaining such good composure. Under the circumstances. But he wasn’t impressed. Not one bit.

Because he was a coward.

And it was written all over his face. In his actions. His pacing. His busying himself with putting things away that could wait until later. But most wouldn’t see it. Most wouldn’t care enough to look that far. But Fane wasn’t most. And it was that reason that kept Carrington moving, kept him from having to meet the other man’s gaze. Kept him from having to admit his failings.

For a brief moment Fane thought that maybe he was getting through to the stubborn ass man infront of him. That maybe, just maybe he was making some headway with him. Fane knew his words wouldn’t be well received, how could they? But he’d grown rather well-versed in Carrington’s silent reactions and the twitching muscle in his jaw was a sign that he was getting agitated. Which, Fane knew would mean it would shortly be followed by some sort of outburst or reaction. Because Carrington was probably feeling defensive over the insecurity that Fane guessed fuelled his behaviour towards Faye. Of course, the man was a soldier, trained to display nothing but confidence and certainty. There was no place in his head for being insecure or unsure and to mask that Carrington acted out, or more commonly, spoke out.

To keep people at a distance. And most people likely would have folded under Carrington’s attitude and brusqueness. Unfortunately for Carrington, Fane was certainly not most people. Fane was stubborn perhaps even moreso than Carrington presently.

As expected, Carrington retreated, putting distance between them and Fane gave a small roll of his yes before following through and leaning a shoulder on the doorframe. Fane clicked his tongue, “you know… maybe you’re right...” Fane’s head tilted back his eyes never leaving Carrington as he changed, or kept busying himself. “Maybe she should go,” he paused knowing his agreement likely would have caught the soldier off guard “and while we’re at it how about me after? You’re so much better alone aren’t you? Pushing anyone that might stand a chance of caring about you away, because that’s scary, and big tough soldier boys aren’t allowed to be scared. Are they?” Fane’s words were a little sharper now. “So if you really think that, you come to attention right here in front of me and you damn well look me in the eye and mean it when you say it and stop being a pansy” to emphasise the point Fane jabbed towards the spot in front of him.

“And if not, well, how about you consider doing something truly brave and being at least a little bit honest with me and more importantly honest with yourself. Are you really willing to toss everything away just because you’re scared? Time to decide Carrington,” it was the first time Fane had ever said his name aloud to him and in all honesty, it felt nice rolling off his tongue. But he supposed it was a mute point if calling Carrington’s bluff led to him leaving.

If Carrington had had any clue how well Fane actually had him pegged, he would have been much more careful with his behavior. He was aware that Fane knew him fairly well. Hence his current behavior and lack of eye contact. His unwillingness to speak about things any deeper than surface level.

There was a minute pause in his actions as Fane spoke again. A hesitance that could’ve been imagined but wasn’t. Again, he didn’t look up. Simply kept at it, snapping tags off jumpers with a bit more force than necessary before folding them and putting them away. Fane’s words struck a nerve. A deep-seated one that flared bright and hot at the base of Carrington’s spine. Because truth always cut much deeper than lies. And this one cut all the way to the bone.

So, when he fired back, it was without thinking. It was pain manifesting itself as anger. Fear and uncertainty and insecurity being thrown back as a defense mechanism. “And how long did you serve, to know so much about what soldiers are allowed to do? Oh wait… you didn’t.” It was sharp and cutting, emphasized by the slamming of the drawer he’d been mindlessly filling. His fingers gripped the edge of the dresser, knuckles white against the wood. Only when Fane called him weak did Carrington finally turned towards him.

His eyes were tight, and they gleamed feverishly. His features were contorted in his misplaced anger. It took less than six paces before Carrington was exactly where Fane had pointed. And his fist was connecting with the wood paneling right next Fane’s head. There was a resounding crack, but whether it was wood or bone was hard to tell. Carrington got right in Fane’s face, so close that his labored pants could be felt across the other man’s cheek.

“I am not scared,” Carrington growled. His voice was as furious as it had ever been. Low and tight, there was so much vitriol behind it that it trembled slightly. Every muscle in his body was tense as he looked Fane straight in the eye. His own were a dark blue, like stormclouds. They were always darker when he was angry. And right now Carrington was very, very angry.

He hit the wall again. “Understand me, Savin? I am not scared.” Another long, searching look, a flicker of something shifting, breaking loose. Something old and jagged and held tight with the rust of years ofneglect. “I’m…” The muscles in his jaw flexed and trembled. “I’m fucking terrified.”

Even if he had been consciously trying to control his movements, Fane would have still more or less come to the same conclusion. Of course, they all had trauma, and Carrington’s behaviour was a grade A example of something that came from the product of something horrible. Fane didn’t know what, hadn’t wanted to push Carrington to tell him figuring that if it would come up eventually it would when the other man was ready for it to. But Fane wasn’t willing to put his cautiousness about Carrington’s past over the risk of Faye’s very imminent departure. He simply couldn’t do the math for that outcome.

Perhaps he should have been offended by Carrington’s words, but Carrington apparently still didn’t realise how pegged Fane had him. The outlash was expected, anticipated and patiently waited for because after the storm came the calm. Or, slightly less calm but better than raging. “You’re right, I didn’t, but don’t you dare think that just because you’ve suffered… You’ve endured the pits of hell that you’re the only one who knows what pain feels like.” Fane could have gotten angry, could have raised his voice and spat vitriol back at the other man but Fane chose for the calm approach and his voice never shifted in pitch or tone, remaining quiet and calm regardless of what he felt. But Carrington’s words hardly cut deep.

Unfortunately, it seemed to be the case that something he’d said had struck a deep-rooted nerve if the sudden tension across his body was anything to go by. Before he could backtrack to figure out what part had done it, there was a splintering crack an inch or so beside his head and even he didn’t have the nerves not to flinch a little. But to his credit he didn’t back down, didn’t shove Carrington away.

“Then what are you?” Fane prompted not caring how close Carrington had gotten to him. Though he got his answer after another rattle of Carrington’s fist against wood. And the look on the other man’s features, the true and raw abject pain that shone through those eyes he’d spent weeks watching and learning, it broke his heart. Fane felt a deep-seated pain in his chest as he reached up fingers splaying over either side of Carrington’s face and pulling him forwards to press their foreheadstogether. “Then let me help you. Talk to me. Let me in… Please.” Because Fane so desperately wanted to help Carrington. “You don’t have to tell me everything but… don’t push me away, not when I want to help, when I want to understand” he shifted then, moving to slot his mouth a tad desperately over Carrington’s moving to grip his ribcageconsidering he hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on before murmuring “ please don’t ever do that.”

Carrington saw Fane’s flinch, and a tiny part of him felt a flare of satisfaction. Not because he wanted to harm Fane, never that, but because he’d managed to affect him slightly. Even if it was petty to think that. But Fane held his ground. Carrington expected a pushback of some sort. A knee-jerk reaction to yell, or push, or force him back in some way.

But it never came.

Instead, Fane reached for him. To pull him closer. And this time it was Carrington that flinched. Though what did that say about him, that violence and anger was expected, but gentleness surprised him? That kindness in the face of pain and agony confused him? That despite all his attempts to push Fane away, here he was, pulling Carrington in. Making him believe that it was okay. That it would be okay. Keeping him on the edge of either running away or falling apart completely.

His eyes closed as Fane spoke. The warm grip of his hands splayed over Carrington’s face, holding him so tightly against him… his own hand slipped from the shattered panelling, knuckles bloody and bruised, and dropped heavily to curl around Fane’s nape, into his hair. His breath came in great gasping heaves, his chest rising and falling as he tried desperately to control the emotions that were fast breaking loose inside his chest. Rising higher, pressing against his sternum, his throat, until it was finally too much. A small sound melted away into the warmth of Fane’s mouth.

Carrington kissed him back just as desperately, hands now raking up Fane’s neck to grip his face. They shook slightly, and another small sound rumbled in his throat as he pressed Fane back against the doorjamb. “Don’t go… please… don’t go…” His hands dropped down and rucked Fane’s shirt up as he panted against the other man’s mouth. “Either of you…”

What other reaction was there? Running away had never been a strong suit of Fane’s, and he’d always been the bleeding heart to care when he saw people suffering. So, to see Carrington struggling so evidently, how could Fane do anything but want to try and help. He sensed the struggle the other man had, the expectation of violence raised in answer to violence but Fane could only hope he might show him another way.

He was just glad that it seemed enough to convince Carrington not to keep trying to push him away, and Fane’s fingers splayed wide over his ribcage, fingertips digging in and grasping tightly to keep him close and anchored here. Because he’d be damned if he was going to let Carrington run. His own chest rose and fell, breath coming in shallow huffs as Carrington’s desperate hands slid over his neck, into his hair pulling him in, their kiss a clash of teeth and tongues and desperation.

Fane didn’t even care when his back struck the corner of the door, it didn’t matter, because Carrington was still here and the pressure of his body meant he was choosing to stay. Fane prayed that was what it meant. His head fell back against the wood with a thud, eyes dark and intense under the press of Carrington’s palms seeking skin that only served to make his belly flex and tighten “then-- then you’re going to have to talk to Faye.” He raised his hand raking his fingers through Carrington’s hair andgripping it as he spoke again voice shaking a little himself “ please, promise me now, promise me you’ll talk to her tonight. I want you both. I need you both… I need you.”

Violence met with violence was the way Carrington had lived most of his adult life. As a young boy, even kindness had been met with violence. Thanks to his stepfather. When his mother died, taking away the last kind person in his life at the time, Carrington just… shut down. Any part of him that had ever been soft or kind or weak was put away. Behind a mask of apathy fuelled by duty. The army was the best place for him at the time. Go here. Do this. Sleep now. Eat. Run. Piss. Sleep. Kill them before they kill you.

Violence met with violence. Because kindness got you killed. A soft heart got you killed. Weakness was a liability. Caring was a liability. And from the kindest heart came the cruellest people. Or so he’d always heard. So why should Fane have been any different? Why should Faye? And why should Carrington have cared?

But he did. Despite his best efforts, he fucking did.

He devoured Fane’s mouth until he couldn’t breathe and had to come up for air. The tight grip of the other man’s hands in his hair held Carrington’s focus and kept him from losing himself completely to the feel of his body against Fane’s. He nodded, blinking as he came back to himself just a bit. “I will…” Another soft kiss, still desperate, but with slightly more control than before. “I promise.” His eyes searched Fane’s as he pulled back. Christ, he wanted him. It was more than evident. And not just with how close they were pressed. His thumb brushed Fane’s bottom lip, fingers splayed over his cheek. “So do I…”

Fane knew he didn’t know the full story, but he hoped that Carrington staying, wanting them to stay would mean that eventually he would be trusted enough to be told. To learn the deeper intimacies and pains that had been buried away where they wouldn’t see the light of day. He just hoped that one day he would be able to offer some modicum of relief from whatever torment, pain and guilt Carrington carried with him. Perhaps not tonight, but one day. Just as Fane would one day trust them both with the truth of this place, but Fane had yet to come to terms with it himself let alone explaining that to others.

He understood that with such things time was required and time he would give. So long as Carrington made good on his promise. To try and speak to Faye, to explain things and make an effort because Fane didn’t want to lose either of them.

Fane’s fingers softened then, no longer so tight in their hold on the rear of Cari’s head and Fane smoothed his hair repeatedly, moving to brush his temple and face with sincere affection. The next kiss was softer, and Fane stretched into it, pressing forwards into Carrington and swallowing thickly at how it seemed the tables had turned tonight. He hadn’t come here with this ending in mind but he just hoped it was a step towards something better for all three of them. Rubbing his free hand over Carrington’s ribs and hooking his fingers around his waist he sighed against Carrington’s mouth, they should go and talk to Faye. But Fane also knew that he presently wasn’t in a state to go anywhere until things were entirely settled here. “Then show me,” he whispered stroking Carrington’s face and moving to hook the waistband of his joggers “show me you care.”

Tonight, had been a huge step forwards for Carrington. A giant leap that he hadn’t known he was capable of making. Six months ago, he would’ve laughed at anyone who told him where he would be now. Or worse. But life had never treated Carrington Bishop like he expected. Other than when he expected the worst. So, while tonight would likely bring no more milestones, no more huge leaps of faith, a gap had been bridged between who Carrington had been, and who he wanted to be. Or who he thought he wanted to be. All he knew for certain was that Fane was on the other side, waiting patiently for him to cross over.

And it would take time. Secrets like the ones Carrington held inside him weren’t easily talked about. They were painful. Some even made Carrington feel ashamed. For who he had been, and for who he hadn’t been able to be. And Fane had been right when he told Carrington he didn’t hold the ledger of pain and heartache. On trauma. He knew they others had their share. This house for one. There was a secret here, buried deep in Fane’s past. A secret that kept him tense and wary at times, and kept a single door locked in a house full of open rooms.

And then there was Faye. Who he’d frightened to the point of nearly making her leave. What secrets lay in her past that had caused her to fear being cast out so much? Perhaps one day she’d share as well. But first Carrington owed her an explanation. And an apology.

But that would have to wait just a bit. He also owed Fane an apology. And while this wasn’t the preferred way, it was something Carrington knew he did well. A hiss of air passed through his lips as Fane pulled him closer, Carrington’s desperation for the other man making itself known. He reached for Fane’s face again, pulling him into a soft searching kiss. A hand to his nape pulled him away from the wall and towards the bed. Carrington pushed Fane gently onto his back and climbed in beside him, barely losing contact with the other man’s mouth as he rid Fane of his shirt. They had been together a few times, but it was always Fane taking the lead. And Carrington needed that. Needed that firm hand to slow him down and make him take a breather.

His fingers danced along Fane’s ribs, up over his chest, feathering over his pulse point - a small smile gracing Carrington’s mouth at how it raced - and back down. When he finally pulled back from the kiss, his eyes were dark and soft, a startling contrast to how they’d looked only a few minutes before. “I’ve never met anyone like you in my whole life…” Carrington said with a quiet hesitance as his hand spread gently over the flat planes of Fane’s belly. “I’ve never met anyone like either of you…”

Fane was proud of the progress he’d seen Carrington make in the time they had known one another, it wasn’t an easy thing to be willing to do. To try and break or change old habits, and Fane wondered what Carrington would be if they had never ended up being forced to stay together as a group like they had. Would he have ever found out or taken the chance to explore this side of himself? Probably not, and the thought caused Fane to clutch at him tightly and steal another ghost of a kiss from his lips thankful that this was the reality they were living in.

Things that had been broken and damaged could be fixed, with the right time and effort. Fane wasn’t truly hurt by Carrington’s words earlier so he demanded or required no apology. Not on his behalf. But when it came to Faye? Well, Carrington deserved to grovel for that one considering how he’d acted towards her. It was only fair really. Not that Fane would take pleasure in the sight, but it was a stepping stone. A way forwards for them from here to perhaps live together in a less turbulent environment.

Fane knew what he was asking of Carrington, knew that more often than not he’d been the one to guide things and let Carrington get lost and be taken along for the ride. Fane was always willing to oblige, but this was different, this wasn’t Fane having to make Carrington give himself over. To steady those demons and terrors that haunted him, this was Carrington willingly choosing to show Fane exactly what he’d asked for. The kiss was met warmly, and when Fane felt the bed he crawled back onto it pulling Carrington back with him stealing as many kisses as he could get and though there was a touch of desperation there it was underscored by a trust more meaningful.

He let Carrington explore and touch, his body arching and breath stuttering quietly and when Carrington looked at him Fane was sure he could get lost in his eyes. Dark and fathomless like the ocean, but also so wildly bright and intelligent. And what he said, it brought a genuine smile to Fane’s lips before he teased gently “you mean geniusly intellectual and handsome as hell? Well… you know, I do try.” Of course, Fane knew what he meant, but considering the seriousness of everything else that had happened Fane was content to get swept up in the maelstrom of Carrington Bishop. “Then cherish us for what we are and we’ll do the same to you,” it was a promise and an assurance more quietly spoken than his previous comment. Fane’s abs tightened and jumped a little under the splay of the other man’s warm fingers his head falling back onto the mattress as he stared up at him moving to slip his hands down and grip his ass “no teasing tonight, I want you to show me how much you care... Please.” Fane was usually all for the foreplay but all he wanted right now was to feel the raw and overwhelming sensation of truly being wanted by another. In this case, the man on top of him who Fane stole another lingering kiss from while gripping the material of Cari’s joggers and giving them a short sharp yank knowing full well, he hadn’t got anything under them considering Fane had watched him dress earlier.

If Carrington had never met Fane and Faye, who’s to say where he would be right now. Drunk in a bar. Fucking a whore. Taking the next job that paid well enough, no matter how dangerous it was, simply because it kept him from thinking about other things. About all he’d lost. All he’d never have. Or he might be dead. Shot down by Monarch once he had the relic in hand.

But he wasn’t. He was here. In this beautiful old house in the middle of the Scottish wild. He had warm, clean clothes, fresh food, the smell of which was starting to drift upstairs, reminding him that Faye waited downstairs for them; and a warm bed. But most of all he had someone - two someone’s apparently - who wanted him here. For nothing more than his presence. Not for what he could gain them. Not for what he could do. But simply for who he was. Him. Carrington Bishop.

It wouldn’t always be like this he knew. There would be dark days for him. Days when he was right back to his old self. Harsh and stubborn. His words cutting and edging towards cruel. Nights when he was kept awake by things that he’d never told anyone. Nightmares. Of the things he’d done. The things he’d seen. And he was certain the same could be said for them all. It was a process. And as much as Carrington still feared it - and he did, though the edge had been taken off tonight by Fane’s persistence - he felt that maybe, just maybe, there was a way through. That there was more than just the life he’d been leading for the last twenty years.

A soft laugh echoed in the small space between them, and Carrington traced Fane’s jaw with the tip of his finger. His expression grew more sombre, his eyes hinting once again at the storm clouds that held his fears and insecurities, as Fane asked him to simply cherish what they had and who they were. “I’m not sure I know how. But I’ll try.” He kissed Fane again, his smile returning briefly before falling into an open-mouth gasp at the sharp tug on his joggers. “As you wish…” It was easy to slip free of his joggers, and as soon as Fane was free of his jeans, Carrington rose up and over him, kissing him reverently. One hand supported his weight while the other stroked along Fane’s thigh, encouraging him to spread them wider. When he did, Carrington hummed in pleasure against Fane’s lips. He took him in hand then, stroking Fane’s cock a few times before turning to his own. He was panting against Fane’s mouth by now, needing him desperately but forcing himself to go slow. To make sure Fane knew exactly how he felt.

Still holding himself in check, Carrington pressed against Fane. It didn’t take much to slick the way, and a few gentle cants of his hips had him pressing home. Carrington groaned at the tight grip of Fane’s body around his cock. “Christ…” he moaned, releasing himself to return the hand to Fane’s hair. “Tell me… if I’m hurting you…” he said through stuttered breath. “Tell me what you want…” He moved with purpose already, taking his cues from Fane’s expression, from the movement of his hands, from the way his head fell back onto the pillows.

Carrington buried his face in Fane’s neck, hooking a hand under his thigh and pulling it around his waist. “Gods… I could… I could do this forever…” Hot, open-mouthed kisses slipped across Fane’s neck, spaced between the nip of Carrington’s teeth. But still he paced himself, going slow and making sure Fane knew just how much this meant. Just how much Carrington cared. “Just to see… your face… like this…” He rose up and kissed Fane again. “Just to see you happy….”

Fane wasn’t naive enough to think that there wouldn’t be dark days ahead, but that was why you had other people in your life wasn’t it? To help you find a way through them. To make your way through them and come out the other side successfully and on the dark days he would be there, and so would Faye (he hoped). Between them they would find a way through to the far side of everything and Fane couldn’t wait to get there. If it wasn’t for the threat on their lives Fane would’ve suggested giving up the relic and stashing it somewhere that none of them would ever have to think on it again other than as a fond memory of how they had all come to be where they were.

“We’ll get you there,” Fane responded softly carding his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck slender digits dragging over the ridges of vertebrae there and savouring the warmth of skin under his touch. “Give it time, I know we will” his fingers moved to stroke Carrington’s cheek affectionately drawing him down into the kiss his hips rolling a little in encouragement themselves. He grinned, eyes glinting appreciatively as the joggers were discarded and he helped arch his hips as his jeans were dragged down his legs and tossed off to who knows where. Soon enough they were tangled up once more and Fane slid his arms around Carrington’s torso, bracketing him close and melting entirely under him his body entirely responsive to every touch or affection he was given.

A soft lusty noise worked its way free of his throat when Carrington encouraged him to spread his legs, which he did with next to no real request. He groaned when Carrington then took the time to stroke him, eyes fixed on the man above him in an almost adoring fashion as he gave himself over entirely. A small unintended whimper escaped him as his cock was left hard and slowly leaking pre-come over his abs. He sunk into the mattress licking his lips letting himself be distracted by the sight of Carrington’s own impressive length, it had been a while since he’d been on the receiving end but he didn’t really care. He could handle it. He trusted Carrington. So as Carrington continued to stroke himself Fane dragged his fingers down over the man’s back, “you’re going to feel so good, I know you are.”

His body was tense and taut by the time Carrington returned his attention back to him, and he groaned shamelessly as Carrington’s full weight descended on him the soft skin of Carrington’s cock causing him to feel like he was being doused in gasoline and primed to be set alight. Fane bit on his lip, sure he’d die of anticipation. And being set alight was exactly what it felt like when he finally sank home, Fane did wince a little at the burning stretch before they rolled shut a whimper of bliss leaving him as he settled more comfortably, his body adjusting while his fingertips dug divots as he clung onto Carrington for dear life. Certainly, if death came like this he would go happily indeed. “You aren’t,” Fane gasped lowly “just, just fuck me---” the request was cut off in another groan, head falling back exposing the line of his neck and shoulders as he grew used to the roll of Carrington’s hips eventually starting to push back as best he could.

Fane let himself be manhandled, bent and spread entirely to Carrington’s whims the act caused him to clench as the new angle caused him to almost blackout “oh god, right there… right ahhhh… fuck, right there.” It took several strokes each causing Fane to feel like his brain was being short-circuited over and over before he could utter anything slightly coherent “I’d… let you,” Fane mumbled tightening his hold on Cari’s back as he pulled him flush rolling his hips a little more firmly into each slow stroke and using the muscles in his legs to keep Cari as close as he could. He was strong, a lifetime of sports and activity not to mention their job left him in rather prime physique so it wasn’t hard to keep Carrington where he wanted him even if the other man had all the control. The hard and steady roll of their bodies was heaven, and Fane was lost in the grasping of hungry hands and when Carrington kissed him again, he pressed up licking into his mouth with a groan of pleasure his cock slapping wetly against his stomach aching for attention. He could’ve reached down and taken himself in hand but Fane was enjoying the abundant flow of pleasure he was experiencing too much to do anything other than hold onto and keep kissing Carrington between panted breaths.

The weight of Fane’s arms around him was worth more to Carrington than his weight in gold. They held him tight, even as Carrington was the one to lead. A security that promised so many things he used to wish for. So many things he used to want. But had given up on years ago. And until he’d met Fane and Faye, Carrington had thought they didn’t exist anymore. But then they came along, Fane with his soft encouragements and Faye with her bright laughter. Gods above but he’d been cruel to her. If she never forgave him he would deserve nothing less. But Fane was confident it would work out. And that gave Carrington confidence too. A little bit at least. Over the thick layer of heartache and disappointment that life had saddled him with.

Fane’s body was pliant beneath his. Warm and wanting and nearly begging for him. Carrington had never been here before, like this, with another man beneath him. It was always the reverse. But this time… this time it was Fane that needed to be taken apart. Fane that needed the assurance that someone was there to catch him if he fell. Or at least that someone was willing to try.

Their bodies melded, and where Fane let out what was almost a whimper, Carrington let out a sound that was nothing short of lewd. “Fuck... “ he moaned, arching his back under the crawl of Fane’s hands and fucking deeper into him. It would be so easy to lose control, to fuck the man beneath him raw and breathless. But only if that was what he wanted. When Carrington braced, checking that he was hurting Fane, and Fane said very clearly that he wasn’t, Carrington felt his cock throb with want.

He crashed his mouth against Fane’s, pulling his leg more tightly around his waist. Carrington’s fingers dug bruises into the firm muscles of Fane’s thigh as snapped his hips a bit harder and faster. The friction felt so fucking good. Fane’s words ran like honey, warm and wet and thick as the precum slicking his belly, his cock trapped between him and Carrington. The grip of Fane’s legs was tight, and once Carrington trusted they weren’t going anywhere, he released his hold and wrapped his hand around the swollen length that practically begged for his attention. “You’re going to hold on, aren’t you?” Carrington panted against Fane’s mouth. “You’re going to hold on… and not cum until I tell you?” He grunted and titled his hips a bit faster. Still not too fast, but a steady pace that was building Carrington towards where he wanted to be.

He stroked Fane’s cock in time with the slap of their hips, the effort making him sweat despite the cool air of the room. “Look at you… leaking all over…” He slicked his hand over the weeping head, squeezing a bit before releasing him. Another searing kiss before Carrington buried his face in Fane’s neck again. “Hold onto me…” he said, voice raspy and thick as he pulled Fane close. “Hold onto me when you come…” The pace of his hips started to become erratic, even as he tried to make sure Fane was still enjoying it. His hands tightened in Fane’s hair, his breath hot and frantic in his ear. He fumbled a bit in his rising pleasure, and reached for Fane’s cock. “You’re going to come before I do, under…. Understand? AHhh fuck… christ… almost…. God you feel… like heaven…”

Carrington’s words trailed off, his panting breathes rising to a higher, faster pitch as he fucked Fane for all he was worth. “Go on… let me see you… fuck you’re beautiful when I’m fucking you... ” Carrington purred into Fane’s ear as drew closer. He was right there, right on the edge, but he wanted Fane to come first. When he did, that would be all Carrington needed to follow.

Fane was more than willing to give himself over entirely to this, he’d asked for it after all and it felt good to give up that control to another. To trust someone enough to let them treat you like this and while it wasn’t the roughest anyone had been with him, sometimes something slower and gentler was just as good. Plus, this wasn’t about the hard and fast desperation that ebbed and flowed between them this was about showing Carrington he wanted him for who he was, just as he hoped the same went for himself. Fane wanted to know him, wanted to be graced with his trust because Fane would never betray that. Giving himself over to Carrington, asking for him in contrast to telling him how it was going to go down, seeing him take that control and wield it albeit with a few fumbles here and there it made a warm heat stir in his body. Because this was progress, and it was sweet bliss that he was fully enjoying.

Carrington spread him wide, yanking his leg higher on his back and Fane moaned again knowing he was going to have bruises later, good, let him bruise and let it be known that he’d been well and truly fucked. Fane didn’t care what might be thought of it, lost under the pleasure filled haze of being adored by another, his body naturally responsive but still a little defensive against the intrusion that he clenched tight his abs flexing and banding taut. But none of it stopped Carrington from squeezing that extra distance out of him and working with a steady rolling and unrelenting force. His legs occasionally slipped against the slick sweat of Carrington’s spine but he never left the position he’d been put in his mouth hanging open as he savoured every push and drag of each plunging thrust, his straining muscles starting to tremble underneath the barrage.

And then he was being kissed by a mouth that Fane was sure he’d be happy to get lost in as the pace just grew a little harder and faster making Fane clench again. He groaned as he felt Carrington’s fingers slide over the sticky shaft of his cock, the attention causing him to jerk and gasp a little at the stimulation. He blinked feeling adrift and dazed but so very present at the same time, his breath stuttered before he held it his body hanging as Carrington spoke and he wondered how he’d ever manage with how good it felt. Wanting to please him. He gritted his teeth, swallowing thickly “yes aaaah-- yessir, god, yes” the words were hissed around a particularly deep thrust that left him clutching tighter at Carrington’s back he wasn’t sure why he said it but it felt right because now Fane was thinking about whether this was what he’d been like as a soldier. Commanding and authoritative, no nonsense, and his cock pulsed at the thought knowing he was already a mess of precum where it was smeared over his stomach and Carrington’s hand.

Fane didn’t need to be told to hold on, he was, his nails digging in and dragging red welts over Carrington’s back and ribs where his hands occasionally slipped as his whole body jerked with each plunge of Carrington’s cock. He whimpered audibly at the pressure around the head of his own before it was released and the other man’s focus went entirely onto the activity of fucking him thoroughly. Carrington’s weight pressed him into the bed, each thrust long and deliberate and Fane was grinning around open-mouthed pants as he sought Carrington’s hand and pressed it to his stomach. “Can you feel yourself? God-- you fill me up so good” Fane didn’t care how debauched it sounded, it was true and he couldn’t help how his eyes fluttered shut every drag of the other man’s cock flooded him with sensation until his nerves felt fried and raw. His cock and balls ached desperately, and Fane wasn’t about to say anything more as he felt himself building, building, building to that crest.

But he held off, waiting for that order and when it came, gritted and gasped out in warm huffs of that sinful British accent that did unspeakable things it made Fane’s already stuttery and erratic breath catch. Fane’s nails dug in deeper, breaking skin as his thighs squeezed vice-like the pressure in him pulsing with every stroke and roll of Carrington’s hips everything urging him to show him how much he wanted this while basking in how much he felt wanted. His vision whited out, head thrown back as he came with a loud cry of ecstasy that shuddered through his body in such a wonderfully devastating way that left him spasming as his aching cock aided by the wrap and tug of Carrington’s hand shot thick jets of cum that splattered over his chest and stomach.

And then he went limp, struggling to haul in any air to fill his lungs but doing his best to rock back as he scrambled to try and hold on. “Come on,” he gasped in Carrington’s ear “fill me up, please, you know you want to.”

Once upon a time, Carrington’s job had been to tell others what to do. He had always been a good strategist. His mind working in a way that could see almost every possible outcome, good or bad. People had trusted him with their lives. He would point and say ‘go there, do this.’ And men would just nod, salute, and go. Because he was their commander. He was responsible for them. For their safety and well being. They trusted him. And Carrington… he had trusted himself. To make the right choice. To make judgement calls that were hard, that might get men killed (and had), but that were the best option under the circumstances.

He had never lied to one of his soldiers. They asked the odds. They asked the plan. And he would tell them. Because out there, he might outrank them, but they were all the same. All there for the same purpose. All wanting to go home to their families and their loved ones. All but Carrington. Because he had no family. No one to go home to. This was his family. His men. His job. And part of him knew that’s what gave him an edge. That he wasn’t worried about anyone grieving over him if he didn’t come back. He was there, in the moment, always.

Like now. With Fane pliant and breathless and flushed beneath him. He’d never done this before, not really. So seeing the effect he was having on the other man left Carrington a bit breathless himself. For reasons other than it felt like he could die right now and be happy for it. He was soaked in sweat. It dripped from the ends of his overlong hair, falling in clear droplets on to Fane’s neck and chest.

The stuttered words of agreement as Carrington’s hand wrapped around Fane’s length stirred something low in the man’s belly. Beneath the already flaming desire and tight coil of impending release. The feeling of being needed. Of being wanted. Of being trusted with another person’s well-being. It caused a stuttered pause in the movement of his hips, but he righted himself soon enough and his focus returned.

He moved his hand as Fane uttered filthy words into his ear, pressing down hard enough to feel the movement of his cock deep inside him. Carrington’s mouth formed a knowing grin as it slotted over Fane’s again. “You were made for this… weren’t you? Made for getting fucked…” The words fell away in a groan of pleasure that vibrated against Fane’s cheek. Carrington’s hand slid back to Fane’s cock, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer and wanting Fane to find release before him. Each hard cant of his hips tried to go deeper, to find that sweet spot that would push him over the edge. Every few strokes, Carrington fingers moved to the soft tightness of Fane’s balls. Squeezing gently, giving them the attention they needed, before moving back to pump his slick cock in long, dragging strokes. He was close. Carrington could tell by the stuttered breath and the crushing grip of his hands. God he would leave marks but Carrington would wear them like a badge of honor. Like a sign that said: I belong to him, and him to me. Marks of battle. Hard fought and won.

And when Fane obeyed Carrington’s order and let go, the hot wave of his release spattering his belly, it was one of the most beautiful things the soldier had ever seen. “Fucking Christ look at you…” he breathed into Fane’s ear as the man shuddered around him. His body clenching tight as he cried out. It was all Carrington could do not to lose it right then and there. But not yet. Not yet.

There was an almost painful relief as Fane sagged back onto the bed. The tightness that had wrapped Carrington so fiercely was still there, and he could tell Fane was holding on for him. His muscles trembled, and when he told Carrington to come, he didn’t hesitate. His forehead pressed flush with Fane’s as he hooked his thigh again, lifting it around his waist. His movements were fast and hard and desperate, as was the grip on Fane’s leg and the other around his shoulders, Carrington’s fingers digging in tightly.

Sounds that could have been perceived as pain trembled from his throat as he chased down that bright precipice. He hammered into Fane’s body, uncaring now if it hurt the other man. He’d given his permission, and by God Carrington was taking it.

He came with a stuttered cry, hands and body tightening to cords of steel as he spilled himself inside Fane’s body. His mouth slid over Fane’s neck, and Carrington buried his face there as his back arched, long and sinewy, milking every last drop from his climax. One or two more thrusts, deep and slow and shuddering, and he finally fell lax across Fane’s chest. His heart raced, his head felt dizzy, his hearing was nothing but white noise. But everything else was warmth and scent and the feel of Fane’s sticky, sweaty skin beneath his own.

A hand found it’s way to Fane’s neck, stroking lightly, reverently even. “Are you alright?”

Idly Fane thought that Carrington could probably do with a haircut, though it was nice to have something to grip onto Fane was of the opinion he would look better with it cut shorter. Perhaps sometime he’d mention it, while he wasn’t particularly skilled himself perhaps if things with Faye resolved themselves she might be able to do something. God knows what his own looked like. But he also thought that in this moment Carrington looked godlike, his slender supple body arching and curving while his muscles fired off in such a way that Fane was practically drooling to take a very literal bite out of him. Could he be blamed with a man that looked like that?

“Shame it--- shame it doesn’t happen more often,” was all that was mumbled in response though the words were spaced out by pants of air that he was desperately trying to suck down into his lungs. Fane was spent, and he knew it wouldn’t be much longer before Carrington was also done even if he rather desperately wanted to stretch this moment out into infinity. He was still cresting the high of his own release that he barely registered the movement of his thigh being yanked up again and Fane could only groan into Carrington’s open mouth as he drove his cock home with rather little resistance now. It stung and Fane’s breath hitched as he struggled to keep up with the frantic pace but he clung on, mumbling encouragements until finally he felt the heat of the other man’s release filling him up, felt the pulsing swell of Carrington’s cock deep inside of him as he pumped every last drop out and Fane deliberately tensed wanting to hold onto this for as long as he could.

As Carrington fell lax, his weight a comforting presence that Fane held tight as his breathing finally started to even out as he petted Carrington’s head letting him shudder through the aftermath of the violent crest. Letting him know that he wasn’t alone, that Fane was here with him as Fane’s legs could no longer stay wrapped around him and fell heavily onto the bed. His eyes were closed when Carrington stroked his neck and he stirred, “mm,” he sounded feeling deliciously used and he stretched a little under the other man’s body carding his fingers through his hair as he sought out Carrington’s mouth for a slow and deep kiss, “so much for that shower hm?”

Carrington’s mouth split into a lazy smile - something that changed his entire face - and he actually laughed. It was a singular sound, more a grunt of air than anything. But it was definitely a laugh. “Care to join me for another one? I did save some hot water.” He hummed against Fane’s mouth, losing himself in the hazy aftermath for a few moments. The card of his fingers through Carrington’s hair was something the ex-soldier had come to relish. Just like the brushing touches in passing. The soft, encouraging words whispered here and there.

Finally, he pulled away, adjusting himself alongside Fane as he slipped free of his body. He propped his head on his hand, eyes going unfocused for a moment. It was clear he was thinking. But his free hand stayed against Fane, his fingers moving idly.

When he finally spoke, it was if he was testing out his words. Unsure how they might sound. “My mother died when I was sixteen. Cancer. By the time they found it, she was already too sick.” The words were softly spoken, and Carrington continued to stare off into the room. “She was too busy taking care of me - keeping me safe from my stepfather, keeping me in school - to take care of herself.” His head tilted marginally towards Fane, but his eyes cast downwards. “The only woman in this world that ever cared for me - the only woman I ever cared for in return - died. Because of me.” There was a pause, and the telltale shift of muscles in his jaw returned. A frown moved over his face, and while he didn’t move away quickly, he did push up to reach for his clothes. “Because I was weak.”

He huffed slightly before standing and pulling on his joggers. Turning to look at Fane still lying on the bed, Carrington raked a hand back through his still damp hair, fingers flexing over his scalp. “So you see the dilemma? I don’t…” He hesitated, which was very unlike him when he spoke. Finally he sighed, raising his arms and letting them drop back a bit helplessly. “I don’t know what the fuck to say to her, Fane.”

Fane groaned as Carrington finally rolled off from ontop of him, missing the familiar weight and fullness of him but eventually relented letting him settle down to one side while Fane stayed on his back. Arm falling out to the side and letting his legs stretch indolently not particularly caring if he made a mess of the sheets. “Sure, save water and all that,” bending an arm behind his head Fane let out a shallow breath his eyes closing as he rested there his free hand seeking out Carrington’s to take his hand twining their fingers together lazily.

Though as Carrington began to speak, Fane’s eyes drifted open not looking at him directly but certainly listening to everything he said. He gave the hand he was holding an affectionate squeeze sad to hear of the life Carrington had come from. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Fane said softly, his voice full of sincerity as he tightened his grasp on Carrington’s fingers. “But she didn’t die because of you, she didn’t get the cancer because of you and there’s no guarantee that even if it had been found earlier…. That she would have lived. It’s horrible… But,” Fane rolled over following as Carrington began to move away to the edge of the bed.

Reaching an arm out to touch his back much as he had done earlier, “you aren’t weak… You are not. You are brave and strong and you’ve survived that, you’ve survived so much… And it’s okay to sometimes not have an answer for something… No one’s perfect even if you expect it of yourself...” He propped himself up sliding a hand over the hard bone of Cari’s scapula, pulling him back just a fraction so Fane could duck and kiss his shoulder. “Do you want her to stay?” the words were asked quietly, Fane’s mouth still pressed against Carrington’s back “would you care if she left because of what you’ve said and how you’ve treated her?” Fane knew the answer, and so did Carrington, and that was what he had to say to Faye.

It was hard to change a mindset one had lived with for twenty years. That the death of a beloved mother, the only person that had ever loved or cared about a scrawny, scared little boy, wasn’t his fault? Just like Fane and Faye both had their own personal demons, and it would take time to sort through the mire and make them realize the truth, this was Carrington’s. Among other things. Fane’s grasp on his hand was appreciated, and Carrington squeezed back briefly in acknowledgement of his words before turning to sit up.

“She was the same age I am now. Never went to the doctor. I carried her there myself when she started to cough up blood.” The touch was once again appreciated, though only a slight settling of his shoulders let Fane know that. “Bravery means nothing if you make the wrong choice. If you wait too long. And not having answers? That gets people killed.”

The question should have been a simple one. Yes or no. But it wasn’t. There were so many variables. So many different answers that Carrington could give. Different paths to take. Different outcomes. In the end, Carrington could only sigh and push gently off the bed, away from Fane’s touch. “I want-” He ducked his head and frowned. “In a perfect world… yes. I want her to stay.” The implication was that this was far from the perfect world. And that what Carrington might want didn’t truly matter in the end. “And yes. Of course I would.” The words were a bit shorter than he intended, but they weren’t cruel. He moved to find a shirt for after he cleaned himself off again. “But I would also rather keep her alive and hating me, than put in harm’s way because she thinks she cares about me.”

He fiddled with the shirt in his hands. “Though I also suppose that should be her choice.” He turned his head to look at Fane again, and anyone who knew him could tell he was torn. Between making a choice for someone, or letting them have free will. “Shouldn’t it?”

Fane knew it wasn’t going to be a one-night thing to change Carrington’s mind, but the insight certainly explained a lot about him. Context was key when it came to people and Fane was glad to be trusted with this. He wouldn’t betray that trust, but he also knew that certain things were hard to convince yourself away from. He had his own demons, he understood to a point and would do his best to try and understand.

“You’re not a god, no one can know everything or know what is and isn’t the right choice, you can’t see into the future any more than I can… And I know it’s not something I can change your thoughts on, but there’s no way you can be prepared for every eventuality…” He sighed quietly, sitting up more now “but having people there to help you can even out the odds when things seem impossible. You’ve let me in, chosen to trust me and I appreciate that… I can tell it isn’t easy, but I need you to try and do the same for Faye.” Fane’s arm outstretched a little, until Carrington pulled from his touch and only then did his fingers curl and flex feeling rather cold all of a sudden.

“I was going to say, a very short someone is going to have a lot to say about you making decisions on her behalf… She’s not a child Carrington, she’s an adult and she has a right to make the choice on whether she stays or not herself.” He wrapped his arms around his body, words final, it wasn’t up for debate. Faye got her choice just as he had made his own. “Mull on it, and once I’m done you are going to talk to her.” Not having anything really to cover up the chill of the house was still present, and Fane grabbed his clothes heading for the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He needed a little space to think, and under the spray of water he did just that. Some fresh clothes would have been nice but he’d left his things downstairs in the kitchen and so Fane redressed in his other clothes once he was done.

Stepping out and scrubbing his fingers through his hair he retrieved his glasses and nodded towards the door “come on.”

[livingcorner]

How to Pickle Beetroot | Gran’s Trusted Recipe – Kitchen Mason

Ever wondered how to pickle beetroot at home? It’s super simple and it tastes a million times better than shop bought! This is my Gran’s trusted recipe that’s been perfected over many years of trial and error. Trust me, just like with my homemade sweet chilli jam, you won’t want another sandwich without it! Read on for the full recipe and tips, plus how to sterilise jars.

Funny story – When I was little I was the fussiest eater EVER. I basically only ate 3 things. Chocolate (obviously), coleslaw and beetroot. I didn’t even like pizza. I know, what a weirdo right?! So I’ve had a very close relationship with beetroot from a really young age. 

You're reading: How to Pickle Beetroot | Gran’s Trusted Recipe – Kitchen Mason

My Gran grows lots of delicious fruits and vegetables in her garden, one of them is beetroot. It’s pretty much the only vegetable I make a point of knowing when it’s in season – just so I can get my hands on a jar of the good stuff!

Especially knowing I can make a tasty delicious batch of my apple and beetroot salad with it!!!

I’m not joking, my Gran’s pickled beetroot is like currency in my family! It generates jealousy of the highest kind when you know someone else has a jar and you don’t. It really is that good! Come to think of it, so does her epic ham and cheese quiche. She’s basically a legend!

There’s something about it that’s so special, shop bought genuinely doesn’t even compare! (This applied to these pickled onions too!) It’s so soft and delicate with a punchy yet sweet flavour. I haven’t bought a jar since tasting it and that was a long time ago.

Because my Gran is unbelievably awesome, I asked her what her secret recipe was… and she told me! This made me CRAZY happy as I now have not one, but two jars of the best pickled beetroot in my house and I get to share the recipe with you!

Which vinegar is best for pickling?

According to Gran, it has to be malt vinegar. Over the years she’s tried various vinegars and this is the one she always comes back to.

How long before pickled beetroot is ready to eat?

Most people say to leave your pickled beetroot sealed in a jar for at least 2 weeks before opening and eating. Personally, I’ve opened a jar within a few days and it’s still tasted absolutely delicious!

I see no reason why there should be a time limit – if you want to eat it, open it and enjoy!

What you need to know

In this section of the post, I’m going to share relevant and helpful information that both myself and my Gran have learned over the years of pickling beetroot.

While all of it is valuable and worth a read, if you don’t have time to read it all – make sure you read the ‘tips on how to pickle beetroot section’.

Read more: The Complete Guide to Garden Hose Fittings

What ingredients do you need to pickle beetroot?

There are just 3 ingredients required to make pickled beetroot. That’s all!

Whole Beetroot – Try to use beetroot that is all similar in size and that are not really small or really large, but somewhere in between.

Vinegar – My Gran swears by using malt (brown) vinegar as opposed to white. I trust her completely as it always works out so delicious!

Sugar – Soft light brown sugar gives a slightly more caramelised flavour here but if you don’t have that, most sugars will get the job done fine.

How easy is it to pickle beetroot? (Simplified)

It really is very simple to make your own pickled beetroot. All you really need is time, there’s actually very little hands on with this!

Wash the beetroot and trim the stems

Place in a pan of cold water and bring to the boil

Simmer with a lid on for 1 hour

Dissolve a little sugar into vinegar over a low heat

Peel the skins off the beetroot and slice thinly

Place the beetroot into sterilised jars and cover with hot vinegar

Seal and allow to cool completely

See! Nothing to it.

Tips on How to Pickle Beetroot

As with any recipe, no matter how simple, we are all human and we all make mistakes! Here’s a few helpful pointers so you can nail it first time.

Use a toothbrush to wash your beetroot before cooking. It’s gentle enough that it won’t break the skin but does a perfect job of removing all the dirt!

Make sure your beetroot is nice and soft before you slice it. This is what sets this pickled beetroot apart from the shop bought versions.

Try and peel the skins while the beetroot is still hot. If the beetroot and vinegar are hot, they will seal better in the jar.

Don’t forget to remove any rubber seals before sterilising your jars! (I’ve done this before and trust me, it’s messy and STINKS!)

Fill the jar as close to the top as you can. This helps the beetroot keep better over time.

How to Pickle Beetroot – Step by Step Picture Recipe

(For a printer friendly version, see the recipe card at the end of this post)

Ingredients

Here is what you will need to fill approx 1 x 500ml Jar. (There may be enough for a 250ml jar too, depending on the size of your beetroot.)

550g (19.4 oz) of Raw Whole Beetroot

270ml (1 + 1/8 Cup) Malt Vinegar

3 – 4 tbsp Soft Light Brown Sugar

Essential equipment

Large Lidded Saucepan

500ml Preserve Jar

Small Saucepan

Sharp Knife

Instructions

First, trim the beetroot stems (550g | 19.4 oz raw whole beetroot) to about 1″ and give them a good wash. I like to use a toothbrush as it’s perfect for getting into all those nooks and crannies!

Now place them into a large saucepan (that you have a lid for).

Then cover them with cold water to about an inch above the tops, and place over a high heat.

Bring it to the boil…

Then reduce the heat to a simmer and pop a lid on. Leave to simmer for 1 hour so the beetroot gets nice and soft.

How to sterilise your jars

Preheat your oven to 190°C/Fan 180°C/374°F and wash your jar(s) in hot soapy water. When there is about 15-20 minutes left on your beetroot timer, place your preserve jar(s) onto a baking tray with the lids off/open. Don’t forget to remove any rubber seals!

Place them into the centre of the preheated oven for 20 minutes. This is all you need to do to sterilise your jars.

Just make sure you don’t touch the inside of the jars with anything other than the beetroot/vinegar, or it will no longer be sterile.

How to make the pickling vinegar

Meanwhile, with about 5-10 minutes to go, pour the vinegar (560ml | 2 + 1/8 Cup) into a small saucepan and set over a low/medium heat. 

1 tbsp at a time, add around 3-4 tbsp of sugar and stir through until it’s dissolved. If you can brave it, have a taste to check the sweetness is to your liking. Although, brace yourself – this is gonna tickle your throat a bit! (Well, it is pure vinegar!)

Keep this hot (but not boiling) until you’re ready to bottle your beetroot.

How to prepare your cooked beetroot

When the hour is up, drain the beetroot.

Then, as soon as you can handle them, remove the beetroot from the pan and peel the skins off. They should slip off very easily.

Read more: Skinks – Backyard Buddies

Now thinly slice the beetroot using a sharp knife.

How to bottle your pickled beetroot

While everything is still hot (the beetroot, vinegar and jars), fill your jar(s) as full as you can with sliced beetroot.

Then pour over the hot vinegar and fill it as close to the top as you can.

All that’s left to do is seal the lid and allow it to cool. 

Everything needs to be hot when you do this because they expand when hot. Then, when things cool, they shrink. This is how the jars seal.

That’s all there is to it! Unopened, your beetroot will last in a cool cupboard for up to 1 year. Once opened, it will keep well in the fridge for up to 3 months.

Let’s be honest though, it’s addictive and is never gonna last that long anyway!

Other recipes you might like

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How to pickle onions

Perfect Homemade Hummus

Have you made this recipe?

Will this gorgeous pickled beetroot be making it’s way into your home? I’d love to know if it is!Send me your pics, comments and questions on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram or email me at livingcornerofficial@gmail.com

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Ingredients

550g (19.4 oz) of Raw Whole Beetroot

270ml (1 + 1/8 Cup) Malt Vinegar

3 – 4 tbsp Soft Light Brown Sugar

Essential Equipment

Large Lidded Saucepan

500ml Preserve Jar

Small Saucepan

Sharp Knife

Instructions

Trim the beetroot stems to 1″ and wash them well.

Place in a large saucepan and cover with water. Bring to the boil.

Reduce to a simmer and put a lid on. Simmer for 1 hour.

Meanwhile, sterilise your jar (see below).

Pour the vinegar in a small saucepan and bring to the boil. Add the sugar to taste and keep hot (but not boiling) until your beetroot is ready.

When the beetroot is cooked, drain the water and peel the skins off.

Thinly slice it with a sharp knife then fill your hot jar to the top with beetroot.

Pour over the hot vinegar (as close to the top as you can) and seal.

How to Sterilise a Jar

Preheat your oven to 190°C/Fan 180°C/374°F and make sure your jar is clean. (Washed in hot soapy water.) Place your jar on a baking tray, with seals removed, and bake for 20 minutes.

Seal while your jar is still hot for best results.

Notes

See the main post for a more detailed, step by step picture recipe.

Be sure to read the ‘What you need to know’ section (especially the ‘Recipe tips’ part!) for lots of helpful information before you begin making this recipe.

Unopened beetroot will store in a cupboard at room temperature for up to 1 year.

Store opened beetroot in the fridge and consume within 3 months.

Nutrition Information:

Yield: 8 Serving Size: 1 Amount Per Serving: Calories: 59Total Fat: 0gSaturated Fat: 0gTrans Fat: 0gUnsaturated Fat: 0gCholesterol: 0mgSodium: 56mgCarbohydrates: 11gFiber: 1gSugar: 10gProtein: 1g

Nutritional information on kitchenmason.com should only be used as a general guideline, I am not a certified nutritionist. Please always check labels for allergens where applicable.

Source: https://livingcorner.com.au Category: Garden

source https://livingcorner.com.au/how-to-pickle-beetroot-grans-trusted-recipe-kitchen-mason/

[jancmalandra]

On moving forward when everything changes

Moomintroll and Snufkin were miles away from Moominvalley and well inside the Hemulen Republic when Moominmama and Snork Maiden awoke the morning after the two boys left for the South together. The women had been spending the better part of their days for the past two weeks canning preserves for the coming Spring in Moominmama's kitchen. This was a time honored and very necessary tradition in most of the households in Moominvalley. Since Snork Maiden dreamed of marrying Moomintroll and having a family some day, she had jumped at the chance to learn canning from Moominmama.

This project really started in the Fall harvest season, which in Moominhouse was a very irregular process that resembled a grand game played by all the children who frequented Moominhouse. Moomintroll, Snufkin, Snork Maiden, even Sniff and Little My picked every berry bush within walking distance of the house clean and would bring the fruit into Moominmama's kitchen by the bushel. Moominpapa would harvest his wife's impressive vegetable garden for the last time before Winter and the time for hibernation came and split the firewood needed to keep the stove going.

Moominma's kitchen became totally devoted to the project of making jar after jar of jam, jelly, fruit preserves, and gallons of tightly sealed vegetable soup. Moomintroll and Moominpapa would bring the filled jars down to the cellar and put them up on the shelves for next Spring. No one in Moominhouse was going to want for fruits and vegetables while waiting for the growing season to produce results.

With Snork Maiden's help, the time this took had been significantly reduced, and Moominmama was very glad to have her company in the kitchen. They would have warm conversations and share jokes with each other as they boiled and cooled and sealed up the fruits of their labors.

The early morning hours passed quickly, marked by the constant sound of boiling liquid, the crackling of the fire in the stove, the clattering of the glass jars, and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the parlor. Given the two womens' level of cooperation, they would be finished with the canning for the year by mid-afternoon.

The clock suddenly struck nine o'clock, throwing Snork Maiden a little off of her rythm.

"I do say!", she exclaimed. "Whatever can be keeping Moomintroll up there? He's usually up long before now. Surely he doesn't plan on sleeping the whole day away?!"

Moomintroll had made himself particularly useful during the canning by keeping himself and Moominpapa from getting underfoot. He would come down early and make a platter of jelly sandwiches which he would bring up to his father's study for the two of them to share for breakfast. For lunch, he would bring up a kettle filled with the vegetable soup, two bowls and spoons.

Moominmama chuckled warmly, saying, "Well, last night WAS a full moon. He'll have spent the night adventuring with Snufkin. Additionally, Snufkin almost certainly went South for the Winter this morning. Moomintroll will have given him a very long farewell. He'll be very despondent all day. We need to give him a lot of time and be ready to give him a shoulder to cry on."

"Unless he's gone away with Snufkin this time!", quipped Snork Maiden. She had made this joke to herself every year as the time for Snufkin's departure approached, as a kind of spell to prevent Moomintroll from leaving with Snufkin. This was the first time she had shared this joke with anyone. It didn't have the effect she had intended.

Moominmama was frozen in place, a look of utterly stunned realization on her face. Her eyes were beginning to fill with tears. Moominmama was the solid rock around whom the chaos of Moominhouse flowed. She would invite the chaos in like a treasured guest and reassemble what was left afterwards into something new, yet comfortingly familiar. She was the most formidable person in The Autarch's realm, if not the world, so to see her this completely out of sorts was horribly frightening!

Snork Maiden rushed to her side, took Moominmama's paws in hers and tried desperately to revive her!

"Moominmama, please come back to us! I-I-I was only joking! I wasn't serious at all! I'm sure he'll be back any second now!"

Moominmama drew Snork Maiden into her arms, and said to her, very gently, "Oh, my poor dear! I'm afraid that you were absolutely right! Moomintroll HAS gone South with Snufkin! We won't see him again until next Spring!"

"WHAT?!", said Snork Maiden, beginning to cry. "H-h-how can you possibly be so sure?!"

Moominmama sat down on the kitchen chair nearest to her and hugged Snork Maiden, bringing her into her lap compassionately as the young girl continued to weep.

"Because I just am! And no, going after him won't do any good now: he's miles away, and even if you did, you'd only hurt him so badly that you'd regret it for a really long time. Besides, would you really want to deprive him of his fondest dream, one he's had for more than half of his life? Did he ever try to hide that from you? You've always know what him going South with Snufkin would mean. Do you really think that means Moomintroll has deserted you? You know very well that he could never do that. Have you really had any reason to doubt that Moomintroll loves you just as much as he loves Snufkin? Listen, my dear, love doesn't work the way you think it does. It isn't like a cake you bake, that you can only share with so many people. Moomintroll gives all of his love away to everyone in his life, with infinite strength to all of us, all at the same time. Has he ever run out of love for any one of us while he's kept doing that? That's what love is REALLY like; the more you give away, the more you have to give."

Snork Maiden had wanted so badly to fly into a jealous rage, just so she could deal with Moomintroll's sudden departure, but Moominmama's wisdom had cured her of her jealousy once and for all. All she had left were her tears over how much she was going to miss Moomintroll. She left Moominmama's embrace slowly, tears still streaming down her face, saying, "I need to think all of this over by myself for a while. I-I promise not to do anything drastic. I'll spend the night in Moomintroll's room if that's alright with you. I won't hurt anything of his. I really do love him too much to want to cause him pain. Please come and check on me when you're up to it. I don't think I could sleep without one of your kisses on the forehead."

"Of course, my dear!", said Moominmama. Snork Maiden went to the stairway and began to make her way up to the attic. Moominmama felt herself deflate with relief. She couldn't have stood up if she had tried.

Moomintroll was as much a part of her as her heart, and now he just wasn't going to be with her anymore. He would visit them every Spring, but he wouldn't be living in Moominhouse. He would have Snufkin's kisses every night instead of hers. She had to focus on the wisdom she had just imparted to Snork Maiden to keep her head. Despite all of that, she began to sob gently.

"So, it's finally happened, has it?", said a deep, loving voice from the kitchen doorway. "He talked Snufkin into taking him South for the Winter at long last?"

"Yes, Papa.", said Moominmama faintly. It was, in fact, Moominpapa who had just come into the kitchen. He took his wife's paws gently in his, and pulled her into his arms, putting her face against his shoulder and hugging her tenderly. The dam burst, and Moominmama wept without restraint. Moominpapa wept as well, his tears flowing freely down his cheeks. They stood like that for quite a while, mourning the end of their dear boy's childhood.

The next day, the three of them decided that the leftover food from the canning wasn't good enough to preserve, but it was good enough for a pre-hibernation party. Four nights after that, all of their friends from across the valley answered their invitation and gathered in Moominhouse to enjoy Moominmama's incredible cooking and celebrate Moomintroll's bravery over the years. Moominpapa had an easy time finding volunteers to help him Winterize Moominhouse, and Moominmama got a small army of helpers in her kitchen and around her house who wouldn't take no for an answer, and who saw her through until hibernation.

Surrounded by all of this love, Moominmama, Moominpapa, and Snork Maiden began to find their feet again. Most importantly, they found hope again. Spring would return, and so would Moomintroll and Snufkin, and together they would all find the joyful possibilities of the new world that they all found themselves in.

The End

[joey-gatorman]

“Take It Easy Before Dinner”

Fini-Mun’s posted some terrific, informative retro food posts on his tumblr lately, so in honor of this I would like to post excerpts from a 1945 cookbook by Ruth Langland Holberg entitled Take It Easy Before Dinner. No pictures, but the written goodies within tell tales of mid-1940s America. As an example I would like to start off by posting her introduction in full, written mostly with the housewife in mind:

INTRODUCTION

HUSBAND

I believe that the hour before dinner should be gracious and peaceful with no creaking of domestic machinery, or frequent and frantic trips to the kitchen. This is the time when menfolks are home from work and the time when the best meal of the day should be planned for their pleasure. Men enjoy a cocktail or a quiet chat with an unhurried companion. They like to listen to the radio and make informative remarks on the news to the lady of their choice. If you don’t agree with his views, save your comments for after dinner. A man’s disposition after a good meal is enormously improved.

GUESTS

If you are having a party and the guests are present, you can be as calm and relaxed as though a battery of efficient maids were in charge of the kitchen. The well-known panic of wondering whether the dinner will be successful and whether the guests will enjoy the evening will be eased off if you are not scrambling around the kitchen with one eye on the clock and the other on the food you are preparing. To be cook, hostess and waitress and to preserve tranquility is not impossible if you know that nothing in the kitchen needs your attention this last hour. You can receive your guests and stay with them until cocktails are over.

EVERYDAY

For everyday living these recipes will suit the clubwoman or give a free afternoon for a matinee, shopping or charity work. They will suit the career woman or the woman who has a maid mornings only. A part-time maid can prepare things ahead of time if you have her use this book. If you are an author, painter, musician or teacher, this is the book for you. It sounds like a sales talk, you say. Well, it is. You will find these recipes really work.

BABIES

If you have babies, it is possible for this hour to be given to putting the infants to bed. Small children in the family can be given this time for reading and repeating their prayers, with your undivided attention.

WORKING GIRL

Are you a working girl or a busy executive wondering how you can find time to entertain guests at dinner? These recipes are designed for you. Many of these dishes can be made the night before, kept in the refrigerator and baker or reheated with no bothersome watching. Long, slow cooking develops and blends flavors. All dishes that need high heat and fast cooking are left out of this book. There will be no smoke from the broiler and no smell of chops permeating the small apartment the night you are having guests. This is the complaint of one of my friends. That’s why she says she is all agog waiting for this book.

METHOD

The secret of leisure simply is careful planning. My method of giving a dinner party is this. Several days beforehand I write down a menu suitable to the time of the year, my finances (usually low) and what the markets have to offer. I look over my collection of recipes and, after selecting a main dish, I check over my supplies at hand and make a list of what to buy. If I am increasing the recipe to serve eight or more instead of four, I multiply carefully because I am an idiot at figures.

It has been a hobby of mine to collect recipes from the magazines, newspapers and my friends. They are filed in stout envelopes that once brought me a monthly poetry magazine. The women’s magazines print delectable streamlined recipes that you should clip for your files. The food ads are worth reading and all their free booklets are an addition to the cook’s library. Experts on the radio give you all sorts of good ideas.

HERE’S HOW

I make out a menu that can be prepared a day before or during the morning of the day. I have never been able to give an entire day to party preparations. I have too many other irons in the fire. I set the table during the afternoon for a sit-down or a buffet meal. Dishes to be used in serving are laid out on the kitchen table. The dessert dishes and silver are ready, the tray of coffee cups, the tray of cocktail glasses and a bowl for cocktail crackers are arranged. Coffee is measured into the drip pot. Water for it will be set boiling when the dessert is being taken in from the kitchen. Everything that should be chilled—tomato juice, fruit juice, butter, the salad etc.—is in the refrigerator.

GREENS

When greens arrive from the store they should be washed, drained and patted partly dry with a dish towel. A head of lettuce soaked in ice water, the core removed, then kept in a covered dish, will stay fresh and crisp for an amazingly long time. The same goes for celery. Other greens are stored in a covered pan in the refrigerator. Keep parsley and watercress in covered jars after they have been washed. The salad for dinner can be mixed and kept in a covered bowl. But for goodness’ sake, don’t add the dressing until time to serve it, or the greens will wilt.

FRENCH DRESSING

Make a large jar of French dressing and keep it in the refrigerator. A clove of garlic should repose in its depths. Shake well before using. A refrigerator can do a lot of work for you. Be sure to let it.

ODDS AND ENDS

Vegetables can be prepared during odd moments. The main dish has been made ready and is either waiting to be baked, reheated or assembled. Rolls are in a paper bag to be heated a few minutes in the oven. Look around and check up on everything.

Now, this is important for your peace of mind and an uncluttered kitchen. There should not be an unwashed dish or pan in the kitchen. Clean up as you go along. Now you can put on your party dress and relax.

INCREASING RECIPES

This is a very personal and informal cook book. The recipes have been tried many times. They are designed for four or six people as a rule, but they can be increased to serve twelve or sixteen people with very little more work than is needed to prepare for four.

GUEST HELP

When you are having guests for dinner, delegate one of the men to help you. Let your husband remain at the table chatting with the guests. It causes less flurry and your helper is flattered. He can carry the plates and silver to the kitchen where you scrape, rinse and stack neatly.

DESSERT AND COFFEE

Get the dessert ready for him to carry in to the table. Pour boiling water in the drip coffee pot and join your guests, bringing in the coffee tray at the same time. Perhaps you missed some good jokes and witty remarks, but your guests are having a good time. It looks as in the party were a success.

Finally, you say when the last drop of coffee has been sipped, “Let’s find more comfortable chairs.” Men get restless if kept too long in the same chair. Or else, serve coffee in another room from a low table. Someone takes the last dishes to the kitchen. You scrape, rinse and stack them and put away leftovers. I hope you have a little mirror in the kitchen with a lipstick and some face powder. Make a few repairs if your face needs it. Turn out the light and proceed to enjoy the rest of the evening as much as you did the first.

DISH WASHING

Those stacked dishes can be washed in a jiffy when the party is over. It is fun to talk over the evening with your husband and to hear the stories you missed while you were out of the room. Your husband will hardly know he is drying the dishes, especially after a jolly evening.

KEEP ON HAND

ADD IMAGINATION TO THESE

Biscuit mixes, muffin mixes, cake and pie mixes.

Pudding and gelatines in packages.

Cinnamon, nutmeg, mace, cloves, allspice, ginger, mustard.

Vanilla, lemon, orange, mint and almond extracts.

Celery salt, celery seeds, onion and garlic salts, curry powder, chili powder, parsley flakes.

Dehydrated sauces, such as mushroom, spaghetti, white and brown.

A SUGGESTION

Examine the grocer’s shelves for new products and try all short cuts.

Do a lot of canning and preserving or else buy relishes, jams, jellies, chutney and chili sauce.

There are many sets of herbs with directions for use. The most valuable to me are tarragon, basil, thyme, dill, parsley and chives. There are some mixtures suitable for meat dishes or cheese dishes and there are soup bags for different kinds of soups.

Doughnuts, cakes, cookies and pies bought from a fine bakery will save baking. Ice cream and sherbet are perfect desserts. I have included a few of my favorite desserts.

Buy good coffee and serve it hot or iced with every dinner.

Every now and then have an old-fashioned baking day and turn out a batch of cookies or a fat layer cake with a delicate filling and frosted to perfection. Make a pie and keep some pastry in the refrigerator for another day.

How about a special coffee cake or fancy bread or tiny rolls? And by all means, bake bread. The delectable aroma of bread baking is wonderful in a house and homemade bread is wonderful to eat, too.

[allaboutthecurry]

Disclaimer: This is a loooooooooong post, if you just want the recipe, just skip to the end:) 

It’s been forever since I’ve posted a recipe here. I’ve been trying and experimenting many recipes and small projects to share with you guys. Today, I’m going to share one of my mini-projects that I did a couple of days ago. It’s a recipe for Fig Jam. A thick, spicy Fig Jam.

I love jams-homemade or store bought. I like the whole idea of preserving fruit and vegetables to sustain their shelf life. So, essentially, you can preserve something that’s seasonal and enjoy it the whole year round. And if it’s homemade-what could be better, right? A commercial jam has so many ingredients that are not natural, that only mimic natural flavours. This jam is all natural!

The idea to make this jam came from a trip to a local market in Toronto. I’ve been wanting to visit local markets around me (Mississauga) and Toronto for a very long time, somehow it dint happen until last week.

We usually get our groceries from nearby supermarkets and Asian stores etc. You pick what you want, head to the payment counter, pay for your goods and that’s it. It’s not like an open, bustling farmers market. I for one love the whole idea of markets-the open shops, the food displays, people talking, the whole energy, I love it. It reminds me of back home, where people, until sometime ago, shopped locally, from street vendors. Whether it’s fruits, veggies, fish or meat, we bought locally.  So, when I got the chance, I thoroughly enjoyed my little trip to the farmers market. I picked these gorgeous brown turkey figs from a lovely Italian farmer there.

Fresh Produce

Summer bounty

My favourite

You know growing up, I have so many memories of accompanying my mom to the local fish market. She bought fish from the local fisher women every week, she was friendly, chirpy and chatty with most of them. But, she had her favourites (of course!), and over the course of years, they formed a food-relationship of sorts. I’m not sure if they knew each other’s names, but every time we went to the market, my mom would look for them and they would quickly call out to her, waving at her, to show what they were selling that day.

Even long after she passed away, those women would mention her to my dad, when he went to buy fish. That one-one relationship with the vendors is so great, it’s really basic, you get to know what you are buying, from whom, like it’s meant to be. There is beauty in knowing the details.

So, anyway, coming back to my visit to St. Lawrence market, I approached the vendor selling these amazing Brown Turkey figs and I enquired about it. I asked him if these would be good for baking and he was quick to reply that these were too good to be cooked with. He said, he was Italian and in Italy when they were in season, he would just enjoy them fresh. Or use it in jams/jellies to make them last longer. So, while I enjoyed most of them fresh, I did make jam with the remaining ones.

I made this Fig jam a little spicy- I used the tiniest pinch of clove to give the jam a nice heat and flavour. I added a nice dose of ginger too. I loved it!

So, this is how I made a small batch, thats a small jar (used up in a week)

you will need:

fresh figs- 150 grams, washed, dried and quartered

sugar- 4 tbsp

honey- 4 tbsp

ginger- 1 inch, grated

clove powder- a tiny pinch (optional)

lemon juice- 1-2 tbsp (optional-I didn’t use it)

Procedure:

Prep the figs- wash the figs well to remove any dirt. Dry them with a clean cloth and quarter them or chop them roughly. If you like a smooth jam, cut the figs into smaller pieces, if you like the jam chunky, then cut them into bigger pieces.

In a saucepan, add the figs, sugar and honey and place it on medium heat.

As the sugar dissolves and the figs become soft, you will see some liquid. Keep stirring to avoid burning. Continue stirring for 5 minutes.

Add the grated ginger and clove powder to the pan, mix well. The consistency will start getting ‘jammy’. Lower the heat and test for consistency on cold plate. (to test-place a plate in the freezer for 5 minutes, when the fig mixture starts getting jammy, pour a bit of that mixture on the cold plate. Hold the plate vertical and try to wipe the mixture through the middle. If there is a clean swipe with both sides intact, then its the right consistency. If the mixture slides, then it probably will need more time.

Since, this is a small amount of figs to make jam, it won’t take long to get the jammy consistency, so start checking after 8 minutes. if you heat it longer, the jam will harden.

When the jam is ready, transfer it to a clean, sterilized container while it’s still hot. When it’s a little cooler, secure with a lid. Enjoy your delicious jam!

  Since, the sugar content is high, this jam can be refrigerated for about 2 months in a clean, sterilized bottle or container.

Please try this recipe and let me know if you like it.

Thanks,

Susan

P.S: if you are wondering why this recipe does not call for pectin, the reason is that, the jam is thick naturally

anyway, so no need of extra thickening agents.

  Disclaimer: This is a loooooooooong post, if you just want the recipe, just skip to the end:) 

[rhinozilla]

Can we get just a good old fashioned Caryl fic? Something with the current storyline? Some sweet with a touch of angst?? Thanks!!!

Jesushad basically given Daryl a box of clothes to pick out what he wanted, and thenhe had given Daryl the room. After so much forced isolation, Daryl would havefigured the empty room in the Hilltop mansion would have had his skin crawling…Reallythough, the only thing making his skin crawl at the moment was the stolenclothes on his body.

Hewrangled out of them quickly and threw them in the corner. They stank of theSanctuary, of dirt and oil and sweat, of the iron, of dog food and stale peanutbutter. The clothes in the box smelled like cardboard and musty fabricsoftener, but they were clean. He rummaged through it and found a shirt andpants that fit. They weren’t broken in and shaped to him like his real clothes,but those were long gone. At least they didn’t smell like that place. Somethinghad always made his real clothes smell like grass and wood chips. He snorteddryly as he considered rolling around on the grass just to make these newclothes at least smell familiar.

Jesushad guessed at his shoe size, and the shoes in the bottom of the box fitsurprisingly well. Daryl tied the laces and took a few test steps. It’d do.

Milesaway, Carol laced up her boots, savoring the heavy thud of them as she droppedher foot to the floor. She had tried to wear some of the shoes that she foundin the house, but they had felt too fragile. They reminded her too much of atime of fashion over function. She didn’t like how exposed her ankles felt, andso she’d gone straight back to her tall boots. There had been a time when sheslept in these shoes; they felt like part of her.

Carolleft her bedroom and went into the kitchen, tugging out a jar of peach jam fromthe cabinet. The house hadn’t been a goldmine by any means, but there had beena few non-perishables that kept away the panic of running out of food. Thepreservatives alone had gotten her through her first few days on her own.

Shespooned out some of the peach jam, taking a sniff of it and closing her eyes.Peaches always smelled like Georgia. It smelled like sun-baked days on theGreene farm, and if she let herself, she could hear T-Dog singing softly tohimself as he cleaned up the camp, could see Carl and Lori feeding chickens,Glenn awkwardly riding a horse.

Shetasted the jam, and her nose pinched at the sweetness of it. Food nowadays wassubstance over flavor, but they had found ways to muscle some taste in. Therehad been big talks once about how burning different woods when cooking gavemeat different flavors. Daryl had fancied himself almost a connoisseur on thetopic.

Carolsnorted, frowned, and pushed the spoon back in the jar.

Daryldidn’t bother with the kitchen knife he was offered, instead opting to biteinto the tomato like an apple. The tomato was ripe, and juice immediately burstout of it, dribbling over his chin and onto his new-ish shirt. He couldn’tmuster a care for it, closing his eyes as he savored the simple taste of thefruit. It smelled clean and fresh, and he nearly inhaled the rest of it just tohold onto that aroma.

Maggiehad pushed all sorts of food at him. He could feel all of her concern andrelief in the way she wanted him to eat, to rest, to be within eyeshot of heras much as possible. That kind of response had his chest aching, and now thisgoddamn perfect tomato was going to push him over the edge. He could hardlylook her in the eye, but at the same time, being away from her might havekilled him on this particular afternoon. Maggie, Sasha, even Enid kinda…Theywere part of home. They were his sisters, and they were conduits to Carol, toRick, to the others…

Carol.

Heswallowed the first bite of tomato, wanting to immediately dig into the second,but forcing himself to slow down and relish the aftertaste. Not like dirtybread and dogfood. He took a second bite, then a third right after that, justto drown out that memory.

Therewas a knock on the door, and he flinched.

Carolgot up to answer the door, but she didn’t open it. Instead, she let Morganthink she wasn’t home, and she watched him leave his little care package on herdoor step. He walked away, and once he was outside the property line, clearlywith no intention of looking back, Carol slipped the door open just enough toreach out and drag the bag inside. She closed the door again and absently setthe bag with the other basket of fruit that Ezekiel had brought her thatmorning.

Aggravatedall of a sudden, she retrieved her pack of cigarettes from the table and slidone between her teeth. She flipped open her lighter and held the flame closeenough to the edge of the cigarette to make it glow. She paused there, rightbefore the flame could catch and actually ignite the cigarette.

Shedidn’t even really want to smoke. It tasted awful, and all the health andsafety warnings that she’d heard made it seem like she could actually feel herlungs shriveling with each puff. The only solace that the cigarettes even gaveher was that olfactory memory of Daryl…that and that she deserved so much worsethan an awful taste in her mouth and burned up lungs. Maybe every cigarette wasa pinch of penance…

Shewithdrew the lighter and set it on the table, leaning on it slightly. Aside froma tiny wisp of smoke from the singed end of the cigarette, there was nothing. Shetook it out of her mouth and shoved it back in the pack of Morley’s.

Daryl’sfingers toyed with the frayed corner of the Morley cigarette pack in his pocketas he listened to Greg drone on about Hilltop “security” and “harboringfugitives” and “threatening the peace between Hilltop and the Saviors.” It wasmaking Daryl’s lip curl and his fingers itch for a cigarette. Yeah, thenicotine might taste good as it burned its way down, but he’d just gotten outof a smoke drenched, concrete walled, filthy hole. The idea of puffing one outand bringing that all back made his stomach turn.

Maggiehad a handle on the conversation with Greg, so Daryl let himself drift a bit.He felt overstimulated, between the stiff clothes that weren’t his, to theclean aftertaste of tomato still in his mouth, to the dampening acoustics andsoft surfaces of the mansion, to the newfound freedom of just walking aroundwithout restriction…but this place wasn’t home. Even with Maggie and Sashahere, something was missing.

Hemissed the familiar weight of the crossbow on his back, the leather vest acrosshis shoulders, the ties of fabric around the pant legs at his ankles. The packof Morley’s wasn’t even his. Negan’s people had taken the pack he’d had on him,the same pack that Carol had given him just days earlier. That was the bigthing that was missing; he wouldn’t feel like he was home until he’d seen her.

Carol’shome was empty.

Well,okay, that was supposed to be the point, but it just felt vacant. The odor ofthe walker that had been in the house before had soaked into the wood and thecarpet, but the breeze through the open windows had taken care of the worst ofthat. There were four chairs at the kitchen table, and she’d had to put boxesor bags in the other three chairs just to keep from staring at the emptiness ofthem.

Thebreeze drifted through the thin curtains over the window, and Carol relaxed asit moved through her hair. The smell of wood chips and grass greeted her, andshe tensed before her brain could catch up to her nose. She couldn’t place it,but she almost wanted to catch that scent and keep it in the house. If nothingelse, just to combat the dead smell. Something about that scent just seemed tochase the emptiness away.

[24hourchampagnediet-blog1]

Meet the mum from Bega booming with her low carb baking business

New Post has been published on https://bestrawfoodrecipes.com/meet-the-mum-from-bega-booming-with-her-low-carb-baking-business/

Meet the mum from Bega booming with her low carb baking business

Anna and Lilly Hopkins. Photo: Supplied

The Protein Bread Co caught my attention whilst embarking on the ‘post baby bounce back keto diet’ I set myself 12 months ago.

Most ‘low carb’ flour products leave little to be desired and have you back on the carby sugars before you finish the packet! I can’t claim this bread helped me lose weight but it did allow me to continue eating toast and pancakes for brekky and pizza for dinner leaving me feeling less like a dieting social outcast.

The Protein Bread Co, like every great success story, comes from humble beginnings.

For siblings Luke and Anna Hopkins it starts in Bega with a passion for cooking, health and fitness. Their goal was to create better versions of normally high carb foods by utilising locally sourced high protein and low carb meals, seeds and flours.

I caught up with baker and self-confessed glamper, Anna Hopkins, the lady behind Australia’s first low carb and no added sugar range of baking mixes…

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What was it like growing up in Bega? 

At the time, I dreamed of living in the city, and loved our trips up to Sydney to go shopping however now I think about my childhood in the country with so many fond memories.

Looking back, growing up in the country really enhanced my creativity, resilience and resourcefulness, all which have been skills that I heavily relied on when setting up the business – and life in general!

Activities like roaming the paddocks picking blackberries then coming home and making blackberry pie and jam, or swimming in the dam on hot summer’s days are my favourite memories from that time.

How did you become motivated and inspired to follow your dreams?

I consider myself very fortunate that my parents were always very supportive of us following our dreams, even if that meant a slightly untraditional path. My childhood dream was to have a cafe/restaurant just like McDonalds but healthier.

I was always taking Mum’s traditional Danish baking recipes and making them healthier by reducing sugar (and at that stage fat).

At school I chose subjects that I felt would give me the skills to achieve this dream, such as food technology and hospitality.

I loved working, gaining experience and earning my own money. When I was 12 I started baking healthy cakes for Bega Health Foods to sell by the slice. Then when I was old enough I started working at Bega Foodworks in the Deli.

The more I worked, learned and progressed, the clearer I became on my vision of my future in business.

Anna and Lily feeding the sheep. Photo: Supplied.

What business support did you have to help you get your bread on the market?

I can’t say we really had any official business support as such, mainly honest feedback and moral support from friends and family!

Protein Bread was a product that I created from my cafe, that was on the menu for my health conscious customers.

Due to regular Facebook posts, I was soon getting demand from all over Australia for my Low Carb Protein Bread.

Being a fresh product, with no preservatives that required refrigeration, sending bread around the country wasn’t an option. This is when my brother Luke came on board and set up our website, and we started selling the bread mix online.

Today the business (now PBCo – formerly The Protein Bread Company) has 12 employees, over 20 natural, low carb, high protein products, and two manufacturing facilities in Marrickville, Sydney.

We sell direct to consumers online around Australia, NZ and the US as well as in leading health food and independent grocery.

We’ve grown and evolved by staying on the leading edge of ingredient innovation, working with our farmers and suppliers to process ingredients to our specs, and listening to our customers.

What did you study after high school?

After school, I was keen to start working and gain experience in hospitality and leadership. I moved to Sydney and started studying business through TAFE.

I also gained a casual position at McDonalds in McCafe. After about 6 months my restaurant manager asked if I’d like to commence a Management Development Program through McDonalds, instead of TAFE,  which I did, and went on to achieve my Advanced Diploma of Business, at the same time as gaining real life, hands on experience.

This experience was absolutely invaluable for my confidence and knowledge of business. After a 10 year career in leadership with McDonalds Head Office, I decided to take the plunge and bring my childhood dream to life.

Whole Meal Cafe opened in Darlinghurst, Sydney in 2010.

I ran the cafe for 4 years, then successfully sold in 2014 to focus all my attention on The Protein Bread Company.

I really believe that everyone has something special to offer the world, and the best thing we can do is encourage kids to follow their dreams and forge a path that they are passionate about, then success will come.

The traditional education system has its place for certain careers, however definitely not the best approach for everyone, nor the only way.

Anna Hopkins is the managing director of Protein Bread Co. Photo: Supplied.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

My ultimate goal would be to have the business in a position where we can move back to the Far South Coast, or maybe have even sold and started a new business down there.

My passion is enabling people to feel their best, by making better food choices. As a society, we have made some progress when it comes to health education and understanding of food, and the impact this can have on our bodies, and minds, however, there is still so much work to be done.

People often think that healthy food choices are expensive, hard and not tasty – I try and show people that this does not have to be the case! There is so much focus and attention on exercise, personal trainers, the gym – all of which play a part, however, can also come unstuck if the wrong food choices are made.

Right now my focus is on PBCo and creating our products – healthy foods that people love to eat, however, I would also love to travel around and talk in high schools about food and the power of food to change lives.

Who is your most famous customer?

Guy and Jules Sebastian, Kylie Gillies, Karl Stefanovic and James Stuart have all used our products in their recent transformations, as well as Para Olympian Mon Murphy.

How have your parents supported your dream? 

By giving us all the flexibility and freedom to pursue our goals without judgement or expectation.

There has never been any pressure that we ‘should’ go down a certain path, which I am so grateful for. Also asking the right questions to help gain clarity and just bouncing around ideas.

Anna Hopkins is the managing director of Protein Bread Co. Photo: Supplied.

You’re a mother of a 1 year old, how do you get enough sleep to run a company?!!

Mmmmmm very good question, it’s definitely a struggle!!

I’m fortunate enough to have Lily in a great little family daycare place near work three days a week, and then my partner Aaron has her at home one day a week, so I can work four days a week without her.

Re the sleep…. it’s just a matter of doing the best I can each day, some days are better than others depending on how many times she has woken up! I try not to be hard on myself but it’s definitely frustrating when there’s just so much I want to do!!

Apart from that eating the best I can, avoiding sugar/carbs really helps my energy.

How do you spend your time when back in the Bega Valley

My #1 is definitely glamping at Tathra Beachside Caravan Park, which we do about twice a year and absolutely love.

Switching off, being in nature, breathing the fresh air, hearing the ocean and exploring all the beautiful places down there are what I love most.

I now have a 1-year-old daughter who also loves being outdoors in nature and she really loved the last trip we took.

The Far South Coast is just so beautiful and has such a special place in my heart, it’s definitely my go to for holidays and mini breaks.

We enjoyed dinner and drinks at Tathra Pub, the renovations are stunning, and the staff were also very impressive, and we had some amazing bacon & egg rolls and coffee from Wild Orchid Cafe.

It’s so pleasing to see some great business popping up or reinventing themselves on the Far South Coast.

Protein Bread Co. source the ingredient Lupin from Brocklesby in NSW. Photo: Supplied.

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