stealingmirrors replied to your post “rolling cookie dough I made a few days ago into...”
that pasta you talked about in the tags sounds actually divine??? would that i could be a friend in your kitchen, that all sounds lovely
...it was really, really good, even reheated in the office kitchen or left on the countertop as I bustled about, working from home.
Honestly, I have yet to encounter a recipe from America’s Test Kitchen that isn’t good, easy to understand, and most importantly, flexible---I have Jamaican beef handpies in the freezer, I’ve left pastry proofing for forty-eight plus hours; even in the recipe below I basically kept stirring and adding pasta water until the cream sauce was exactly the consistency I wanted, no measurements required. I love a recipe so durable that you actually can’t fuck it up, unless you have truly no knowledge of cooking at all, in which case: sorry and also, thank you for supporting the takeout economy.
So in celebration of great recipes and the people who hate them, from America’s Test Kitchen Vegetables Illustrated:
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Friends In All Shapes
"Hi!"
Twilight/Wolfie's head popped up as soon as someone spoke, seemingly right next to his face. He looked up and stared in confusion at the one who had spoken, expecting to see a small child.
Instead, a dog stood over him, curly tail wagging happily.
"Hi!" She said again, dropping into a play bow. "Who are you? You're a weird looking friend, but that's ok! I'm Winnie, are you staying long?"
Twilight blinked, still groggy from waking up so quickly. This dog, Winnie, spoke fast. Not at all like the dogs he was used to meeting on the road during his travels.
"Um, hello." He said uncertainly.
"Hi!" Winnie said again, hopping up and then flopping down on the ground, as if she had so much energy that she had to add steps to everything the did. "What's your name?"
She was persistent. He'd give her that. "Twi- Wolfie. I'm Wolfie."
"Oooh! That's a good name!" Winnie cheered, wagging her tail more and tilting her curly head curiously. "What kinda friend are you? I'm a golden-doodle, but Dodge says I have some Hylian Shepherd in me. He's kinda cranky."
Twilight blinked slowly, drawing himself into a sitting position and trying to process all the information she was throwing at him. "I'm...I'm not sure I know what what means." He said, tilting his head. What kind of friend was he? Did she mean dog breed? What in Hylia's name is a golden-doodle? Wild's time sure had some strange creatures.
"He's a wolf, you moron." A deeper voice said from the entrance of the stable, and both wolf and dog turned to look at the jet black dog lounging just inside the archway. He, unlike Winnie, had short hair and a keen eye. This must be the 'Dodge' Winnie had mentioned. He was, in fact, very grumpy, it seemed.
"A Wolf?" Winnie looked confused. "Nooo, those are the bitey ones with the mean faces. His face isn't mean, and he has people! He's a friend!"
Twilight tuned out the two dogs' conversation from there. It was too early for animal shenanigans, in his opinion. Speaking of people, he saw the group just inside the stable, all asleep save for Time, who seemed to be reading something. Upon closer inspection, Twilight could see the subtle grin on the old man's face as he watched the wolf and dogs from the corner of his eye.
'That bastard', Twilight thought. He was tempted to plot some kind of childish response to this betrayal and was soon provided that opportunity.
"Who's that guy?" Winnie asked, head suddenly popping into Twilight's face. "Is he your person?"
Twilight was about to deny it, he didn't belong to anyone, but a fiendish thought passed through his mind.
"Yeah." He said, tail wagging in excitement. "Why don't you go say hi? He loves dogs, and cuddles."
Winnie froze, body tense as a bowstring, then shot off into the stable on a mission to say hello to her new friend's person.
Twilight puffed up in pride when he saw Time get tackled by the excited dog, and preened at the laughter he heard afterward. 'That's what you get,' he thought to himself, secretly taking delight in his predecessors' happiness.
Dodge watched from his spot, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
"You're sneaky, I like that." The older dog said, stretching and standing up slowly. "Winnie has a few things to learn. She's still a pup, but maybe she's onto something with this friend nonsense." If a dog ever reminded Twilight of Time, it would be Dodge. The older dog carried himself in an upright posture, wise eyes now sparking with life and a need for trouble.
"Why don't we go say hello to that person of yours?" The elder dog said with deceptive calmness, and Twilight swore he saw Dodge wink. He bared his teeth in a wolfy smile, and the two took off towards Time, much like Winnie had.
That was a fondly remembered day in everyone's memory after that. Waking up to Time on the ground laughing with Wolfie and two other dogs on top of him was something the younger heroes weren't keen to forget.
He liked Wild's Era, he decided. Especially the friends he had made while he was there.
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Timeloop au snippet
Lucien had always been quick, but in his own territory, rattled to the point of a constant knives edge since Feyre’s kidnapping, Tamlin was quicker. Snapping the door shut, wards of the house slamming down, containing them all in one place.
“Lucien.”
Nesta’s hand slid beneath his shirt, gesture hidden, aligned to the scarred skin of his back in silent apology.
“Tam,” Lucien swallowed. “I can explain.”
Flowers blooming in his eyes- a lord of becoming, a lord of mad folly, Lucien’s friend of centuries, torn apart trying to rescue the woman he loved from what he knew to be only one of the most feared creatures in Prythian.
Slowly, Tamlin sank back against the door, furious expression muddling into a muted horror.
Both palms pressed over his eyes, he said, in a gentle sort of voice Lucien had frankly forgotten he was even capable of. “You’re her sister. The one she wrote to.”
“Yes.” Steel in the word, but also- Nesta slid out from behind him in exaggerated human slowness, coming back onto her feet to raise her chin in what read, to faery eyes, as warning. “And I wrote back. Lucien answered.”
Unreadable, Tamlin dropped his hands to stare at her. “Did he?”
“Tam”-
“My sister loves you,” Nesta said, right over Lucien. “So much so we let her go again, because she could not bare a world where she had not tried to save you. I couldn’t reach out, not to you, not after all that happened to her. But I couldn’t stand not knowing if she was alright.”
With his real guilt, Lucien fell into his role.
“They deserved to know,” Lucien told him, quiet, unable to stop himself from smiling, just a little, at her unwavering expression.
Tamlin caught it. Of course he did- Lucien was an excellent liar, but he wasn’t even trying.
“And now,” he said, tipping his head between them, “You”-
“Yes.” Nesta said.
The High Lord of Spring heaved a sigh, scent of roses rising through the air. Tired, stricken- but then he smiled. “You cannot be blamed for that.”
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ELDEN RING VERSE;
His was an unnatural birth. Something that should have gone perfectly under the Golden Order—but nothing is ever perfect. From rebirth came forth the unwanted filth and dregs of a man's soul, left behind and discarded by the Erdtree.
Adopted by a noble of Leyndell named Ronan, the child was named Cillian after his deceased* son. He would serve as the personal page to the noble—who was as his employer and as the paternal figure who found and raised him. The page's bright and ornate garb denoted him as one afforded of particularly special privilege. His life often found him traveling around in and outside of Leyndell, assisting him on every sort of task as well as making sure he was safe from whomever would deign to cause him harm.
His noble and father Ronan, as the owner of an orphanage within the city's walls, traveled about to make exchanges with other lords as beneficiaries or merchants for provisions. These transactions that happened over the course of many years would also grant him tomes that were either given to the children or for his own use. They usually ranged anywhere from fantastical fables, detailed historical records, to religious doctrine copied from the slabs of the Queen's chambers.
To the noble, the orphanage was of utmost priority. And Cillian obliged.
And yet—it was a cruel existence. Being made to live by someone else's rules, being told what was right and wrong, helping others. Doing some good in this world. This wasn't what normal people should feel...right?
—never mind the disruptive thoughts that would plague his mind. Urging him to skin and maim small innocent creatures or even the people he spoke with. To feel the rush of hot blood drip down his hands as he took a life. To feel something that wasn't emptiness. Agonizing emptiness. And eventually, he would get his wish, amidst the chaos of the Shattering.
The bloodshed, the deaths, the carnage. War breaking out amidst the place he had grown familiar with, only to be stripped down in an instant and painted in red. Never once before had he ever felt so alive, taking a life. Then another. And then another. A trail of bodies left behind, whether they belonged to the war effort or of his own volition, none could say.
Dragging his feet behind, he reached towards one of the last bastions of defense. The orphanage, closed behind gilded doors. At the turn of a key, they swung wide open. The children were so happy to see him, and he was too. So eager to cut through.
Somehow, it was different from landing the killing blow for all those who had attempted to harm his father. This was far different. These were innocents, and he had stolen their potential away. And this filled him with a joy he had never known before.
Ronan, hearing the commotion, bolted towards the room and was greeted with a sea of blood and the face of his son staring right back at him as he left.
Deep down, there had always been that ache that he could never figure out until now. A desire to cause others pain and suffering. To make them feel anguish, see their faces knot in pain. And there was no justification in it. He didn't need a reason. But there was nothing about him that needed to be fixed.
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