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thebluenickel · 6 months

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Dusk and Dandelion

A little Blossom and Luci scene in the garden that got cut from A Court of Ribbons and Shadows. This can be read as a one shot, but it's set within the ACORAS universe.

More bonus content to come ❤️

Elain was disappointed when he left. She told herself it was because they’re friends now, and because she doesn’t have many of those.

But there’s no room for denial to squeeze between all the butterflies in her stomach when he returns. That shock of fire hair. Golden eyes and a smile so sweet, she wants to taste it. And that fucking blue suit. She wants to take a nap in that exact shade of blue.

It’s distressingly pretty on him.

“You’re back already,” she says, and there’s a breathlessness in her voice like she’s been startled. No, much worse. She’s been aroused. By him.

He turns to her, hair flicking out around him and eye clicking as he takes her in. A small smile dares to peek out, though something else is creasing up his brow like that. It’s almost—sheepish. “I didn’t have much to do,” he says. And with a hint of sarcasm, “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

She’s surprised, though she doesn’t know why. Every time he’s left the past week, he’s returned in mere hours. So quickly, like he missed her, too. “I needed more time to plan your assassination,” she says cheerily as she brushes past him into the hall.

His footsteps follow. “Hardly,” he says, “All it takes is a little money slipped to the right nefarious character.”

“Ah, do you have an address for any nefarious characters? I’m struggling to find one.”

Lucien pauses at her side, looks down at himself and back at her pointedly. She’s not sure if he’s calling himself a nefarious character or her. One is almost true; the other, mildly amusing.

Elain bustles into the kitchen, throwing open the door far enough for him to follow her in without getting struck in the shoulder on its backswing. And he does, follow. He always does. She motions to the pot of water boiling, asking him to take it off the fire for her. He does.

She makes up two mugs, one with her favorite tea, one with his. She doesn’t ask him if he wants any. He always drinks whatever she hands him. It truly would be easy to kill him, she supposes.

She also supposes that food to accept the mating bond doesn’t account for drinks. As she’s served him many of those and never felt the stirrings of that magic in her. Sometimes she wonders why she serves the drinks, though. Like she’s testing fate, daring it to bind her down to Lucien.

A dangerous little part of her thinks that wouldn’t be too bad.

That dangerous little part of her is victim to his blue suit, she’s sure of it. He looks too good in it. Something about the thicker material it’s made of, and the way the cut of it hugs him at all the curves and dips of his body, defining them like candlelight does to bare flesh. Or perhaps it’s just the color against his flame hair and fox eyes.

She hates him so much.

She hands him the steeping mug of tea. “How were Jurian and Vassa?” she asks politely.

“Irritating,” he says, with love. He hops up to sit on the counter; she sits on the other, across from him. These have become their places when they’re in the kitchen together. “Vassa’s highly displeased with how much I’ve been gone lately. I had to tell her I’m spending it all with you—” he seems to realize he’s made an error before she registers what he said. What he implied.

“To appease her?” Elain asks, quietly.

“Sure.”

Elain barely catches herself before she smiles. And, because she can’t help herself, she asks, “Why would that appease her,” with utter innocence.

He shoots her a dirty look. He knows what she’s doing, and he knows she knows what she’s doing. They’re both dancing this same dance, though neither of them are willing to admit that there’s music. “She desperately wants me to befriend you,” he says, “So she can befriend you too.”

“Oh, is that why you’ve been here? Because Vassa wants you to befriend me?”

“No, I’ve been here in case my father attempts a genocide against my court,” Lucien says, very seriously. Then adds, “And because Iwant me to befriend you.”

She doesn’t catch her smile that time before it slips through. She stuffs it back down deep a moment later, but she knows he saw it. Gods, that stupid suit has her so flustered. And now he’s admitted that he wants her in some capacity.

She wants him, too. The music is still playing, a drumbeat in her ears.

“I may be receptive to befriending,” she says, and it comes out much softer than she intended, aching with sincerity.

Lucien’s real eye—russet and gold—flickers with an emotion she can’t name. But it’s soft, aching with sincerity. Simultaneously, they both shake off the moment. He asks, “If I befriend you quick enough, will you call off your assassination?”

“If you help me with dinner tonight,” she says, hopping down off the counter and taking a deep drink of her tea. She abandons the half full mug on the counter.

Lucien pauses to drink the rest of his before chasing after her with a mumbled protest that she’s always running off. Then, “Where are you going? Cooking food often requires the food,” with a motion back towards the kitchen.

“We need to collect some ingredients from my garden.” And she desperately needs to mess him up, muss up that pretty suit, ruin the sight of him before she admits to anything more dangerous.

He casts her an askance look. “You want me to forage with you?”

“Garden.”

“What’s the difference?”

“One requires opposable thumbs.” She bumps open the back door with her hip, stepping out into the fresh afternoon air. The sun is carving deep orange lines into the sky; the perfume of the garden wraps up tight around her on the subtle, warm winds. “How did you manage to live in the Spring Court without learning to garden?”

“I was a courtier,” he says, haughtily, “I tended the fruit trees.”

Elain doesn’t expect it, and a short, wild laugh escapes her. He’s made her laugh before, but this one tastes like sunshine and affection. She swallows down the tail end of it, afraid he’ll realize that he just made her fall a little more in love with him with a single, well placed joke.

Gods, she’s really quite a simple creature.

But as she glances over at him, his gaze is down to the ground like he’s trying to hide the soft, pleased little smile he’s wearing. Which only makes her smile. And makes him smile wider when he glances over at her.

Now they’re both just grinning silently as they cross the last path of uneven stained glass tiles to her garden.

“Do I at least get gloves?” Lucien asks, stopping with his toes barely crossing the boundary between tile and tilled dirt.

“Are you afraid for your fingernails?”

He nods without a hint of humor.

Elain digs into the pocket of her cotton, yellow dress to pull out her two pairs of gardening gloves. The ones sized for her dainty hands were bought as a gift by Feyre last Solstice. The larger ones—Elain bought. And she knew they were for Lucien as she was buying them.

Admittedly, she wasn’t certain, even as she bought them, that Lucien would ever wish to garden with her. Yet, here he is. And here are the gloves she bought for him on a whim.

He stares at them for a moment, noting the size. Very obviously selected for a male. “Who’s been foraging with you, Blossom?” he asks mildly.

“No one,” she says, “I like to be alone out here. It’s my little sanctuary.”

His clockwork eye clicks as he looks around at it, something new touching his expression. Something soft, fond. He accepts the gloves from her, though he doesn’t immediately put them on. “I need to pull my hair back,” he says, “Give me one moment.”

“I can do it for you.”

The offer comes out entirely innocent, but his reaction is not. He goes still, hands halfway to his hair with a strip of leather between his fingers, and a hint of color brushes across his cheeks as gently as a lover’s caress.

His throat works. “Are you sure you can reach?”

She scoffs and slaps him across the shoulder with her gloves.

Laughing slightly rougher than usual, he effortlessly pulls back his hair and binds it there. She advises him to remove his suit jacket so he doesn’t get it dirty. She just wants it off of him. That godawful distracting blue finally, blessedly gone.

She pulls on her gloves, and he pulls on his. He must note that they’re the exact size of his hands. He must realize that she commissioned them specifically for him.

Hopefully, he doesn’t question how she got measurements for his hands. She’s given him enough reasons already to call her a creep.

He says nothing. She points him to all the things she needs dug up out of the garden or plucked from a stem, and she sets herself to the simple tending duties. After filling and refilling her watering can twice, she busies herself with removing weeds. She took care of a patch just a few days ago, but she must not have gotten all the roots.

Her eyes lift from her work, and without meaning to, she’s staring at him. His sleeves are rolled up now to spare the white of his shirt. Gods, that’s so much worse.

He looks debauched. His hair mussed and pulled back, half undressed and kneeling in her sanctuary. He’s so gentle, like her plants are precious to him because they are to her. Suddenly, she wants to know if he’ll talk to them if she leaves him alone.

Suddenly, she wants. She swallows it down, snapping her attention back to the weeds she’s pulling. With a slightly too rough yank, she gets a big portion of the stem up from the ground, but she feels the tear of its roots remaining behind in the soil. She’ll have to pull it again in a few days.

“I have everything,” Lucien says, his voice soft on the wind.

Her heart gives a merry little skip. She’s in so much trouble. “Thank you,” she says, and her voice comes out soft, too, “You can take it inside. I’ll be there in a moment.”

She feels his eyes on her as she scrapes loose another weed without looking at him. Then, he’s gone. His jacket goes with him, but his gloves are set gently atop the patio table for her.

She dares to take a deep breath of her garden. But it smells like him, now.

She should’ve known better than to play with his kind of fire. To fool herself into thinking they could be friends. It was a trap she laid for herself in her sleep, and now she’s stepped directly into it.

Before she follows him back into the house, she does something silly and whimsical that she hasn’t done since her childhood. She lifts the dandelion covered in white fluff up, and she blows on it. A harsh, furious little puff that throws all the fluff into the air.

Dandelions are meant to be like shooting stars or birthday candles, granting wishes. But as she watches the little white seeds scatter about her garden, she knows she’s only added a million more roots she won’t be able to clear out.

In the kitchen, Lucien waits for her. Back in his dusky blue jacket, hair falling free but still a bit mussed. Between two fingers, he’s twirling a small yellow flower back and forth. A dandelion.

He looks up, from it to her, and he smiles. “Got all the sun you needed, Blossom?”

She’s in so much trouble.

#acotar #elucien #lucien #acotar fic #elucien fic #elain archeron #elain x lucien

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whump-tr0pes · 2 years

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Lamia Lenis - Part 5

Or, a Carlo/Maxim/Dara/Ilya/Dee crossover AU collab with the amazing @deluxewhump

Or, @whumptober prompts no. 2 “Nowhere To Run”, no. 7 “Shaking Hands”, no. 10 “Poor Unfortunate Souls”, no. 14 “Desperate Measures”, no. 16 “No Way Out”, no. 19 “Knees Buckling”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Maxim the vampire lives a quiet life with his beloved mortal, Carlo. That is, until Maxim’s friend Dara, an angel of the Lord, brings two creatures to Maxim’s doorstep - Ilya, a human bloodbag barely clinging to life, and Dee, their beloved demon who is willing to kill to keep them safe. Maxim and Carlo find more than they bargained for when they take in the traumatized pair.

Contents: captivity (sort of), isolation, blood, vampire whumper, muzzled, bargaining, offer of implied nsfw

Carlo put the heavy blue pot on the gas stove, waiting for the click of the gas and the little rush of flame. He took a seat at the small kitchen table beside Ilya, who was staring out the window into the blackness beyond the property.

“It's woods, out there,” Carlo said gently. “Just lots of woods.”

“And a town,” Ilya replied, their gaze faraway.

Carlo looked at their reflections in the glass. He shook his head. “It's far. Farther than it looks from the road coming up here. And it’s cold.”

Ilya blinked, turned their weary, haunted eyes toward him. “Not in the daytime, with the sun out. He lets you wander around, doesn’t he? He doesn’t lock you in.”

Carlo held their gaze, though something made him want to flinch away. He knew that look, that feeling. The feeling of being trapped— of being prey. Like an insect in a spiderweb, waiting for sundown. How could he explain he did not fear dusk, anymore? That he waited for it anxiously, but not out of fear?

“No,” he said. “He doesn’t lock me in.”

“So you could leave.”

Carlo swallowed. “I have nowhere to go.”

Ilya’s eyes narrowed a fraction. A drop of bright blood had seeped through the bandage on their arm.

“I don’t want to go,” he explained. “I—I feel safe here.”

“Safe?” Ilya hissed.

Carlo blushed. “Yes,” he said a little too defensively. “Maxim… he took me away from another house. A….another vampire’s house. I’d been there for months. I don’t think… I don’t think I’d have lasted much longer if he didn’t take me when he did.”

Recognition crept over Ilya’s features. They looked Carlo up and down, taking in his soft cashmere sweater, his pink cheeks and his soft, clean hair. Yet they glanced a moment too long at the scars of his wrists and neck not to have noticed them.

“Those aren’t…”

“From him? No.” Almost proudly, Carlo added, “Maxim’s never left a mark on me. It doesn’t even hurt. I always…” he trailed off. It felt almost too intimate to share, though he wanted Ilya to understand. “I always let him. He doesn’t… he doesn't take it. I have to give it.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Why, then? Why wouldn’t you just say no?”

Carlo got up to stir the soup, hoping it was warm enough to serve already. He felt Ilya watching his back as he did. Because he takes care of me. Because I love him.

“Because it’s what I am,” he said at the stove, knowing Ilya was listening. “Vampires like me. They find me. And this one keeps me away from them.”

There was a creak, and Carlo glanced back to see Ilya lean back in their chair. Understanding settled in their features, hardened their mouth. They threw a glance at the demon, who stood at the door to the kitchen, as if guarding it. He wore the muzzle still.

“I get it,” Ilya whispered, nodding slightly. “I get it.”

Carlo bit his lip. “It’s not like… like that,” he said, mouth twisting. “Not like… whatever it is you’re thinking right now. I… I like being here. I like being… being his.” He hated the embarrassment that burned his cheeks, the shame that twisted in his stomach. The last thing he needed - the last thing he wanted - was Ilya’s judgment. “I w-wouldn’t be alive if not for him,” he said, weakly.

“Is he going to keep us?” Ilya said. There was something different to their voice now, a steely hardness that made Carlo shift his weight uneasily.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, fingers tight around the wooden spoon he realized he was somehow still holding.

Ilya rose slowly from their seat and took a step towards Carlo. “Is he going to hurt me? Hurt him?” they hissed, jutting their chin out at Dee.

Carlo shook his head. “N-no,” he whispered. “No. Never. I told you, he’s not… he’s not… like that.”

Another step closer. “Does anyone else live in this house? Does anyone else know we’re here?” Ilya said softly.

“No,” Carlo murmured. His head was starting to swim. It suddenly occurred to him that both Ilya and Dee were between him and the door. And the drawer just inches from Ilya’s hand contained a knife - and a few other things, but most importantly a knife, a sharp one for some specific use that Carlo couldn’t even remember at the moment. His fingers were going numb around the wooden spoon. All he had to defend himself against a knife was a wooden spoon and a pot of hot soup - at least until Maxim returned with the key to Dee’s muzzle. Something about a specific type of iron, angel power type of stuff…

Carlo couldn’t remember right now. His throat tightened, and he felt the heat of the stove against his back. “Ilya…” he said softly.

“We can’t be trapped again,” Ilya said, and their voice cracked. Their hands were shaking at their sides. “Me and Dee. We can’t. And the Vampire wouldn’t take the bait, so…”

They took another step closer. Carlo let out a soft, airy sound of fear, and smelled the back of his shirt begin to singe. “P-please,” he croaked.

Ilya slid to their knees in front of Carlo, head bent, shoulders bowing with bitter exhaustion. Dee whimpered softly and glanced down the hall. Carlo’s stomach roiled.

“Please,” Ilya breathed, and tipped back their head. Their eyes were rimmed with tears. “Please, just… tell me what you want. If you get us out, I’ll… I’ll do anything.” Their chin quivered. A tear rolled down their cheek. They raised one shaking hand and traced their cold fingertips along the waistband of Carlo’s soft woolen pants.

@womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @whatwhumpcomments, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @whumps-the-word, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood, @finder-of-rings, @inky-whump, @thatsthewhump, @orchidscript, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @pebbledriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump, @grizzlie70, @oops-its-whump, @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather, @butwhatifyouwrite, @carnagecardinal, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @wolfeyedwitch, @batfacedliar, @extrabitterbrain, @pumpkin-spice-whump-latte, @rabass, @melancholy-in-the-morning @whyisnamingthingssohard

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faintingheroine · 1 year

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Why Is Bihter Considered the Protagonist but not Nihal? (feat. British Female Novelists) (To Be Hopefully Developed into a Podcast Episode)

1) In the words of Jane Austen:

“Until the heroine grows up the fun must be imperfect (…) one does not care for girls until they are grown up”

2) The absence of sex and death and action from Nihal’s story. In Virginia Woolf’s words in Orlando:

“Life, it has been agreed by everyone whose opinion is worth consulting, is the only fit subject for novelist or biographer; life, the same authorities have decided, has nothing whatever to do with sitting still in a chair and thinking. Thought and life are as the poles asunder. Therefore--since sitting in a chair and thinking is precisely what Orlando is doing now--there is nothing for it but to recite the calendar, tell one's beads, blow one's nose, stir the fire, look out of the window, until she has done. Orlando sat so still that you could have heard a pin drop. Would, indeed, that a pin had dropped! That would have been life of a kind. Or if a butterfly had fluttered through the window and settled on her chair, one could write about that. Or suppose she had got up and killed a wasp. Then, at once, we could out with our pens and write. For there would be blood shed, if only the blood of a wasp. Where there is blood there is life. And if killing a wasp is the merest trifle compared with killing a man, still it is a fitter subject for novelist or biographer than this mere wool-gathering; this thinking; this sitting in a chair day in, day out, with a cigarette and a sheet of paper and a pen and an ink pot. If only subjects, we might complain (for our patience is wearing thin), had more consideration for their biographers! What is more irritating than to see one's subject, on whom one has lavished so much time and trouble, slipping out of one's grasp altogether and indulging--witness her sighs and gasps, her flushing, her palings, her eyes now bright as lamps, now haggard as dawns--what is more humiliating than to see all this dumb show of emotion and excitement gone through before our eyes when we know that what causes it--thought and imagination--are of no importance whatsoever?

But Orlando was a woman--Lord Palmerston had just proved it. And when we are writing the life of a woman, we may, it is agreed, waive our demand for action, and substitute love instead. Love, the poet has said, is woman's whole existence. And if we look for a moment at Orlando writing at her table, we must admit that never was there a woman more fitted for that calling. Surely, since she is a woman, and a beautiful woman, and a woman in the prime of life, she will soon give over this pretence of writing and thinking and begin at least to think of a gamekeeper (and as long as she thinks of a man, nobody objects to a woman thinking). And then she will write him a little note (and as long as she writes little notes nobody objects to a woman writing either) and make an assignation for Sunday dusk and Sunday dusk will come; and the gamekeeper will whistle under the window--all of which is, of course, the very stuff of life and the only possible subject for fiction. Surely Orlando must have done one of these things? Alas,--a thousand times, alas, Orlando did none of them. Must it then be admitted that Orlando was one of those monsters of iniquity who do not love? She was kind to dogs, faithful to friends, generosity itself to a dozen starving poets, had a passion for poetry. But love--as the male novelists define it--and who, after all, speak with greater authority?--has nothing whatever to do with kindness, fidelity, generosity, or poetry. Love is slipping off one's petticoat and--But we all know what love is. Did Orlando do that? Truth compels us to say no, she did not. If then, the subject of one's biography will neither love nor kill, but will only think and imagine, we may conclude that he or she is no better than a corpse and so leave her”.

3) Nihal’s story couldn’t have existed without Bihter, her entire arc is built on her jealousy and impending loneliness caused by Bihter’s presence. Nihal effects Bihter’s story, but not to the same extent.

4) Bihter drives the plot, Nihal doesn’t feature in a plot summary until the last quarter of the novel.

5) The book’s name

For all of these reasons, despite arguably Nihal and her perspective featuring more in the novel, Bihter is considered the protagonist by most readers.

Incidentally that’s also why people value Nihal’s role as Behlül’s 15-year-old love interest over her 12-14 years old self.

@literatureismyentirepersonality

#aşk ı memnu #aşk-ı memnu #nihal #bihter #jane austen #virginia woolf #orlando

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wastingoxygensince1983 · 2 years

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My thoughts on C3e25

Please don't read this. Is long and my thoughts are stupid. I would tag it just to have a way to find it later in my own post.

This is just my takeaways from the last episode so I want to write them and check later if I was wrong about them.

There's something really shady about this feywild stuff. I think "time is a weird soup" has never applied better than now. It seems like Dusk somehow met Fearne's parents before they have her.

Also, Dusk's reaction about Fearne's grandmother made me question a lot about her. Is Morrigan really her grandma? not sure, but there's something there.

After their message with Imogen, they didn't mentioned Dusk at all, even if Imogen did mentioned it.

I think the only person that would react to Laudna saying the rock was taken by Delilah would be Orym. And the thing is, I believe if that's the case they would put in second place fixing the relationship with Imogen and focusing in the Delilah part. I hope they get to talk about that more later but I feel that they tried to focus on those feelings and trying to help and mend Laudna and Imogen's relationship.

What Laudna said struck with me a lot. I feel like, romantic feelings or platonic, Laudna somehow had decided to not pursuit more that what she got because she wants Imogen to be free of burdens and stuff, and Laudna is a person with two lifetimes of baggage. Just like it was proven a few episodes before, Delilah can hurt their relationship and even more, Imogen. Maybe that has made Laudna to root herself in the friend scenario, and delivery or by subconscious, she had put barriers on them.

Is kinda ironic and very sad to see Imogen so jealous and think that Laudna is like nothing happened but not notice that Laudna is actually kicking herself and crying a lot because of the pain.

Orym little pause while he was talking to Imogen. I think he wanted to say more about their relationship but probably he didn't because neither Imogen or Laudna had express more than friendship.

The ring Imogen bought. This is gonna have a significant moment later. I'm pretty sure if Dusk don't make their move before Imogen is gonna give that ring to Laudna.

Dusk came and took not prisoners. That "good talk" with Imogen was so funny. They are a great addition to the campaign.

The fact that was Ashton(that somehow seems to be the one that doesn't care for bullshit like this) was the one that pursuit the conversation, and somehow gave advice says so much about how they have growth to like the hell bells.

I actually enjoy how is just episode 25 and they already have this type of closeness. I freaking love the mighty nein but they didn't have this level of relationship so early(and I haven't watch vox machina to compare there).

Whitestone is for lovers T-shirt have so many different meanings I'm actually in a buckle of ideas about it. Liam is crazy for doing that and I love him for it.

I really didn't care that much about the Armand stuff besides Fearne's Quokka which as all the things Fearne does is extremely hilarious and dangerous. I love her.

So for me there's two different scenarios for all the automaton stuff F.C.G is perceiving. Or is to prove that they are special and one of their kind(after all it seems that F.C.G is Aeor/Avalir level of advance compared with the other automatons) or the party later is gonna met a group of automatons like F.C.G. And I mean as advance is language and conversation.

Yes Ashley finally mentioned Opal and the ExU campaign. But I would love if Fearne talks about Opal. I'm glad Matt is talking about ExU more.

Kinda weird that neither Fearne and Chetney have talked or get involved with the Imogen and Laudna scenario. Mostly because ashley and Travis are the ones that react the most with their stuff.

Matt stirring the pot after Dusk and Imogen convo was so funny and I hope people would give it more praise.

The ring of brass died so a undead woman and a moon powered sorcerer acted like two school girls in a romcom.

I did miss them, and even if I had Calamity and the familiar companion during this month, this episode show me how much I missed them.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #bells hells #laudna cr #laudna #fcg critical role #fcg #imogen temult #orym of the air ashari #ashton greymoore #campain 3 #fearne calloway #dusk cr

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darkdisrepair · 2 years

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imogen, laudna, and romance: cr3e27 part 1

though i didn't write a meta for episode 26 i'm back to break down some of the juicy first-half tidbits from the most recent critical role episode!

topics include: laudna & dusk | romance brain

and keep an eye out for part 2!

dusk asks laudna out

now, there are a few things outside of the whole situation that we can factor into this discussion: a) that dusk will eventually double-cross the group and b) that erika ishii the icon has a critical role romance hit list.

let's talk about point a (which to be honest is more relevant). there's a finesse to dusk's choices that i just love. for one, the bumbling, clumsy, enthusiastic character choice was perfect. it's hard not to trust someone who seems so open with their flaws and with the things that they forget.

but what's even more brilliant is that dusk has actually gotten close with the group, and not just in a "you saved me, thank you!! :)" way. because even that doesn't earn trust. not in the way that being a confidante does, not in the way that showing concern over backstory lore and protecting fearne when she's about to get rat-squished does.

if you didn't know dusk was a traitor, you could easily be fooled by the intimacy of it all, of growing to care about people. and what other way to both earn trust and to gain leverage over someone by "falling in love" with them?

it's a vulnerable position, to ask someone out. if you were doubtful about dusk (which i suspect orym and chetney, or at least liam and travis, are starting to wonder about), it's hard to feel like the sweet, shy person asking you on a date will backstab you. but also, becoming romantically entangled is an awfully good way to get someone to do something that you want.

think about it: when imogen and laudna (not saying they're romantically involved) were fighting, laudna would have done anything imogen asked her to do. and dusk likely saw this and thought: here is someone, when she cares about people, is so vulnerable and so desperate to maintain her sense of stability in her relationships that she will do anything to fix it.

possibly, even in the face of betrayal. here is someone dusk could potentially have on their side, if laudna cares about them enough.

it's a wonderful strategic choice. and for erika, it's also a great way for them to stir the pot for the gays, even though they've already checked marisha off the list in spectacular fashion. if only imogen were more approachable...

romance brain

so, laudna's reaction. i think it was valid and heartbreaking and charming all at once. she was quite literally blindsided by dusk there, right before a conversation she had been dreading for days, so it's understandable that she wouldn't be able to really present an answer.

and that's something people don't talk about. you can get blindsided by people seeking relationships with you, but you don't owe anyone anything, especially if you're not ready.

but what i also found interesting was that laudna said: "i haven't accessed that part of my brain in 50 years" and imogen's response is "it would be strange to access that."

hello, headcanon that imogen is aromantic hehe

in all seriousness: i've been thinking lately about the expectations that have been placed on imodna since the beginning for a romantic relationship- but to me, neither of them are really built to intensely strive for that?

imogen has gone through so much with reading people's minds, hearing the awfulness of humanity, and being shunned for being who she is. the intimacy of romance, then, i feel like would feel really hard for her, because like she said about dates: "you're in their mind and you're hearing what you're doing wrong." and that's just it, isn't it?

it's hard to have a relationship (or even a friendship, as has been illustrated by her dynamics with everyone) when you know you can delve into their mind and just find out what's going on. it's hard to have a relationship when the very part that makes you you can be very off-putting and is something you always have to keep in check.

and she's heard the worst of the world, and every horrible part about romantic relationships. so perhaps i do headcanon that she's aromantic, because romance is hard and wouldn't it just make sense, if romance just doesn't click with her because she's familiar with intimacy both at its worst, and in the smallest, minute thoughts of the people around her? and to her, aren't the thoughts of friendship equally as gentle, and thoughtful, and beautiful as romance?

and then there's laudna, who is quite literally undead, and like she said, also hasn't accessed that part of her brain for 50 years, and that so much has been going on that she hasn't had time for that.

and i totally get that, too, when you're so focused on pushing forward and improving yourself and working towards better that you don't have time for romance, and the notion isn't that appealing.

that's not saying that i'll be at all upset if they do become canon (because let's be honest, the cast loves their party romances and who am i to protest amazing character moments and beautiful relationships), because i think that would also be beautiful in its own way, but i do think imogen and laudna at least won't be jumping into a relationship in the near future, for the reasons i talked about.

either way, i'm excited a) for the joy of a queer platonic relationship or b) a wonderfully delicious slow burn like you wouldn't believe.

the conversation was brilliantly played and wonderful in that it acknowledged everything that each of them had done wrong. i'm very glad that the first thing, really, imogen apologizes for was not checking in on laudna after she was controlled by delilah. she acknowledges how terrible that would have been and how scary it was and i think that is really the most important aspect of this argument to have been covered.

because, as people have pointed out in my asks (which i accidentally deleted, so sorry to that user) laudna was compromised and taken advantage of for someone else's own gain, and when she needed a friend, imogen wasn't there for her.

luckily, it seems like imogen is very aware of that fact. and i suspect that she will make every effort to be there every step of the delilah journey from here on out.

but laudna also acknowledged what imogen had been through: that breaking the rock was wrong, even if it wasn't technically her fault, and that imogen had gone through a dream alone.

i'm also glad they talked without fcg, because ultimately, it gave each of them (laudna, imogen, and fcg) the chance to get what they needed out of the conversations of that night, without feeling like they had to put on a performance for someone else, or pretend that fcg's style of therapy was working for them when in the end, it ended up being so simple.

laudna and imogen, just them, the way that everything started. and i think that's beautiful.

#imogen temult #laudna #dusk #critical role #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #cr meta #meta #imogen meta #laudna meta #imodna #imogen x laudna #cr campaign 3 #cr3e27

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michellerb · 3 months

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BG3 Fanfiction: The Challengers of Gods (Also on AO3)

Chapters 1 & 2 Posted Below! More will be out soon as Chapter 2 is not yet finished <3

The Challengers of Gods (A Durge/Astarion BG3 Fanfiction)

In the months after the fall of the Elder Brain and the defeat of the Grand Illithid Design, Astarion and Anya (a redeemed Durge) take time for themselves for the first time in their lives to explore Faerûn. Astarion, free of his Master and of his old life. Anya, free of the Dark Urge and her evil father, Bhaal the God of Murder. They have plans to meet with the great minds across the various cities to find a way for Astarion to walk in the sun again. But as they become accustomed to this new life, and to each other, Anya begins to experience visions that hint at her true parentage and Astarion must face an unexpected memory from his. Both characters find that their adventures together are just beginning, and they will need each other to make it through.

Some notes about the lore of this fanfic

**Redeemed Durge is referring to the Origin character of the Dark Urge who defeats Orin to become Bhaal’s Chosen but rejects him and is killed by him in retribution. This Durge is then brought back by Withers (who is Jergal, the original God of the Dead) to live their life finally free of Bhaal and the Dark Urge. Anya was played as a Lawful Good character despite her dark past. She has a bleeding heart and a belief that people have innate goodness in them.

**Anya is a Half-Elf Cleric of Mielikki, the Lady of the Forests. Anya rejected the emperor to free Orpheus and in doing so helped free the Githyanki from Vlaakith’s tyrannical grip.

**Karlach and Wyll (the Blade of Avernus) are in Avernus fighting evil together, Gale is now a professor in Waterdeep, and the Crown of Karsus is safe with Mystra. The Elder Brain was slain.

**Astarion is a Spawn. He killed Cazador, freed the other spawns to the Underdark, and aided the Gur.

**Shadowheart is on a personal journey and has adopted the Owlbear Cub. Scratch is staying with Gale and Tara in Waterdeep. The Tieflings are safe with Dammon and Rolan back in Baldur’s Gate. Halsin has returned to Moonrise Towers to help them rebuild. The Grove is safe and flourishing under a new Archdruid.

**Lae’zel is with Voss fighting Vlaakith for the freedom of the Githyanki people. She checks in often because even though she won’t admit it out loud, these people are her family.

**Duke Ravengard, Jaheira, and Minsc are helping the city of Baldur’s Gate rebuild. Boo is doing the heavy lifting.

Chapter 1: Astarion, The Pale Elf

“Gods... This is the first time in two hundred years I've seen these streets in the sunlight. You can forget just how much colour there is in the world.” – Astarion, Act 3

Astarion wakes to the sound of rustling, the space around him empty but still warm as he reaches out for her. His fingers grip blankets used for sleeping the night before and he lets out a sigh, knowing that his love is someone with fire in her blood and therefore always on the move. He sits up and rubs the rest from his eyes. Elves, of course, do not have to sleep as sleep-needing species do but it has been something he has tried lately. His dreams, rather than the memories of Cazador he often mulled over during his nightly meditative state, were nice. Pleasant. Sometimes he dreamed so vividly – the colors comforting and the smells familiar. Sometimes he dreamed about the sun again. It was like slivers of his old life were coming back to him.

When he finally leaves their tent, he finds her by the campfire stirring a pot of coffee and yawning into her hands. The real sun had just set, and the last memories of dusk were fading into the stary nighttime sky. This has been their life since the defeat of the Elder Brain, and the loss of the very Mindflayer parasites that brought them together – the ones that freed him from Cazador’s grip and hers from Bhaals and the very thing that allowed him to feel the sun on his skin for the first time in two centuries. These parasites had also connected their minds together and gave him a power he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t enjoyed. He didn’t feel empty, in fact he felt like himself for the first time in two hundred years – and maybe ever – but everything did feel quiet. His thoughts, his body…they were his own. Not Cazador’s. Not the Mindflayer parasite. His. He was thankful to not to be alone with all his new choices.

It had only been a few weeks, but he had slipped back into his old ways of living during the nighttime. Anya, his love, on the other hand was having a more difficult time adjusting. She was still having nightmares of Bhaal and of Orin and of the lost, dark memories of her time before. It was one of the reasons he began tried to sleep, to give her company so she wasn’t alone with her dreams. He knew that the sun had made her feel safe. He knew that the nighttime reminded her of these things and where he wished they could both lie naked in the sun together and banish away any of the unwanted memories that come with the night, he was just so happy to have her and his freedom. If he were more of a poet maybe he could put his joy into words. But alas, his life had been filled with insincere pretty words used to lure people in. It was only the past few months that he began speaking for himself. The poetry would have to wait.

“My sweet,” he says, kneeling beside her, the campfire warm. She startles, lost in her memories or maybe her lack thereof.

“Astarion,” she gasps and turns to him, her lips forming a smile. “You are so quiet sometimes.” She is kneeling too and extends her upper body enough to kiss him. Their lips linger for a moment, hers parting, inviting him in. She tastes like coffee, a memory from his past life as a magistrate, and normally something he wouldn’t enjoy. But on her?

“How was it?” he asks as they pull away from one another. He brushes a loose curl from her face and tucks it behind her ear. The first thing he noticed about her was her hair, a fiery red mane of curls.

“Beautiful,” her smile is slightly melancholic, “There was a lot of red in the sunset tonight. When we get to the next town, I’d like to buy some oil colors so I can show you.”

“I’d like that.” He presses a kiss onto her forehead. Anya was full of surprises – such as defying Bhaal, the Lord of Murder and her father, - but one of the most precious ones was her love and talent for art. It was something she kept to herself for the first few weeks of their group camping together. It was something she did to keep her strained mind in order, but then it became something she shared with everyone and eventually…something she did just for him.

During one of the many nights they had first snuck away to the woods together, when he was still working on seducing her from decades of habit, she showed him her art. After they were spent physically, their bodies sticky with sweat, she untangled herself from him and dug in the bag she’d brought with her. He liked to study her in these moments when her gaze was turned away from him and he could be sincere. After two hundred years of playing the rake, of seducing people only to bring them back for his master, it was rare that he allowed himself to feel anything for anyone. He could appreciate the way someone looked, his body could enjoy their time together, but it wasn’t very often he allowed himself to know the person. To truly look at them. Her naked body was covered in freckles and curved softly. She had a few bruises on her skin from the various skirmishes they had been in and even then, when he was still pretending to her and lying to himself, he longed to kiss them better.

“All I have is some charcoal and I’ve just been drawing the things we see, like the Grove, and some of our friends…so I don’t forget.” She shows him a few sketches: Karlach laughing, Shadowhearts’ hands with the mark of Shar, the child Tieflings from the Grove with their bright eyes. Her pages were filled with people and memories and images she did not want to forget. They were beautiful.

“You are always so full of surprises, aren’t you?” he laughed and reached out to touch her drawing of Scratch, his head turned slightly as if listening in on their conversation. “Of course, you are artist, that must be why I was drawn to you.”

She let out a small laugh but was obviously lost in thought, “Astarion…” she crawled closer to him, but didn’t look him in the eye. Just moments before she had been crying out his name in a way he would be thinking about for the entirety of the next day, but in that moment…she was shy.

“What is it my dear?” without even thinking he placed his hand on her bare knee to comfort her. Even then his body reacted in ways that betrayed how he truly felt before his mind had caught up.

“I want to draw you.” She bit her lip, finally looking directly at him.

In his two hundred years of vampirism, he had not seen himself. He cannot even remember what he looked like before and could not picture what he looked like now. All he knew about himself were reflected in the eyes of others.

“I’d…I’d like that.” He whispered honestly, his hand still on her knee. She smiled and the world felt right in that moment. “Nude or clothed?” he joked, stretching out to show off his muscles. “I assume certain parts of me will be hard to capture in their…complexity.”

She giggled then and leaned close to him, a few breaths away from his face. “Whatever you want, love.”

The night continues as it had been for the past few weeks. They were able to bring a few caskets of bottled blood with them – bought by a butcher back in Rivington – and as Anya made herself a bowl of porridge, Astarion drank in – his strength returning to him with each sip. He loved these nighttime routines with her. It was the first time in his life that he had a quiet life. A life he truly enjoyed. He was in the process of documenting all of the nighttime constellations, a way for him to love the nighttime again. Lost in thought trying to find The Maiden, he was brought back down to reality by Anya’s voice.

“We are a day or so away from Waterdeep. We could probably even hire a carriage once we get to a village outside of the city.” She had Gale’s old maps strewn about in front of her, marking their journey in great detail. “Then we can really enjoy ourselves. Gale says this place never sleeps, that its nightlife is spectacular. There are so many things we can go together – like a play! Oh, I’ve always wanted to go to a live play.” Her cheeks are slightly flushed from the wine she was drinking. “Astarion, we could make a home of this place for a little bit.” She takes his hand in hers and rubs her thumb over his knuckles, a motion she does often to remind him that she is there. He closes his notebook of stars and lays his other hand on top of hers, excited by her excitement.

“I don’t know how I feel about making a home in the same city as…Gale.”

“Oh, come on now. He’s your best friend!”

“He is your best friend. You are mine.”

She blushes, “Astarion!”

“I kid. Gale is great when he isn’t, you know, regurgitating words at you or talking about the great and powerful Goddess Mystra who he used to bed.” They both let out a genuine laugh and it reminds him of their time at camp. It makes him miss the others something terrible and he is annoyed that all these people wormed their ways into his heart. “I’d like nothing more, my sweet. Although, I do hope that circus we met last time stays far away. And if you make me get up on a stage with a clown again, it will break my heart to do so but I will kill you.”

She laughs and moves closer to him, leaning her head against on his shoulder. “Dribbles the Clown was scarier than the Elder Brain, wasn’t he?”

“The true cause of our nightmares.” He holds a hand to look at his nails, an old habit of his from when he can no longer remember. Sometimes he wonders where he picked things up like this from…gods forbid, Cazador? A past lover? A past victim? Himself?

“We will also find the wizard Gale told us about. Both Volo and Elminster vouch for him.”

“Not the highest praise.” Astarion says, which catches him a nudge from Anya’s elbow. “I’m just saying, Gale’s colleagues are always a bit…weird…and I’m all for finding a way for me to walk in the sun again, I just don’t want to end up having to eat magical items to do so. I have too nice of clothes to be using them for snacks.”

“Astarion.” Anya sits back to look at him, her eyes slightly wild in the way they get when she is either passionate about something or slightly annoyed. In this case, it was probably both. “You can joke all you want, but we are going to find a way for you to walk in the sun again.” She is now the one to reach up and brush a loose curl from his forehead, her fingertips lingering against his skin. In moments like these, of casual and warm intimacy, he feels the pull again. The desire. Not a mask he had to put on a performance, but real and true desire. The kind he felt for her first, way back during the party for the Tieflings they saved when he realized things with Anya were different and he was terrified.

“Anya…”

“No, don’t do that.”

“What? Say your name?”

“Say my name in that way. I defied Bhaal. I died and was brought back from the dead because Withers believed in me. I turned on the Emperor, Balduran himself, and I am sitting here with you…when I want something, when I believe in something, it becomes true. And I want this and so it is true.” Her cheeks are slightly flushed and the scar that crosses her left cheek and nose burns red in the firelight. The scar came from the time before, when the Dark Urge had taken over her entire life and from when Orin erased her memories. It was a favorite of his to kiss, the way she shivered when his lips danced across her skin…

“I believe you.” He says and it is true. Their promise is they do not lie to each other. They can joke, they can sidetrack the conversation or distract one another with touch…but they do not lie to each other. And he has no reason to, for he believes every word his love speaks.

Chapter 2: Anya, Challenger of Gods

“So rise, Challenger of Gods, and prepare for battle once more. Death will not claim thee whilst I endure.” – Withers, Act 3

Anya braces herself for the coldness of the lake and cries out as she beings to wade in the water, naked and exposed. This has been her ritual the past few days as their encampment is only a half-mile walk from a nearby lake. It is secluded with trace signs of civilization in the distance. Lights from the nearby villages light up the horizon and Waterdeep creates an ever-present glow in the night sky. But this little spot of hers is secluded and safe. It has an old, abandoned fishing dock and an overgrowth of plants. There is a small trail that leads into and out of the woods and no one has bothered her during her near-dawn swims. In fact, there was hardly another soul around.

Anya is not a great swimmer and only dares to venture out to the waist-deep part of the water. It is always shockingly, almost painfully cold at first but once she gets used to it – just like she had to get used to the feeling of the plant growth and lake bottom beneath her feet – she always feels so free. She takes a deep breath and plunges into the water, her body completely submerged. Her hair floats around her like a crown and when she returns to the surface again, gasping for air, she begins laughing. This has been her ritual and tonight is no different. Well, except for Astarion.

“Are you coming?” she shouts at him from the water. She pushes her wet curls from her face. He stands by the shore of the lake with only his shirt off, dipping his toes in the water and staring up at the moon. Usually he stays behind, bundled in their blankets and reading by the fire in their camp. But tonight, he requested that he come with her. With the removal of the Mindflayer parasite, Astarion was back to avoiding the sunlight and running water and other things that could harm him. But the waters of lakes, ponds, hot springs, bathtubs. These were safe. He told her, though, that it was rare he found himself near any of body of water while under Cazador’s grip. It was something he was still figuring out if he enjoyed or not. It was still something he was gauging if he found safe.

Astarion asking to join her tonight surprised her at first and then excited her. Not for any sexual reasons, in fact neither had wanted to be sexual in a long time, but because he often let the rest of whatever guard he had left up around her down. And she did the same. He was not a vampire spawn cursed by the sun. She was not the Bhaalspawn who rejected her heritage and was forsaken by her father. They were just Anya and Astarion. And, she had to admit, she liked when he let her wash his beautiful hair.

“I am enjoying the moon, my dear, it is a full one tonight.” His eyes move to her, and she feels the way his eyes study her body. Not in a possessive way. Not in a sexual way. Not hungry or objectifying. But like she is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. It never fails to make her blush. “This view isn’t so bad either.”

“Come on then.” She teases, splashing some water his way. “And bring the soap.”

She dives under the water again as she waits for him to join her. The world is so silent under there. Her body is weightless, her spirit free. She hasn’t told Astarion yet, but she hasn’t been sleeping well lately…if at all. With the Dark Urge gone, she expected to finally have restful sleep. She expected silence in her brain and control over her body and where, yes, Bhaal and his hunger for blood was no more…he still tainted things. She couldn’t shake the nightmares, the occasional memory from her past that slipped by and lately…she couldn’t stop dreaming about a woman.

In the dreams, this woman called to her, but Anya could not hear. It was always in an unidentifiable wooded area, and it was always so urgent. Even the woman herself was almost formless, an echo of a person. Anya’s dreams were never restful but these ones lately…she awoke as if she had just finished a fight. And each night, as she got closer and closer to the woman and to hearing her words and seeing who she was, a terrifying and inescapable presence would eventually stop her and pull her awake with force. It would leave her as soon as she woke and realized it wasn’t real and Astarion was next to her. They had won. They were safe.

She resurfaces now and feels a familiar hand reach out, brushing the hair from her face.

“My wild girl.” He whispers, a smile on his lips. She stands up in the stomach-deep water and wraps her arms around him. As a vampire he is cold, sure, but right now he is warm compared to the chill of the lake and after his meal of animal blood. It has been a while since he fed on her. He requested they keep it to only once a week, until her strength returned, and they could properly rest for a while in Waterdeep.

“Mielikki teaches that we should connect with nature as often as we can.” She giggles as he begins kissing her neck, his tongue lightly tracing her wet skin, pulling her back into the present moment. Gods how he surprised her sometimes. “Technically, this is my prayer. Astarion…” He knows that a particular spot on her neck is incredibly sensitive and kissing it is a good way to shut her up. Over their past months together he became very acquainted with her neck and the intricacies of her erogenous zones. His first time biting her for her blood was a bit awkward and feral, Astarion not totally there from hunger and surprise that she was allowing it. Her not used to the sensation or to him. But the second time…it had happened a few nights later when she invited him to her bedroll to feed on her while the others were sleeping. He was gentle, more careful. This time knowing more about what he was doing. And he was only there for a few moments but that night it had been long enough for her fingers to wrap themselves in his curls and for him to hesitant at her neck with his lips when he was done feeding.

“You clerics and your prayers.” His voice vibrates against her neck, sending shivers across her body.

“We are more than our prayers” she scolds, her hands finding their way to the tips of his long elf ears. This was something she learned during their time together. This is what got him to shut up. Her half-elf ears were sensitive, sure, but his ears? Just a slight touch from her was enough to melt the cocky Astarion in seconds. She strokes the points of his ears between her thumbs and middle fingers.

“You wicked thing.” His hands move to cup her face and bring her lips to his. He is so soft. So ethereal. She is once again so angry with the sun that it will be rising in just over an hour. She already defied Bhaal, next maybe it would be Lathander when she tore the very sun from the sky for how much it hurt her love.

“When we get to Waterdeep I want to rent an inn for a few nights and take a long, hot bubble bath.” Anya says, closing her eyes so she can imagine the ecstasy of such a thing.

“What else do you want?” Astarion leaves a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone and then in between her breasts. He said once kissing the patterns of her freckles was like connecting the stars for constellations.

“I want a big bottle of deep red wine, aged, for me and you. And a lemon cake and I want to pay my respects to the Selûnite temple in Waterdeep and buy books on subjects I know nothing about from the bookstores in town and…” she stops and intertwines her fingers through his loose curls, pulling his head back slightly. “What do you want?”

His eyes darken, “In Waterdeep or…right now?” His gaze traces the features on her face, softening when she meets his. “I want you, Anya.”

“I know you do,” she whispers. “But I also want you to feel safe and ready and…” she closes her eyes, finding the words. “I love you more than anything else in this world and…”

He presses his forehead to hers, gods he is so warm tonight. “My sweet, I know all of this because we remind one another every day.” His thumb lightly traces her lip, his skin rough. “There will be nights I do not feel like being touched. There will be nights my body does not feel my own. There will be nights that…my past is in control, not me. But there will also be nights when…I feel desire and when I want to act on that desire. And…tonight is one of those nights.”

Astarion and Anya are alike in so many ways. Both had no control over large portions of their lives. Their pasts, their true pasts containing the information of who they were and who they used to be, are gone. Taken from them. Their bodies were never their own but rather tools wielded by the hands that owned them. Cazador for Astarion, Bhaal for Anya. For the first time in their lives, each step was their own choice. Each word they said was truly their own. And their bodies finally belonged to themselves. Anya knew that Astarion did not want to be thought of in terms of sex. He did not want to be a sexual object. He did not want to be used and discarded. He wanted to be a person with a name and a soul just like Anya did.

She also knew they were deeply attracted to one another and that…well, that meant sex might look different from their first few times together…but it wasn’t going to be off the table for them as a couple. And she can’t help but blush a little and feel the warmth of anticipation creep through her body, settling in between her legs.

“Well okay then.” She says, barely above a whisper. “Let’s try.”

**Thank you for reading! More will be posted soon :) AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52974022/chapters/134008204

#writing #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 durge #astarion pov #soft astarion

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pcttrailsidereader · 7 months

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A COOL PERSPECTIVE

I am about to set out on a backpacking trip. Over the years I have encountered hikers who cold soak their meals eliminating the need for carrying a stove or fuel. I am not sure I am ready to take the 'plunge' but Heather Daya Rideout has some good perspectives and even some great strategies for exploring this method. HS

Cold-Soak No-Cook Backpacking Meals

Heather Daya Rideout May 3, 2022 Frequently Asked Questions, UL-Backpacking

The terms “cold-soak” and “no-cook” have become popular lingo amongst backpackers who opt for another way to eat on-trail without using a stove. Cold-soaking is a no-cook method where you simply soak dry food with water to prepare a meal. Sounds easy, right? For the most part, it is – but if you’re new to the cold-soak world and want to give it a try, there are a few tricks of the trade to make your experience more worthwhile and some points to consider to see if it’s right for you before you ditch your stove for good.

The Basics: How to Cold-Soak

This is the basic, four-step process to stoveless cooking (aka “cold-soak” or “no-cook”). I’ll include more details to elaborate on these four steps to come.

Get a jar that seals and doesn’t leak.

Pour filtered water over the food.

Be aware of the timing – make sure the meal has enough time to “cook.”

Stir and eat it when ready.

Benefits of Cold-Soaking Backpacking Food

So what’s the hype with cold-soaking? I did some research on cold-soaking before I started my Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) hike. I had been super content carrying a stove on my Appalachian Trail (AT) thru-hike, yet this cold-soaking technique had become all the rage since then, so I thought it was worth a look. I decided to do both – carry my trusty stove, pot, and a small Talenti Gelato jar that was only 1.9 ounces. Sure, many ultralight hikers would laugh at me because they had opted to ditch the stove and fuel to save weight, and here I had both in my pack, but I wasn’t sold on cold-soaking just yet.

Through my experimentation and the feedback of other cold-soak junkies, here are the key benefits of Cold-Soaking Backpacking Meals.

Lighten the Load

Some hikers believe it’s less weight to carry when you don’t have a stove or fuel to lug around in your backpack. However, you do have to carry the weight of that water mixed with your food in the container, so it may only save a bit of weight since stoves can be quite light. In terms of space, it definitely feels less bulky to me on subsequent trips when I’ve just carried my Talenti jar and that’s it.

Less Worry

It’s difficult to figure out how much stove fuel you need to carry on a trip, which urges one to lean on the side of caution and carry more. With cold-soaking, you leave that fuel-guessing game behind and don’t have to haul bulky gas canisters.

Cost-Efficient

No-Fuss

After a long day of hiking when energy is lacking, sometimes it can feel like a drag to pull out the stove, cook, eat, and then clean up. The same goes with mornings if you just want to get out of your tent and start hiking right away. With cold-soaking, you can walk while your food rehydrates and then stop to eat it whenever you wish.

I really liked doing this when I wanted to hike very early in the dessert section of the PCT to avoid the heat; I would cold-soak my oats and eat them when I wanted a break after an hour or so of walking. On days I was putting in a lot of miles, I chose to cold-soak and carry my food which was ready to eat when I got to camp at night without doing anything extra. This also worked well for me if I wanted to hike at night. I would cold-soak my food around dusk, hike while it did its cooking thing on my back, break to eat, and then keep going without the big production of having to bust out my stove, wait for the water to boil, cook, etc. When efficiency and time are factors, cold-soaking is awesome.

Easy Clean-Up

All you have to do is add some filtered water to your jar after eating, shake, and then drink to clean up easily. I personally like to wipe out any last bits with a little toilet paper that I then pack out, to make sure it’s dry and I’m not sealing up a wet jar; this is especially important in a hot climate where it can get funky. It’s a bit questionable as to how sanitary you can really get that container, especially if it has little grooves in it at the base. On the flip side, when you boil water in your pot, you help to disinfect and sterilize it, which is worth mentioning.

A Rain-Friendly Method

It’s never fun to cook on your stove outside when it’s raining and it’s definitely not advisable to ever use a stove in your tent. Some hikers cook under the tent’s vestibule, but honestly, doing that always freaks me out as I imagine my tent going up in flames should an accident occur. With cold-soaking, you don’t have to worry about getting wet or going hungry if you need to eat in your tent during a storm.

Fire Ban Areas

There are trails you may hike where fire bans are in effect because of wildfire risk and you can’t use a stove. Knowing how to cold-soak doesn’t limit where you can go and ensures you’re respectful of the rules of where you’re backpacking.

Less Smell to Attract Bears

Downsides to Cold-Soaking Backpacking Food

There are always two sides to a coin, and that’s no different with cold-soaking as a cooking method. Although I grew quite fond of cold-soaking at times, I still like carrying a stove. Here are some reasons why, and when, you may not wish to cold-soak your food.

No Hot Meals or Drinks

This reason is pretty obvious: no stove means no heat, which means nothing hot to consume. I find that in some conditions, having a warm meal can be soothing and comforting. Not only is this ideal in cold weather, but also for the ritualistic aspect of pausing to break and eat, without rush or hurry. To be transparent, I really don’t like crushing big miles, but I do it when I have a goal and need to hike hard to attain it. I prefer creating time and spaciousness on my trips to enjoy my food and nourish myself well, both nutritionally and emotionally. Cold-soaking can be more of an ‘eat and get it done’ experience which isn’t always what I’m going for when I backpack.

With that said, there were times I didn’t feel as satisfied when I ate cold-soaked meals, and that I was just eating for the sake of it. Sometimes this came in handy, but it wouldn’t be my forever choice. This is worth giving some consideration to. What is your style of eating? Do you like to take time to eat or it doesn’t really matter to you as long as you’re fed? There’s no right or wrong way – you just have to know your way.

Food Choices May Be Limited

I conjured up plenty of cold-soak meal options while on-trail, and complimented it with other stoveless food choices, so there were days I never needed to whip out my stove. There are many possibilities out there with cold-soaking backpacking food, yet you may find some choices are limited. Most packaged backpacking meals cannot be cold-soaked, which includes brands like Mountain House. These meals often contain pasta and rice which really needs to become heated to be edible.

However, I do know hikers who cold-soak Knorr Rice Sides and Mac & Cheese with relative success; these dishes just need to be soaked for several hours before ready to consume. Note that quinoa and instant rice don’t work with cold-soaking. There are some packaged backpacking meals that do work with cold-soaking, but it’s just not a guarantee and requires some experimenting or research.

And if you’re like me, I can’t stand cold coffee, so I don’t even bother without a stove, although other hikers love it. You do you.

Weather Considerations

I mentioned that hot food from a stove and pot can be comforting, and it also can be warming in cold weather conditions. I get cold very easily so I need to think about how a stove benefits me not only for sustenance but in case I need to warm my hands and body temperature. Drinking warm beverages also can ward off hypothermia.

If you chill easily or do a lot of cold weather trips, you may not love cold-soaking. However, in hot, desert conditions and in summer, I’m not as excited about warm meals. I actually prefer the consistency of my cold-soaked oats with all my mix-ins than when I cook them. If you backpack in hot climates often, cold-soaking may be a dream come true.

A Stove is Back-Up Water Purifier

Cold-Soaking Tips and Tricks

Here are some more tips and tricks for cold-soaking meals, so you can eat with success and pleasure.

Choosing a Cold-Soak Jar/Container

When choosing a cold-soaking vessel, look at these specifics.

The container needs to be leakproof and seal tightly.

It should be large enough and wide enough – if you’re going to have a lot of food inside, a small container won’t work for you.

Not too tall – your spoon or spork has to be able to reach the bottom and it’s tough to clean if too tall.

The container I’ve used with success seems to be one of the most commonly used on trial, the Talenti Gelato 473 ml jar that holds 16 ounces in volume and weighs 1.9 ounces. There were times I wished it was bigger, and this past summer I discovered the next size up – Talenti’s large 950 ml, 32-ounce jar that doesn’t weigh much more. Yes, it takes up more space, but no different than if you had a pot.

Hikers also like using peanut butter jars that seal well, which are also lightweight, and usually come in at around 750 ml. and 25 ounces for volume. Peanut butter jars can be taller though and a bit narrow; I like to be sure it’s wide enough so it’s user-friendly to pour my food into and scoop out. There are other jar options out there, just be sure to test it for ease of use and leaking before heading out on a trip. Also, don’t use glass because it’s heavier and can break.

Adding Water to Your Food

Adding water might sound straightforward, but there are a few nuances to consider.

Add enough water to cover your food completely, and then some.

Leave room for the food to expand as it rehydrates, which means you don’t want to fill the jar to the top with food.

Put on the lid and shake it, especially if you have spices and seasonings in the meals, so it’s distributed throughout.

You may want to give a shake to your food in the container periodically to ensure that the meal hydrates evenly, depending on what you’re cold-soaking.

Timing Your Cold-Soak Meals

Giving your food ample time to soak is crucial with this cookless technique. Some foods need more time than others to soak and become edible, and this should be accounted for regarding when you want to eat. I mentioned earlier how some hikers like to cold-soak Knorr Sides, which need hours to rehydrate well. Ramen noodles, on the other hand, take a half-hour.

Cold-soaker aficionados have it down to a science as to what foods need exactly what amount of time because they claim some things get mushy. Frankly, I don’t bother with those specifics when I backpack. I choose to give everything at least an hour to be safe, and sometimes more. For example, to be efficient in the morning, I’ll opt to soak my oats the night before.

Another factor to consider is planning around when you’re near a water source to get that extra water for your food to soak. I also like to channel the power of the sun to help “cook’ my food while I walk; I keep my container on the outside of my backpack in my front mesh pouch.

The key takeaway is not to forget you have to soak your meal, or you’ll be one hungry hiker.

Stir and Eat When Ready

Good Cold Soak Foods

Here’s a list of foods that can be cold-soaked. I’m very health-conscious with my food choices in life and while backpacking, so I tend to stay with foods that are natural, with no preservatives or weird ingredients. That’s what works for me, yet I encourage you to choose what’s right for you.

Couscous

Rice Noodles (I prefer these over ramen, although they can get mushy)

Oatmeal

Quinoa Flakes (like oatmeal in texture)

Instant Mashed Potatoes

Ramen Noodles

Polenta Mix or Grits

Dehydrated Refried Beans

Dried Hummus

Creamy Soups (I like McDougall’s Brand, but you can also find these in the bulk section of co-ops. Split pea & black bean are loaded with protein)

Dried Falafel Mix (Doesn’t look like falafel balls, but tastes good and is like a spread)

Breakfast Powders, Protein Powders, Peanut Butter Powder, Coconut Powder

Freeze-dried Fruits and Veggies & Dehydrated (some don’t work great)

Dried Seaweed

Cold-Soak Meal Recipes & Ideas

One way to make cold-soaking work, in a way that it’s a whole meal, is to combine it with other stoveless food choices. Here are some of my favorite, healthy cold-soak meal creations you can try out on a backpacking trip.

Dried oats or quinoa flakes mixed with protein powder or coconut milk powder, cinnamon, dried fruits or dehydrated fruits, dried coconut, cacao nibs, maca powder, matcha powder, hemp seeds, flax meal, chia seeds, and any other nuts/seeds you like.

Granola can be mixed with protein powder, coconut milk powder, or even water and soaked in advance to make it softer.

Couscous mixed with a packet of salmon or tuna, dried fruit, and nuts, sea salt. Near East is a good brand if you want flavored, or you can add your own seasonings like garam masala, curry, garlic for Indian; lemongrass and ginger for Thai; cumin, chipotle, chili for Mexican, etc.

Hummus, falafel mix, or refried beans mix with blue corn chips (any chips/crackers you like works) or on a tortilla. Nutritional yeast has protein and adds a cheesy flavor.

Polenta mixed with jerky is tasty.

Rice noodles mixed with dried seaweed and peanut butter powder is a go-to for me. (I like Rice Ramen by Lotus Foods which is low sodium and Mike’s Mighty Good).

Split Pea soup mix, Black Bean soup mix, Corn chowder soup mix, Curry Lentil soup mix – these are all high protein and yummy with crackers or chips for the crunch factor. I mentioned McDougall’s Soups above.

If you want to drink cold coffee, Four Sigmatic is a fantastic brand that makes single-serving packets. Pricey, but contains adaptogen herbs and mushrooms for a healthy, crash-free boost. They also make protein powders and other beverages.

Closing Thoughts

With a bit of knowledge and a spirit of experimentation, cold-soaking no-cook backpacking meals can be a fun adventure in itself. If you become familiar with the basic process and then play around with your personal tastes and the array of options out there, it can be a practical way to either leave the stove behind OR take it with you and do both (like this crazy hiker does). Whatever you choose, do what’s right for you and what makes you feel comfortable and free to enjoy your backpacking adventures.SectionHiker is reader-supported. We only make money if you purchase a product through our affiliate links. Help us continue to test and write unsponsored and independent gear reviews, beginner FAQs, and free hiking guides.

About the author

Heather Daya Rideout has been a life-long outdoorswoman. Her pursuits and passion for hiking and camping have taken her around the world for many long-distance trips; such as backpacking in Nepal, India, South America, Morocco, Europe, and North America. Heather has hiked the Appalachian Trail, the Pacific Crest Trail, and a route of 1,500 miles combining several Camino routes through Spain and Portugal. On any given day she would rather be outdoors than anything else and her lifestyle is a direct reflection of that deep love affair with nature. Heather currently lives in Idaho and she’s having a wondrous time experiencing the beauty it offers. You can read some of her other writing at Contently.com.

#Cold-soaking food #no stove #backpacking food

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sochilll · 2 years

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October 20 - Dusk

Day 19 Day 21 All Days (Prompt list)

Something about fall meant Evan was incapable of getting through the day without a nap. The cold weather, the constant rain, it really wasn’t his fault that it was perfect nap weather every day. He got home from class around noon and then worked at five almost every day. After eating and doing the bare minimum amount of homework, he had a solid three hours left for napping.

On Mondays, he didn’t work so he tried to skip the nap and be productive. But, if he was particularly tired on a Monday, he got to let himself drift off with no alarm to interrupt.

That’s how it was today. He hadn’t slept well the night before so the second he arrived home, he crawled into bed, pulled out his laptop, and fell asleep before he even found something to watch.

He woke up at dusk. The last remnants of sunlight were disappearing behind the horizon. It wasn’t raining anymore but it was still overcast and cold. Evan’s favorite kind of weather.

He sat up, feeling groggy and disoriented. He didn’t feel well rested, he felt even more exhausted. His mouth was dry and his head ached. He rubbed his eyes and climbed out of bed in search of water.

Jared was in the kitchen cooking dinner when Evan came in, squinting at the harsh light.

Jared eyed him. “You look like you just woke up.”

“I did.” Evan filled a glass with water and drank the entire thing. “You know when you take a nap but you wake up feeling worse?”

Jared nodded, stirring his pot of pasta. “Been there buddy.”

Evan leaned against the wall. “Did you make extra?”

“Why would I do that?” Jared scoffed even though he’d clearly made more than one serving.

“Can I have some? Please? I haven’t gone grocery shopping in so long.”

Jared heaved a big sigh. “Fine. You can have some. For twenty bucks.”

“You’re using four-dollar sauce and ninety-nine cent pasta.” Evan crossed his arms.

“You’re paying for my labor Evan.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Whatever, fine.” He knew Jared wouldn’t actually charge him. Probably.

Jared dished up two bowls of pasta, passing one to Evan on his way to the couch. Evan settled onto his side and watched Jared scroll through movie choices.

“Lilo and Stitch.”

“I want to watch something new.” Jared said, scrolling past it.

By the time they were halfway through eating, Jared had to admit there was nothing new that looked even marginally appealing. So he put on Lilo and Stitch.

Evan finished eating and set his bowl on the coffee table. He was still sleepy. The rain had started back up and that plus the soft glow of the TV were making him fight to keep his eyes open.

He glanced at Jared. It had been a while since it had happened last. But this felt like the kind of moment where Jared would let it happen.

Evan scooted over on the couch, leaning against Jared just a little. Testing.

Jared didn’t say anything or shove him away. He allowed it. So Evan scooted down and laid his head on Jared’s shoulder. Jared shifted but only to free his arm from under Evan’s weight.

The first time they’d had a moment like this had been a night very similar to this one. It had been raining and they’d been watching a movie. It had been much later at night and they’d both both on the brink of falling asleep. And then Evan did. Only for a minute or so but when he woke up his head was nestled on Jared’s shoulder. And Jared was fully awake. Saying nothing.

And now it just happened sometimes. Not every night, just occasionally. Maybe once or twice a month. They never talked about it, during or after. They had an unspoken agreement to never acknowledge it was happening.

Until now. Until tonight when Jared shifted and said, “I don’t remember offering to be your pillow.”

Evan hummed but didn’t move yet. “I can get up if you want.”

Jared said nothing.

A song in the movie started and ended before either of them spoke.

Jared shifted again. “You can stay.” He said finally. “But I’m moving my arm.”

It took Evan two seconds after it happened to realize Jared meant he was going to put his arm around Evan.

And that made it different. Because they weren’t supposed to talk about it. They weren’t supposed to put arms around each other.

Evan was going to scream.

“I can feel that every single muscle in your body is tensed.” Jared said.

“Well… I’m stressed.”

“You started it.”

“What?” Evan lifted is head to stare at Jared.

“You came over here to lay on me so like… it’s your fault if you’re stressed.” Jared shrugged. He was still intently watching Lilo and Stitch. “Do you think they ever went tried to get her in therapy? I think it would’ve really helped her.”

“Well,” Evan slowly laid his head back down. “Getting an alien dog fixed a lot of her problems.”

Jared laughed.

By the time the movie ended Evan was barely awake. Jared’s voice was soft in the dark.

“You’re less tense.”

“I’m less stressed.” Evan mumbled. He let his eyes close. “Put another movie on.”

Jared said nothing. He just picked up the remote and started scrolling through the options.

#More kleinsen not quite friends not quite dating!!! more!!!!!!#deh #kleinsen #my writing

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chthonicavalon · 1 year

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Home

((Updated from the original with edits based upon feedback.))

Frost had already made crusty and firm the blades of grass in Gridania’s housing wards of the Lavender Beds. As dusk passed into night, the chill deepened and drove all in the Twelveswood city indoors to stay warm. They huddled by fires, warmed tea and coffee over stoves, and lay under blankets. Aetheric lights were turned on, torches lit, to ward away the darkness inside, while outside the many beads of crystalline streetlamps glowed just brighter than the light of the moon.

The Uesugi household, nestled in the middle of the district, was no exception. The fire crackled in the great stone fireplace, casting a yellow-orange glare through the basement where two of the three family members slept. Reenah sat at the fire, curled in a blanket in her robe with spiced cocoa in hand as she studied her book. She’d been hard at work for some time now, studying the aetheric arts and sciences. An interest borne of a desire to find a solution to Haruka’s draconic affliction, for the keeper it became a subject she wanted to learn for herself as much as for her wife’s sake.

The chop-chop of a knife on a cutting board resonated in fast rhythm as Haruka cut vegetables for beef-and-barley soup. Pot already on the flame, the spicy meal bubbled slightly. The bow of the yukata’s obi at the small of her back bobbed as she passed the knife over another trio of carrots and carefully dropped them into the broth. She reached over and gave it a stir with the spoon sticking out of it. Pausing, she took a sip of her tea.

The squeak of door hinges made her stop. The front door had gained a slight squeal in the past few moons, one that no one was in a hurry to remedy after the attempted assassination some time ago. Haruka looked behind her at Reenah, who met her eyes. Never again would they be caught so unprepared. Drawing a second knife from the block, Haruka moved to ascend the stairs. Reenah was right behind, the dagger that marked her as an Uesugi in its lacquered sheath, ready to be drawn.

At the top of the stairs, just before heading into the house’s dojo-like space, Haruka stopped. Their footsteps had been absolutely silent as they climbed. She glanced back, meeting Reenah’s eyes for a moment, then slipped around the corner.

And stopped.

At the door waited two women. One was hyur with brown-black hair. Her brown eyes shimmered with golden speckles in the light. Robes of light and dark pinks were half open, ornate and warm, of an origin that Haruka couldn’t know but was likely somewhere in the Steppes. The other, clad in similar garb of red and brown, was a raen, horns swept back through pink and blue hair. Each had their weapons stowed, the hyur’s set aside.

Gazing at Haruka, Kumiko let out a huff. It would have seemed indignant were it not for the nerves that showed in her eyes. “Kami, I’m surprised it took you this long to get up here.”

Reenah rounded the corner, finding Haruka still stalled, unmoving. Her wife had worried greatly over their adopted daughter these past weeks with the only word from her being the note left on the table and a single linkpearl conversation a ten-day before their return. The way her heart had ached for that time caught up in a single moment. Haruka was breathless, unmoving.

Kumiko shifted on her feet. Kiku looked both nervous and awkward in the momentary silence. What was going on? Wasn’t Haruka glad to see her daughter home?

A touch at the elder Uesugi’s arm restarted time, gave her breath again. Looking around, Haruka looked to Reenah who nodded. “Let’s not keep them waiting, hmm?” she whispered. She understood, of course. Reenah knew her heart better than anyone.

Turning back, she set the knives down on the bamboo planter and rounded it, each step was almost painfully slow, restrained and intentional. Reenah was just behind, then next to her, catching up quickly, the ladies Uesugi in their own home. Her own pace was less stiff, much more relaxed.

Kumiko stared, her own breath becoming shallow. She knew she’d messed up, but she didn’t think it’d be this bad. She couldn’t tell what Haruka was feeling. Her mask was up, breaking but intact. Was she truly that angry? Sure, Kumiko had run off, leaving but a few words on a slip of paper for them to find. She’d not contacted them until they were on their way to the Steppes. But she couldn’t tell them what she was doing, not yet. She didn’t know what they would do. She had to do this without them, to stand on her own two feet after that terrible bout with Shona that broke her confidence.

Was Haruka so angry she would lash out? No, that wasn’t her. Would she and Reenah cast her out, disown her? Would she have to go back to her drunk of a father and suffer his wrath again? Would Kiku help her, take her in until she had her own place to go? Where would she go?

They stopped just in front of Kumiko. The young woman’s eyes were wide. Their breathing was measured, both mother and daughter’s shallow and quick.

Slowly, Haruka’s hands rose, taking gentle hold of Kumiko’s shoulders. She gazed into her daughter’s eyes for a heartbeat, then another, then another. Another came to rest, lower on her arm, as Reenah added hers where she could.

“Mom?” Kumiko’s voice cracked. Her eyes darted between Haruka and Reenah, still uncertain, even with the gestures of comfort. Which she was referring to was unknown. But did it matter?

“Did you finish what you needed to do?” Haruka said finally. Despite the mask hiding her emotions, her voice broke with unshed tears.

“I did.”

Haruka nodded. Slowly, she slipped her arms around Kumiko. Her daughter relaxed and returned the embrace, holding her mother. “We’re proud of you,” her mother whispered.

Kumiko giggled her own nerves washing away with tears that fell. Her whole body felt looser, nearly collapsing into her mother’s arms. “You don’t even know what we went to do,” she managed, barely, through a voice broken.

“We don’t need to,” Haruka said, voice choked with emotion. A warmth flowed through the words, despite the tears that now gathered and seeped underneath closed eyelids. “Whatever it was, you needed to do it. We’re just glad you’re back.” Trust was in short supply in the Uesugi household. But they had it with one another.

Another set of arms folded around them as Reenah joined. Those lavender eyes found Kiku, smiling softly from her position off to the side. That her girlfriend was accepted so earnestly, that she wasn’t being chastised, was something she only could have hoped for. That for all the distance that had begun their little venture, Kumiko was not only allowed to return but pulled back into the fold without hesitation.

The keeper’s hand reached out and snatched the raen, sweeping her into hug. Kiku yelped but joined in quickly enough. Letting out a huff, Reenah settled back into their combined embrace, holding her family close. She’d be damned if she didn’t make sure Kiku knew she was welcome in this family.

Somehow, amidst this quiet moment, Haruka’s eyes rose to meet Kiku’s. Tears stained her cheeks underneath bloodshot blue eyes, relief and joy having returned and expressed without being held back. “Thank you,” she mouthed. For what, she didn’t say, at least not then, but perhaps the reason was clear: Kiku had gone with Kumiko. Kiku had helped keep her daughter safe. And in the end, they’d both come back, returned from whatever quest they’d gone on.

In the coming bells, they would speak of what happened: of Kumiko’s drunken father, the letter he sent, their time in the Azim Steppes, and crucially, meeting the Dotharl tribe. The secret that the young Doman’s father was afraid to tell anyone was made open to everyone, with a hint of pride. They sat around the table, eating soup with bread, and later warmed themselves by the fire with cocoa and tea and coffee.

All the tastes of home.

#Haruka Journal #Haruka #Reenah #Kumiko #Kiku #ffxiv

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wintwholesale · 2 years

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Peach truck jam recipe

#Peach truck jam recipe skin#

#Peach truck jam recipe full#

#Peach truck jam recipe professional#

Ladle hot jam into hot jars, leaving 1/4-inch headspace. Let jam cool in the pot for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove pot from heat and skim off any foam.

#Peach truck jam recipe full#

Return to a full rolling boil, stirring constantly, and boil for 1 minute. Gradually stir into the fruit.īring fruit mixture to a full rolling boil over medium-high heat, stirring constantly. In a small bowl, combine pectin and 1/4 cup of the sugar. Pour peaches into an 8-quart stainless steel stockpot. Prepare canning jars and lids and bring water in water bath canner to a boil Remove pits from peaches, then crush with a potato masher.

#Peach truck jam recipe skin#

Remove from ice bath and skin should peel easily from peaches. With slotted spoon, remove peaches to ice bath for about 2 minutes. Working with 3-4 peaches at a time, place peaches in the boiling water, cover, and cook for 1 minute. Cut a shallow X through the skin on the bottom of each peach with a paring knife. To remove skins from peaches: bring large pot of water to a boil. AmendtĤ cups ripe peaches, pitted, peeled, and crushed (about 4 lbs peaches) But you can’t go wrong with this basic version.Īdapted from 175 Best Jams, Jellies, Marmalades & Other Soft Spreads, by Linda J. I made a second batch using some Earl Grey tea, boiled in a muslin bag with the fruit, for a little bergamot flavor that adds complexity to the sweetness of the peaches. Four ingredients, a couple hours of your time, and you’ll have jars of pure sunshine. This is just about the most straightforward peach jam recipe there is. And finally they arrived, big, golden piles of them from farms in Eastern Washington, and it was time to make peach jam for Tomás. So, of course, I had been keeping an eye out for the first peaches of the summer at the Farmer’s Market. But there is something special about this steadfast, consistent kindness, this willingness to take a few extra minutes at the end of a hard day’s work to do one more lawn, to keep an eye out for a chance to help. I live in a neighborhood of good neighbors – the kind who chat in front yards and exchange pet-sitting duties and cross the street with a snow shovel to lend a hand with clearing the driveway or even shoo the occasional bird out of the house while I cover my head with my hands in panic.

#Peach truck jam recipe professional#

And it is Tomás that I see regularly, as his guys whip around my yard with professional speed, leaving order in their wake. But it is Tomás who has come over to investigate, with his dog at his side and a shovel over his shoulder, when he has heard my security alarm go off. His wife and I exchange waves and hellos as we pull out of our parallel driveways. In the decade or so that we have been neighbors, I have seen his children grow up and have children of their own. He has always refused to accept money for this service, so I try to repay him in some measure with cookies, muffins, or fresh tomatoes. I’m sure that it is abundantly obvious to him that I could not keep up with the lawn on my own. They do my lawn in the gathering dusk before moving on to do his own yard. My next-door neighbor has a landscaping business, and during the summer he stops by once a month or so with his crew on their way home from work. They hop in the truck, wave, drive about ten feet, and park again. “Thank you!” Then, after a pause he smiles shyly, “I like peach jam a lot, too.” “Thanks so much – I want to give you this marmalade I made.” “Mmm, orange?” he says. In the relative silence, as the crew moves toward their truck, I walk toward their boss with a jar in my hand. Serve warm or at room temperature with vanilla ice cream.The lawnmower stops its roar, then the line trimmer ceases, and finally the leaf blower. The more imperfect the better!īake the crisp until the topping is golden and the fruit is bubbling, 40-35 minutes. Scatter the crumble topping over the peaches, taking the time to form some of it into small, hazelnut-sized balls. Add oats and stir by hand until just incorporated. Add flour and salt and stir by hand until just incorporated. Set aside and make topping.īeat butter and brown sugar in an electric mixer until light and fluffy (about 3 mins). I like to use individual ramekins (makes serving super simple) but you can also use an oven-proof skillet or baking dish. This recipe fills 4 to 6 ramekins. Remove from heat and sprinkle in corn starch, stir until combined. Distribute the peaches evenly in the baking vessel. Cook, stirring constantly until majority of liquid had cooked off. Place peaches, bourbon, vanilla, sugar and lemon juice in a large skillet over a medium heat. Brown Sugar and Bourbon Peach Crisp Peach filling:Ĭut the peaches in half, then cut each half into six to eight slices (no need to peel them).

#Peach truck jam recipe

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leet911 · 2 years

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Leet, just finished the amory sequel you posted and it was fucking 👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼 aces, like, so well written and fluid and fuck it seems like it already *should* be cannon for erika ishii to keep coming back to fuck with imogen in this specific way

Erika Ishii is an evil genius for what she pulled, and I am here for it. Everything that Dusk did is so different in context, and it puts Matt's pot stirring motion in a whole new light. I do hope that Yu gets to return to the campaign at some point, that would be awesome.

But thank you so much for reading, and for the kind words! 💖 Super happy you enjoyed it. I've got some notes and snippets for a second part I want to write because I feel it's missing a resolution. I need our girls to be happy, so stay tuned!

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say-narry · 3 years

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Note: English isn’t my first language. Hope you all like it. Please, give me your opinion with a reblog, fav or a note in my askbox :)

pairing: Louis!peaky blinders era x reader

warnings: explicit sex, unprotected sex (don't do that!), curse words, daddy kink, overstimulation, dirt talk, mention of jealousy, mention of astrology.

Words: 4k

talk with me | masterlist

Astrology

In my spare time I loved to read about astrology. It was a habit I adhered to since I was a teenager and now as an adult, it was my secret cringe.

So many times, the things described there met the personality traits of someone I knew and that made me believe it even more.

Sure, there were some holes in the script, but I had been in this world forever, so I just ignored that and kept it as a supposed truth and that was only affirmed when I met Louis.

Friends in common, I liked the way his accent sounded, a few drinks here and there, we shared the lighter to light the cigarette and ended up kissing at the end of the party at Calvin's house.

That was a year ago now.

I already knew all his quirks and as Louis lived more at my place than at his mansion here in London, he had to follow my rules, which was a little difficult even though he is Capricorn. Lately it was complicated to deal with him, because he seemed to ignore me and my weekly horoscope had already said that my relationship would be shaken by the smallest things and that I should be careful.

"Babe, don't leave your shoes like that. I already asked for them!" I complained as I placed our shoes side by side by the door. This was one of his manners that annoyed me deeply. "My friends will be here soon!"

"Nah." he muttered, not even looking at me.

I snorted and rolled my eyes, going to check the cheese and chocolate fondue I was preparing.

My friends Peter, Anne, Sam and Paul were coming over for happy hour. I am on vacation at work, an accounting office, so this is a perfect opportunity to hear what's new.

"Babe, is there any way to go to that grocery store down the street? I forgot that Anne has a gluten allergy and forgot to buy the gluten-free bagel." I stirred the melted cheese in the small pot on the stove.

No response from Louis.

Because my house is small, there's no way he couldn't hear me. I stretched my body back a little and in my half vision through the door, I could see that Louis was still concentrating on the smartphone game while gnawing on the corner of his left thumb.

I took another deep breath, it seemed that Louis became a child watching the games on the device and this was another flaw of his sign's characteristic, however I knew he was loyal and domineering, which eventually gave me an idea.

I turned off the stove and wrapped the fondues, putting them in the electric oven in warm-up mode so that they would not cool down.

My friends would arrive in half an hour, it was time to put my idea into practice.

I grabbed my purse, checked the pounds in my wallet, put on a sweatshirt and ran to the door.

"Luv, where are you going?" Louis asked without looking at me.

"Grocery store, babe." I put on my moccasins and closed the door.

It was dusk and for a change London was cold, for as soon as I passed the small gate in my driveway I sped to the grocery store.

As luck would have it, I found the guys a few meters from my house and ran to hug them.

"How are you, Y/N?" Sam, the blond girl with freckles and green eyes asked me as she released me from her hug.

"Fine! But I need a little help from all of you, specifically you, Paul and Anne." I pointed to them, who were inches away from me.

My couple of friends looked at me, Paul was a tall man with blue eyes, a muscular body and a beard. He was dating Anne, a tall, beautiful black woman with curly hair and honey-brown eyes with a mouth to envy.

"What happened?" Anne asked.

I explained to them that Louis seemed to be ignoring me as if I was just someone else working for him, but that he was the dominating type and so I wanted to tease him and see if we should continue with this relationship or if he was just distracted.

"I swear it won't go any further than that, I love Louis very much but this is killing me." I held the brown paper bag against me.

"Have you tried talking to him?" Peter suggested.

"Louis is a Capricorn, you know how it is. When he focuses on something, that's it." I rolled my eyes.

"That's fine with me, it will be fun watching a music star want to kill me because his wife wants me." Paul grabbed the bag from my hands and winked at me, and we laughed.

"It's fine with me too, you know I find it sexy to see men jealous." Anne winked at Paul, who closed his face, causing us to let out a few more low chuckles.

"I think there's a way we can help too." Sam put his arm around my neck and held Peter by the waist.

I had the best friends in the world.

"He simply came in halfway through the meeting with a huge mark on his neck. Emily wanted to climb the walls!" Peter commented on our co-worker.

We were all sitting on the floor of the room with the creams and fondue mixes on the coffee table. Louis was on my right side with black sweatpants and the jacket I loved so much, Paul was on my left side, next to him was Anne followed by Peter and Sam.

"But we know why Tom's nights out..." Sam looked at me suggestively and then looked at Anne. I straightened up waiting for what was to come.

Louis followed the conversation, sometimes hugging me around the waist and offering me something to eat. I just helped myself to a glass of red wine.

"Why?" Anne asked as if she didn't understand.

"Oh, you know, since the S/N went on vacation he has been gloomy, seems to have forgotten how to do calculations on the spreadsheets, and gets sad at lunchtime." Sam replied, alternating his gaze between Louis and me.

Louis, who was serving himself a piece of bread and cheese, grimaced, but said nothing.

"It's true, we know he's not over it yet."

I had the glass in my mouth trying to hold back the laugh I wanted to give.

"Get over what?" Louis asked me with a frown and I arched my shoulders, pretending not to know what they were referring to.

"Tom is in love with Y/N, Louis. Ever since she came to the office, he only has eyes for her." Anne answered by pouring herself some strawberry slices and pouring the melted chocolate on top. "You know, alluring and attractive men don't get over it so easily when they are dumped by a beautiful woman."

My eyes were watering from holding back tears of laughter. It was funny to imagine this situation, since Tom was a very well married gentleman, father of three children, and would soon be a grandfather.

"I'm going to get some more wine." I pushed myself to get up, because I needed to release the laughter that was stuck in me.

"I'll get it, babe." Paul took the glass from my hand, passing his hand through mine and stood up.

"Oh, thank you Paulie!" I smiled and sat back down.

Louis's face was red, he chewed angrily and stared at me. His blue eyes fixed on me in an uncomfortable way, as if he were reading my thoughts.

"What's up, babe?" I asked as Anne, Sam and Peter talked among themselves, I tried to stroke his face but he turned away.

"Nothing." he nodded, and I narrowed my eyes.

Paul returned with my full glass, I took it and thanked him again. Since I was sitting only on the carpet, I decided to do a little stretching. Purposefully, Paul looked at the open buttons of my black blouse that was thin and skinny long. Unconsciously, it was tighter than I usually wore which highlighted my breasts covered by the bra.

Louis seemed to notice, he huffed and ran his hand through his hair. I just ignored him and pretended to pay attention to my friends' conversation.

I felt his arm going around my shoulders and a few kisses on my neck, and I simply held myself together not to react, but it was so good his affection.

"We were talking about Tom before and now I remembered, can you believe that every day he comes into your office and wipes down your desk and computer?" Sam was sharp in the theater, I just wanted to thank her for that.

"And I'll tell you something else, he takes his shoes off before he comes in. " Peter continued.

Broadway was losing these actors to an accounting office. Louis leaned back on one of the sofas and crossed his arms with a brave expression.

"Tom has always been very nice to me." I commented, swirling the rest of the wine in my glass. "But I don't know..."

"I don't know, Y/N?" Louis spoke a little louder, turning his face abruptly to me.

"Yes, Tom is a nice guy but he is the kind of guy who ignores things I say, he was not organized and sometimes we almost missed deadlines... If he is like that at work, who will say to have a relationship with him."

I drank the rest of the wine and almost saw Louis erupt.

"Nothing beyond that stays between you?" I looked at Sam, who put his hand over his mouth, holding back his laughter, as did Anne, Paul, and Peter.

"Nah. " I repeated Louis' murmur from earlier and repeated his motion, leaning back against the couch behind me.

He ran his fingers through his bangs and chuckled gracelessly, denying it with his head. I narrowed my eyes in surprise at his reaction.

"It's getting late isn't it? Want some help cleaning up, petal?" Paul stroked my arm.

"I'll help my girl, Paulie." Louis imitated my voice when I called him and stared at Paul's hand on my arm, moving his mouth as if he were dissatisfied.

We talked some more, Louis was still silent and crossed his arms, his legs intertwined with each other and swinging rapidly.

I knew that Louis was about to explode, so I said goodbye to the guys who thanked me for the evening. Paul gave me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. They motioned for me to tell them by text what was going to happen, I silently agreed and closed the door.

Louis had gotten up and was removing things from the coffee table. I started to organize the room and finished taking the last dishes to the sink.

"You and this Tom guy, have you ever had anything?" Louis was sponging one of the dishes. His sleeves were rolled up, which gave me a view of the tattoos on his wrist that I liked so much.

I poured myself the rest of the wine and leaned back against the sink where he was standing.

"We only went out together once." Which was true, but it was with the rest of the office and nothing happened because his wife accompanied us and I saw him as a father or even an uncle. I would stay in my tantrum, yes, he was the one who should end his.

"Hm." Louis answered.

"Why the question?"

Louis remained silent, washing the dishes as if it were the most fun thing in the world.

"Louis? If I asked a question, I want an answer." I said angrily, tired of the tantrum.

He continued in silence. I took a deep breath trying to oxygenate my brain and continued to stare at him.

I drank the rest of the wine and left the glass in the sink. I walked slowly to the door, still trying to remain calm.

"Where are you going?" Louis asked.

I just turned and smiled, raising my two middle fingers in his direction.

"Fuck you!" I shouted nervously, pointing at him.

Without waiting for his response, I headed towards my room, but within three steps I felt something pulling me, two cold, wet hands.

Louis might be shorter than most men, but he still possessed great strength.

In one swift movement, I felt him turn me around and my back hit the wall to my right and my head bounced, causing me to grunt in pain.

Louis pressed his body against mine, my hands went up to push his chest.

"I don't want to talk, Louis." I said annoyed, almost in tears already.

"What's up, luv? Your babe wants to know... "Louis brushed his nose across my neck, soon after caressing my face by turning and pulling it slightly to the opposite side, my eyes automatically closed."What were those teasing things earlier?"

My body stiffened, I couldn't hide anything from him.

"Let go of me. " I asked, still pushing him slightly, but it came out more like a groan.

Louis let out a small laugh and began to distribute wet kisses down my neck, sometimes my body betrayed me and shivered.

Louis's right hand, which previously held my waist, lifted my blouse to gain access to the skin of my belly and with a rush, held my right breast, massaging it lovingly.

"I'm sure my girl is getting wet..." His warm breath hitched against the cartilage of my left ear. "You like to tease me by showing off those luscious breasts, but in the end you're all mine, aren't you?"

I groaned as if in agreement. My hands, which before had been pushing her breasts, had moved to her back, scratching the white fabric.

"Who's my little whore? Hm?" His teeth went to my jaw, scraping it lightly, and then down to my neck where I felt pressure being applied.

Oh, hell! He was marking me.

"I-I-I..." I answered weakly and brushed my crotch against his.

My body arched and I held on to his arms, I could already feel the throbbing in between my legs as they buckled.

"My silly little girl!" He moved a few inches away from me and I opened my eyes, staring at Louis's long lashes in front of his blue orbs that were almost covered by his dilated pupils. "I saw what you did with the whole Tom and Paulie thing."

When I regained consciousness, I bit my lower lip and smiled mischievously, returning my hands to his back.

"What are you going to do about it, stud?" I teased.

Louis's hands went around my waist as he made a point of kissing me fiercely and hotly. My hands grabbed his face, pulling him to me, afraid that he would just stop and leave me there, hot and needy for his touch.

His hands went down to unbutton my jeans and unzip me. I let out a moan in anticipation and I could feel him smile in the middle of the kiss.

Louis pulled away from me and spun me around, placing me face down against the wall.

"Louis..." I moaned softly, thrusting my ass toward him.

I felt his pelvis fit over my ass and his member was already hardening, I tried to make more contact, but his hands on my waist stopped me.

"I know, luv... I want you too." I felt his chest against my back as I closed my eyes and rested my head on the wall and pressed my hands against it, trying to support myself. "I want to feel your pussy squeezing my cock as I fuck you very slowly, because I know you like to feel my cock pulsing in you."

I was already dizzy, biting my lower lip trying to hide my moans, until Louis pulled away and his hands hooked on the hem of my jeans and pulled them down.

"Spread your legs, Darlin'"

I did as he cried out, with a little difficulty because my jeans were still binding my legs and the state of my panties was embarrassing.

His hand slid up and down my ass, and then slapped me with his open hand, which made me jump in surprise.

"My girl doesn't like to be neglected, huh?" Shivers ran through me, my breathing was heavy and my brows furrowed and more slaps came, making my skin burn and my eyes water. "You get needy for my cock when I don't fuck you, don't you?"

In one swift act, my panties were keeping company with my jeans. I pushed my hips even higher, rubbing one leg against the other in an effort to relieve the agony my clit felt.

"Daddy will take care of you, luv!" I heard some noises and then the glorious sensation of Louis's hot tongue running over my pussy.

"Louis!" I moaned loudly and his breath hitched against my exposed intimacy as he let out a laugh. His hands grabbed my thighs and spread them even further apart, leaving me wide open for him.

Louis's tongue ran from my sensitive spot to my entrance, sucking and licking. I swayed my hips trying to get closer, but whenever I did he laughed and ran just the tip of it all the way over. My eyes rolled back and a vibration came in the pit of my stomach.

He didn't last long there, but the sound of my wetness clicking on his tongue was something out of reality.

"Babe, please..." My right arm kept pushing against the wall while my left was bent and I massaged my breasts, trying to relieve myself somehow.

"What's wrong, kitten?" Louis groaned and blew against me.

I turned my head to the side and Louis had stood up, taking off his sweatpants along with his underwear and his white jacket, and threw them on the floor beside us.

"Daddy..." I murmured.

Louis' member was hard, and with the glans of his member shiny and pink, his left hand wrapped around it, going up and down slowly. Louis stroked my ass with his free hand, his lower lip was biting and his head eventually fell back as he sighed.

He knew how sexy I found the veins in his hands tensing up and showing as he played with his cock. The tattoos on his wrist added a special touch.

"Lucky for you I want to get it over with, luv... Otherwise you'd have to beg me to fuck you..." He spoke as his cock touched me, dragging and teasing me, making me almost fall to my knees on the floor. "I'm going to fuck your little pussy so hard, babe? I want to hear you moan for the rest of the night, do you want to feel my cock all the way in here?" His finger ran across my entrance, giving me mini shocks in that area.

I mumbled the only sound left in my throat. I turned my face forward and leaned my forehead against the wall. He knew how much I melted for his dirt talk.

My arm against the wall was aching, my forehead was sweaty, and my legs were almost giving way from the way they trembled.

Louis launched himself inside me without warning, burying his wet member until his balls slammed against my clit.

A scream tore through my throat, my nails digging into the wall. Louis didn't even give me time to get used to it, he immediately began thrusting against me. Back and forth, thrusting hard and trying to go all the way in. I was panting as was he, my eyes still closed, enjoying his member filling me.

I turned my face to the side opening my eyes and I could cum right there at the sight, my heart throbbed even more seeing Louis with his nails digging into my hips, his tattooed chest and arms tensed tightly and his head relaxed back with his mouth ajar.

"Fuck!" My eyelids fluttered and I could feel the anguish in my uterus rising.

"My girl is so hot, so warm and tight ... oh!" Louis went down again and if it wasn't for the euphoria, I could feel him almost ripping me in half with his cock slamming against my uterus.

I tilted my head back and one of Louis' hands grabbed my loose hair and formed a sort of ponytail. His hand forced my neck, causing my body to arch and my ass to bulge even more.

My back began to ache as his hipbones crashed against my muscles, he had never caught me this way before and I was already addicted to it. Louis let go of my hair and went back to kneading the sides of my hips.

I put my arm in front of me and bit down on it, feeling my face hit him lightly with the thrusts, my throat aching with the moans, and Louis murmured my name as he tried to sink even deeper inside me.

"Whose pussy is this, babe? Who fucks it hard and the way you like it?" Louis, still not stopping his thrusts, rotated his hips and a wave of ecstasy hit me at the cervix. My pussy clenching rapidly, I was getting there. Louis fucked me so fast that I couldn't even scream.

"You, babe! Only you, Louis!" I spoke softly and felt him kiss me on my back.

"Are you sure, babygirl?" Louis teased and again I felt his chest against my spine.

His cock was halfway out of me and seconds later I was already missing him, which didn't last long as I pushed my hips back against him, burying his cock back into me. I stood on my tiptoes and his member reached the hidden spot that Louis sometimes managed to reach.

"Come on my cock, babe! Because I'm going to mark you, fill you with my milk... Do you want it, my naughty little girl?"

My breath came out of my lungs in a sharp intake of breath. My body exploded inside, shuddering as Louis forced himself to orgasm. Small jolts ran through me, and the ground no longer seemed to be beneath my feet.

My man's nails sank into my skin, his thrusts became sloppy and a loud moan came from Louis' chest, his cock swelled even more inside me and I felt hot spurts fill me, joining my liquid. He groaned loudly and his hands gripped my waist tightly, easing the grip seconds later. Violent trembling came over my knees, causing me to close my eyes in shame as Louis continued inside me and hugged me from behind.

"What's up, Luv? Did I hurt you?" He pushed my hair away from my sweaty, flushed face. Louis kissed the top of my head and I could feel some shocks from the orgasm still being delivered and the delicious feeling of having him inside me.

I nodded positively and then negatively, answering his questions.

"Sorry about the last few days, I was so distracted, thinking about the new album, and then I realized that I didn't do the right thing to the point where my perfect girl insinuated herself to our friend and they talked about some guy at work."

"How did you find out?" I lay my face against the wall, feeling the frosty, chilling cold on my face. I was tired, almost closing my eyes.

"I know you, darlin'... You can't lie, your sign says so."

I covered my face in shame that he knew my shameful secret. Louis pulled his member out of me and already I felt it go limp, Louis tightened his embrace around my buttocks and his arms wrapped around mine, tucking me in.

"Thanks for not giving up on your Capricorn. He'll pay more attention to his girl."

I nodded and turned around, kissing him slowly, feeling his tongue caress mine calmly and tenderly. He was everything to me, giving him up would be the last thing I would ever do.

I pulled away still hugging him and could see his sweaty bangs.

"Thanks for the sex against the wall, it was amazing." I blinked, placing a kiss on his chin.

"Maybe tomorrow you'll rethink it." His face turned into a smile, kissing my cheeks.

I stared at him even longer, not understanding his statement.

"Uh... I may or may not have left some... marks." He gave me his best puppy dog face, squeezed my ass, and kissed my neck lightly.

I rolled my eyes eagerly to see these possible marks.

"All right, they're marks from my Capricorn..." I said, kissing him and jumping on his lap. "But if you ignore me again, you won't have sex against the wall or anywhere else." I shook his shoulder to get his attention and he agreed.

"No more Capricorn stuff!" He promised, raising his right hand.

Astrology thing or not, I loved the guy standing in front of me.

#louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson one shot #louis tomlinson blurb #louis tomlinson smut #louis tomlinson fluff #louis tomlinson x reader #louis tomlinson imagines #louis tomlinson fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles #liam payne #liam payne smut #one direction

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 27

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 27 - This Venerable One Will Cook You A Bowl of Noodles

Chu Wanning felt completely faint.

He blamed himself for being so distracted and unsuspecting on Life-Death Peak. He didn't even notice someone come over.

What was going on? Where did this child come from? His last name was Mo, but Mo. . . what was is again. . . ? Mo Shao? Mo Zhu? Mo. . . Yu?

He composed himself and put on an expression that screamed: "get away". The surprise and panic in his phoenix eyes were quickly masked by his usual harsh and threatening demeanour.

"You—"

He raised his hand out of habit to discipline him, but something suddenly caught his wrist.

Chu Wanning was stunned.

He had been around for a while yet no one had ever dared grab his wrist so casually. For a while, he was frozen in place, not knowing what he should do.

Pull it away and give him a backhanded slap?

. . . It felt like a good word to describe that would be "indecent," like he was no different from a woman in this situation.

Then pull his hand away and not slap him?

. . . Wouldn't that seem like he was being too nice?

Chu Wanning hesitated for a long time and didn't move but the young man laughed: "What's this on your hand? It's pretty good-looking, do you teach how to make stuff like this? Everyone else has introduced themselves already but you haven't spoken yet. Which elder are you? Hey, do you have a headache?"

With so many questions thrown at him, while Chu Wanning's mind hadn't hurt before, now it did.

His mind felt like it was about to split in half. . .

As he got irritated, a golden light in his hand started to glow. When they saw that Tianwen was about to be summoned, the other elders were horrified and moved - Chu Wanning was crazy, right? He would even dare to whip Young Master Mo?

Then, Mo Ran was suddenly holding his hand.

Now Mo Ran had trapped both of his hands. Mo Ran didn't up on the danger of his situation. He pulled him closer and stood in front of him. He tilted his head and said with a smile: "My name is Mo Ran. I don't know anyone here, but just from looking at you, I like you the most. How about I worship you as my shizun, okay?"

This was completely unexpected. The people around them were even more horrified. Several elders gaped with mouths ajar.

Elder Xuanji: "Huh?"

Elder Pojun: "What!"

Elder Qisha: "Oh?"

Elder Jielu: "Uh. . ."

Elder Tanlang: "Hah, ridiculous."

Elder Lucun was the most feminine of the bunch with wavy hair and eyes flooded with peach blossoms: "Ah, this little boy is so bold. He's truly a courageous young man. He might even be so bold as to touch Elder Yuheng's ass."

". . . I beg you, can you not say something so repulsive?" Qisha said with disgust.

Lucun rolled his eyes gracefully and hummed: "Fine, let me put it more eloquently. He's truly a courageous young man. He might even be so bold as to touch Elder Yuheng's buttocks."

Qisha: ". . ." Just kill him and forget this ever happened.

The most popular of all the elders was the gentle and jade-like elder Xuanji. His techniques were easy to learn, and he was a modest gentleman. Most of the disciples on Life-Death Peak worshipped underneath him.

Chu Wanning originally thought that this Mo Ran would've been just like all the others. If not Elder Xuanji, then it should be the energetic Elder Pojun. It never should have been his turn

But Mo Ran was standing so close to him. His face showed a kind of intimacy and affection that was unfamiliar to him. He was like some clown that was just chosen. It was all so distressing for no reason.

Chu Wanning only knew how to deal with "awe", "fear" and "disgust". Something like "affection" was too complicated.

He didn't even have to think about it. He immediately rejected Mo Ran.

The young man froze. Hidden under his slender eyelashes, there was a sense of loneliness and unwillingness in his eyes. He lowered his head, thought for a second, and unreasonably muttered: "Anyways, I still choose you."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

The Lord was watching with great interest. He piped in with a smile:, "A-Ran, do you know who he is?"

"He didn't tell me, how would I?"

"Haha, since you don't know who he is, why would you pick him?"

Mo Ran was still tugging on Chu Wanning's hands. He turned his head, smiling and said to the Lord: "Because he looks the most gentle and easiest to talk to."

In the darkness, Chu Wanning's eyes snapped open, everything appearing fuzzy.

. . . That was one hell of a scene to see.

He didn't know what the hell was wrong with Mo Ran's eyes back then to actually think that he was gentle. Not to mention that all of Life-Death Peak heard about it. They all sent affectionate greetings to Young Master Mo Ran with looks that said "look at this foolish kid".

Chu Wanning lifted his hand to the corner of his faintly throbbing forehead.

His shoulder hurt, his mind was in turmoil, his stomach was hungry, and his head was spinning.

It seemed like he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon.

He fumed on the bed for a while. He sat up and was about to light a stick of incense to calm his mind when suddenly there was another knock on the door.

Mo Ran was outside.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

He didn't answer. He didn't say whether to stay or leave.

But this time, the door opened by itself.

Chu Wanning looked up gloomily. The lit match in his hand hovered in mid-air but never reached the stick of incense. After a while, it went out.

Chu Wanning said: "Get out."

Mo Ran strolled in.

He was holding a steaming bowl of noodles, fresh from the pot.

This time it was a bit simpler. The noodles weren't as fancy. The rich white noodle soup was garnished with chopped green onion and white sesame seeds, small spare ribs, bok choy, and a slightly browned poached egg.

Chu Wanning was incredibly hungry but he didn't let it show on his face. He glanced at the noodles, then at Mo Ran. He turned his face away and didn't say anything.

Mo Ran put the noodles on the table, and gently said: "I asked the inn's chef to make another bowl."

Chu Wanning lowered his eyes.

Sure enough, Mo Ran didn't make this dish himself.

"Eat some." Mo Ran said. "This bowl isn't spicy, has no beef, and no bean sprouts."

After speaking, he left and closed the door for Chu Wanning on his way out.

He apologized for Chu Wanning's injury.

But he could only do so much.

In the room, Chu Wanning leaned against the window, not knowing what to think. He crossed his arms and stared at the bowl of spare rib noodles from a distance until the heat of the noodles dissipated and they grew cold.

He finally walked over and sat down. He picked up the chopsticks, stirred up the cold and soggy noodles, and slowly ate them.

The case of the Chen family's haunting had been closed.

The next day, they picked up the black horses they had boarded from inside the stables and returned to the sect the same way they had arrived.

In the streets and alleys, tea stalls and rice shops, the people of Caidie Town were all talking about the Chen family's affairs.

The not-so-small town had broken out in scandal, one large enough for the townspeople to talk about it for a whole year.

"I didn't expect that Young Master Chen had been secretly married to Miss Luo for so long. Miss Luo is so pitiful."

"If you ask me, if the Chen family hadn't gotten rich, they wouldn't be able to survive this affair. Sure enough, men can't handle their money. Once they have money, only misfortune will await them."

One man was unhappy and said: "This wasn't Young Master Chen's fault. It's his parents' fault. Mr. Chen, that son of a bitch. His children and grandchildren should only give birth to children without assholes in the future."

Another said: "The dead are pitiful but what about the living? Look at Chen Yao, Yao Qianjin. She's the one who's truly been wronged. That black-hearted mother of the Chen family deceived her. Tell me, what should she do now?"

"Just get remarried."

The man rolled his eyes and sneered: "Remarried? Are you here to get married?"

The mud-coated man who was teased bared his teeth and picked at them, grinning: "If that woman at home agrees, I'd marry her. Ms. Yao looks so beautiful, I don't mind her being a widow."

"Bah, the toad wants to eat swan meat*."

(T/N: 癩蛤蟆想吃天鵝肉 - means having unrealistic wishes or expectations)

Mo Ran sat on the back of the horse, ears perked up, listening to all the conversations in high spirits. If it weren't for Chu Wanning's closed eyes, frown, and the words "extremely noisy" essentially spelled out on his forehead, Mo Ran might have wanted to go join the villagers.

They walked together and finally left the main city, arriving at the outskirts.

Shi Mei suddenly gasped and pointed to the distance: "Shizun, look over there."

In front of the ruined Master of Ceremonies Ghost's earthen temple, there was a large group of peasants in brown clothes and shorts. They were busy moving the bricks and stones. It seemed that they were planning to repair the damaged earthen temple and remould the golden body of the Master of Ceremonies Ghost.

Shi Mei said anxiously: "Shizun, the old Master of Ceremonies Ghost is gone but they've made a new one. Will this be cultivated into an immortal body again and do evil?"

Chu Wanning: "I don't know."

"Should we go and persuade them not to?"

Chu Wanning: "The custom of ghost marriages in Caidie Town has been around for several generations. How would you or I be able to persuade them in just a few words? Let's go."

As he spoke, dust flew up from the horse's hoof and he walked away.

It was already dusk when they returned to Life-Death Peak.

Chu Wanning said to the two disciples in front of the mountain gate: "You go to Danxin Hall and explain what happened. I'll go to the Court of Discipline."

Mo Ran looked puzzled: "Why would you go to the Court of Discipline?"

Shi Mei, on the other hand, looked worried: ". . ."

Chu Wanning nonchalantly said: "To receive my punishment."

Although it's said that an emperor commits the same crime as the common people, what emperor would actually have to go to jail for killing someone? The same goes for the cultivation world.

The elders who break the sect rules are as equally guilty as the disciples - in most sects, it's just empty talk.

In fact, if an elder breaks a rule, it was good enough just to write an apology letter. What fool would actually go to be punished with a willow vine or dozens of sticks?

So, after listening to Chu Wanning's explanation, Elder Jielu's complexion turned green.

"No, Elder Yuheng, did you really. . . did you really beat your client?"

Chu Wanning was indifferent: "Yes."

"You're so. . ."

Chu Wanning raised his stare and gave him a sullen look. Elder Jielu shut up.

"According to the law, for breaking this rule, the punishment is two hundred cane strikes, kneeling in Wushan Temple for seven days, and being forbidden from leaving the grounds for three months." Chu Wanning said. "I have no defence, and I voluntarily accept the punishment."

Elder Jielu: ". . ."

He looked around and hooked his fingers, and the door to the Court of Discipline closed with a clang. The surroundings fell silent, and it was only the two of them that stood opposite each other.

Chu Wanning: "What's the meaning of this?"

"Well, Elder Yuheng, it’s not that you don't understand the rules and their consequences, it's just that it shouldn't be something that you should be overly concerned with. This matter is finished. Let's forget it. If I beat you, won't the Lord be angry with me when he finds out?"

Chu Wanning didn't bother to talk such nonsense with him and simply said: "I hold people accountable according to the law, and I should also be held accountable myself according to the law."

Kneeling down in front of the hall, facing the plaque of sect rules, he said:

"Punish me."

#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #bl novel #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei novel #danmei #chu wanning #mo ran #ranwan

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kojinnie · 3 years

Text

Of Levi Ackerman!

Based on the request by an anon (whose ask I accidentally deleted), @weepinglevi and @thebubblybakery for the 24/7 Writing Event from a loooong time ago.

Sorry for taking so long, hope you enjoy!

08.00 - Things he wished he could change about himself 11.00 - Their choice of music and their favorite musicians 20.00 - How do they sleep at night with you

.:24/7 Writing Event Masterlist:.

08.00 – things he wished he could change about himself

One of the best things about Levi is the fact that this is a person, who was born unfortunate, and had to overcome a lot of grievance in his life, yet still he managed to persevere and had his heart to the betterment of humanity with no ulterior motive. He had fought and lost a lot of things close to his heart for what he believed would bring them to ‘peace’, despite the fact that he was never acquainted with the idea of peace itself ever since he was born. Imagine how pure this man’s heart is by the fact that Levi could persevere that long for nothing but an obscure idea in his mind that he never had grasped before.

So, naturally, in order to keep fighting, Levi had come to the point where he had a lot of self-acceptance for himself. He had grown past the need to change himself, for he already understood that the energy he spent grieving for things he could not change, were energy wasted when he could use it to do better things for the humanity that he cared for. Sure, there were years in his life where he wished he wasn’t mocked for his height, or his uptight nature. But to be humanity’s strongest soldier, one has to have the utmost awareness of one’s strength and weakness, and Levi was very well aware of his qualities as much as he had embraced it. He knew where he lacked, so he could devise moves and strategies to patch the areas where he would be susceptible in. And that’s why he always excelled against someone like Zeke, because Levi accepts his flaws and learns not to ignore or deny it, but rather makes adjustment in form of strategic thinking and hard work to make up for it. Levi is far from being conceited, he knew the goal of his effort was not himself, but rather the world around him, so he’d learned to accept of who he was and who he will always be.

11.00 – their choice of music and their favorite musicians

We knew that Levi had dreamed of having his own tea shop once the war ends, but he also had the dream of building a warm, comfortable home he never had growing up. He’d always dreamed of a breezy home, with sun rays shining through large windows – something that was nothing but imagination for a man growing up in the underground. And with the idea of a homely dwelling, also came the idea of melodious tunes that would seep throughout the room of his cottage-like house. Tunes that he’d listen to serenely, as he sips his self-brewed tea. He’d want something comforting. Music as sweet and as temperate as his tea.

In the modern!au, he would listen to classic jazz or big band jazz when he’s feeling upbeat, but overall it’d be old-timey songs that evoked a keen sense of nostalgia. If you visit him in his home, you’d be greeted with the likes of Nat King Cole, and Billie Holiday, or even older tunes from Bessie Smith, while Levi’s around and about in the house; cleaning, cooking, or working on a new project – the music would never stop playing. It would take a while for Levi to open his front door when you come visit, because he’d be so kept-up with his work and with the music playing all through the house.

Levi is definitely the type to have a particular song that he’d play every day at specific time of the day. He does not have a lot of expression, so he’d need some kind of output to display how he’s feeling, and he does it through the music that he listens to. When he wakes up feeling giddy, he’d put ‘Those Lazy, Hazy Days of Summer’ by Nat King Cole, and probably dance a little with his broomstick, but only strictly when no one is around except his cat to watch. Levi would also have a specific tuned he’d play when he’s cooking, mostly Bessie Smith’s songs. Levi would never sing it though, for he knows he’s not good at carrying tunes, he’d just hum, as he stirs the stew in the pot. If Levi had any song to play during intimate time with his significant other, he would definitely choose ‘I’m A Fool to Want You’ by Billie Holiday and ‘The Very Thought of You’ by Nat King Cole.

He’s the type of person who’d like to put his hands into good use – he brews his own tea, builds his own furniture, and plays music exclusively on turn-table’s vinyl. Not because he was pretentious (like Zeke), but he’d enjoy the process of it. He would have a closet dedicated to store all his vinyl collections that no one knew before. In fact, no one would ever guess that Levi’s big with music for he never talked about it. They’d just assume that this seemingly cold man finds music irritating, when actually his heart is full of tender melodies – he would just never utter it out, because music is his personal enjoyment, not his outward hobby and interest. In conclusion, Levi is alike to a cat, he might appear mean and cold, but inside he is awfully domestic.

Click here for the music: Those Hazy, Lazy, Crazy Days of Summer - Nat King Cole I'm A Fool To Want You - Billie Holiday The Very Thought of You - Nat King Cole

20.00 – how do they sleep at night with you?

This man is so meticulous about the arrangement of his sleep, especially when you’re in an established relationship, before you spend the night, he would want to know whether this is the type of sleep that’s meant for sleeping cause, or is this another alternative where one of you’d end up panting and coming. Whenever you inform him that you’re coming over, he’d be blunt and asked, “Should I prepare?” which by any means, he’s asking whether he’s gonna get laid or not. Answering no would be the answer he looks forward to most times, because you’re dealing with a very busy man with very little amount of sleep – he’d like to keep you around, to have your scent and warmth lingering around his bedroom for days on end, but not so much on having sex. Before you come over, he’d make sure to change the sheet, open new reed diffuser, and stock up your favorite snacks. He’d cook a little too, maybe small finger foods that you’d munch on as the two of you watch your favorite docuseries.

When the two of you sleep, most often you’d go to bed earlier than him, because he’d sleep very late at night and wake up very early as well. Sometimes it can feel lonesome when you’re about to drift off to sleep and he’s still not by your side, pacing around doing work or cleaning stuffs. You’d call out for him, and he’ll just hum acknowledging or yelling over from the other room, “You go sleep first.” Just when you’re about to fall deep into your slumber, you can hear him entering the room, and go on with his nightly ritual. He’d clean himself up in the en-suite bathroom, washing his feet (something he’d always do before climbing up to bed), brushing his teeth, moisturizing himself (because’ he’s got dry and flaky skin). He’s got this odd habit of re-ironing his pajamas before bed although they’re neatly hung already. He just likes to feel the warmth left by the iron slate, and the smell of Fabreeze on the garment he sleeps in.

He’d turn off his alarm when you’re sleeping over because he wakes up at dusk and he doesn’t want to ruin your sleep. He’d always sleep on the bed side by the window, and you’d already know not to roll over to his space. Levi likes to see you sleeping, hearing the soundly noise of your breath makes him feel at ease and it may be one of those few times in a day where he smiles. Standing by your bed side, he’d run his fingers through your hair and leave a small peck on your eyes and nose. You’d scrunch up your nose because sometimes his kiss tickles, and he’d chuckle. Once he finally decides to go to bed, he’d immediately glide his arms to wrap your waist and be the big spoon to keep you warm. He’d kiss your shoulder and keep his face there for a while, breathing to your neck. He’d draw a very deep exhale, as if he’s glad to retreat to your embrace after a hard day. When you mumble, “Go to sleep, Levi.” He’d hum and bury his face in your neck and hair as he mutters, “I love you.”

A/N: I’m sorry I had to skip the request for NSFW parts, I have been feeling very off with all things sexual and didn’t wanna force it. Sorry again :(

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi fluff #levi x you #attack on titan levi #shingeki no kyojin levi #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #kojins 24/7

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