#zester writes

[ambivertedmultiversenjoyer]

A Spooky Month dream I had last night.

Blue was taking care of Skid and Pump for Lila this time tonight since she couldn't find anyone else to do it. Blue left the house with the kids, and so their usual antics began. They eventually encountered some guy named Zester, and then soon after, The Devil Butcher himself showed up alongside Zester. They seemed to know each other in one way or another.

A while after Bob left, Zester was dying. He gave Blue Bob's credit card, which seemed a little bigger than the average credit card only by a few inches. Before Zester died, he told her to give the card to Lila and then passed away.

Blue went back to Lila's place with Skid and Pump and gave her the card, examining it together. The credit card seemed to be a customized one, having Bob's business details on it. The kids had already gone to the living room inside the house. After a few moments of examining the card, they unexpectedly heard some heavy footsteps nearby.

Lila ran off as Blue stood there nervously. Her anxiety froze her, but she tried not to show how scared she really was in front of him. As Bob finally approached Blue, she quickly gave him his credit card back, not having expected to see him so soon after. She lied about him having dropped his card and losing it.

"How kindly of ya, darlin'..." he drawled out, gently taking the card back. Finally gaining the courage to move, Blue walked over to a bench, away from him, and sat down. What scared her was when he decided to sit down next to her. Unbeknownst to either of them, Lila had run off into the house to call the cops on Bob Velseb. Lila silently appreciated Blue for keeping the Devil Butcher distracted.

Bob decided to start a conversation with poor Blue, unaware of how truly frightened she was. They knew each other, and Bob considered Blue to be the kindest person he had ever known.

(And the dream ended there since I woke up soon after the conversation started.)

(It's been some time since I've posted about fandom related dreams, huh?)

[myrxellabaratheon]

The Hazbin Hotel ASOIAF crossover nobody asked for

But since Huskerdust is very Throbb coded and I’ll eventually write the fic I’m going to bother you all ( they have explanations but considering I’ll eventually post the fic you’ll know them later)

Myrcella as Charlie

Arianne as Vaggie

Theon as Angel Dust

Robb as Husk

Jon as Sir Pentuos

Littlefinger as Alastor

Jeyne P as Cherri Bomb

Jaime as Lucifer

Cersei as Lilith

Cat as Carmilla

Ned as Zester

Ramsay as Valentino

Margaery as Velvette

Roose as Vox

[astcrownaut]

A/N: I keep seeing people like my old Jacob Frye x Reader post and now I'm low key simping for him again so I figured a lengthy drabble would suffice to get me back into this game. If you have any suggestions, even if for random characters don't hesitate to ask! I do apologize for not putting much interaction with the battle scenes. It's not my best area and rather go straight to their interactions outside of it.

Word Count: 1,374

Characters: 7,424

Prompt: "I think I'm in love with you."

"Not the best idea you ever had, but I'll happily take it."

Why did you have to join along with Jacob and his shenanigans? Why must you torture yourself? If it weren't for his dashingly good looks (don't ever tell him that, he already had a substantial ego as it is, no need to further enlarge it), you wouldn't be in this situation at all. 

He had pleaded for your assistance in taking out a Blighters hideout in the heart of Westminster. He explained that conquering the hideout would benefit in conquering all of Westminster. If it had been a random hideout you would've declined. However given how much of a hindrance they've been as of late, on top of Jacob giving puppy eyes (an adorable sight, you may add), it was impossible denying such a request; though you had claimed you were only doing it as part of your duty as an assassin. 

You had known the twins for quite a long time during your time in the British Brotherhood of Assassin's. You had trained alongside them up until the twins' father had passed. During that time you developed a long-term crush on the younger twin, which Evie had noticed. For years she would tease you about it. Well, she did, until you began teasing her about Henry once he came around. All of a sudden she would hush you with a red face. Anytime he needed help, you were right by his side. You didn't know if it was due to that crush of yours or if it was because you knew how reckless he was. 

Probably both.

It was no easy battle either, much to your displeasure. Jacob had decided going in with a bang would be the best bet. Note: it was not; a bad decision really, but it's from Jacob, what did you expect? It was harder for you to stealth your way in since they were alarmed and already heading your way. A lengthy battle filled with scattered dead bodies and a bountiful of curses towards Jacob, which he laughed at when able to. You did get the occasional hit, however, the worst damage you had gotten was a deep gash on your arm. You had focused entirely on the blight in front of you, giving the blight on your side to slash his knife on your raised arm. You had hissed in pain, the burning sensation worsening after handling the blight in front of you. Jacob noticed your hiss and took out the blight before he could do more damage. Luckily that had been the last blight needing to be taken down. A successful mission, excluding that hefty gash on you. 

While awaiting for rooks to come and establish themselves, Jacob began tending to your wound. Well, tried to at least. It was entertaining seeing him struggling to find clothes and water in the hideout. You weren't sure if it was due to fatigue or worry. Regardless, it somewhat resembled a headless chicken running about. While he was busy searching, you took a blight's shirt and tore a strip to wrap around your arm in order to stop the bleeding. You ended up searching for an aide kit as well since you figured you would have better luck finding it than Jacob, who was spewing curses. If you weren't so lightheaded you would have laughed. Minutes had passed and your search was uneventful, causing you to slightly panic. 

In the midst of your panic, Jacob came behind you and grabbed your shoulder. You jumped before turning around and grabbed his arm with your injured one, pain shooting up your arm. With a hiss, you released his arm to cradle your injured arm to your chest. 

"Now what was the point of doing that, knowing it was going to hurt?" Jacob scolded, his eyebrows furrowing while he squinted. 

"What's the point of grabbing me, knowing it was a bad idea?" You retorted, sarcasm oozing in your voice. A scowl formed on your face as you glared at him. Jacob could only roll his eyes, "Just sit down so I can tend to your wounds unless you wish to let it get infected." He warned. You glared at him once more before letting out a sigh and sitting on a nearby crate. There was no point in arguing with him, with him being as stubborn as a mule it was futile. It didn't help you get more light-headed by the minute either. So, you caved in and let him tend to your wounds with no remarks. 

It was silent as Jacob tended to your wounds while you alternated between looking at him and looking at your wound. For as reckless and thoughtless as he is, you were impressed by his skill in cleaning out your wound and bandaging it. You couldn't help but watch his skilled hands tending to you and let your thoughts wander.

"You're staring," Jacob mumbled, his eyes not once leaving your arm. Your eyes widened and looked away as you ignored the burning sensation on your face. 

"So? How else am I supposed to make sure you don't do more damage to me?" You raised an eyebrow, though a smile toyed with your lips.

"I'm wounded that you believe I'm incapable of catering to injuries. How do you think I can fight after every mission?" A frown took over his face, his eyes glancing up at you before dabbing your wound with antibiotics. You hissed in pain, getting a small apology from Jacob in the process. 

"I figured it was either Evie or a rook cleaning your wounds if it were dire enough."

“Continuing to wound me, I see? The least you could do is tell me what you’re thinking.” He let out a small chuckle, dropping the antibiotic rag and unwrapping the bandages.

You had grown silent, chewing on your lip. You were debating telling him, though you feared losing the relationship you have with Jacob. It wasn’t just your crush that lured you to him. No, it was his personality. With him, you felt so carefree and able to joke around (even going as far as pranking each other). He was really the only one you felt you could let your walls down besides Evie.

“Dove?”

“I think I’m in love with you.” You blurted out, looking up at him and watching his reaction. His eyes weren’t on you and instead focused on finishing up bandaging your arm. Though he had no real emotion on his face, he was quiet. Nerves began to eat at you. What if it wasn’t mutual? Did you ruin it? 

"Not the best idea you ever had, but I'll happily take it." He looked up at you with an eyebrow raised, a smirk on his lips. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “And joining you in this foolery was better than being in love with you?”

“A poor mistake, really.”

You let out a snort. You mulled over his words, butterflies flowing through you. ‘I’ll happily take it’. You paused, “Wait, so you’re fine with this?” Confusion was written all over your face. It wasn’t exactly a rejection, nor was it really an acceptance. What..?

Jacob stood up, and before you could react, he placed his hands on the side of your legs, effectively trapping you. Your breath hitched as he leaned closer to you. “As if my response weren’t any clearer, let me give you a more concrete answer.” He leaned closer until your lips connected. Your hand instinctively went to cupping his face as you reciprocated the kiss. Your lips felt as if they were perfect for his own. If you were able to, you would kiss him all day if he permitted. He pulled back, much to your displeasure. Slightly panting, you look down at his lips before staring into his ocean blue eyes that was staring into your own.

“Did that answer your question?” That cocky smirk was still on his face, causing you to scowl.

“Just shut up and keep kissing me.” You gripped his shirt and crashed your lips onto his. He let out a small laugh against your lips. He listened to your demand and deepened the kiss. After all, who was he to deny such a request from someone he’s been enchanted by?

[othercrossee]

Calling yuata uta instead cuz im tired of pretending yuata is a good replacement for yuta, that shit SUCKS

[kat-nevayra]

Relationship Dynamics in Areth, EoAS, and TJoXV

@zester000, tell me if this is accurate:

(Spoiler warning btw)

Overprotective and cinnamon roll: Silver and Iris; Lavender and Daniel; Kyle and Lee

Chaotic dumbass and the voice of reason: Elsie and Elae; Felix and Marina

Tough-looking cinnamon roll and sweet monster: Azeile and Lindsay; Breaker and Valentina

The hot one(s) and their simp: Eliza and Scott; Erin, Medlee, and Lexios; Catherine and Arielle

Agents of chaos: Sudera and Cameron

Simple, sweet, wholesome love: Donavin and Kia; Maven and Jenny; Regina and James; Scrapper and Lixue

Looks evil, but is really wholesome: Arianna and Lilan; Sabrina and Ellu

[lisbetadair]

Cheesey Headcanons

Sometimes when I am struggling for inspiration, I try to imagine what the characters I'm writing about would do faced with the particular situation that I'm experiencing.

Today, I could not find the cheesegrater and used the nutmeg grater instead.

Ghost would agree that using the nutmeg grater is an acceptable plan B, and get on with it.

Soap wouldn't know what a nutmeg grater was, and once the concept of a nutmeg grater was explained to him, he wouldn't see why you couldn't just use the cheesegrater anyway?

Price would be offended to own such a thing as a nutmeg grater, which he would regard as pretentious, and unbearably bourgouisie.

Laswell never has to worry about such things as her wife has a specific microplane grater for doing parmesan (or other italian hard cheese for pasta), to top of other grating instruments, and a housekeeper who makes most of the food anyway.

Gaz would root around for the grater, find the zester and coyly comment (no one else is present, he narrates cooking dinner like he's on the telly) that he was going to have to be a naughty boy and use it instead.

Graves: regards the concept of pasta, pesto and freshly grated parmesan to be dangerously unamerican. He places a single Kraft slice atop his tater tot casserole and, feeling fancy, adds a small tuft of Easy Cheese with a flourish.

Farah: Shaves fragments off her halal parmesan with a bayonet. The parmesan was a gift from Italian special forces, who gave her an entire wheel as tribute. She strapped it to the front of the jeep to get it home, where it saved her life by deflecting the bullets of a Russian backed ambush.

[callmearcturus]

bakery story, pt 1

okay the pitch for this is going to spoil the twist a bit, but basically I wanted to write a story that started off very very slice of life domestic cuteness.... then at the end of the first act hard left-turns into a magical murder mystery. i'm going to try to just bang this out. I think the beginning is going to get a total rewrite later, once I have a better feel for the story? but at the moment it's about putting words on the page.

the first few of these will also go on tumblr, but eventually they will be patron-exclusive. this is one of two stories i’m working on for patreon. you can join up here.

Juniper went through a full gambit of  hobbies until he finally settled on the one that worked. And it wound up being baking mostly by derth of the price of materials.

He had  always needed things to do, unobtrusive little ways to carve out his  own time and space from the world. When his hands were still, he felt  smaller, less dense, almost less real.

The problem was only  exacerbated by the… belated timeline of his adulthood. Before he could  escape off to college, buy independence for the simple price of student  loans, he was roped into family obligations. As the only nephew of an  ailing aunt, Juniper was compelled to move in with Aunt Gail. It wasn’t  right for her to live alone while she was having her seizures, after  all, and Juniper didn’t have any other pressing matters, no job or  immediate prospects, so it was obvious he would move in.

For over a  year, Juniper lived in the guest room downstairs of his aunt. For over a  year, he was stuck with four walls that were painted a bright blue that  was decidedly not him. For over a year, he mostly tried to  stay out of his aunt’s way, aware she was annoyed at his presence, at  the perceived loss of autonomy.

‘You and me both,’ Juniper often thought in unwanted sympathy.

And  so he tried his hand at everything he could. Knitting wound up being  fiendishly difficult. Crochet was too mind-numbing to keep the  claustrophobia at bay. Gardening was pleasant enough, and he stuck with  it for months, but it didn’t take up enough of the day unless he wanted  to become quite serious about the matter, and at that point the entry  price rose sharply.

Art was a series of aggravations, as Juniper  tried his hand at sketching and painting and writing, only to be  disappointed by the results.

Yoga, to his surprise, helped him  feel much calmer than usual, but the only space large enough for it was  the living room, and he was simply too body conscious for his aunt’s  gaze.

And so: baking.

Baking was a fiddly, difficult thing,  but had a very low barrier to entry when Juniper got started. A large  bag of flour and packets of yeast were easy to keep on hand, and arguing  with breads whiled away plenty of hours.

Most cookbooks had  baking instructions in them, tucked behind all the cooking recipes. Aunt  Gail had plenty of those, as she had long since reached the age where  cookbooks became safe, inoffensive gifts. So, Juniper soon discovered  the joys of icebox cookies, how he could freeze a log of dough and later  cut off discs to turn into fresh, warm cookies whenever he wanted (and  without consigning himself to eating a whole batch alone).

Then,  he used his allowance to buy a microplane instead of a lemon zester,  because a forum post said it was more versatile. And since he had a  microplane, it was easier to justify buying a whole nutmeg seed for the  first time.

It was worth it. God, it was worth it, for the scent and taste of nutmeg as he grated it directly into a bowl.

These  things snowballed was the point. Collecting the things he needed was a  long string of small purchases, adding to the craft. And he was good at  it, was the best thing. Juniper loved baking in a way he hadn’t loved  anything before in his life. Which perhaps was depressing on some level,  but it was hard to be sad when he was working through a recipe or  whisking meringue to firm peaks or glaring balefully at his latest  sourdough experiment.

It all made the weight of his stalled life feel lighter. He was advancing, getting better at something, from amateur to home cook to a splendidly competent self-taught baker.

Aunt  Gail died in her sleep of a heart attack, 15 months after Juniper has  moved in to the downstairs guest room. Juniper found her as he dutifully  brought up her morning coffee, arranged on a tray with a warm  croissant, split with honey drizzled across the inner flesh.

All of it went cold.

=

After  funeral and burial and will-reading, Juniper packed his bags and put  all of his baking accouterments into boxes, and moved to the city, using  his saved up allowance from Aunt Gail to pay first and last month’s  rent on a decent studio.

This, he felt, was what it must feel like  to be an indoor cat that finally escaped into the yard. He was free,  and bereft of direction or purpose. The world was suddenly so large.

=

The Steeping Night was a tea house pressed snugly between a boutique  clothing shop and a lighting store. It had a custom facade of navy wood  and brass fixtures. It was positioned perfectly to let sunlight in  through the colorfully tinted windows, casting the hues across the  hardwood floors, clashing merrily with the overlapping array of rugs.

It was the sort of place that Juniper knew existed; he saw they on social media, captured in portrait-sized  pictures and coated in special filters. They must have existed in  reality somewhere. He just… never expected to live in that reality,  honestly.

Beyond the beautiful dark paint, and the walls covered  in notes and prints and paintings, and the heavy round wooden tables,  and the really convenient distance from Juniper’s apartment, there was  one problem. The baked goods in the Steeping Night were dull. Not even  fully terrible, but certainly mediocre and forgettable. Juniper enjoyed  having something to eat with his tea, but the offerings in the shop were  so dire…

… Eventually, he just sort of brought his own.

He  was sitting at one of the tables with a very fine, golden oolong,  enjoying one of his own scones from his bag, quietly absorbing the  atmosphere of the shop as he read the bulletin board on the wall. Yoga  classes, tarot readings, a sign advertizing the sale of nebulous ‘fresh  materials.’ It was a load of new age-y stuff Juniper didn’t know much  about. It all seemed loads more interesting than what he’d grown up  with, though.

As he idled his way through his cup of tea, someone pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.

It  was the proprietor, the woman who had steeped the tea for him, settling  into the chair. Her hands folded in front of her, resting on the table.  “This is a terrible insult you’ve brought through my door.”

Juniper  gawped at her for a moment, mostly just stunned someone broke the  tentative public privacy of his little bubble. That seemed against the  unspoken laws of cafes, tea houses, and coffee shops. “I— I’m sorry?”

“Never  apologize when you don’t know the offense.” She lifted her chin  elegantly. “You’ve begun bringing your own food to eat here.”

Why  did Juniper think that would just slide under the radar? It was a pretty  obvious thing, maybe not to other patrons of the Steeping Night, but  certainly to the person he exchanged currency with for goods. Of course  she would notice. “I’m, yes, I have, I’m s—sorry, I shouldn’t have done  that. God, it’s like bringing food into the theatre,” Juniper said,  remorse drowning his voice.

The woman held up a finger, fitted  with multiple silver rings. “Worse, actually. A theatre’s primary  objective is to show you movies in a dark room. Bringing food in is only  counter to their auxiliary goal of concessions. My shop, however, has  the goal of selling you tea and baked goods. So you are directly dodging  one of my main revenue streams,” she said, brisk and confident. Resting  her hand back on the table, she caught the edge of Juniper’s snack bag  with two fingers, pulling it over. “What did you bring in, and where did  you get it? I can’t get a decent contract for food around here, there’s  no nearby bakeries.”

“I didn’t!” Juniper said, pressing his fists  against his chest, taking a deep but shaking breath. “I made them, I  don’t— Even I wouldn’t do something that crass, just bringing in food  from another place, th—th—that’s beyond the pale, isn’t it?”

“Yes,  it would be a severe social crime,” she said, nodding, now opening the  bag and sniffing. “Nutmeg, cardamon, clove.” Without any compunction at  all, she took one of the small. half-palm-sized scones out, holding it  balanced between three fingers. “Is there licorice in this?”

Brows sharply furrowing, Juniper said, “What? Uh, n—no.”

"Good.  I’m allergic.” With a stern nod, she took a bite from the scone.  Chewing slowly, she held the rest up to her eyes, examining the crumbly  texture.

This was very weird, Juniper thought. But also, he  thought, perhaps this was what he was owed. A cosmic law of  transgression being settled.

Swallowing, she said, “You made this. The texture is excellent. What’s the glaze?”

Juniper  opened his mouth, then stopped, aware he was about to stutter again.  Taking a second to gather himself, he said, “I was trying to make a chai  scone, so I put the spices in the dough, but it wasn’t really coming  through very well. so I made a— a— an actual cup of chai tea, then mixed  it with powdered sugar.”

“Are you a professional?”

“A professional what?”

“Baker.”

Juniper frowned. “No?”

“What’s your job?”

Again,  he opened his mouth to reply, then stopped, reconsidering. “I… I think  I’ve made a mistake here, obviously, by bringing in outside food. But I  also think I may have paid enough for that with— with this, uh,  confrontation?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “That’s very astute.”

“I guess. Sorry,” he apologized again. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because  this scone is already better than anything in my food case, and like I  said, all my bakery contracts keep falling through.” She popped the  other half of the scone into her mouth, which struck Juniper as an  almost terrifying level of fearlessness. “I’m Meira,” she said when  she’d finished, holding out her hand, palm open.

“Juniper.” He shook her hand.

She  held it tightly for a moment, eyeing the back of his hand severely  before letting go. “I admit that I assumed you would allow me to  steamroll you a little longer, until I heard the information I wanted.  Now I have to act like a real person and ask directly,” she said, and  Juniper immediately marveled at the idea that real people acted like this. “Are you looking for work?”

“I’m… not sure?”

“Have you completed a food safety course?”

“No.” He… hadn’t known those were a thing.

“That’s fine, it doesn’t take that long,” Meira said. “Do that, then we can talk hiring.”

Hiring? “Wait, wait, slow down? Please?”

Meira  leaned forward on her elbows. “I need a baker. I don’t like hiring  anyone I have not laid eyes on first. Gotten a sense of them. Also, it  is Mabon tomorrow, and I’ve nothing to show for it, so I’m taking this  as a sign.”

“I don’t know what Mabon is,” he said.

“With a  name like that, I assumed you were a heathen.” She shot him an  exasperated, blatantly fond look. “You’re not Christian, are you?”

“No,” Juniper said immediately, then balked at himself. “I mean, I don’t know?”

Meira  laughed. Her voice was very deep. “You’re definitely not. That’s good  enough for me.” Standing, she said, “You were right about recompense. I  was owed an inch; I took a mile. I’ll get you another cup of tea.”

[celtics534]

Can’t Fight This Feeling

You guys said you would like a prequel to Shiver and I loved the universe so much that I had to write one! Hope y’all enjoy! 

In case you haven’t read it, here are the links to Shiver: FF.net and AO3

Read this fic on: FF.net or AO3

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ginny walked slowly across the uneven lawn, the precariously high pile of plates shaking ominously with every step. The large extended table was only twenty steps away, but Ginny honestly wasn’t sure she’d make it. Damn her mother for forgetting that she was shorter than her brothers and carrying a stack of plates that was practically her height wasn’t a good idea. 

 “Excuse me, have you seen Ginny? Oh, wait you can’t really see anything at the moment can you?” 

 Ginny didn’t need to see in order to recognize the sarcastic tones of her best friend. 

 She stopped moving, wishing her death glare was more effective through objects. “You know if I had a free hand, my fingers would be giving you a little show

 The heavyweight she was holding lightened as Harry’s grinning face came into view. He held half the stack in his hands. “Does your mother know about your anger issues?” 

 Ginny snorted. “Who do you think I get them from.” She looked across the yard to where Ron and twins lounged by the pond. She jerked her chin towards the lazy group. “What pulled you away from the boys’ club?”

  Harry gave a small shrug, making sure his was stack level as they began to walk in unison towards the table. “I saw you struggling and figured someone better prevent a catastrophe. I do hate it when your mother is upset.”

“You’re such a mumma’s boy.” Ginny placed her pile of chinaware gently onto the table. “Even when it’s not your mum!” 

 “You’re just jealous that your mum likes me better than you.” Harry started setting plates into their places. 

 “She only likes you better because you suck up to her.”

“Which gets me fresh biscuits every time I come over, so I think it’s fair to say I’m the real winner here.” 

 Ginny couldn’t help but laugh at his childish grin. “Such a conniving scoundrel, Potter.” 

 “And don’t you forget it, Weasley!”

 Together they placed the final plate and cutlery set in the correct place. Ginny sat down in the end seat, sticking her feet out in front of her. “You know in olden days, you’d probably be marked as a pirate.”

 Harry leaned a hip against the corner of the table as he smirked down at her. “I think I’d prefer the title of marauder. Sounds more mystical and cool.”

 Ginny rolled her eyes. “At least that would be one cool thing about you.” 

 Harry’s jaw fell open in mock consternation. “How dare you. I’ll have you know people think I’m very cool. Hip even.”

 “What liars have you been talking too?”

 “Your mum.”

 That got Ginny. Her deadpan broke as she snorted with laughter. Her head fell back as her giggles took possession of her body. After a moment she looked up at Harry’s smirking face. “My mum is your coolness adviser?”

 Harry nodded emphatically as if she were a fool for questioning it. “Fuck yeah! Molly Weasley is the most fashionable person to walk this Earth.”  

 Ginny had to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from encouraging him. “Oh really?”

 Again his nod was certain. “Duh. Who else would I use as a judge of character? I mean you’re great and all, Gin, but you don’t come close to holding a torch to your mum.”

 She stuck her tongue out at him. “Whatever you say, marauder.”

 “See it’s already catching on!” 

 Before Ginny could tell him what else he would catch (a nice dead leg and possible bruise), the woman of the hour shouted from in the kitchen. “Ginny, dear, could you come back and help me?!”

 “Fuck.” Ginny’s muttered curse made Harry laugh. She rose slowly, already dreading whatever task her mother had come up with. Ginny was always selected to help in the kitchen, and it wasn’t due to her Gordon Ramsey like abilities (though she did idolize his impressive vocabulary).  

 “Notice how she didn’t ask me to help.” Harry’s impishly wide grin only got bigger when she gave his shoulder a light push. “Another perk of being the favorite.”

 “This isn’t favoritism, it’s sexism.” Ginny shook her head. “If I had dangly-bits like the rest of you”— Harry snorted, but she ignored him—“I wouldn’t be stuck mixing batter, instead I’d be allowed to kick all your arses on a shoot out." 

 Harry snorted. "Well to be fair, Ron's been off his game ever since he heard Hermione was dating that Bulgaria bloke, so it wouldn't be hard to kick his arse." 

 Ginny smiled at him innocently. "And what's your excuse?" 

 "Hey!" Harry put a hand over his heart as if she'd offended him, but the crooked grin that curled his lips spoke to his amusement. Ginny loved that smile. It suited him perfectly. A little mischievous yet still friendly enough to be trustworthy. And that was Harry. Cheeky and roguish but one of the most honest and reliable people she knew. “I may not be a striker like you but when I shoot, it’s on target.” 

 “That’s what all blokes say, but then they still miss the toilet bowl so forgive me for being skeptical.” 

 Harry choked on his own spit. “Jesus, Gin!” 

 Ginny merely shrugged. “Just calling it how I see it.” Then before he could come up with some cheeky comment that she wouldn’t be able to ignore, Ginny ran off towards the kitchen. 

 Her mother was pulling a tray of buns out of the oven when the screen door shut behind Ginny. Molly didn’t look up to make sure she had the right child before speaking. “Ginny, will you please grab the butter out of the cold box? I want it to have a chance to thaw before setting it on the table.” 

 Sighing, Ginny accepted her fate of being her mother’s helper for the next while. “Sure. Anything else from there you need?”

 “Hmm. We’ll need a lemon. I want to whip up a treacle tart. As you know it’s one of Harry’s favorites.”   

 Ginny couldn’t contain her snort of laughter. “If that boy could eat only one thing for the rest of his life, he’d choose your treacle tart.”

 “Oh, he’s such a sweet lad.” Molly practically gushed as she placed the sheet down on the counter. “I don’t understand how no one has snatched him up yet.” 

 An image of Harry unknowingly, yet still awkwardly, brushing off girls' attempts to flirt with him came to Ginny’s mind. She smiled down at her freshly collected lemon. “It’s a mystery alright.”

 “I mean really! Look at him! He’s handsome, polite, good with kids. What more could a girl want.”

 “You forgot to mention his tendency to knock things over and nearly handicap blindness.” 

 Molly huffed out an annoyed breath. “Those things don’t matter. Besides.” Ginny looked up to see the mischievous glint in her mother’s eyes. “He only seems to knock things over in your presence."

 Ginny sighed. She could hear the suggestion plain as day in her mother's tone. Molly Weasley was never good at subtle hints when it came to the idea of Harry and Ginny getting involved. From the first time Molly met Harry, she'd insisted he was perfect for her daughter. Of course Ginny had told her mother there was nothing going on between herself and Harry, but Molly had just smiled knowingly, winked before whispering, “Yet.”

 And here they were two years later, Molly still shipping them like her favorite people on a soap opera. 

 “Well, I’m not wrong,” Molly said in a sing-song tone. “There’s a reason a boy becomes a klutz in front of only one girl, and I think you know what that reason is.”

 Ginny couldn’t resist rolling her eyes. “Sure, Mum. Sure.”

 “The sooner you accept it, the happier you’ll be.” Molly moved beside Ginny, who had started to zest the lemon. “I mean just look at him out there with Vic and tell me you don’t feel something.” 

 Ginny glanced up at her dreamy-eyed mother before following Molly’s gaze. Harry was sitting on the grass, his legs crossed in front of him. Victoire, Bill’s one-year-old daughter, sat happily playing peek-a-boo with Harry. Every time Harry hid his face behind his hands, Vic would frown. Then the moment Harry revealed himself, the little girl would clap wildly. Victoire’s laugh carried through the kitchen window. 

 “Yeah, I feel something…” Ginny took a deep breath. “I feel bad for Fleur later when she tries to get those grass stains out of Vic’s white dress.”

 Molly huffed out an exasperated breath of air. “You’re impossible.”  

 “Actually, I feel bad for Bill who’s gonna have to listen to Fleur complain about getting the stains out.”

 Ginny smirked to herself as her mother just shook her head. When Molly walked away, presumably to collect the rest of the ingredients to make the tart, Harry suddenly turned to look at the house. When their eyes met, green and brown, a slow smile curled Harry’s lips. 

 She’d seen that smile a million times. Ginny recognized his dimple that appeared just under the small group of freckles he’d gotten from their weekend beach trip. It was the smile that showed only a few perfect teeth. So if she’d seen it a million times, why did it make her heart thump against her chest?

 Fuck!

 A lump formed in her throat as a shiver ran down her spine. No! No! No!

 Ginny looked away from that adorable grin. No, she couldn’t call it adorable! It was just a smile. She turned her eyes back on the lemon, which in her distraction she had brutalized. Fuck. 

 She’d only thought it was adorable in that way because her mother had influenced her. That had to be it. She’d never thought of Harry in that way before… unprompted into her mind, memories of that cheeky grin over the years made her heart flutter -- Again! 

 Mother fucking tits on a bull!

 Ginny put the zester back onto the counter before falling back into one of the kitchen chairs. What was going on? Why was the thought of Harry’s smiling at her sending her pulse into overdrive? She had known him for years and never felt that rush of… attraction. 

 That’s a lie, Ginny’s inner monologue argued. There had been that time they were at the park and he was pushing her on the swing. While soaring upwards, Ginny had looked over her shoulder and was greeted by a beaming Harry. At the time Ginny had contributed the swooping sensation to the gain in altitude, but looking back on it… 

 A wave of sudden nausea hit Ginny, making her put her head between her knees. She couldn’t like Harry like that. It would ruin everything! Ginny refused to lose her best friend because of some sudden fancy. Because no matter what her mum said, Ginny hadn’t seen any signs from Harry showing he had a… thing for her.   

 “Are you alright, dear?” Molly’s worried tone broke through the panicked discourse going through her mind. 

 She swallowed the lump that had lodged at the base of her throat. “Ye — yeah. I just felt a bit ill for a moment there.” 

 Molly’s hand was instantly pressed to Ginny’s forehead. “Well you don’t have a fever, but you’re paler than a ghost.” She tilted Ginny’s chin up with a finger. “Why don’t you go lie down for a bit? I’ll send someone up to get you when supper is ready.” 

 Ginny took a deep breath. “That sounds good.” She rose slowly onto shaky legs. Taking small, precise steps, Ginny made her way up to her first-floor bedroom. The moment she reached her bed, Ginny plopped face down into her pillows. 

 Her mind couldn’t stop racing. Words like absurd and dangerous rolled around, then an image of his crooked smile would materialize and those phrases would give way to charming and gorgeous. 

 That damn smile! It ruined everything! 

 Ginny shut her eyes, blocking out the little light that broke through the sides of her pillow. She needed to get a grip! It was just a passing fancy, that was all! The next time she saw him, nothing will have changed. It will be him and her. Two Amigos, not one amiga pining after one amigo. 

 “Gin?” 

 Ginny’s eyes shot open as she rolled around to see Harry sitting on the edge of her mattress. Her heart fluttered against her chest as she stared into Harry’s concerned expression. He looked so… precious with that knitted brow and little frown. 

 Fucking hell. Even she couldn’t pretend the butterflies in her stomach were from the little fright he gave her. But it wasn’t because she loved the fact that all that worry was for her. Nope, not at all.  

 Maybe if she lived in a state of constant self deception all of this would go away. 

 His hand came to rest on her knee. The feeling of his thumb brushing back and forth… Get a grip, Ginny! “You feeling better?” 

 Ginny inhaled deeply, refusing to let her conflicted and confused thoughts come out in any shape or form. “I’m feeling… okay.” 

 “You want to come down and eat? If not I can make you up a plate for later.”

 If those butterflies could fucking stop fluttering in her gut, Ginny would greatly appreciate it! She cleared her suddenly obstructed throat. “No, I’ll come down.” 

 His lips curled in a delighted smile as he stood from his post. He offered her a hand up. It took Ginny a full five seconds to muster the courage to take his offer. He heaved her away from her comfortable bed. When he let go of her hand, his arm came to rest around her waist. 

 When she looked up at him, his smile was reassuring. “In case your legs are shaky.”    

 “How are you single?” The question blurted past her lips before her brain could explain why it was a bad idea. “I mean..” she started scrambling for the words to explain. “You do and say things that only boys in films and books do.”

 His brow knitted together as his lips curled in a confused smile. “Er… I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 “It is one.” Ginny could feel the heat expanding across her cheeks. She was thankful Harry’s focus was on the stairs they were climbing down rather than her glowing face. “I mean — you just always seem to know what to say.”

 “Only when I’m talking with you.”

 Ginny stopped at the base of the stairs, turning to fully look at him. “See! That’s exactly what I mean. If you said that to any girl they’d swoon.” Not a word of a lie there. 

 Harry snorted. “If you say so.” 

 She almost blurted how it had worked on her, but for once Ginny managed to bite her tongue. "Don't know why you said it in that tone, by now you know I'm always right." 

 His laugh was loud in the empty kitchen making yet another rush of fluttering wings beat rapidly in Ginny’s stomach. “How could I forget when you seem to remind me at least once a day.” 

 “Only once? Sounds like I need to increase my quota.” Ginny was proud of the quick cheek. She’d been starting to worry that her usual quick wit was going to take a hit due to… whatever was going on with her. If she’d lost her fast commentary, she would lose a main part of their relationship. 

 They’d started to move out towards the garden table in a compatible silence. Harry’s arm still rested over her shoulder. Ginny could hear her family chattering the moment they stepped out of the house. At that moment, everything felt right to Ginny. She was with the people she loved most and the man beside her… 

 “Hey, Ginny!” George was the first to notice her. “Are you feeling better?” 

 Unconsciously, her eyes drifted up to Harry’s smiling face. A pleasant warmth spread throughout her stomach. “Yeah. I feel better.”

 “Great, because we want you to try one of our new sweets.”

 “No sweets before dinner,” Molly scolded from her end of the table. “We saved you two seats.” She gestured to the only remaining chairs. 

 Ginny took the corner spot while Harry took the chair beside Ron. Harry and Ron had instantly bonded the first time they’d met. They both had a love for sweets and when Ginny had introduced them (Ron had come to visit her at school) the two of them had gone off gallivanting to the local bakery while Ginny was stuck in class. When they’d finally returned to her dorm room, they were besties. They weren’t Harry and Ginny level, but Harry didn’t turn down the chance to get a pint with Ron. 

 As soon as her bum hit the cushion, a bowl was passed into her hands. Different conversations around the table merged so Ginny could only pick up bits and pieces. Her father and Bill were discussing the bank Bill worked at, the twins and Ron were debating who had the best chance to take the premier league, and Percy had somehow roped Fleur into listening about the new regulations he was trying to pass on tube seating. 

 “So, Ginny, are you excited for this semester?” Molly asked as she cut up a chunk of potato.

 Ginny nodded enthusiastically. “I’m getting to take quite a few electives this year. And Harry and I are trying to get into the popular botany class in the spring.”

 “Botany? Really?” Molly’s brow rose. “I didn’t expect you to be interested in such a class.” 

 “It’s supposed to be fascinating,” Harry chimed in, his head turned away from the premier league discussion. “And there is a really interesting educational trip you get to take at the end of the semester.”

 He leaned closer to Ginny, under the pretense of looking at Molly. While Molly oh and awed at the news, Harry’s lips came so close to Ginny’s ear that millions of little shivers ran up and down her spine. “Well, maybe not educational, but definitely interesting.” 

 Warmth hit her neck with every exhale of his lungs. Ginny’s entire back erupted in goose pimples as her breath seemed too shallow. God, she was losing it! She simultaneously wanted to run away and lean closer. 

 In her indecision, Ginny’s body decided to place her elbow on the edge of the table… or what should have been the table. The moment slippery butter cooled her arm, Ginny knew she’d fucked up. 

 Praying that no one noticed, Ginny snatched her arm back, letting it fall to her side. Fucking hell she was a mess!

 “What do you think, Ginny?” Molly asked, thankfully seeming to have missed her daughter’s mishap. 

 “Huh?” Ginny couldn’t focus on anything other than the weird slimy yet oddly dry feeling of her butter covered elbow. 

 “Your mum was just asking if you thought you would be able to help her out in the garden more after the botany class,” Harry supplied. Ginny felt something tickling her knee. She looked down, ready to swash whatever bug dared to challenge her, but only saw Harry’s fingers slyly passing her a napkin. He had noticed her incident… and instead of being a prat like any of her brothers would have been, he just quietly helped. 

 And like that, Ginny quit. She couldn’t fight the feeling anymore. The way Harry was causing her heart to race and her stomach flutter. She fancied him and there was no stopping it. When his hand came around, having successfully handed off the napkin, and gently rested on her back Ginny decided she didn’t want to stop it. 

 As she covertly cleaned off the butter, Ginny nodded absently at her mother. “Sure I can.”

 “That’s lovely!” Ginny stopped listening as Molly chattered, instead she glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eyes. He was smiling contently, seemingly focused on whatever Molly said. He was gorgeous, there had never been any doubting that. Plenty of Ginny’s girlfriends had said as much, but Ginny had always just waved them off saying it was just Harry. 

 Just Harry. That was it. He was Harry, her best friend. She honestly didn’t know a better man, except maybe her saint of a father. Ginny had always loved the way her’s and Harry’s relationship felt so natural… and now here she was going to fuck it all up with… feelings. 

 No! She couldn’t do that. Ginny’s heart sank into her gut. She couldn’t risk her friendship with Harry for anything. Ginny didn’t want to be without him, even if it meant she couldn’t tell him how she felt. But even if she couldn’t tell him how she felt, Ginny couldn’t stop herself from enjoying the feeling of his hand on her back. If she couldn’t have it all… well at least she would still have Harry. That’s all she’d had before and that was all she would need now. 

 But as his thumb rolled slow circles on the small of her back, Ginny knew she wouldn’t be able to fight her feelings for him forever. 

[gourmade4u]

Start at the basics

Kitchen Essentials

If you’re just starting out, what are some essential tools and tips to keep in mind while you’re working away at your best Gordon Ramsey duplicate? 

Well, for starters, you need to make sure that your kitchen has the necessary base in which to build from. 

TL;DR- Chef’s knife, rubber spatula, whisk, pans (all types are neatly listed below the picture with the whisk and rubber spatulas), glass mixing bowls, kevlar or other cut-resistant gloves, metal spatula, cutting boards, electric thermometer, colander, box grater, and a timer (if you don’t have a microwave or oven that has one). 

First thing’s first: 

A Chef’s knife. I purchased mine from Ergo Chef (not an affiliate, I’m just a huge fan). From the moment my hand touched this knife, I cried literal happy tears from the depths of my soul. If you have arthritis issues, or issues that cause your hands to swell or lock up from consistent use, an ergonomically designed knife is incredibly important. For those of you just starting, my first knife set was a Farberware set with a wooden block from Walmart. It was a 20 piece knife set with steak knives and it was less than 90 dollars. But take the time to invest in your knives, you’ll be grateful that you did. 

I’ll post in a separate article how to sharpen your knife, but do keep in mind to NEVER, hold on, let me bold this, NEVER: run your knives or single knife through the dishwasher, and/or leave them in the sink. After you finish using your knife, it is best if you wash and dry it immediately to keep it from rusting. Your knives will thank you, and so will your wallet. 

A rubber spatula.

So, this little guy is the absolute best. He will help you toast rice for your risotto, spoon out that perfect pan sauce that took you way too many tries to get it exactly the way you wanted, AND he'll make sure that all your batter makes it into the pan, or your mouth, whichever you prefer.

A whisk. So yes, a whisk is incredibly versatile. You can use it to scramble eggs, make meringue, mayo, vinaigrette, and bake that cake you’re gonna regret in a week.

PANsexuality is important. But it has nothing to do with this next list of pans.

Non-stick pan

10 in. stainless steal or ceramic pan 

Cast iron pan (or 3)

Sauce pot (if you're like me, you have 6)

Griddle pan (not pictured... yet)

Sheet pan

Casserole

Each and every one of these serves a unique purpose.

A non-stick is great for eggs, bacon, frittatas (which are fancy eggs), and so many other items that I promise aren't just breakfast food. 

A ceramic pan is wonderful, but in my personal opinion, a stainless steel is better if you're a novice. A ceramic pan requires a lot of spoons (energy) and maintenance. They scratch easily if you look at them the wrong way. But they are great for more even cooking than a stainless, and make the best pork chops. Stainless steel isn’t as hard to work with, isn’t as high maintenance (though, like knives, NEVER put them in your dishwasher), is ideal for crusting your steak, and making a pan sauce with the remaining bits. 

A cast iron pan evenly distributes heat and you can put it in the oven at 500 degrees without worrying about warping or damage to your pan. Cast iron is also fantastic if you don’t want to use as much fat in your pan to keep your items from sticking. Also, you can’t get a crust on a steak in any other pan, the way you do in a cast iron. Also, don’t put this in the dishwasher.

A sauce pot sounds like an unnecessary necessity. I’ll explain, when most people hear “sauce” pot, they get very confused because there are like, 30 types. This is an exaggeration, but there are a lot of types. A large saucepot can hold from 1 qt. to 5 qts. I always recommend getting a 5 qt. pot because you can use it for small amounts and large amounts. But the best advice I can give would be to get one that can hold at least 2 c of liquid, and also one that can hold 5 qts so you’re not making oatmeal for yourself in a pot that’s too big. 

A Griddle pan is more of a luxury item, but I always recommend having one in your kitchen. You can make your best pancakes, arepas, bacon, grilled cheese, tuna melt, etc. It’s honestly a great tool to have on hand if you want to whip something up quickly. 

A sheet pan is important for so many reasons. You can make cookies, cake, bacon (I know I’ve said about 2 of the others already), roasted veggies, etc. I definitely recommend having at least one on hand. You’ll find that you’ve allowed yourself to enjoy brussel sprouts  smothered in parmesan cheese, and roasted cauliflower with garam masala and ginger for the first time ever. Just trust me, your oven is made for a varying amount of possibilities, and the right tools can get you started.

A baking dish/pan/casserole, whatever you want to call it, it’s a huge piece of either: cast iron, ceramic, glass, or clay that can be covered and it will, much like your sheet pan, allow for new ideas in the kitchen. Casserole is a very common word used by mostly older women from the south, but they aren’t just a dish your grandma cooked in the 50′s. French toast casserole is so impossibly custardy and delicious, you will thank the Gods that there has ever been something so wonderful in existence. You have stews, roasts, lasagna (uncovered, don’t be rude to your lasagna), and so many others. Just please, okay? Okay.  

Glass mixing bowls are a MUST. Okay, so some really important things about these bad boys: DON’T leave them on a hot stove because the heat will make them shatter and explode all over your kitchen. If you have pets or kids, I don’t have to tell you why this would be bad for potentially weeks on end. You can, however, makeshift a glass bowl and a boiling pot of water into a double boiler to melt your favorite chocolate chips to make fudge. Glass bowls are also non-absorbent, so they won’t retain bad odors or flavors when you use them in the kitchen. They’re also incredibly sanitary for the same reason.

A pair of Kevlar or other gloves meant for slicing and dicing in the kitchen. I recommend this no matter what level of experience you have. Professional chefs cut and burn themselves all the time, it is best you do what you can to protect your fingertips and nails. 

A metal spatula will help you scrape any bits and pieces that have stuck onto your stainless or ceramic pan. Please be sure to use carefully, the metal spatula itself is very temperamental and can ruin your pans forever. 

Cutting boards. There are, a whole litany of reasons you need a cutting board or 10 in your kitchen. I myself have 4 and I use all of them. Cutting boards are made of several different kinds of material. Ultimately, for me, I use a wooden one and an eco-friendly material cutting board set I got from Bed Bath and Beyond. Cutting board maintenance is, arguably, the most important thing when it comes to  purchasing one. Best way to clean a cutting board is to make sure you’re passing your sponge over the slits in the board left behind by your knife, in the same direction. In other words, don’t scrub your board in a circle, but trace over the cuts in the board to ensure proper sanitation of it. 

An electric thermometer. Okay, so show of hands, how many people have deep fried chicken, burned the outside and undercooked the inside? I don’t know of any single person who is just beginning, who hasn’t done it. An electric thermometer is your best friend. You can get a regular thermometer, that will require constant calibration, or you can get an electric thermometer and not have to worry about calibrating it as often. Perfectly juicy, succulent, and properly cooked chicken will measure at 165 degrees Farenheit. Anything beyond 180, expect it to be dry, but at least it was cooked properly! To calibrate a thermometer: bring water to a boil, and then place your thermometer in the water, allow it to come to 212 degrees Fahrenheit, then place your thermometer into an ice bath until it gets to 32 degrees Fahrenheit. Celsius would be 100 degrees boiling, and 0 degrees in ice. 

A colander is meant to strain out pasta water, and you’ve probably not seen it used for much else. But a fine mesh colander can be used to filter out your frying oil so you can reuse it instead of wasting it. This little thing is good for anything that requires draining: meat, starch from rice and potatoes before cooking them, washing all of your vegetables at once before getting started, and also, it can help with steaming your broccoli or shrimp when you don’t have a basket steamer.

A box grater in general, is a fantastic tool. They have different sides that allow you to do different things. From shredding cheese, potatoes, carrots, or zuccini. But the question a lot of people ask: what is that side with all the really tiny spaces in it? It’s a zester, and it goes so unnoticed for so long because most folx don’t know the best way to use it. The zester is great for adding a little elegance or pop of flavor into a dish. For example, if you use lemon pepper often, adding a zested lemon rind to your dish would bring out all that delicious acidity that you won’t get from just using the regular seasoning from a bottle. A little fresh lemon zest here, some grated nutmeg there, a little orange zest in your tea, these all pack a mean right hook. Try them out. 

Last, but not least: a timer, gentlefolx. I can not stress the utter importance of learning how long it actually takes you, the reader to complete a task from start to finish. Not everyone works at the same pace, so a recipe that says “prep time: 5 minutes”, might actually take you an hour, and that’s okay. Keeping a timer on hand so you can keep track of how long each task is taking to complete, or making sure you’re pacing yourself as things are bubbling away in the kitchen, is a great way to figure yourself out in the kitchen. I recommend listening to music, writing your ingredients on a white board that sits at eye level in your kitchen so you can refer to your recipe as you’re going without having to constantly look at your phone. 

I hope this helps every single one of you learn a bit more about what it means to begin your journey with food. 

[scotianostra]

On May 21st 1424 James I was eventually crowned King at Scone. 

I say eventually because his old man, Robert III , who incidentally, may have suffered from depression, he is attributed with writing his own epitaph...." Let those men who strive in this world for the pleasures of honour have shining monuments. I on the other hand should prefer to be buried at the bottom of a midden, so that my soul may be saved in the day of the lord. Bury me therefore, I beg you, in a midden, and write for my epitaph: Here lies the worst of kings and the most wretched of men in the whole kingdom. " died in 1406 his son James was by this time a prisoner of the English, his Uncle, The Duke of Albany quite liked being the ruler, in all but name and was in no hurry to even negotiate to bring his nephew home, and so it took 18 years for his coronation to take place. James had scores to settle, and here is a wee rundown of the events on and around this day back then.

The 21 of Maij, 1424, K. James the First, with his Queine, Jeane, wer solemly crouned at Scone.

The 26 of this same mounthe, K. James the 1. called a parliament of his estaits at Perth; and one the 9 day of the said parliament, he caussed arrest Murdack, Duck of Albaney, Earle of Fyffe and Menteith, with his 2d sone, Sr Alexander Steuarte, quhom he had knighted the day of his coronatione at Scone, and with them 26 others, viz.

Archbald, Earle of Douglas,

Will: Douglas, Earle of Angus,

George Dumbar, Earle of Marche,

Sr Adam Hepburne of Hailles,

Sr Thomas Hay of Zester,

Valter Halyburtone,

Valter Ogluey,

Dauid Steuarte of Rassythe,

Alex: Settone of Gordon,

Will: Erskyne of Kinoule,

Alex: Earle of Craufurd,

Patrick Ogiluey of Ochterhousse,

Jhone Steuarte of Dundonald,

Dauid Murray of Gaske,

Jo: Steuarte of Cardine,

William, Lord Hay, Grate Constable,

Jo: Scrymgeour of Didope,

Alex: Irwin of Drum,

Herbert Maxwoll of Carlauerock,

Herbert Harries of Terregils,

Androw Gray of Fouills,

Robert Cuninghame of Kilmuers,

Will: Crighton of the same,

Alex: Ramsay of Dalhousey.

This same day he arrest, lykwayes, Sr Johne Montgomerey of the same, and Allane Otterburne, secretarey to the Duck of Albaney; and they too wer releassed within three dayes.

This same zeire, James Steuarte, the Duck of Albaneys youngest sone, quho had escaped the Kings hands wnpprehendit, raisses such forces as he could, burns the toune of Dunbritton, kills Johne Steuarte, (called the Read) of Dundonald, and 32 more, and then, with his fathers old secretarey, Finlaw, Bis: of Argyle, fleis to Irland.

And the following year.....

This zeire, 1425, the Lordes of Montgomery and Kilauers, with Sr Humfrey Cuninghame, are sent by the King with ane armey to beseidge the castell of Kilmauerrin, now Loche Lomond, keipt aganist authority by the partey of James Steuarte, the youngest sone of Murdack, Duck of Albaney.

Justice  seems to have been quite slow back then, two years on from his coronation we heave.......

The 18 day of Maij, this zeire, 1426, the King adiorned his parliament to Streueling from Perth, till the 24 day of the said mounthe; befor quhom wes accussid Walter Steuart, eldest sone to Murdack, Duck of Albaney, quho receuid sentence of death, and lost his head this same day, befor the castell one a litell rocke; and one the morrow, lykwayes, Murdack, Duck of Albane, with his 2d sone, Alexander Steuarte, and hes father in law, Duncane, Earle of Lennox, being accusid, wer all 4 forfaulted, and condemned to losse ther heades, by an assise of ther peirs. The assierrs wer:-

Walter, Earle of Athole,

Archbald, 3d of that name, E. of Douglas,

Alex: Earle of Ross, Lord of the Iles,

Alex: Steuarte, Earle of Mar,

Will: Douglas, Earle of Angus,

Will: St. Clair, Earle of Orknay,

George Dumbar, Earle of Marche,

James Douglas, Lord Balueney,

Gilbert Hay, Lord of Erole, Grate Constable,

Robert Steuarte, Lord Lorne,

Sr Jo: Montgomerey of the same,

Sr Thomas Somerwaill of the same,

Sr Herbert Harries of Terregills,

James Douglas, L. Dalkeith,

Robert Cuninghame, L. Kilmauers,

Sr Alex: Leuingston of Calender,

Sr Thomas Hay of Locharret,

Sr Will: Borthwick of the same,

Sr Patrick Ogiluey, Shriffe of Angus,

Sr Jo: Forrester of Corstorphin,

Sr Walter Ogiluey of Lintrathen.

By thir assisers they wer forfaulted, and sentenced to losse ther heads; wiche was put to executione one a litle rocke be east Streuelin castle, this same monithe. After wich forfaultrey, the King seassed ther haill estaits in his hands, and caussed, in this same parliament, annex the earledome of Fyffe to the croune.

With all these executions James made enemies and had a busy time quelling rebellions throughout the rest of his reign until...... 

One the 21 day of Februarij, in the zeire 1437, was the noble King James the 1. killed at the abbey of the Dominicans, in the toune of Perth, by Robert Steuarte and Robert Grhame, at the instigatione of Walter Steuarte, Earle of Athole, his wnckell, in the 13 zeire of his rainge. His corpes wer solemly interrid in a magnificent monument erected by himselue, (quhill he liued,) in his lait foundit monastarey of the Carthusians, in the subvrbs of Perth. 

This zeire are the parrcidall traitourts led lyke doges, in halters, to Edinbrughe, quher Walter, Earle of Athole, the cheiffe actor of this woefull tragidey, was tortured one ane ingyne made for the purpois; and with a croune of hote burning irone, was crouned at the crosse of Edinbrugh; and therafter his heart was pulled out of his breast, and rost in a fyre befor his eyes, by the executioner, then cast to the doges to eat; then was his head cutt offe, and hes bodey dewydit in 4 quarters, and sent to the 4 quarters of the realme, and ther hunge vpe one irone gibetts.

Robert Steuart was riuen assunder betuix four horses, and his head sent to Perth, and fixed one ane iron pin aboue the toune gail.

Robert Grhame was tayed with ropes in a cairte, quherin wes a heigh loge of wood, quherone wes nailled that hand that strake the King, with a naile of burning hote iron; the quhole musckells of hes bodey being cut in longe slitts, was fristed with flaming hote irone pincetts, by tuo executioners; and after the lyffe was quyte out of him, his bodey was dewydit in 4 quarters, and erected one gibetts at the end of the 4 most publick wayes of the kingdome; and his head was sett ouer the west port of Edinbrugh.

[skelffricat]

I felt depressed today, so decided to make a list.

“We’re fated to pretend.”

WHAT IS THE POINT IN ANYTHING?

“Love must be forgotten. Life can always start off anew.”

WHAT IS THE POINT IN ANYTHING???

Must… practise… gratitude…

Why bother? AAARGH!!!

Think of Things You Love…

I love my children, I love my mother, I love my brothers.

I love my bicycle. I love to decorate it. I love feeling smug, cycling off, when everyone is waiting for a taxi.

I love sharpening pencils with a knife; I love the colourful detritus it creates. I love to colour in.

I love tulips, plants, trees, bees.

I love bright colours, fluffy socks, long baths.

I love words; I love new languages; I love comparing how they work against mine. I love to learn how to turn a sound into a word picture in Cantonese. I love reading novels- children's are usually the best, though I'm currently obsessed with Kate Atkinson.

I love the way flowers open and close; how their heads follow the sun, attentively.

I love niche cutlery. I love owning something I only need, maybe, once a year. Less than that. A melon baller. A pizza slicer. A citrus zester. A weird flat spoon with a picture of an eye on it to burn Absinth through. (Is that even LEGAL?) I love to bury them in the drawer, in a confusing, entangled, dangerous, jumble.

I love a bone-handled butter knife (if it's fake bone, I don't mind), and my Eden mug, as the china is thin and pleasing.

I love David Attenborough, Cerys Matthews, Mark Radcliffe, Kate Stables, Simon Mayo.

I love looking at people’s bare feet (that’s mildly controversial).

I love making people laugh, I love to sing, I love to swing, I love to be upside-down.

I love wearing red. I love wearing clashing colours. I don’t realise they’re clashing. Cacophonous colours.

I love my wooden watch, and I love its imperfection in that it has had to be sewn back together- the thread all greasy now, from frequent applications, to the skin beneath it, of coconut oil.

I love coconut oil. On me and in me. I love to cook. I love vegetables. I love a meal with every colour. I love to feed people. I love it when they want more.

I love maps, but I don’t know where anything is- all my maps are out of date.

I love my car. I love to listen to music really loudly in it, and to sing even louder. I love to decorate it, too, inside and out. With drawings, and- some mildly offensive (to the ignorant)- stickers.

I love 6Music, Radio 2, 4 Extra, Radio Ulster- SOMETIMES.

I love my spare bicycle. I love how different each is to ride, but how, because of the panniers, people know they’re both mine. I love my panniers. I’ve fixed them so many times. Stitches of love.

I love the theatre. I love the front row. I love to see their spit. I love musicals. I love a clever, beautiful set. I love it when they break the fourth wall. I love circus, even more. I love street theatre. I love it when they break the rules, reinvent, make me laugh and cry.

I love a heady mix of irreverence versus respect.

I love new buds. Furry ones, sticky ones, big ones, hidden ones.

I love the days getting longer; I love the clocks going forward.

I love Mark Thomas.

I love it when people care enough to make a difference. I love it even more when they do it with humour, passion, and style.

I love an Oxford comma. I love it when people can spell and punctuate, yet I also love to read dyslexic writing- the differing logic of it intrigues me.

I love my ears, they’re neat and round.

I love Hollie McNish. I love Adam Buxton.

I love The Beatles. I love their films, and quoting them relentlessly as I watch, in a terrible Scouse accent.

I love traditional music sessions. I love The Sunflower on a Sunday. I love cider. I love the bar staff knowing that I love cider. I love the monthly Observer food-porn magazine, and failing to do the crossword.

I love the River Lagan. I love living near it, knowing I can follow it into town, or into the fields or the forest, the other way.

I love the sky, even when it’s grey.

I love picking scabs and squeezing spots and plucking hairs (anyone’s will do). I love having my hair stroked.

I love the way the bricks of my house radiate warmth on a sunny summer evening, as the sun sets onto it. I love to sit out the front catching the end of it. I love to see the children playing outside, and I love to chat to the neighbours.

I love festivals- the music; the art; the wandering; the chaos; the camaraderie; the apocalyptic feel at the end when you've stayed too long, and anything you find on the ground can belong to you.

I love it when an accidental doodle turns into something wonderful.

I love people-watching.

I love looking at art, even if it's shit.

I love the Ulster Museum. I love the smell and texture of the floors. I loved to let my children crawl on them, when crawling was all they could do (although, should they wish to continue crawling on them now, I'm not going to stop them). I love Takabuti, and the Glowing Stones, and the Willow Dragons, up high.

I love yellow raincoats.

I love to hear birdsong (and I do, from my house).

I love symmetrical pebbles. I love to lick them, taste the salt, see what colour they turn.

I love the sea.

I love Rathlin Island. I love the 40 miles of sky, the sound of the wind and the water, and seeing the weather before it happens. I love the brilliant humans, and the crazy cars, and the best pub. I love a NEW island- I just went to Eigg. Isle of Eigg, I love Eigg.

I loved Granny’s house in Ballygally, and how she took me out to paint- the boats in the harbour at Carnlough; the Old Man’s Window; The Black Arch... I love Antrim. I love how she served me slices of melon, with ginger and sugar. I love the out-of-date maps I inherited from her (my uncle nearly threw them out!) I loved my granny.

What is the point in anything?

The point is love. The point is love. The point is love.

(Thanks to MGMT)

22nd March 2018

[valyaharkonnens]

A bunch:

Talder or Flemson

Trixie or The Vivienne

2021 Emmys Hannah or 2022 CC Hannah

Seven or Janeway

Lemon zester or lemon juicer

oh my god i could kiss you on the mouth i laughed SO hard at these

god, this is so hard bc i love the potential for both, m:fs has a more interesting concept but line of duty absolutely nukes it in terms of the quality of the show and the writing (including fandom!). gotta go w flemson honestly? kelly macdonald was that bitch and stays that bitch. give it up for canon queer ppl.

trixie vs the viv is cruel and unusual punishment and i hate having to pick but just like as3 i’m going to go with the queen who needs the win more (to make up for the ROBBERY on as7) and give it to the viv!! put her up against anyone who isn’t jinkx and she’ll blow you out of the damn water.

i’m assuming you mean emmy’s after party hannah and not pink dress hannah for the 2021 version, so in the battle of the suits i’ll go 2022 by a smidge bc of the dramatic ass lapels, red lip, and wavy hair

seven or janeway?? how the ?? how do i answer that?? (the answer is by cheating): original era janeway, reboot era seven bc holo!janeway was programmed with the bun instead of the bob and too much residual pining for ch*kotay, and reboot seven isn’t in a jumpsuit that almost sent jeri to the hospital and is also canonically queer. i too lust after michelle hurd. relatable queen.

alsldksljdkfkhh miss me with the lemon zester shit i cannot look at kitchen tools the same way ever again and i envy that you have still avoided that particular trauma-inducing nightmare

[zester000]

[TEoAS] Author's Note + Prologue

Hey. I'm Zester and this is one of my stories. I've been working on it for years now and it is now at the point of being semi-readable. To me, anyway. You'll have to see for yourself ;)

I write from time to time but haven't found a routine for it. Don't expect an upload schedule. What you're about to read has been sitting dormant in my computer for a while lol

Anyway, enjoy.

The Eye of All Suits: Prologue

Through frantic tears and whimpering, he watched as the pale moonlight drifted in from the window, seeping into its jaws. It shook wildly, growling with pleasure, as more vantablack drool bled from its mouth. Once it had taken its full, it retreated onto the wall, satisfied, becoming a shadow once more. 

Jack was frozen. The gasping candle flickered in his trembling hands, casting blinking light into the swallowing darkness that engulfed his room. The creature’s shadow stood over his bed, its faded tentacles drifting with a low hum. It hadn’t moved far from the window it entered from. Since it came in, it hadn’t moved from the edge of his room, but it also hadn’t broken eye contact. Its eyes were these horrid things- gaping holes in its shadow or bright white orbs that seemed to glow. They were always fixated on him, pulsating. He felt its gaze push him back to the wall.

Suddenly, it tore from the wall. The candle’s flame glimmered on its many bone white teeth, casting an orange glow from ear to ear. In a cracking cacophony, the teeth began to separate, revealing an endless throat. Black ooze melted from the sides of its mouth. The candle’s light didn’t even penetrate the darkness beyond its jaws. It began to slither forward.

Jack shrunk down, taking a hand off the candle to try what his mom had taught him. He shut his teary eyes, put his hand on the wall and tried to keep himself still. He focused on the shadows, trying to feel them with his fingers, peeling them from the wall. He felt something shapeless and cold start to appear, and hot breath from his left. As the material began to solidify, he could feel the creature inch closer, sometimes even feeling droplets of drool splash on him. But he didn’t dare move- he had to see if this worked. His family bent shadows, and this creature was a shadow too- maybe objects made of shadow had an effect on it? He concentrated on the image in his mind and the forming handle between his fingers, imagining the attached blade. He had to try. It was like what mommy had told him: even if things try to stop you, march on.

Finally, the knife had fully formed, and Jack pulled it from the wall, turning to face the creature. The tip of the blade grazed it as he turned; the creature was inches from his face. Suddenly, it groaned, and a snake-like tongue began swirling in its mouth. If his mother were there, she would be very proud of him. That knife was the first item he’d successfully shadow bent. It had taken many weeks of difficult practice in secret, but he had finally done it. It was a shame he didn’t even get the chance to use it.

As Edgar Flare tucked his adopted son into bed, he heard a child’s scream off in the distance. Startled, his son shot up straight and yelped, clutching his blankets. He’d yet to take off his glasses, so they flew off his face and landed on his bed.

“What was that, Edgar?” he whispered meekly.

Edgar stared out the window for a moment. “I’m not sure, Nathan.” He grabbed the glasses with a large hand and gently placed them on the nightstand. “Probably just another kid like you, having a nightmare.”

Nathan stared out the window, his mind flooding with fear. “Are you sure? What if it’s a monster? What if it’s going to get me?!”

He grabbed Nathan’s head and pulled him close. “Hush, Nate. It’s not going to get you. You’re safe in bed, in our house.” He released him from his arms and flicked up his chin so their eyes met. “With me.” He ruffled his hair. “You’re safe here.” 

His son’s comfort shined in his smile. 

Edgar backed away from the bed. “Besides, monsters aren’t real anyhow.”

The boy’s eyes widened, filling up his glasses. “Wait… really?” he gasped, showing this was clearly news to him. “But… but what about all the heroes? Like the ones on the plaques? Like Sir Coe? Everyone tells me they killed lots of monsters.”

Edgar paused, realizing the slip of his tongue. “Well, there’s a difference. Those monsters, those ones are very real. But the ones you find in books and stories? Those are just… less real. Does that make sense?”

Nathan shook his head meekly. “No…”

“Well, it’s hard to explain…” explained Edgar. “It’ll make more sense when you’re older.”

Nathan was used to hearing that. “Oh, okay.”

“Just remember to always respect the heroes,” he reminded him. “They keep us safe from the monsters.” He jokingly flexed his muscles, which weren’t very large. “And so do I!” 

Nathan giggled, releasing a wonderful cheer of childlike glee. It always made Edgar smile when he heard it. “You’re silly, Edgar! You’re not a hero!”

He chuckled. “I know, Nate, I know.” He walked to the door and blew out the candle. “You think you’ll be alright now?”

“I… think so.”

“Are you scared anymore?”

Nathan paused. “I… don’t think I am.”

“Are you sure?” toyed Edgar.

“No.” His son was a very honest and straightforward person. 

“Aw, Nate… you’re a smart, brave boy and you’ll grow up to be a strong, brave hero.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

“I am,” he said slowly, gaining confidence. “I am!”

“Yes, yes you are!” he smiled. “Have heroic dreams.”

“You, too Edgar.” He waved enthusiastically, his hand bouncing on his wrist. “Nighty night!”

He chuckled. “Good night, Nathan.”

And the door was shut.

[at the end of each chapter, there's a different related piece of in-universe writing]

~Monsters of Myth~ 

Tenebris-

(A) predatory creature(s) with an unknown appearance. Conflicting accounts debate whether it lingers in shadows and darkness or is made of them. Most accounts describe it with pure white eyes and many teeth, though the details on its body differ wildly. Some describe tentacles, others legs, and some even with wings. Most sightings of it come from the Shadow’s Thicket and one of the nearby villages, Brinelette.

The behavior of the Tenebris is also mysterious. Some harrowing accounts describe it as a predator that consumes its victims, while others argue for it being a parasite. It is commonly agreed upon that the Tenebris feasts off of light for energy, but its effect on people is unknown. Most who encounter the Tenebris do not come back to tell their story, and those who witness it are often too manic to give discernible details.

The name of the Tenebris has echoed throughout the centuries, but there is no solid evidence of there being more than one of it. Thus, if a hero were to slay this feared demon, they’d be putting to rest a millenia-old tormentor. It is recommended that- like with other demons- heroes should try to combat it using a source of light magic. The rule goes as many tales have proven: in the face of light, evil cowers.

Mirros-

Grater-

Graters are aquatic creatures best known for their hunting patterns. These human-sized predators move in groups, with a single Grater being chosen as “ringleader.”...

[moodytange11-blog]

End Allowing Your Kitchen Get The Very best Of You With These Incredible Cooking Suggestions

A frequent objective for numerous folks today is to integrate more healthy cooking techniques into their day-to-day meal ideas. Healthy recipes often seem to be to be dull, unexciting, and missing in flavor nevertheless, and that is not something that appeals to any person. So how can you prepare dinner more healthy and nevertheless make foods that your loved ones will enjoy? In this write-up we will talk about a number of ideas that can assist. Since you are likely to be making use of a great deal of sharp knives in the kitchen area to cook dinner your foods, you will want to maintain safeguards at all instances. As an alternative of basically putting your knife in the drawer, make certain that you set a wine cork on the idea to defend from cuts and scrapes upon use. Wash your mushrooms off with a moist cloth. Will not put them beneath working drinking water to clean them. Mushrooms are like small sponges and running them under the tap will lead to them to absorb also considerably h2o. This can have an effect on their style and your cooking time as effectively. When you are chopping onions for a house cooked salsa make sure you rinse them. Rinse your onions immediately right after you reduce them then blot them dry with a serviette. This will eliminate the sulfurous gas and will make your salsa flavor much better. This performs effectively for other recipes too. To discover when oil is actually scorching enough and completely ready for the foods, search to its' surface area. If it is no for a longer time totally clean and seems to be shimmering it is hot ample. When ΤΑΠΕΡ is permitted to above-warmth it actually starts off breaking down and releasing unpleasant compounds and will get started to smoke, so know when to say when! When shaving veggies for dishes this kind of as a vinaigrette or a salad, use a coarse microplane, also known as a grater or zester, to grate them into more compact pieces. The flavors of the vegetables are actually unlocked when grated with the microplane. You must use your freezer baggage much more than a single time. You want to store your meats or greens in standard storage luggage and then location them into freezer bags so that you can use them regularly. Freezer luggage are extremely expensive and this will cut back on your fees each and every thirty day period. When you shop some components, like flour, baking mixes, and sugar, use airtight containers. Airtight containers will maintain your meals protected from bugs, and enable them to keep new lengthier because they are not exposed to air. Fortunately, you can get some reasonably priced, good quality airtight containers nearly everywhere. If you have made a decision to serve salad with the food that you are making ready for attendees, be positive to provide the salad dry and provide the dressing on the side. Absolutely everyone likes a various quantity of salad dressing. It is a great thought to allow them to control the quantity them selves. Make certain you have a assortment to choose from. When you are likely to acquire beef, make positive that the deal does not have also much liquid in it. An extreme sum of liquid may possibly show that the beef was not stored appropriately or that it is no longer very good. Make positive you constantly examine the expiration date as well. When reducing greens or meat it is very critical to have sharp, high high quality knives. This will assist you to get the appear and evenly cooked meal that you need. If you use dull, minimal high quality knives, alternatively of chopping your food, they will rip it which can result in uneven cooking and a not so appetizing looking meal. When baking, below is a tip for eggs and butter. Permit your eggs and butter set out overnight at space temperature. Carrying out so will soften the butter which will make it less complicated to spread, soften, and blend with other components. The eggs will be less complicated to defeat, and foaming egg whites will be easier as nicely. Do not devote too a lot time purchasing publications and browsing the Internet for exotic fare from about the world and neglect the recipes that your loved ones has served for years. Typically the most standard recipes are the most cherished ones. Make certain you create these recipes down. No matter how basic they are, there may possibly be a day when a household member desires them. Use solid iron pans when you cook dinner your meat. Cast iron imparts the greatest taste to the meat and avoids any possibility of sticking. You also get the additional gain of your meat possessing a higher iron articles from utilizing the forged iron. Occasionally old fashioned ideas are the ideal. A great help for achieving your best baking final results is to bring your butter and eggs to space temperature prior to use. By permitting these substances to get rid of their chill, you let warmth from cooking to activate the oils and fat inside them at the proper time as opposed to waiting for them to attain the appropriate temperature although cooking. When it comes to cooking the fresher the better. Sure the bottled and shaker spices cost considerably less but there is no flavor similar to the style of clean lower spices this sort of as garlic and parsley. So make sure that you devote the additional fifteen minutes reducing your spices, instead of shaking them. If you plan on generating a batch of salsa made up of uncooked onions that will not be eaten inside of about 20 minutes, prepare the chopped onions first by rinsing in cold drinking water and blotting dry. Onions that are new have sulfurous fuel. Certainly, the gas from uncooked onions can do a genuine amount on your salsa, nearly ruining it. When you rinse the onions with water and dry them, you neutralize the gas. When you are deep frying food items, attempt not to fry as well a lot food at as soon as. Overcrowding the deep fryer, will trigger the oil temperature to fall and the meals will not be as crispy. The crucial to successful deep frying is to hold enough oil around the food items to maintain up the temperature. Much healthier cooking types gain every person in your family. They lead to healthier way of life alternatives also. But just how do you retain flavor in your favorite recipes and even now make them much healthier? In this write-up we have discussed some of the top ideas to do just that. Adhere to them, and your kitchen area will turn into more healthy in no time.

[whatyoudiy]

Gift Baskets are always SO fun to receive – but do you struggle with how to put together the perfect personalized bundle for somebody else?   I created an easy and sweet DIY gift basket for a baker or anyone who loves kitchen goodies!  (So, basically, for anyone.)  Using a batter bowl and some inexpensive colorful kitchen items it was so easy and the presentation is darling!  Come see how to do it yourself and recreate it in minutes.  

While you’re here – check out all of the other ideas I found for Gift Baskets as Thank You, Christmas and Neighbor Gifts, Get Well, Birthday Gift baskets, New Homeowner and Housewarming gifts, Manly gift bundles and more!   Any one of these would make MY day:

This idea is PERFECT for anybody and any occasion.  Even people who don’t know how to cook or bake seem to LOVE kitchen goodies!  Amiright?  Pretty sure I am.  This would work as a Thank You gift, Housewarming, Birthday, Christmas present or whatever!

Think of the batter bowl as your gift basket.  Line it with one or more cute, inexpensive kitchen towels and then fill it with little cooking, baking and miscellaneous fun items.  The more colorful the better!  Throw in things like baking spoons and spatulas, a cookie dough scoop, cheese graters and zesters, pretty colored and patterned paper straws,  a sandwich crust cutter, sky’s the limit!  Well, actually what all you can fit in the batter bowl is the limit.  Cuz: Physics.  If you have a favorite family recipe – print it and include a copy or write it on a recipe card to be extra thoughtful.   Wrap a bow around it and you are golden!

Check out all of the other fun ideas I found for you to copy to create the PERFECT gift basket for any occasion!   There’s bound to be an idea or two here that would be perfect for that hard to shop for family member or friend on your gift list.

[crazy4tank]

Novelist Bryan Washington on Writing—and Snacking—During the Pandemic

New Post has been published on https://foodloverrecipes.com/blog/novelist-bryan-washington-on-writing-and-snacking-during-the-pandemic/

Novelist Bryan Washington on Writing—and Snacking—During the Pandemic

BW: I didn't really set out to turn stereotypes on their head because I feel like if you're writing life as it's actually lived, it's not one in which you're working stereotypes and archetypes. Houston is a really deeply diverse city. So it is not shocking or strange to have a narrative where you have Black folks, and you have Asian American folks, Latinx folks, and everyone is in congress in the same narrative. There's a way in which publishing in this country can silo the diverse books and the anti-racist books into being the only ones with characters from marginalized communities. But that's just not true to life at all. So it was just about trying to write a story I'd want to read, featuring the kinds of stories I've been privy to and my friends have been privy to. And those are the kinds of stories, featuring many different kinds of people from many different places, I'm most interested in.

DD: So you wrote Lot, a collection of short stories, before Memorial and you got a lot of acclaim and attention for that. President Obama even named it as one of his favorite books of 2019. So what does that do to a writer's ego? And how do you, you know, stay focused on writing and going on to the next book without getting overwhelmed by the success?

BW: Yeah, I mean, I don't know that I think of it in terms of ego because I'm surprised any time someone reads whatever the f*#% I'm trying to do, like, that's always really shocking to me. It was certainly really lovely to hear that he read it, and to see it on that scale, but it's just as lovely when my friends say that they've taken time with the book, or when my students say it, or when my neighbors or folks out in the world say that they've taken time with it.

DD: Given the pandemic and lockdown I think we're all hoping that, you know, restaurants will be able to survive despite the possible next wave of infections. What's your feeling about the restaurants in Houston?

BW: It's hard to say a general feeling. But it's been really heartening to see the ways the community has come together to support those restaurants, whether it's through attending pop-ups or fundraisers or buying ready-to-eat packaged meals.

DD: Do you have a favorite restaurant there?

BW: I don't know if I have a favorite. But I have a few I've been to fairly recently. I guess I'll say Korean Noodle House, La Guadalupana, and My Baguettes are the places I've been going to quite often.

DD: What kind of tools would we see in your kitchen? My must-haves include a zester. I take a zester with me if I go to someone's apartment; I sneak a zester in my pocket.

BW: I mean, I feel like a zester is something that is now going to be essential. For me a mandoline is really essential because my knife skills are getting better, but they're not quite there and a mandoline just makes life so much easier. And also a donabe. If you're making shabu-shabu or hot pot, if you're making a really lovely bowl of rice, it's just super useful.

DD: Did you formally study Japanese food? Did you read cookbooks? Or is it just something that came from one thing leading to another? What would you say is your favorite dish from Osaka?