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hurthermore · 1 month

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»»------► 𝙰 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 (18+) - 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘

✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚗𝚎 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚒𝚡 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 ✦ 𝙰𝙾𝟹 ✦

Pairing: 𝙷𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗!𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summary: 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗. 𝚂𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚛��𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘.

Word Count: 𝟸.𝟿𝚔

Warnings: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝟷𝟾+ 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢, 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜.

𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖, 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚗, 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖, 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚐𝚢𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠𝚜, 𝚎𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜, 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝

“And what can I do for you today, little lady?” The burly man behind the counter offered you a smile as you examined the different types of meat in the display counter, the same one that divided the room between yourself and the butcher.

Your eyes narrowed as you scanned every label, yet not one spelt out what you were looking for. “I don’t suppose you have any venison in the back do you?”

This had been the third butcher you had visited, and quite frankly, you were getting antsy. You knew the repercussions that were to unravel if you failed getting your hands on the exact type of meat your vile husband demanded you retrieve for tonight. And due to the brute demanding you make a dish that thankfully your mother used to dabble in –the only good thing she had done for you since birthing you– in the late morning, you knew you hadn’t much time left before you needed to begin the process of making the dish.

You didn’t want a repeat of what occurred the few times you had made dinner late; and god forbid you find out what he would do if you made it late whilst a guest was present.

The man before you clicked his tongue before eyeing you up and down, setting insecurity and anxiety to seep under your skin.

Why was he looking at you like that?

Instinctively, you moved your hands to grip into the fabric of your flowy garden dress as a defence mechanism. Averting your eyes, you attempted to look at anything other than the man before you. Men were unpredictable, you couldn’t trust them or their intentions. Your husband taught you that.

“I do have some in the back,” Letting out a breath in relief, you instantly lit up and looked him in the eyes with pure joy; maybe some men were okay, despite the ideas your husband embedded in your mind about them. And with some wishful thinking, maybe the rest of the day could be pleasant for you. “It’s not a great amount, little lady, depending on what you’re planning to make with it that is.” Maybe not.

“Well, I was hoping to make some Jambalaya for three, do you have enough spare for that?” Your eyebrows threaded, begging to whatever god that there may exist that they’d have some mercy on you and just give you the right amount of stupid meat.

Unfortunately, the butcher shook his head negatively. “Unless you’re happy with rations, there’s enough for about half of what you’re wanting, little lady.” Shit. Your top teeth impaled your lower lip as you quickly analysed what the hell your next move would be. Should you go to the next butcher in hopes that they might have some venison? More than what this man had? With how today had gone so far, your doubts were high. And even if you didn’t buy this meat, there was no guarantee that anyone else wouldn’t buy it whilst you searched elsewhere.

Closing your eyes you debated with yourself. Maybe you could mix it with some other meat? The way your mother used to make it only involved one type of meat, but you were aware that it typically involved different types of meats. “Then I’ll buy it, along with a pound of chicken please.” You could easily just distribute the venison between your husband and his guest. It was the only solution you could come up with, one that you hoped would save yourself from another beating.

Watching the butcherer nod before heading in the back, you tapped your T strapped heels against the floor as you waited for him. You’d be able to make dinner on time now, it was a small weight off your shoulders, but a weight regardless. You could finally let yourself relax, just for a little bit.

Humming one of your favourite songs to yourself, your eyes drifted off to the windows that revealed the main street. As you watched the crowds of people pass by the shop, a sad smile tugged at your lips as you watched families that seemed to be living their best lives. It was something you truly envied; people that belonged to a loving family. If only your husband wasn’t such an ugly truffling pig, you’d be able to be happy and content with your life. But no, your husband just had to be one of the worst human beings alive. One who was hell bent on destroying you from the inside out.

You often wondered if you would’ve met your true love if he hadn’t stormed into your life. If he hadn’t demanded you be his. Would you have a family with this faceless person? Would they hold you with love and softness? Would they protect you from the types of horrors that your husband had inflicted upon you? These types of thoughts were the only thing that kept you sane within your abusive marriage. Just imagining being with some faceless stranger who loved you the way you wished to be loved.

Letting out a sigh you averted your view onto the meat that laid behind the glass counter. Focusing on the glistening carcasses before you, your pupils dilated as the imagery and fantasy of the meat in front of you being your husband turned your saddened smile into one of a deranged grin. One that brought a glimmer of light into your dulled eyes.

You wondered what it’d be like to cut hi-

You snapped back into reality once the butcherer returned with a bag of red lean meat, placing it on the counter for you. You offered him a smile before he began to wrap up a portion of chicken for you, placing it within its own bag before giving you the total cost. Pulling out a masculine wallet -because your husband would never allow you your own carrier for money- you offered the man double than what he asked. It was a very rare pleasure you could indulge in nowadays; wasting Vincent's money.

With a smile and a wave, you bid the man farewell before exiting the store with the bags in your hands. As you took a breath of fresh air in, you felt a cold tremor sliver down your spine. Immediately, your eyes darted around as you felt someone's piercing gaze on your form. Turning around in an attempt to take in your surroundings, a man entered your view. One with round rimmed glasses. His smile was one you’ve never seen before; wide and intensely stretched. It was sinister in a way, yet it suited his unconventionally attractive features well. Apprehensively, you returned his smile with your own along with a small shaken wave, only to still when your reciprocation made his smile stretch further than humanly possible.

Why was he smiling at you like that?

It felt as if all time had halted as you both stood there, gazing into each other's eyes and memorising each other's faces, yours stunned and mesmerised whilst his remained charmingly sinister. The way his smile curved his eyes made you think he was attempting to be sweet, but the way he refused to look away from you had you second guessing his intentions. Was he trying to assert some sort of dominance over you? Did he just creepily smile at anyone who came into his view?

Had he been watching you since before you left the shop?

Another shiver shook your entire body this time, alarm bells ringing in your mind, screaming at you to run. Taking a step back, you slowly turned around, letting him win this strange staring contest you both participated in. You already had a man that made your life a living nightmare, you sure as hell didn’t need someone else making it even worse.

Despite constantly looking over your shoulder on your journey home, the facial structure of that… man was etched into your retina.

Why was he staring at you in the first place?

Arriving at your home in the garden district, thoughts of the strange man slowly evaporated from your mind. Opening the front door you closed it quickly, letting out long quivering breaths as you leaned against it. You were thankful that your husband was busy during the afternoons with his business, it was the only time of the day you felt you could truly breathe. Even if you were currently breathing from hyperventilation.

If he were to witness you in this state, he’d only make you learn a lesson; one that involved making sure you only shook in fear for him.

Standing up straight, you pinched your arm. Hard. It was one of many ways you forced yourself to come back to your senses. To ignore all the bad things in your mind.

You strutted into the kitchen, placing the bag of meat on the counter before going to grab your apron. Despite all the ungrateful, back handed comments your dim witted husband gave you in regards to your cooking, making food was a way for you to distract yourself from the hell you were living. It was also the only activity that prevented your husband from putting his grimy little hands on you. He hated messes, and you made sure to always make your hands and apron messier than need be, only to alleviate yourself from him and his touch.

He’d always make you clean yourself and dress up nicely before you were allowed to eat too. He believed that a wife should look her best whilst with her husband, which made you scoff considering how he didn’t harbour those same views for how husbands were to present themselves to their wives.

Always the double standards with him.

Taking out the ingredients, you began the process for the meal tonight. Watching your fingers as you cut the meat into thick cubes, your stomach began to rumble. You hadn’t eaten since the day before yesterday. All thanks to that stupid man-thing you hated more than anything.

He never allowed you to eat without him present. That included lunch and snacks. And if you did? You’d get beat.

Your husband believed that a wife should eat second to her husband; and that meant that if your meal for him didn’t satiate his hunger, he would simply eat yours. You were given the scraps of the meals you made. Always the fucking scraps. Even when you made larger portions to combat this problem, he just seemed hell bent on eating at least a spoonful of your food, even if you knew he couldn’t handle anymore food in that vile body of his.

He enjoyed making you feel as though you were beneath him, you knew that for certain.

But thankfully for you, your husband never attempted that pathetic habit of his whilst he had guests over, which meant you could finally indulge in a full meal; something you hadn’t been able to do in a couple months now.

As the lighting in the kitchen began to dim with the day getting later, you took a breath as you turned off the gas stove, patting your hands together as you finally finished. Putting a cover over the pot that held the food, you took your apron off. You would need to wash that later, before Vincent noticed.

Heading upstairs, you entered your bedroom, only to frown as the bed came into your line of sight. Memories of what transpired earlier imbued your mind, narrowing your eyes as you viewed the blood that stained the sheets. Your blood. Dried and bordering on black. Air sucking through your teeth, you grabbed the bloodied sheet before stuffing it under the bed, only to replace them with clean ones from the wardrobe that hugged the corner of the room. You took a mental note to wash that later too. You had to. Vincent would never get off his rear end to wash anything, and you had to avoid his violent tendencies.

Because it would only be your fault if nothing was clean.

Stripping down until you were bare, you sat down at your elegant vanity. Staring into the almost misty mirror as you examined your face. You didn’t want to look below your neck. You didn’t want to see the bruises. But it was inevitable.

Placing your hand onto your products that neatly laid out on your vanity, you began to pretty yourself up whilst also using some foundation and powder to hide the impact of your husband's anger on your upper body. Vincent's words echoed in your mind; he wanted you to wear a revealing dress. He always did when guests came over. It was his way of putting you on display. To show you off in order to induce some sort of hierarchy onto his guests. To make them aware that his wife was a trophy. His trophy.

After you finished styling your hair, you slipped yourself in the red floor length dress that Vincent demanded you to wear for tonight. The same dress that held tight to your body from knee to waist and draped dangerously low on your chest and back, leaving very little to the imagination.

Despite once harbouring a love for dresses and clothes, especially the ones that went against the norm; the ones that made you feel sexy, your husband replaced those feelings you had towards fashion with disgust. He made it feel so objectifying and rancid. He inflicted worry and panic within you when you wore revealing garments due to the sexual reaction it brought out of him towards you; a feeling you could never reciprocate.

Flattening out the dress, you slipped your feet into a pair of black heels before making your way downstairs. Sitting down in the parlour room, you glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and sighed in relief. Your husband still had a few minutes left before he was due home. Would his guest be with him? Or would the guest arrive later?

What if his guest never arrives at all?

Dread pulsed through your veins, fingers gripping into your dress as you allowed your thoughts to consume your mind. What if this guest scenario was just to get you to relax? To make you think you were safe for a night? To get your walls down before he stormed in and hurt you? It would be a truly evil situation to put you in; but it was one you were positive he’d enact. He always did like to try new ways to break you, afterall.

Freezing in place as you heard your husband's car park in the driveway, you waited for the moment of truth. Clasping your hands together, you closed your eyes and listened intently to any noise. Any noise that indicated he wasn’t alone. Letting out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, you perked up as you heard two voices from outside. Not one. Two. You couldn’t help the excitement that took over you; you’d be free from harm. Only for a night, but a night of freedom nonetheless. Standing up straight, you placed your hands together towards your thighs, waiting for your husband and his guest to enter the house.

Once the door opened, your husband's voice seemed to carry the conversation between him and his guest. You rolled your eyes as you overheard him obviously talking about himself. Because of course he would be, what were you expecting? Before you could begin your flurry of insults to your husband in the realm of your mind, you heard his voice shout your name, calling you to reveal yourself. Like you were some damn dog.

Grinding your teeth sharply, only to quickly relax your mouth into a false smile before you left the parlour room and into the hallway connected to the front door, you froze.

Linking your eyes with your husband's guest, you recognised the man instantly; the man with the strange attractive smile that you had some weird staring contest with earlier. “Alastor, this is my beautiful wife,” Your husband spoke, causing you to become attentive whilst he introduced you. He gave the man- Alastor, your name, before addressing you. “Doll, this is our guest for the evening; Alastor Hartfelt.”

Studying the man, you came to the quick conclusion that he was much more unconventionally attractive from up close. His tawny skin tone was a huge contrast to your husband's ghostly white one. His brown hair, although somewhat followed the common hairstyles you saw on men whenever you were allowed out, was much more volumized and fluffier. His eyes seemed almost black, with a soft shine of a yellow hue that was barely visible. His height was frightening considering he towered over your husband who you knew was 6’1 at least. And oh, you couldn’t ignore that inhumane smile that he seemed to pull off flawlessly.

Every feature about him seemed so dark and disturbing, yet at the same time, every feature seemed to hold a sense of softness to them as he looked at you. He was handsome. Not a stereotypical version of handsome like your vile husband was, but uniquely handsome.

Slowly, Alastor approached you, offering you his hand; inaudibly asking for yours. Settling your fingers into his palm, you noticed how contradictory his skin was. How was it possible to have such rough yet silk like skin? Gently, he guided your hand closer to his lips before placing them on the back of your hand. Pecking your dorsal with a sense of intimacy that had your heart racing. His eyes never leaving yours throughout the whole ordeal.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, darling.”

A/N: Initially I was going to wait until I had finished the third chapter before posting the start of this series, but I know the third chapter wont be finished for a couple days (probably) as I'm at uni, and I'm desperate to get this out to get some feedback and see if this kind of story is something people are actually interested in. See you next chapter ;D

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

#alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut #hurthermorefics #x reader #smut #reader insert #hazbin hotel x reader

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queers-gambit · 4 months

Text

Fine Line

prompt: ( requested ) going after the same silver briefcase, you and Tangerine exchange more than a few blows. pun intended.

pairing: Tangerine x female!assassin!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 5.2k+

note: got a little outside my comfort zone with this one, so, hopefully it's not 1000% trash but you've been warned now.

warnings: codename "Peach", basically the request with a FEW tweaks here and there, so, some spoilers, cursing, (shitty) slutty smut [spitting, squirting, mean!Tan, PIV, male receiving oral, degrading behavior, talk of tops and bottoms], Tan is a switch i do not care, is this enemies to lovers? yes. depiction of canon-typical physical violence, blood, injury.

There was a fine line between love and hate.

You love your family, but God Almighty, did you hate their behavior in most public settings. You love homemade cake, but hate the entire baking process, especially the dishes. You love getting your nails done and feeling pampered, but hate sitting still in one place for that amount of time.

And you love getting fucked, but hate dealing with people.

The whole meeting someone, getting to know them, getting to a place of comfort to bring them home. It was a hassle, it was annoying to you; akin to an inconvenience and disruption. You didn't mind Tinder, actually - thinking of it as "Dick on Demand", never really needing the awkward stages of acquaintanceship. You didn't like going out places "to meet people", too busy with your work to truly put forth effort. Plus, your job didn't exactly allow for romantic entanglements to become knots; you had to keep loose and available.

This is what made your job ideal: it was remote, kept you busy, on the move, without the weight of baggage attached to people. Plus, it didn't give time nor room for anyone to become attached to you - something that always made you impossibly uncomfortable. A job such as this made life impossibly lonely, but you operated better this way - without anyone needing you, worrying about you, keeping tabs, being in your business. You liked being on your own, it was just easier. It made sense. There was logic behind it.

Didn't mean you were 100% alone, however. You had "coworkers"... Sorta. You had employers, though you were unsure where exactly they were stationed. You, yourself, resided mostly in London, but operated globally, wherever you were needed - or more like wherever you were sent to. These "coworkers" of yours had similar jobs, and while you hated putting a label on basically anything, in laymen's terms, you were a contract killer. Those you interacted with, typically, were other contract killers - but usually working different jobs.

Rarely were multiples from the same organization sent on the same job, yet it still happened.

On the off chance, you encountered a few individuals that were employed by other organizations; making them rivals instead of coworkers.

You were unsure which this all was yet...

You had been contracted by an invisible, anonymous employer to retrieve a silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle, your handler encouraging you to get off the bullet train the moment it was in your possession. But there was a problem: you weren't the only one working this case, if the Ladybug twat and Twins was any indication.

When you located the case, you were instantly engaged by the blonde man with thick, black framed glasses; honestly getting the shit kicked out of you.

Currently, you were in possession of the case, but that was sure to change since it had already switched hands multiple times that chaotic night. You had come to a skidding halt, panting heavily, bent over on your knees in a vacant first class train car after escaping (momentarily) from Ladybug. Spitting blood from your mouth, you dialed your handler with shaking fingers; heaving a deep sniffle.

"You still alive?"

"I'll fuckin' choke you myself, Susan, I swear t'God," you groaned, sliding to the ground in exhaustion; wiping the trail of blood from your nose with a grimace.

Susan chuckled, "What's happening, honey girl?"

"Y-You didn't tell me I wasn't the only one workin' this!"

"Well, I heard rumor the Twins might be on the same case, but you usually beat them to the punch, don't you?"

"Yeah, but not this time," you winced.

"I'm sure Tangerine was happy to see you," you could hear her grin.

"Fuck off."

"He's into you, you know."

"The man snapped my tibia, punctured my kidney, and broke my nose - don't think that constitutes as anything romantic."

"Oh, you're into it," she laughed. "And don't act as if he ever walked away, scot free. If I remember correctly, you've shanked him twice?"

"He deserved it," you coughed. "Listen, fuck Tangerine - "

"I know you want to."

"Susan! Fuckin' listen to me!" You snarled. "They're not alone - there's another guy. For fuck's sake, Susan, I just got my arse kicked by a dude with a manbun!"

"Another guy? With a manbun? They're still in style?"

"Oh, my God - does it even mat - YES, they're always in style. Listen, this guy goes by the name Ladybug. Who do we know that uses codenames like that? What org?"

"Hmm," Susan thought aloud.

"What?" You spat blood from your mouth again, licking at the split lip.

"Could be KBS? They use animal codenames on rotation."

"Fuck all," you groaned. "Well, Mr. Ladybug can throw a fuckin' punch. Think he cracked a rib. But you know what? He's handsome. Almost feel bad for knockin' his lights out."

"Where are you?"

You looked around, "Emotionally? Physically?"

"You know what I mean, Peach. Where's the case?"

"With me," you assured, "uh, and I, uh... I'm not 100% where I am, I missed a couple stops fightin' these dumbfucks. Might be four stops from Kyoto? Five?"

"Get off before the end of the line," Susan warned. "At this point, I don't care if you have the case or not."

"Wait... Susan, what's that mean?"

She paused and sighed deeply, "All right, fine, time to get serious. Some intel came in, Peach... And the White Death bought out the train until the end of the line. I actually care about your safety and this just screams danger, so, get off before Kyoto, Peach, my girl. Hear me?"

"I hear you, mamas," you agreed. "I'll get off next... Stop... Oh, you've got t'be joking! Fuck me!"

"Gladly," Tangerine smirked and jokingly reached for his belt with perked brows, standing in the automatic doorway; looking beat to hell, similar to you.

You glared at him and offered your middle finger, his hands dropping as he surveyed the train car.

"Peach?"

"I'll call you back, Susan," you deflected into the phone, quickly hanging up and deflating. "Jesus fuck, look, I'm really not in the mood, Tan. Can we just make this quick? The fuck you want?"

"Do I look like I'm here t'play fuckin' games, Peach?" Tangerine asked, stalking slowly towards where you were slumped in the aisle, mid-train car, while dripping in his own blood.

"Still look like a clown t'me," you quipped. "I'll ask again: the fuck you want, Tangerine?"

"Gonna need that case, sweet peach."

You scoffed. "Seriously? You're after it, too?"

"'Fraid so."

"How many of us are on assignment? For this one fuckin' case?" You snipped, kicking the case a little.

"You look like you've seen the Ladybug fucker, haven't yah, doll?"

"He with you?"

"Fuck no."

"Where's Lemon, then?"

"Few back," He gestured back over his shoulder, pausing when you got to your feet. "C'mon, love, don't do this," He warned, mustache curling as his lip did. There was a deranged look in his eye, something stirring in your gut; seeing the shine of tears never shed, the anger, a high-strung energy filling the space around you.

"I just want off this train, Tan," you begged quietly. "Look, call it whatever you want, but something else is goin' on here - shit ain't right. Be honest, how much more difficult has tonight been? Why have we all been sent after the same briefcase? When it's supposed to just be a fucking grab job?"

Tangerine cocked his head, "Nah, no, we're on delivery."

"What?"

"Yeah, supposed t'deliver this kid and the case t'his father in Kyoto," his brows knit together.

You scolded, "You dumb fuckin' idiot!"

"I beg your pardon, sweetheart?" He leered, stepping another step closer; knotting your stomach.

"You workin' for the White Death?"

"How'd you - "

"Susan got intel, said he bought out the train, Tan. Fuck's really goin' on?"

Tangerine's jaw flexed, sighing through his nose, "Guess cat's out the bag now, innit? Yeah," he sighed, shrugging a bit, "we're doin' this job for him."

"Which means he's gonna kill us at the end of the line - why else ensure there's no other witnesses?" There was a long pause, both staring into each other's eyes without shifting attention. You shrugged and whispered, "You know, we could just jump off the bloody train. Grab Lem, get off the train before Kyoto, just fuckin' go."

"Who gets the case?"

"Where's the kid you've gotta deliver?"

"Dead - murdered, actually."

"Then you're already fucked and your job's done," you shrugged, "so, I keep the case and we all three keep our lives."

Tan sighed through his nose, offering, "You drive a temptin' bargain, love. Always enjoy our li'l run-ins," his hand extended to rest on your waist, freezing time. "But I can't walk away without that case. Lemon's down, he's been drugged, so, trust me, I'm all for just jumpin' ship, but I need the case, darlin'."

"So do I, I have somewhere else to deliver it."

"Then we have ourselves a Mexican Standoff, then, yeah?"

"No, that'd require a third."

"Kinky, but I prefer t'keep things between us, wouldn't you?" He purred against your lips, not quite kissing you as his hand tightened over bruised skin.

"Tan, don't do this," you breathed in the space between you.

"For whatever it's worth, I do usually feel bad after kickin' your arse - though, I'd much rather prefer t'kiss it."

"We can arrange that later," you smiled prettily, surging forward to kiss him fully. It was sweaty, cruel, bloody, and rough - everything you knew Tangerine to be. Yet right when he seemed entranced enough, both his hands caging your hips to his, you bit his lip in time to bring your knee up into his groin.

It sparked your fight, both exchanging blows without hesitation. You could feel your adrenaline propelling you, but it was quickly dwindling as Tangerine seemed renewed and invigorated by your fight. You, however, fought dirty; you had to - you had no other choice. He was physically bigger, stronger, but you were faster, and dare you say it, smarter. You didn't need integrity when defending yourself, easily using Tan's strength against him to add to the collect of bruises, cuts, and blood smears. But he still managed to manhandle you, sending you careening into empty seats and giving you whiplash.

You managed to swing on his back, preventing him from reaching his gun; legs coiling around his arms and flexing your abs to yank backwards. You grunted when you hit an empty bench, his head bouncing between your breasts; holding him hostage for a brief moment before you felt his hands grip your thighs in an innocently provocative way.

The moan from your lungs was unintentional, Tan flipping you both so you were on your stomach; him hovering over your back with a grunt. But there was a familiar feeling pressed into your bottom, head lifting slightly to struggle under Tangerine's grip; his reaction being exactly what you wanted as he pressed further into you.

"Just - fucking stay still!" He barked, trying to pin your hands behind you.

"Oh, you'd like that, huh?" You snapped, still struggling. "Some submissive li'l bitch?"

"Oh, darlin', I love me a top," he growled in your ear, grinding his swelling cock further into your ample arse cheeks, "but only good girls are so lucky. But don't worry," he chuckled, "I usually have cuffs on me for the bad girls, hey?"

"Fuck off, Tan, get off," you grunted, wriggling; grinding your hips up into him to try and dislodge him. He breathed deeper, and your mind played tricks on you because you swore you felt him grind back.

"I quite like this position, though, love."

"Thought you liked a top?"

"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy my own moments, huh? And you seem like you're far too used t'gettin' your way."

"So, which is it, then? You wanna fuck me or get fucked by me?"

"That an earnest question?"

You paused, "If it means I get the case, fuck yeah."

"That's not what it means, doll, but if what Susan says is true..." He nuzzled your neck briefly, lips ghosting your ear, mustache tickling your skin as he finished, "Might not get another chance."

You know he loosened his grip to let your arms snap back under you; groaning in relief. After panting for a moment, you lifted your head again, feeling his cheek brush yours and pausing to relish in the oddly intimate position. "We can always get the fuck off this train? Find a hotel in a nearby city?" You offered. "Can get me all night if you play your cards right."

"Know I can't, sweet peach," he whispered.

"Then why waste more time?" You mused, hissing when his mouth instantly fell to your neck in an open kiss that scraped his teeth into your soft flesh. "Hey - no! No ti-ime," your word hitched when he licked the sensitive skin in-sync with a roll of his hips, thrusting his hardening cock into the crease of your cheeks; making your spine shudder when his teeth scraped again.

"We got a li'l time," he promised. "Enough for a taste? You as sweet as your name, baby? Huh?"

"Tan, oh, my God," you breathed in disbelief when he reared back and manhandled you so he could unlatch the buckle of your belt and start shucking the material from your hips. "What if someone - "

"Shut up," he snapped, freeing your thighs. "Got me too fuckin' worked up t'worry 'bout someone walkin' in, yeah? Both know what's waitin' for us, don't we?"

"The White Death," you felt him yank your pants to your ankles and then shove your shoes off, pants following to the floor. "Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he roughly fingered your slit over your newly exposed panties, hearing his belt buckle jingle.

"Oi, no - "

"Fuck off," you snapped when you turned over suddenly, forcing him to pull back and glare, "I wanna watch - might as well give me a show, right? Since you're 'bouta get us all killed?"

He scoffed, "You're gettin' off the train, darlin', you're not meetin' the White Death tonight."

"Damn straight," you hooked your panties with your thumbs, lifting your hips, yanking the garment down as Tangerine continued to unlatch his belt, peel down his zipper, then pull both his boxers and trousers down in one motion.

"This isn't gonna be soft and sweet, love," he warned, standing over you on the train seat; pumping his cock to full mast while never lifting his eyes from you. "I've wanted you longer than I'll ever admit, I've got some ideas."

Your eyes rolled and fingers skated down your dampening cunt, "You're on a time schedule, maybe shut the fuck up and just fuck me already?"

He scoffed, lowering himself over you and making you gulp in anticipation; hands gravitating to his blackened waist. "You sure got a fuckin' mouth on you, don't'cha? That's all right, doll, I got somethin' for yah." His hand rose to pop a few buttons on your blouse, exposing your bra, asking, "You got a safe word?"

"Tangerine."

"Hmm? What?"

"No, that's my safe word."

"You fuckin' shithead," he hissed over your mouth, lips parting in a silent gasp when his hot cock dropped over your cunt in a tantalizing tease. "Be serious for once, yeah?"

You shrugged, "How's about 'pineapple', or is that one of your buddies names?"

"Pineapple it is," he grumbled, descending to your lips in a searing kiss that stole your breath and made your nails curl into his flesh. But a whimper emitted when he pulled back suddenly, standing over you, and moving towards your head. "Open," he demanded, holding his cockhead at your lips. "Don't give me shit about time, you need t'learn. Open your mouth."

You obediently opened your lips and Tan wasted no time in thrusting himself into your mouth; not too deep, not too rough, but enough to make you inhale sharply and readjust your position. Your one hand pumped what couldn't fit in your mouth, the other holding his thigh for balance; choking from the awkward position, but it made Tan smirk.

"That's it, see? Not so hard," he mocked. "Just gotta keep your mouth busy." You whimpered, cradling his balls; giving a playful squeeze that made him moan lightly. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he reached for your cheek and jaw, gently moving his hips - making you pause yourself to let him move. "Oh, fuck, that's - fuck," he seethed, "just let me do whatever I want t'you, won't you? Take a li'l more, good, good, just breathe," he guided, mouth opening in shock when he watched more of himself disappear in your mouth. "Oh, Jesus - you're such a dirty fuckin' girl, look at yah - so eager, willing," he nearly choked when he hit the back of your throat. "Shit - baby, don't," he paused to grunt, hunching over slightly and holding himself up on the back cushion of the train's seating. "Don't hurt yourself," he whimpered, your jaw opening just a fraction more, throat constricting when his cockhead slid against your uvula.

"Oh, my God," he praised, testing the waters and trying to thrust - but your gagging and choking made him pull back. "Okay, okay, too much, sorry, love. Oh, shit," he gasped when you didn't let him pull out all the way, still sucking him as if you were getting paid for it. "Yeah? 'S like that? Oh, you Godsend angel. Gonna be good fa' me? Huh? Keep quiet?" He asked gruffly, making you swallow around him; earning a hiss. "You're fuckin' dangerous, aren't you?" He scoffed, "Too bad I won't get t'take my time, innit? Fuck."

You hummed as he retracted his hips fully. His eyes caught yours as he spread your saliva around his swollen member, hearing you mumble, "Can still get off with me."

He sighed, "Isn't that easy, doll," as he lowered himself back onto the bench over you. "There's more at stake - "

"I know," you nodded, guiding his forehead to yours as you pet his cheeks; the cut he earned smearing against your skin. "Just an offer, ain't it? Just thought if yah did come, could actually have yah in my mouth - like I want." You both paused, you telling him in a whisper, "Can choke me with your cock - hmm?"

He groaned, nuzzling your nose once before kissing you swiftly, deeply. His tongue swept against yours, tasting himself briefly; rubbing his warm cock into your inner thigh as he swallowed your moans of budding pleasure. So caught up in the way he made you feel, you squeaked when his hand suddenly rose and clasped around your throat, eyes popping open as your own hands dropped to his waist in shock.

"Choke me with your dick, Tan," you reminded.

"This works, though, still shuts you up."

"You're so fuckin' bold for this," you accused, gasping when his hand tightened.

"Then maybe shut the fuck up, girl, Goddamn," he seethed, biting your bottom lip, reopening the split, tightening his hand another degree. "You're gonna be a good fuckin' girl, aren't you? Huh? Think you can manage that? Know you got a problem with authority, doll, but you're gonna do as you're told, aren't yah?"

You glared but didn't answer.

"Yeah, that's real good," he mused when you had no words. "Now open your fuckin' mouth again."

When you did, he dribbled a line of spit onto your tongue, squeezing his hand around your throat and jaw when he wanted you to swallow. His smirk was something sinister and devious, peaking down to then paw your blouse the rest of the way open and tug your bra down until your breasts were exposed.

"Fuckin' knew you had great tits," he grit while gripping, twisting, tweaking your breast meat and nipple; not letting go of your throat to ensure your silence. "Not good for much else, huh? Are you?" He sneered, "Only sent on a grab job, weren't you? But look at you now, so fuckin' ready for me, so needy, excited, all distracted, desperate for my cock - aren't you? Answer me right fuckin' now," he growled.

"Yes," you croaked, gyrating your hips up into his; feeling his bare cock drag over your cunt and salivating.

"Good," he spoke to himself, shoving your hips back down as one hand rose to hold his cheek to keep yourself grounded. He chuckled to himself, "Just pathetic, innit? The way you crave me? Dumb fuckin' girl, can't even focus on a simple mission, can she? Huh? Can you?"

"No," you whimpered, "need more. Please, please."

"Shut up, I got you," he rolled his eyes, "but you don't really deserve it, do you?"

"I do, I swear - "

"Told you to shut the fuck up, though, yeah? Can't even do a simple task, got your head all stupid, do I? 'S good t'know, if we survive this."

You glared, seeing his grin widen before he was descending onto you again. You licked through the seam of his lips, being granted access; exploring the other's mouth in feverish motions that made your head spin and cunt contract. He still toyed with your tit, then abandoning the ministration to scale down your bodies to where you needed him most while your hand slid into his hair to grip his bloody scalp. You were so close to begging, yet you'd never give a man the satisfaction... Yet if Tangerine requested you to beg, beg you shall.

"That's my girl," he praised when he pet swiftly up your slit; gathering your slick in a single motion to spread around your clit. "Yeah, there's my girl, look at yah," he laughed over your mouth, "already so fuckin' dumb and I ain't even touch yah yet."

You whined a little, his hand readjusting his grip.

"Oh, fuckin' fine, you greedy bitch," he rolled his eyes, sinking a single digit into your heat; earning a high-pitched moan of relief. Tangerine laughed again, "Yeah? So desperate that just me fuckin' finger gets you like that?"

You tapped his wrist when he held a little too tight, him instantly loosening his grip around your throat. He rewarded you with a few pumps of his finger before adding a second, grinning when you had enough airflow to moan loud and clear.

"You make such pretty noises," he praised, "stupid, but pretty noises. Lemme hear you - that's all I wanna hear, not your fuckin' words, princess. Huh? Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, ready to cry from the anticipation he built in your body. With your bottom lip between your teeth, you let yourself clench around his digits, moaning when he massaged that spongy good spot of your inner walls.

"Wait - Tan - wait, wait," you begged and released his waist to reach for his wrist while he grinned.

"Aht," he let go of your neck to lay across your hips to keep hold, "stay there, be a good girl. Lemme see you - c'mon, love, get there for me," he pumped harder, faster, a small sweat coating your skin. The sounds were obscure and messy, sloppy and frantic, wet and pornographic; his breathing deep and huffy while yours was high-pitched. "So fuckin' pretty like this, under me like this. There's a good girl, yeah, chase that feelin', 's all right, don't run from me."

"Tan-Tangerine, shit, please," you babbled, unsure of yourself. "I-I don't - I don't - oh, fuck!"

"Let it happen," he encouraged, leering over you; only briefly aware of his cock leaking precum on your thigh. "Let that feeling take you, there's a good girl, you're right there - good fuckin' girl," Tan broke his mean streak to praise you briefly, feeling the familiar flutter. "Open, hey, hey, eyes on me, princess," he waited until your half-lidded eyes met his, watching him nod, "open your mouth." You were so blissed out, you didn't think, just doing so and accepting more of his spit. He grinned at you when your eyes rolled back, encouraging, "Go for it, pretty girl, fuckin' soak me, don't hold back - c'mon, wanna fuckin' feel you, need t'fuckin' feel you cum - ohh-hoo, yes, yes, yes," he chanted when you squealed, squirmed, and released a stream of squirt that splattered over you both.

But that wasn't all.

Tangerine was mesmerized, never relenting his efforts and before you had time to recover, he was forcing another wave of cum from your core. His thick body held yours in place, desperately squirming to try and get away from the overwhelming feeling; but he had you and wouldn't let go. "One more, one more, one more," Tan panted, hovering over you as his bulging bicep kept hammering into you without relent. He kissed you messily, "One more, baby, c'mon, I know you got it in you."

"I can't," you sobbed, trying to squirm away under him.

"You can, doll, you're right there, I fuckin' feel you - such a good girl, c'mon," he encouraged, offering a few messy kisses to your lips while you wantonly moaned without control. "One more, just for me, c'mon, baby, you can do it - just fa' me - there she is, yes, oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes," he laughed when you, for a third time, came in his hand and over his crotch.

"FUCK!" You yelped when he used the messy slick of your orgasm to line himself up and plunge directly into you. "Oh, shit - just - a minute, baby, hang on - fuck," you panted, holding his hips tightly with your legs spread. Slowly, you let them fall around his own as you relaxed.

"Got you, baby, 'M right here, take yah time," he whispered, flattening his tongue up your neck as he adjusted himself between your legs.

Half a minute later, you gave him permission to move - and it was the beginning of the end. You were sensitive, tight, gripping Tangerine to a new degree he hadn't felt before; his head spinning and mind short circuiting. You were nearly constrictive, webs of your stickiness coating him as he moved stiffly for the first few thrusts. As you loosened up under him, he gained momentum; your hands directing his face back to yours as you clung desperately to his hulking form.

He kissed you like it was the last thing he'd do (and maybe it was), holding your hips so he could drill into you easier; lifting one hand to pet your throat before gripping it, like before. The other then drifted to hike your leg up his hip, the new angle making him shudder lightly. "I'm there, love," he grunted, looking concentrated and borderline in pain, "right fuckin' there - ah shit, you feel so fuckin' good."

"Yes, yes, don't stop, Tan, please," you moaned, locating your clit to apply pressure and rub in harsh little circles.

"Ah, my greedy girl," he chuckled, "three wasn't enough?"

"Wanna cum with you," you whimpered, gasping into his mouth as you were overly sensitive and careened off your cliff. Your orgasm triggered Tangerine's, who plunged completely into you and held still while his balls contracted; mouths left gaping open against the other. In complete bliss, you shared a laugh of disbelief with sweaty foreheads pressed together - both forgetting reality for a bit.

At the moment Tan opened him mouth to confess something to you, Lemon decided to stumble in through the automatic door, yelling, "Bruv! Oi! Where you at!?"

"GET OUT!" Tangerine roared, barely visible over the top of the benches.

"The fuck you doin', mate?"

You latched your legs around Tan, keeping his cock planted snuggly inside you; rocking upward to hold onto his neck and spy his brother over the back of the seating. "Hi, Lem!" You chirped.

"Peach? Oh, fuck me!" He laughed. "Or - fuck you, ammirite?"

"Give us a minute, honey, would you, please?"

"Only a minute?" He laughed again. "'Cause that's all you need, right, Tan?"

"Fuck off, Lemon," Tangerine snapped. "We got the case, we're gettin' the fuck off at the next stop - just - fuck off a minute."

Lemon shrugged, "You make the plans, mate."

"Be out inna bit, love, thank you," you smiled prettily at Lemon, who finally nodded, held his hands up in defense and backed out of the train car. "Well," you mused when Tangerine leaned back into the seat but kept a firm grip on your hips, "that was only mildly embarrassing."

"He's seen me in worse positions," Tan shrugged, blinking when he realized how that sounded, exactly. "Not like that - no, just, I mean, as my bruva, you know, he's seen - you know what?" He sighed. "Don't fuckin' matter."

"So," you smirked, grinding your hips over his public hair, "you're taking my advice? Gettin' off the train?"

"I knew you were greedy, but this naughty, too?" He groaned, slapping his hands to your hips and guiding your motions. "Just filled you, love, and you want more?"

"That an issue?" You smirked, feeling him swell in you again.

"Not a bit," he smirked.

"Answer me," you demanded. "You seriously gettin' off?"

"Why the fuck not? The kid's dead and whatever's in the case should cover however pissed off this makes the bosses, right? Though..." He trailed off when one of your hands reached around to give a gentle tug on his balls.

"Keep goin'," you whispered with a growing smirk, hips swirling.

"Though," he cleared his throat, "don't think we've ever not finished a job before."

"This is different," you promised.

He gulped harshly, encouraging your motions; stretching up to squeeze both breasts and making you falter slightly into him. "All three of us are gonna get off, yeah?" He whispered, bringing you in closer as your hips began to rise and fall with steady tempo. "Got somewhere fa us t'go?"

"I'll get it arranged," you promised swiftly, arms coiling around his neck to hold yourself in position as you increased your speed. "But we're giving my employer the case."

"Fine with me," he nodded, "just wanna stay alive at this point." You chuckled with him, raising up to keep riding him; his eyes glancing over your shoulder and stiffening. "Uh, love? H-Hang on, hang on," his arms encased you suddenly, making you stop all ministrations.

"W-What's wrong? You okay?"

"Where's the fucking case?"

Your waist twisted to snap your torso around, peering over at the empty benches you had once sat in front of. Your blood was left behind... But the silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle was missing.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

Six train cars up, Ladybug shuddered and told Maria, "Christ, they were at it like rabbits. And, hey, like, is it cool to be mean during sex now? 'Cause he was kinda mean, but she seemed into it, so... That's cool, I guess?"

"Some people like that," Maria eased.

"Do you?"

"You don't want that answer. Do you have the case?"

"For now," he sighed. "How much you wanna bet they haven't noticed, yet? Bet they're still goin' at it..."

"You sound jealous."

"They're both very attractive people... Hm, you know, maybe I am a little jealous."

"Of which one?"

"Not entirely sure yet."

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

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petermorwood · 8 months

Text

Follow-up, as promised...

Further to this post, I went rummaging.

My stars, it turns out we've got some serious goodies at the back of the cupboard.

They've all been here long enough that @dduane and I will eat well this next week or so, but the first of them, mentioned often by Dracula Daily...

...“We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. (Cluj) Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale (AFAIK, fictional) I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (mem. get recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called “paprika hendl” and that, as it was a national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the Carpathians.”

...is this one.

This is a standard bung-it-in-the-microwave ready meal (3 mins / 700w, wait 3 mins, eat) but there's no reason why it can't be prettied up a bit.

Taste report: the flavour was creamy, buttery, paprika-y, and entirely pleasant (if there were more of these I would scoff them) and the Nockerl (mini dumplings) were properly al dente and excellent, but it was by no means "thirsty", by which I assume spicy-hot. Okay, it wasn't labelled as such, but it was even milder than any Paprikahendl I've eaten in a restaurant.

I suspect that, like most ready-meals of this kind, including curries and chili-con-carne, its spice level has been dialled down to Avoid Shocking The Customers, though TBH most German / Austrian dishes labelled Scharf, Feurig or Würzig (all meaning spicy or hot) have been lacking in the oomph department, at least for me. (Some haven't, which is always a pleasant surprise.)

I'm going to make my own Paprikahendl in the next while because I got some sweet and hot paprikas from Polonez in Dublin, and right now, DD is in the process of making Paprikaente, based on several Paprikahendl recipes and a couple of duck breasts found at the back of the freezer. I don't know if that's authentic or not, but it smells great and I don't care. :->

*****

I've suggested in another post why Jonathan Harker found this dish "thirsty".

It wasn't because he he had a wimpy English palate unaccustomed to spicy food - the Edwardian era was familiar with fiery curries from Raj India, and even featured cayenne pepper as a table condiment, complete with its own caddy and (often devil-topped) spoon...

My opinion was that Paprikahendl (Austrian) / Paprikás csirke (Hungarian) was a peasant dish, with the main part of the meal a big dish of noodles or dumplings. Those would be perked up with a sauce based on some elderly chicken which had stopped laying, well-spiced so a little could flavour a lot.

Those noodles have lots of names - nockerln on the packet I posted, also nokoldel, csipetke, spaetzle, tarhhonya and so on - and were what filled people up, with the meat accompaniment more of a relish or seasoning. In the same way, for instance, Yorkshire Pudding used to be served with gravy as a first course, so the second course of meat would go further.

Rice / bread / couscous/ pasta / mian / potatoes / fufu / polenta etc. did the same; many of these are served alongside rich, spicy, buttery etc. dishes and are now suggested as fire extinguishers for "over-hot" foods because the proportions of bland vs rich / spicy have shifted.

Back when, dinner would have been lots of name-the-regional-bland carbohydrate, along with a little bit of over-hot (or -garlicked or -herby or -smoked-bacon / sausagey) protein, which might have tasted excessive alone but would have given flavour to all that bland.

*****

Side-note: it's another possible reason, besides conspicuous consumption, for lots of spice in (rich people's) medieval dishes; in winter and spring, all that spice would have made smoked / salted / dried meat more interesting.

The business of "spices masked bad meat" is rubbish, and originated as recently as 1939 thanks to historian J.C. Drummond, who didn't know what "green" meant in food context. Green cheese = fresh cheese, green meat = un-aged meat.

Drummond assumed a recipe to change the flavour of "green venison" was to cover that it had gone off. It was in fact meant to tenderise it as if hung a few days in the cold store, but "medieval people were primitive" has always been more acceptable pop history than "medieval people were pretty smart".

*****

Harker, eating the chicken-and-sauce as The Meal (Stoker doesn't mention accompaniments or Bulk Carbs like noodles, spaetzle, etc. so you'll have to trust me), would have been like someone taking a swig of hot sauce or chomp of chilli pickle and then declaring the entire meal over-spiced or "thirsty", unaware of the proper proportions of What Goes With What.

A hotter, spicier, "thirstier" Paprikahendl would definitely go with a big mound of these little noodles, so I plan to see - and taste - how it'll work.

And how it'll look, too. :->

#food and drink #paprika hendl #paprikahendl #jonathan harker #dracula daily

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brittle-doughie · 1 year

Text

Bake It till You Make It

I’m well aware “Baker” is also a label used for the reader for some writers and their self-aware fics lol. Got some inspiration from some of @yandere--stuck ‘s CR posts. Cannibalism warning for this one

The Sugar Gnomes were glad to announce to you that they were opening the seasonal cake shop to the cookies of the kingdom! They feel like the cookies would be very pleased if it were you running the shop, you were already endeared in the kingdom, so this cake shop deal would seek to further do that!

Oh! Seems there’s already a huge line waiting for opening time as you were under the admiring and affectionate gaze of the cookies watching you enter.

You quickly got the hang of the whole cake making process and made sure the ones you made absolutely suited the cookies’ needs. It brightened your day to see your fellow cookies visibly enjoy the cakes you made as they enthusiastically took bites out of them. The reviews that came in were nothing but stellar, brimming with praise of your cake making skills!

“This is pretty good! Well worth the trip! Me and you should go sailing some time, Y/N!”

“His majesty smiled after having this cake. It's been so long since he smiled...Thank you, Y/N Cookie. Your cake has brought me relief. You’re always welcome in the Dark Cacao Kingdom..”

“This is definitely worth investing. I will be sending an envoy in the near future. Let us talk business, shall we Y/N Cookie? The Republic will greatly welcome a talented baker like you.”

Business was bustling, but it was also partially just so the cookies would see you again. Conversation as you made the cakes was common, but it made the cookies waiting in line annoyed as they wanted their turn to speak to you too! There was also some disputes with cookies in line trying their best to be the first ones in the shop, with arguments over cutting the line also occurring often, but for your sake, they didn’t push past the point that would lead to a screaming match.

Cookies that were repeat customers had brought their own confectionaries too to gift you! It ranged from cupcakes, beverages, and even their own cakes..oddly flavored the same as the flavoring the cookie gifting you it had. Affogato sundae, a large cup of cocoa, a dish of eclairs, carrot cake, blackberry soufflé, Black raisin muffins, a mint choco cake, it goes on!

The cookies were also either hiding themselves a bit or are dressed up to avoid showing any part of their bodies, you thought it was odd that Blackberry was wearing quite a lot of winter clothing covering up her arms completely as she gifted you her soufflé, watching you in anticipation and with a hint of suppressed excitement as you took a bite of it.

She was more then pleased to hear that you enjoyed the soufflé she made, that you enjoyed her. She probably will leave out the part where she removed bits and pieces of her hands to make the soufflé, but if it was for you, it was worth it.

Don’t worry about Raisin covering up her head today with winter caps, it totally wasn’t because she used parts of her hair to make those muffins!

Why is Cocoa hiding her arm behind her? Don’t worry about it, but please enjoy the large cup of cocoa she made for you!

Affogato wearing a heavy coat covering his torso is odd? He just decided to wear one today! Please enjoy the sundae he made for you and don’t pay attention to the missing section of his torso as he hurried off!

The cakes you make are absolutely wonderful, cakes that had a sense of you in them as they ate. It’s only fair they make something of theirs to feed you with in return.

Don’t worry, they can heal off the missing parts..and once they do, they plan on doing it again in the future…

#cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #cr x reader #crk x reader #yandere cookie run #cookie run kingdom x reader #yandere cookie run ovenbreak #yandere cookie run kingdom #fanfic #tw: cannibalism #yandere #cookie run #cookie run kingdom

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imreadydollparts · 2 months

Text

The hardest question

The most difficult question I get is "How do you make them look so nice?" because that's kind of broad and it's a whole process that differs depending on what each pony needs.

I've been trying to think of the best way to answer, and at first thought I'd need to make a flow chart.

I think maybe talking through the process as though I had a pony that needed EVERYTHING, would work, too.

So I'll try.

Let's assume I've bought a pony on eBay to clean and resell. This pony is filthy, has rust and/or mildew inside the body, has smooze, has matted hair, is missing some plugs from her mane, and is missing some paint.

When I get the pony, I take it downstairs to my photo taking spot and photograph the left side, right side, and any other areas that I think are worthy of taking pics.

Then they go for a bath immediately. Because ew.

A bath consists of:

scrubbing all over the body with a damp melamine sponge - this releases dirt from the vinyl and quickly exposes which marks are removable and which are stains, be gentle where there is paint

assessing the pony's needs

[dish] soap and water wash for body and hair

I do not ever throw ponies in a sink full of water and it stresses me out when I see people do that.

Ponies then get laid out to dry and after that go into holding bins depending on what they need.

At this point I usually take the phone upstairs, transfer the before photos to the computer, ID the ponies, label and date individual folders for their photos. I'm usually working on lots of ponies all at once and this forces me to sit down and take a break.

So, in order, they would go through these stations, which I do give silly names:

interior rust and/or mildew removal (derustbutting), which does require derusting the tails and is when I replace metal washers with nylon ties

depending on how matted and tangled the tail is, I may detangle it a bit during bath time with a metal dog comb so that it's smaller and better fits through the tail hole, this also helps with removing rust from the tail hair

smooze remooze which consists of soaking a pony in hot oxy-clean water (do not do this with princess ponies it ruins the metal plating on their 3D cutie marks), and aggressively scraping dirt from the vinyl's airbubbles

let dry completely inside and out

stain or yellowing treatment using 40Vol hydrogen peroxide cream and UV exposure (SunBox) which can take overnight to weeks and often needs reapplication of the cream

rewashing to remove 40Vol cream

waiting to dry fully inside before the tail is reinstalled (3 to 4 days)

temporary tail and head reinstallation

the hair is rewetted and slathered in a heavy smoosh of hair conditioner, then laid on a towel so that the hair is away from the body because conditioner can discolor vinyl if left touching in big globs

the conditioner is left to sit a while (I tend to leave it overnight but that's not necessary, it just forces me to take a break)

after the conditioner has set and softened the hair, they get a good rinse

thoroughly comb the hair with the dog comb, and then again with a flea comb to get all of the tangles out

flat iron

at this point I can wait for the hair to dry and then take off the head and tail again, re"open" the tail, and take some hairs for their mane

plug in those hairs, apply Fabric Fusion (I like it because it's a thick gel), and let that dry

final reinstallation of the head and tail are done when the glue is all dry

assess the hair: does it need conditioned and flat ironed again?

we'll assume yes, so repeat the wetting

repeat the conditioning

repeat the rinsing

repeat the flat ironing

let it dry again because we're going to do hot-setting and I prefer to do that dry

do a "wrap and set" which is where I will wrap the pony's hair around their neck and back leg, wrap a strip of paper towel over that, and a bit of tape, or put in straw curlers

put them in a plastic baggie so they don't get wet, put the baggie in a big bowl with the open end hanging over the side, heat up a kettle of water, pour that into the bowl, and cover it all with a bar towel

wait at least until the water has cooled on it's own (this is another time I tend to leave it overnight)

take them out of the baggie (set it aside, you can reuse it until it leaks)

take them over to the painting station and do my best to match both the color and placement of the missing paint

let that sit overnight

seal the paint

let that sit overnight, too

take off the curlers/wraps (the longer you wait, the better the shape will hold) and make sure their hair is photo ready

take pics of the left side, the right side, and the bottoms of the feet because buyers like to know exactly what they're getting

edit pics, make collages, queue to here, etc. etc. list on eBay and hope for the best

That last part isn't really related to making them look nice, it's just part of the process for the hypothetical pony.

Hopefully you can see why it's difficult for me to answer "How do you make them look so nice?"

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hb-writes · 2 months

Note

For a ‘love’ prompt, I hope they’re still open? If not ignore this ☺️ I love the relationship between Emmeline and Christian Grey, so maybe something cute and fluffy to show the love they have for each other, something like ‘You have three seconds to run.’

"You have three seconds to run."

Emmeline was still giggling and the words took an extra moment to process as she considered her brother's current condition, her mind trying to compute exactly how dropping her breakfast dishes into the suds-filled sink had caused such a strong splash back, one which had left her gloriously dry while Christian looked like she'd dumped a pot of water on him, liquid dripping to the kitchen floor.

"Oops?" Emmeline offered a small smile to her brother, taking a cautious step away from him as she tried to sober herself.

Christian snorted and a dangerous gleam shined in his eye as he wiped a bit of soap from his cheek, his lips pressing into a straight line, though Emmeline could tell it was an effort not to smile.

Christian Grey had a few dangerous looks, a handful of infamous glances and glares that communicated without requiring him to utter a single word. Emmeline was all too familiar with those sorts of looks. She'd been on the receiving end of them often enough. More than most people, she suspected, but as familiar as she was with the looks that communicated Christian's frustrations, she knew this look, too...

Christian would have the world believe that he wasn't the playful sort, that he was a serious businessman. A no-nonsense sort of person and nothing more...but Emmeline knew her brother well enough to know better.

Equal parts of dread and giddiness settled her stomach as Christian started counting out.

"One..."

Emmeline's mind emptied of everything except the goal of putting distance between her and her brother, her sock-clad feet slipping on the floors as she pushed past him and raced through the penthouse.

"Two..."

She let out a scream followed by a peal of laughter as Christian counted out the final number, her foot slipping and sending her into the wall as she turned a corner. Christian had given her a head start, but as she listened to the sounds of his approach, Emmeline had no illusions about the fact that her advantage was fleeting.

She met her brother's eye as he appeared at the end of the hall and a startled shriek escaped her lips as she pushed herself into motion once again, aiming for the nearest room with a locking door—Christian's home office at the end of the hall.

"Ha!" Emmeline shouted as she slid over the threshold, slamming the door in Christian's face as he caught up, both of them fumbling with opposite sides of the door handle—Christian trying to gain entry as Emmeline worked to secure the lock.

She let out a nearly breathless laugh as the lock finally clicked in place, resting her arms above her head as she caught her breath.

Christian called his sister's name through the door, the tone almost alarmingly calm, gentle. "Open the door."

The handle rattled. "Em. Let me in."

She laughed. "No way," she answered, stepping away from the door. "Feel free to contact my assistant to make an appointment."

Emmeline could've sworn she heard Christian laugh on the other side of the door. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"I think I can maybe get you in next Tuesday," she continued, slipping her phone from her pocket as it chirped, an email notification popping up on her lock screen—a calendar invite from Christian with the meeting label 'retribution,' scheduled for the next fifteen minutes.

Emmeline snorted, rolling her eyes as she slid into the chair behind his desk and declined the invite. She started scrolling on social media, figuring she could wait him out. Wait until the desire for retribution was replaced by some more important—something with work or Ana's return from her brunch with Kate.

Emmeline shot to her feet, dropping her phone as the door suddenly shot open, revealing her brother, smirking there with a single key in his hand. The key she'd conveniently forgotten to consider.

"Chris..." Emmeline started, hands held up in the space between them as Christian stalked forward. "Chris. Christian! Please just wait." Emmeline stepped around the desk, trying to keep the furniture between them. "It was an accident. They slipped. Please. I—"

Emmeline shrieked as her brother grabbed her arm, pulling her to his chest and trapping her there with one arm, his fingers digging into her ribs as he extracted his retribution.

#lovefest2024 #fifty shades of grey #christian grey #sister fic #platonic #emmeline grey #thanks for the request!

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twixcake · 11 months

Text

• Writing this for anyone struggling with: Alopecia, hair loss, thin hair, diseases, etc A few people i know have alopecia, and I think it's beautiful so I wrote this.

•.Black female reader in mind, but no specifics except hair texture. Sanji x F!reader

• Word count: 1.9k

• ⚠️: Self doubt, self hatred, depression, body dysphoria. Goes through the process of losing more hair, and shaving it off completely.

"Do you need any more help in the kitchen?" You looked over at your boyfriend. Everyone left the dining hall an hour ago, and it was only the two of you left. Cleaning up the mess as usual.

"No, I'm ok baby" Sanji turned to you as he washed the last few remaining dishes. "You haven't had a bath yet right?" He puffed out some smoke from his cigarette. The cherry glowing on his slender fingers before he rubbed your back. "No, I haven't. I guess I should huh? I've been cleaning all day, my hair got messy too." He hummed. "Go relax Ma chérie, i'll take care of the dishes and then I'll join you in the sh—" You instantly shake your head to the request. He turns to you, taking out his cigarette. His eyes filled with concern. "Are you ok my love? Did I say something wrong?"

You shake your head again and rub your arm timidly. "I think I'll just bathe alone tonight. Besides, I need to wash my hair. It takes me all night, and you look tired so.."

He hums lightly before placing the clean dishes in the cupboards. He opened his mouth to speak, his eyes filled with concern before you left a tender kiss on the side of his cheek. "Goodnight Sanji, I'll see you In bed ok?" He nods, not really able to speak before you skip out of the kitchen and into the bathroom and lock the door.

You stretch your arms a bit in the mirror before taking off your long wig. The curls bouncing up as you lift it off your head. If it was up to you, you'd keep it on. But you needed to treat the matted mess underneath your wig cap if you wanted to see any progress. "Ok.." You mumble before pulling out your cosmetics bag. "I need to try Dr. Miracles enhance oil after I wash my hair with…Dammit where is it?!"

You move items out of the bag before you pull out a small shampoo bottle. The big fat label meeting your gaze 'Hair growth'..

"Perfect!" You exclaimed, before stripping the rest of your clothes off and dipping yourself in the comfortable water.

You peeled off your wig cap before throwing it to the floor. Your hands immediately snuggling over your matted hair.

"Holy shit— I actually think it's growing!" You smile a bit at the long feeling in your hair. A bit upset you didn't check first in the mirror of how much was actually growing. "Alright.." You exhale, before unraveling your braids, and dipping your head into the warm water.

Your thoughts drifted to a certain blonde, and how soon it'd be when youd face him with thick, long hair. Your real hair. Not that wig or the extensions you always wore with confidence around the ship. You definitely arent going to miss how hot it burned with it on in the sun, or how itchy it got at night when you cuddled up to Sanji in bed. Or how guilty you get when you turn down sanjis requests to run his slender fingers through your scalp with your favorite shampoo.

No, you weren't going to miss any of that.

But, they did make you happy..and comfortable. You wouldn't mind experiencing freedom and control with your hair though. In fact it was what you were hoping for.

You were starting to wonder what would happen if Sanji saw you without the wig as you are now. Large bald spots and thinning strands that kept you worked up no matter how many times you tried to fix it. Oils, body therapy, fruits vegetables, diets, shampoos, and therapy. You've tried it all. The routine you're building now, being one of the many attempts.

Was it all for nothing? Did your hair actually grow or were you just imagining things?

Would he be disgusted? Ashamed of you?

Honestly, you didn't want to find out. Good thing you have the wigs. For now.

"Ok…time for shampoo then I gotta braid my hair again!" You lifted your hair out of the tub. You noticed how after your hair met contact with the water, already some of it started to fall off your head.

"Shit…" you mumbled, a bit nervous to continue scrubbing your hair, but you comply. Lightly, and hesitantly scrubbing your scalp. Feeling all the open spots where hair should be.

It was disappointing, yet again another treatment didn't work. You weren't seeing progress. In fact, as you scrubbed more hair fell out. No matter how softly you rubbed, or how lightly you brushed your hair.

It still came out.

"No—nonononono" You stopped washing your hair once a huge chunk came out and into your palm. You get out of the tub and rush for the mirror, your breath heavier and your chest tight while you struggle to open the bathroom door.

"SHIT!! PLEASE—" You stumble your way from the bathroom to the mirror. Your hands gripping the edge of the sink.

Most of your hair was gone, only to be replaced by big spots.

You felt like you could faint. The hopes you had of having control over your hair are gone. In replacement is just…nothing.

Well, almost nothing. There's still tiny amounts of hair…but it's thin. It won't last long…

"FUCK…NO" Your breath hitches before you let out a sob, a scream? Does it really matter? Tears fall down your face while you examine yourself in the mirror. You felt like all the control you had, was gone. You couldn't help but let out a wail as you threw your hair products on the ground. Some cracking at the hard blows.

"Y/N, love…are you ok?" A soft knock could be heard at the door. Your eyes widen before you gulp down your broken voice, trying not to whine. It was almost painful to hold back. "S-Sanji…yes I'm ok..I'm fine" You breathed heavily, trying to put on your wig.

"You don't sound fine baby. Can you open the door?"

Your heart sank to your stomach as you let out a breathy "yes". You didn't have time to put the wig on, so you dumped it under a few towels before covering your head up with a large towel and slowly opening the door.

Your boyfriend stood in the door, worry plastered on his face as he looked at you. His eyes softened once he saw how puffy and red your eyes were. "Baby…" He moved swiftly inside the bathroom before locking the door behind him. His fingers instantly come up to your face as he wipes away the remaining tears.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" You shake you head softly before he starts checking your face and body for any marks or injuries. "Sanji wait—" You grip the towel wrapped around your head and body before he can pull it off. "What's wrong?" He rubbed his thumb on your cheek, the action making your throat clench back a whine..You felt dizzy, confused, hideous.

You didn't want him to see you like this.

"I just..I don't" You couldn't talk, the big lump in your throat grew every time you even dared. You sank to the bathroom floor, clutching the towel over your body. He kneeled down with you,his hands wrapping around your waist before pulling you into his lap. Your wet body dampened his suit, but he didn't seem to care.

He kissed your forehead repeatedly while rubbing your back. "Sanji…it's gone" He kissed your head more,his voice was low and soft. "What's gone, baby?" You hiccup as the knot in your throat finally lets go. Letting out a long wail.

He rubbed your back while his lips mumbled soft words of comfort on your cheek. "It's ok, it's ok…I'm here..let it out"

You shake your head against his chest. Your eyes were almost swollen at that point. "No it's not ok! Everything is-"

He could see you were distraught..but about what? He didn't want to force you to talk if you weren't comfortable. But what was he supposed to do?

He held you closer to him and rested his chin on the top of your head as you cried.

Minutes later you calmed down a bit, wiping your tears with the back of your free hand while the other gripped the towel for dear life.

"Sweetheart, look at me" He gently moved his hand under your chin, his slender fingers rubbing gently against your swollen throat. You peeked your puffy eyes up at him, he gave a small smile before kissing your cheeks. "There she is, that's my baby…"

You hiccuped again before letting your eyes rest closed. Your grip on the towel slightly less tight as you relaxed in his touch. He kissed your nose before rubbing the small of your back.

"My hair…" you bit your lip, eyes darting away from his. "It's gone..most of its gone"

"Your hair?" You nodded again before he hesitantly put his hand behind the back of your head. "Can I…? Take it off sweetheart? I promise you're safe with me."

Your grip on the towel instantly came back. You breathed out, his eyes looking at you worried. "Ok.."

He slowly took off the towel, seeing your hair... Your real hair for the first time.

You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment and shame before his gentle cold fingers pulled them away to give you soft kisses.

"Don't look at me…I'm hideous" the knot on your throat started to tie again. His brows furrowed before kissing your head all over. His long fingers coming to rub and massage the backs of your head and neck while you silently cried in his arms.

"Don't you dare say that…ever again. You're beautiful"

"NO- I'm not!! It's gone! It's all gone…"

You feel him take a deep breath and he kisses you on the temple. "Its ok love...its ok"

His soft words made you cry harder.

"Come here. Come on sweetheart. You need to sit." He lifts you up and places you on the sink counter while wiping your puffy eyes. "You're beautiful…" He mumbled against your head as he placed kisses around all your insecurities.

"You're everything to me, and I will never stop loving you...no matter what happens…ok?" "You're breathtaking..with or without hair Y/N"

You nod against his shoulder as he rubs a circle between your shoulders.

After a moment, when you felt steady enough to walk again, he takes the towel from your head. "Here..I'll help you get through this ok?"

He kisses your cheek. "What do you want to do? I'll help you sweetheart"

You thought for a second.

You wanted to try using something other than the care products. They either didn't work, or they made it worse...you were tired of seeing the patches of what was left of your hair. So you said the first thing that popped into your head.

"Cut it off…"

He nodded almost immediately before lifting you off the sink onto his lap again.

He gave your head a last soft kiss before taking the hair clippers and shaving off what remained of your hair.

His hand came to rest with yours as he kissed your head.

"It's gone….' You whine before burying your head on his chest. He rubs your back softly before the machine turns on again.

Your eyes instantly open as you feel soft petals of hair fall on your cheeks.

Blonde petals of hair.

"SANJI—"

He kissed your forehead repeatedly before the machine turned off again. He smiled down at you. You couldn't help but smile too along with a few tears down your cheeks.

"Thank you…"

#sanji fluff #sanji angst #one piece x you #one piece x reader #black reader #blackreader #fluff #comfort #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #one piece x black!reader #sanji x black reader #alopecia #one piece angst #alopecia reader

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bardicbeetle · 3 months

Text

Damask, 2005 - vee the vampire

Angelface had walked away to the back room for something—she’s been assuming it’s a storage room of some kind, hasn’t been back there yet as so far she hasn’t needed anything. And thus far being left alone at a well stocked bar before there are even any patrons has been plenty entertaining. Mainly because she doesn’t get to touch anything otherwise, mostly she washes dishes in the bar sink and listens to Angelface chat up patrons all night. It’s not glamorous, but it’s also not being cold on the fucking street.

Notes from this latest foray into digging through the back bottles: Whatever that green label one is tastes fucking awful, like melted licorice. Disgusting. Conversely, there is something down there that reminds her of toasted marshmallows and that’s making up for the awful one.

The next thing she picks up is in such a dark bottle she can’t even see what’s in it. Which isn’t fully abnormal, some of the bottles are frosted or opaque. Rather than dirtying cups she’s taken to putting the little shot spouts on and then giving them a quick rinse afterwards. It’s saved both time and suspicious dishes.

This time is no different, after double checking that she is still—in fact—alone, she tips the bottle up holding the spout a few inches from her open mouth—she had missed the first couple times but the spout is surprisingly consistent no matter what’s in the bottles, and she learned fast—and gags.

It’s thick like some of the creme bases are but—fuck—it’s salty and metallic and the bottle slips out of her hands with the shock of it and shatters on the tile behind the bar.

Sending bright red spraying across the floor and the bottom shelf glasses.

She doesn’t really process it, busy heaving over the sink.

It’s not until she hears the door open and shut at the far end of the room that she looks back at the floor in panic.

So whatever it was sucked, but it was probably expensive and—

—no.

No that was blood.

Something about seeing the way it’s spreading on the floor. The color it turns as it soaks the bottom of her jeans. The taste. When she wipes a hand across her mouth it paints her skin the same way a nosebleed would, and she’s stuck staring at it, feeling very suddenly like she is going to be properly actually sick—what the fuck.

“Cassidy?”

Her gaze snaps back up to Angelface, who has made it all the way to the little half-door blocking the back of the bar before she even noticed he was there. “I—I didn’t—”

“—are you hurt?”

Relief.

He looks more—amused? Than anything else. But there is genuine concern in his tone. She thinks.

“Was that—that was blood—what the fuck is that doing under—”

“—Cassidy.” That word is sharper. She’s still getting used to connecting it to herself. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Good. Hop up on the bar, I’ll take care of the glass.”

“Answer my question first.”

“Blood is a medical hazard, Cassidy. Get on the bar.”

She plants her feet, the tile slick under her boots, arms crossed. “No. Answer my fucking question.”

Angelface sighs, stepping carefully around shards of glass until he’s close enough to—is she really that small or is he stronger than he looks?—pick her up and set her none too gently onto the bartop. It happens so quickly that she doesn’t really have time to react until it’s already done. “Ridiculous. It’s like you don’t have a goddamn survival instinct at all.”

The reaction he’s having feels so out of place that she’s struggling to find any sort of response. She just watches him start picking up the larger chunks of glass from the floor, listens to the little plopping sounds as blood continues to drip from the bottom shelf.

In the end it takes until he’s fully cleaned the floor and filled the sink with blood spattered glassware for her to speak again.

“Am I fired?”

He gives her a look. It’s the face he makes every time she asks a stupid question.

She’s pretty sure that isn’t a stupid question though, so she repeats herself.

“Am I?”

“No,” He tells her, “you will not be left alone back here again though.”

It startles a laugh out of her.

“So…” She’s still sitting on the bar, the blood on her jeans has dried dark and stiff. “I’m still waiting on an explanation.”

“You’ll be waiting forever, Cassidy.”

“Is it like—sketchy?” She asks, “Like—is there some sort of black market thing going on—are there organs down there too? Is that what you keep in the back room?”

“It is not like—sketchy,” Angelface repeats, faintly mocking and ignoring the latter half of her question. “and it isn’t your concern.”

“I drank blood,” She insists, “that’s concerning.”

“You didn’t drink blood—you spit it in the sink.”

“I swallowed some of it.”

“And?”

“Didn’t you say it was a medical hazard?”

“Would you like me to take you to the hospital?”

She glares at him, and for a moment both are silent. She’s putting it together though. Between his reactions and the rest. Or maybe she’s crazy. That’s also possible.

“We’re only here after dark.” She says finally.

“It’s a night club, Cassidy. We’re only open at night.”

“There’s blood under the bar.”

“There is. You spilt it.”

“It was there before I did that.”

“Is this little train of thought supposed to be impressive?”

“I don’t think you should be able to pick me up that easily.”

He does look mildly offended by that one. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve read books.” She’s treading dangerous waters now. She knows it.

“I should hope so.” He replies, and maybe she’s imagining the slight quirk to his expression, the sour little smile. “Are you going to start making sense any time in the next few sentences?”

“Promise you’ll answer one question?” She asks, voice suddenly very quiet. “Honestly.”

Angelface gives her an appraising sort of look, like he’s weighing a risk. “One question, Cassidy.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

He smiles.

It’s sharper than it should be.

It’s almost like he’s suddenly got too many teeth.

“I certainly hope not.”

#writeblr #writeblr community #vampire writeblr #amwriting #writers on tumblr #lsdente #vampire writing #i may or may not have gotten too attached to a handful of NPCs i made #so here have this

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paradoxxinvader · 1 year

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DITTO - do you want somebody? like i want somebody?

CHAPTER ONE - STAY IN THE MIDDLE

pairing :: riki x fem!idol!reader

synopsis :: yn, the leader of girl group trio ATTRACTION, has a major crush on ENHYPEN’s maknae, nishimura riki, since before her debut in 2022. she related to him, confided in his photocards, and befriended the idea of him, so much so that she fell in love with someone who barely knew of her. when she debuts under the same label as him, HYBE, the tables start to turn when she starts to realize that who he is isn’t the same person she fell in love with, all while nishimura riki starts to fall for her. what could possibly go wrong?

word count :: ~1.2k

warnings :: mention of food, mention of death, ugh omg mention of the gym, that’s pretty much i think

previous masterlist next

“hello, everyone!” yn sung, setting the camera on the kitchen island. she was making a quick breakfast for herself before heading out for the gym- the clock was in frame, showing both hands on the six. “i’m heading out to the HYBE gym before promos start,” she was filling up her black water bottle before stuffing it into the duffel bag that ENHYPEN had gifted her.

“i thought it would be cool to vlog it a bit, and have a short q and a kinda video as well! pae-ri unnie and sungie are gonna have their own videos on this as well! but they’re filming later in the week.” she explained.

she cracked a few eggs in a bowl, beating them lightly with a fork and hadding small bits of meat and seasoning. she put a lightly oiled frying pan onto the lit stove, waiting for it to heat up before adding her eggs and letting them cook a little before scrambling them with a spatula. ditto was playing in the background, and she was humming to it while spreading butter onto her toast.

“for the q and a session type thing, our label prepared a set of questions from some of the comments you guys have left onto our posts and videos, as well as general ‘get to know me’ questions from the interweb. there are like- how many questions are there?” she asked off-camera, nodding when someone said something. “ok, there are like twenty or so questions, and i’ll be answering them in the car!”

she plated the eggs into a few plates, handing out the breakfast to the staff that were in the dorm off camera, and sat her own plate down on the dinner table, pouring herself a glass of apple juice. she forked some of the eggs into her mouth, covering her mouth while chewing. yn quietly ate her toast, not talking that much, just scrolling through her phone, answering a few texts. she didn’t talk much while she ate, because she considered talking while eating to be rude. she made a mental note to ask the editors to play some soft music on the background during this section of the vlog.

she turned the camera off after she finished eating, and put her dishes in the sink, bowing once towards the staff before picking up her duffel bag and leaving the kitchen. she had already called a car from HYBE before she started on breakfast, because the dorm was a bit farther away from the company building, on foot at least. once confirming the car was downstairs, she slipped on her shoes and went downstairs, turning the camera on in the process.

“ok, so it’s around six forty-five right now, and i should be getting to the company building in around fifteen or so minutes. i’ve got the questions here with me-” she waved her phone in front of the camera. “-so we’re gonna answer as soon as i get into the car,”

after a minute or two after settling in, she set the camera onto the seat in front of her, adjusting the tripod so that she would be fully in frame.

she scrolled through the pre-prepared questions, answering some basic questions about the group that were asked in the comments and such, before heading into the personal questions that she wanted to answer.

“ok, soooooooooooo- how old are you? ok, so i was born in ‘06, so i’m 16 internationally- my birthday is in the latter half of the year- but i’m 18 in korea. it’s a little confusing, but yea. i actually kinda ‘go by’ my international age, because i didn’t grow up in korea, but my korean age is on my local legal documents, but my international age on all of my international legal documents, if that makes any sense,” she tried to explain, knowing full well that the editors would just zoom in with a bunch of question marks around her figure. she paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. “ok, yea, that doesn’t make sense, but- meh,” she lifted up her hand, palm facing downwards, tilting it up from each side.

“ok, next question! did you always want to be an idol? yah, this is a good question! uh, yes and no? so, i grew up in australia, and i wasn’t really exposed to idol culture, i guess you could say. like, my parents didn’t force me to listen to kpop or watch kdramas and stuff, so i didn’t even know what idol culture was in korea. but but but, i did love music, like singing and writing and producing songs was my thing back in middle school! my best friends and i started, like, a girl rock band that was called mgk, and then in parentheses (not machine gun kelly)!” yn giggled, remembering the fond memories. “it was honestly so much fun, we decided to keep the acronyms as random food items that we loved! i was korean, and one of them was korean-japanese, and the other was japanese- it was just us three-, so the acronyms stood for miso, gochugaru, and kimchi! we were the asian-australian girls of our school, so we just naturally became close friends because of that,” yn smiled.

“unfortunately, the group had to disband when we were around 13-14, because our japanese friend passed away due to a complicated heart condition,” yn continued, looking out of the window. “i miss her a lot,”

“but yes! back to the question! um, so i didn’t always want to be an idol, but i kinda got exposed to idol culture about two years ago, when i-LAND started to air. the reason i started watching it was because i heard that an australian dude from brisbane was gonna be on the show, so i kinda had to watch it, because obviously. i started getting into kpop then, and then i randomly went up to my parents one day and was like, “eomma, appa, i wanna become an idol!” and they just made a face like-” she tried making the face, but was unsuccessful, erupting into giggles. “but yea! they were super chill about it, and enrolled me into dance classes in brisbane until middle school ended, and then helped me move to korea for proper training. i lived with my halmeoni, and now i live in the dorms! i visit australia as much as i can, but that isn’t very often, because i was super busy as a trainee and now since i’ve debuted, they’ll become even less frequent. but my parents visit a lot, usually ever other month, so i spend time with them then! so, uh, shoutout to jake sunbaenim from ENHYPEN for being the reason i’m an idol today, i think?”

“ok next questio- oh i’m at the company building!” she picked up the tripod, and panned the camera to show the building that was out of the window.

yn picked up her things and left the car after thanking the driver. she balanced the tripod in her laft hand, while throwing her cap on and shoving the duffle bag onto her left shoulder. “ok, i’m going in! i’ll turn the camera back on when i’m inside the gym area,”

she turned the camera off and walked inside, her running shoes squeaking against the marble tiling of the lobby. she smiled at the receptionist, explaining that she was here for the gym, and fished around for her id from her wallet when she needed to sign in.

she rushed to the elevator, hitting the button for the 6th floor gym- which was arguably one of the better ones- and waited patiently for her floor while listening to cliche elevator music. the elevator stopped at the fourth floor, the door’s opening to reveal-

“oh! anneyoung!” yn bowed at the young men in front of, which were three members of ENHYPEN.

“anneyoung, yn!” jay oppa smiled, bowing his head a little as well, nudging sunghoon and riki to do so as well. “heading towards the gym?”

“yep! wanted to some cardio done before promos start at nine,” she explained, shuffling a little to side to allow the three males into the small space.

“ahh, ok,”

there was a bit of awkward silence, so yn thanked whatever deity was up there when the doors opened to the sixth floor. the boys let her out first, and she thanked them, rushing to the gym doors, inserting her company card to let her in.

she dropped her gym bag on a plastic seat, getting her water bottle out, and removed her rings and bracelets, shoving them into a small pocket inside of the duffle. she headed to the treadmill, setting up her camera in front of the machine, and started at a slow jog, putting her headphones on her head. after a bit or so, she kept on increasing the speed, eventually setting at a fast run.

it continued like that for about a half hour or so, before jay joined her on the neighboring treadmill, flashing a peace sign at the camera when yn pointed it at him.

taglist (open!) :: @acousticking @mitsukifilms @hyem1ngyu @loveliii @ahnneyong @azngamis-blog @hanniluvi @heesitation @brahms-heelshit@mirakura @adeolalily13 @sunoozz @enwlrd @3chae @bucketofhiros @ilovewonyo @jaxavance @calijimenez @adajoemaya @judeduartwannabe @heartwonder @wonypop @dimplewonie @coalalalinha @rikimylove @jamaisunoo @sd211 @aki1e @asapia @simeonswhore @bougiesunoo @hatdugin @cass1814 @ilvsoup @nia-xxx @byhsng @soobnism @futuristicpiepsychicalmond @nuoyishi @akashisthighs @facelesswrittes @tinie03 @noiacha @mmaplepastries @curly-fr13s @sweetjaemss @lcv3lies @nikiluvs @urszn @kittyeij @jeonsy98 @sserafimez @j-wyoung (CLOSING SOON)

lu speaks :: hello everyone !!! this was such a delayed chapter omg but like. so much stuff happened. my sister got married in october of last year and she then moved abroad w her husband and she visited for the first time like two weeks ago !!! it was really fun she left yesterday so i’m really emo lol OH AND ON TOP OF THAT I’VE CAUGHT A STOMACH BUG ???? like it’s really bad and i still have it and it’s just. really bad :( but yes i managed to get this out and i know it’s really bad but pls bare with me !!! i’m gonna try to write another chapter sometime this week but i have my mocks coming up so that’s gonna be. so much fun 🙂🔫 n e wayz i’ll see yall soon !!! make sure to apply for the taglist for ditto bcs it’s closing soon !!! also omg jungwon bb ur 19 !!!!

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andromeda-nova-writing · 7 months

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Your Help is so Sugary Sweet

Thoma x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N has never been the best at baking now or ever. But when your very adorable baby cousin asks you to bake cookies, welp time to go to the kitchen. Even though the first round was a struggle it can’t be too bad, especially with some newly acquired help.

Words: 2,135

AN: Thank you @milkstore for the confidence boost while I was writing this fic. Also for confirming that this was as funny as I thought it was and for catching an error I had. You are the best!

“Thank you so much for showing up so last minute.” Y/N rushed Thoma inside her home. “My baby cousin signed me up to bring sugar cookies for his class’s bake sale. I told him it was okay. I mean it's just sugar cookies, right? It can't be that hard. Ugh, I’m such a fool.”

“Calm down. I’m sure what you made isn't that bad.” He placed down a few grocery bags on a dining table nearby.

“If you don’t think it's that bad why do you have all of that?” Y/N motioned towards the bags he had brought. “Even then it just smells like burnt flour in here. How am I ever gonna get that smell out of my home?"

Thoma pulled a candle out of one of the bags he brought. "Well, Ayaka and I tried candle-making last week. You could try lighting this if the smell bothers you so much." He handed the candle over. It was in a Mason jar with a wick pre-cut down ready to be lit. The wax was placed in uneven layers of reds and blues swirling together to create a few shades of purple.

Y/N took the candle. The label was homemade as well. Sticker paper with a marker telling the scent was vanilla blueberry. There were drawn-out silver sparkles with a pen that had been slightly rubbed off from being touched too early. "I love it. How could I ever light this?"

"We're supposed to try again next week with Ayato. There will be more so just light it before I do it for you. I remember where you put your lighter still."

"There's no way you do." She looked back up at his face trying to read if there was any sign that he was bluffing.

"In the second drawer on the left near your fridge pushed all the way to the back because you'd rather use wax melts than a candle most days."

Frustrated yet impressed, Y/N threw a kitchen towel that was lying on the table before going to light the candle to hopefully shut up Thoma's laughter at knowing her all too well.

Thoma followed behind heading into the kitchen only to be met with the sight of burned sugar cookies and ingredients used up on the counter. It was his own personal nightmare. Dishes were stacked high in the sink. Flour and sugar covered the floor except for the gaps where someone had walked. On the counter where the cookies were rolled out, there were spots where dough stuck to the counter from not enough flour being placed down. There was a bowl that contained the yolks from eggs for some ungodly reason.

"I was wrong to have faith in you," was all he could say as he processed what he was witnessing.

Y/N turned around, lighter in hand. “Thoma!” She whined.

“You have a bowl of egg yolk on the counter. How else am I supposed to react? It's like a tornado came through here.”

“I thought the cookies would look less yellow. If there’s white cake and yellow cake, doesn't that mean there should be white and yellow sugar cookies?” It was a genuine question with a train of thought that ran off the rails off a cliff into the ocean in the middle of a hurricane.

“The yolk is an important ingredient for the cookies.” He rubbed his forehead with flashes of some of the horrible things that Ayato had come up with maybe the same train of logic. “What else did you do?”

“I may have used half the recommended amount of sugar. You know so the kids that eat them don’t get a sugar high. It's more healthy for them anyway. That way they can snack on the cookies and they would still be tasty since there would still be sugar anyway. Why is it when I say this aloud I just know I’m in trouble?”

“Cause you’re evil. A villain!”

"A villain?"

"Yes, a villain. Don't you know when baking, that the recipe is the law."

"Aren't baking and cooking the same thing? If you can throw spices around as you please when cooking, why can't you when baking?" Y/N lit the candle and placed it on top of the counter before placing the lighter down next to it. Poor candle trying its best to cover the burnt flour smell.

"Baking is more of an exact science. And even then you shouldn't throw spices around while cooking. You'll put something in that shouldn't be there. You are doing it out of not knowing better, Ayato does it out of curiosity, and Ayato’s ideas rubbed off on Ayaka. It's a miracle how the three of you made it this far."

"I'm genuinely trying to get better though.” She explained. “Doesn't that count for something? The only reason my baby cousin signed me up to help him out was cause that one time you helped me babysit him we all baked brownies together. The memory really stuck for him. I just didn't want to let him down."

Thoma sighed. "Go start washing the dishes. I'll start cleaning up in here and then we can start baking."

Y/N perked up. "So you aren't upset with me?"

"I knew what I was signing myself up for. Even then I'm just glad you didn't burn your kitchen down yet."

"I wouldn't go that far. I know how to put out a kitchen fire. I've done it before." Y/N spoke with way too much pride for someone who just admitted to actually almost burning down a kitchen.

"Please start the dishes before I get a headache." He couldn’t be that mad anyway but was still very worried about the lack of general baking knowledge.

Y/N laughed before following her savior's wishes.

“Even though the recipe says two and three-fourths of flour we are putting a little less in so when we roll out the dough the cookies won't have too much flour on them and fall apart on us,” Thoma explained as he measured out the dry ingredients before setting them aside in a bowl. “And we are doubling the batch so that means there should be five and a half cups of flour.”

“So you can adjust the recipe!” Y/N stood nearby watching tasked with the vital job of not touching anything and paying attention to hopefully learn what were her many mistakes.

“Yes, I can adjust the recipe. You have to know what you are doing before you do whatever you want. If the batter is too wet, we add more flour. If the batter is too dry then you can add milk or eggs. But you add very little until you reach the correct consistency.”

“And when we add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, mix it in slowly.”

“I remembered that part. It’s so easy.”

“You want to do it?”

“Yes. It’s the least I can do.” Y/N took over happily, finally having a real task again, ready for redemption.

“While you work on that, I’ll prep the cookie sheets and the counter for when the dough is ready.”

"Then we can cut them out to bake?"

"Yes. It's the easiest part. You should be able to do it by yourself while I make the frosting."

"You should wait to make the frosting. When I rolled out the dough before I couldn't get it thin enough without it falling apart and then it was uneven too."

"I'll give you a pass on that one. Learning the best way to roll out the dough can be tricky."

“So I’m not a lost cause.” Y/N teased

“I never said that.”

"But you were thinking about it."

"If I was, I wouldn't have given you the dough to mix. Are you finished with it yet?"

"Yes. Show me how it's done please." She brought the bowl over to where Thoma had cleared off the counter.

Thoma grabbed a clean measuring cup, dipped it into the bag, and took out the flour before sprinkling it over the counter. He rolled up his sleeves before hands with flour reaching in the bowl to grab the cookie dough and splitting it up in twos and then in twos again.

He took one part of the dough placing it on the center of where he had flour on the counter. "There's some rolling pins that have bands you can place on them. You just place the height you want on them and don't even have to think."

"My rolling pin is just wood and didn't come with those. How does that help me?"

"If your cousin wants you to make cookies again and I'm not around to help."

Y/N stuck her tongue out at him. "Just teach me already you meanie."

He continued trying to make his point. "If you don't get that rolling pin you should get a heavier one, this one is too light."

"Wouldn’t that just smash that dough down and be harder to move?"

"We want the dough to get smashed evenly but a heavier rolling pin isn't that hard to move around. The weight makes it easier to do the pulls and pushes more evenly since you aren't personally putting so much pressure on the dough."

"Ohhhh so I was pressing too hard into the dough."

He nodded his head. "You also need to turn the dough as you work so that when you are rolling it the pressure is placed around evenly."

"Yeah, I definitely wasn’t doing that."

"Then if you want to check to make sure it's the right size you should kneel down so you're at eye level with the counter. If you work it slowly and check every so often you should have no problem. Other than that, I think that’s all the advice I can give you.”

“So demonstration time then I get to try again?”

“That was the plan but like I said, your rolling pin is really light. It’s going to be hard to learn on this so I’ll do it for you this time if that’s alright?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I think I'd rather watch to see if I even understand first anyway."

Thoma took some more flour covering the rolling pin before getting to work, easily demonstrating his own advice. Roll the dough out, turn the dough, and repeat. It was so mundane yet surprisingly hypnotic. Odd.

It wasn’t normally a task that Y/N found herself distracted by. It had to be the sight of the dough becoming wider and thinner that she must have been enchanted. That couldn't be it though as her eyes kept drifting towards Thoma's arms. Even more odd.

Yes, Thoma was an attractive guy but it’s Thoma. That was her friend. He’s a sweetheart and a goof. His arms looked amazing as he worked on the cookies but this was the same guy who had made countless sweaters for Taromaru. Then again that might be a plus. Maybe Y/N was just overthinking things. Instead of thinking of how nice it would be to be held by those arms, it would be better to think back on when Thoma had tried the Kamisatos’ latest hotpot creations and how he remained on the floor for 30 minutes after consuming it.

Actually no. She had been late to that dinner and should have been there earlier to stop him. For someone so helpful and important in their lives, they could at least help him out every now and then and not put him through things like that. Even though he laughs through it and says it’s fine, isn’t better to see him smiling like he was doing now.

His smile was so warm and comforting, filled with so much love for those around him. With everything he was doing right now, it wasn’t hard to admire him. Which led her back to staring at his arms. It’s just from a sense of admiration, so it must be alright to do.

Thoma’s hand began to snap in front of her face. “You there? Left space yet?”

She blinked stumbling back a bit. “I’m here. I’m here!”

“I asked if you could get the cookie cutters three times now. What were you even thinking about?” He question. The rolling pin had been placed on the side of the counter.

“Uh, It was nothing. I just zoned out. That’s all.” She moved quickly out of the way heading to the drying rack to to grab what he had asked for.

Thoma frowned. He didn’t like being lied to but he didn’t want to push for an answer. Especially for something that over all wasn’t too important. “I’ll let you cut these out while I start the frosting. I’ll roll out the next batch once you’re done.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

#Gensin Thoma #Thoma #thoma x reader #genshin impact #Genshin impact x reader #So happy to finally post for him #just hoping i did him justice

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najia-cooks · 1 year

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Vegan lal chaman / लाल चमन (Kashmiri paneer dish)

Lal chaman, or lal paneer (लाल पनीर), is a dish consisting of shallow-fried cheese (paneer) in a water-based gravy thickened with ground fennel. It gets its name from the Hindi "lal," meaning "red." Some recipes achieve the dish's typical bright red color with the help of tomatoes, but this is a modern variation—for traditionalists, the dish should get all of its color from ground Kashmiri chilis. Lal chaman shares several common features with other Kashmiri dishes: the cooking oil used is mustard oil; due to influence from the Kashmiri Pandit community, it does not include garlic or onions; because fresh ginger was historically unavailable in Kashmir, it uses ground ginger.

This vegan recipe uses a glazed tofu to produce a chewy, cheesy paneer. The combination of chili, fennel, black cardamom, clove, and ginger produces a robust, earthy, mildly spicy base for the tangy 'cheese.'

Recipe under the cut!

Patreon | Tip jar

Ingredients:

For the paneer:

1 10-14oz block firm tofu

1 Tbsp apple cider vinegar

1 Tbsp white miso paste

½ tsp salt

Mustard oil, or other neutral oil, to fry

For the dish:

3 Tbsp mustard oil

2 Indian bay leaves (tej patta)

1 black cardamom pod (badi elaichi / moti elaichi)

3 cloves (loung)

2 1/2 tsp very finely ground fennel (saunf)

1 tsp ground ginger (sund)

1-2 Tbsp Kashmiri red chili powder (lal mirch)

Salt to taste

Pinch asafoetida (hing)

2” piece (3g) Ceylon cinnamon (dalchini)

1 1/2 cup (350mL) water

Essential to this dish are Kashmiri chili powder, fennel, and ginger, with clove and black cardamom also being near-ubiquitous. Other frequent inclusions are hing, bay leaf, cinnamon, coriander, green cardamom, and garam masala, as well as tomato puree and even yoghurt.

Kasmiri red chili powder is relatively mild in heat but vibrant in color; it can be found in a halal or Asian foods store, labelled “Kashmiri chilli powder” or “mirchi.” You can also remove the stems and seeds of dried Kashmiri chilis and grind them into a powder yourself. Made with 1 Tbsp chili powder, the dish is to my taste very mild; however, if you don't tolerate spice well you may replace some of the chili powder with paprika. If you can't find Kashmiri chili powder, replace it with 1 part ground guajillo or cayenne to 3 parts sweet or smoked paprika.

Indian bay leaves are distinct from Turkish or California laurel bay leaves and have a different taste and fragrance. They will be labelled “tej patta” in an Asian or halaal grocery store, and have three vertical lines running along them from root to tip, rather than radiating out diagonally from a central vein. Omit these if you don’t have any.

When testing this recipe, I found that the fennel had to be very finely ground for it to have the necessary thickening quality for this dish. If you’re grinding fennel from seeds, be sure to be very thorough.

Note that asafoetida may not be gluten free, depending on whether it is cut with flour.

Instructions:

1. Cut tofu into pieces 2" x 2" x 1/2" (5cm x 5cm x 1cm) in size. Whisk vinegar and miso paste together in a large bowl until well combined, then add tofu pieces and mix gently to coat.

2. Heat 1/4" (1/2cm) mustard oil in a large pan on medium. Add tofu and fry, turning once, until deep golden brown on all sides.

Typically paneer would be kept in water to avoid drying out at this stage, and paneer soaking water would be added later in the cooking process. I haven’t found this necessary or helpful with tofu.

3. Remove most of the oil from the pan, leaving 3 Tbsp to 1/4 cup. Add hing and allow to sizzle briefly. Add whole spices (black cardamom, cinnamon, bay leaf, cloves) and fry for a minute until fragrant.

4. Mix mirchi with a couple tablespoons of water. Reduce heat to low and add mirchi paste; fry for 30 seconds until fragrant. Add ground fennel and ginger and stir until well-combined; the mixture should begin to thicken. Continue frying until the water has evaporated out and colored oil begins to sizzle around the sides of the mixture.

5. Add 1 1/2 cup (350mL) water and salt to taste and raise heat to bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes, uncovered, until thickened (a spatula pushed along the bottom of the pan should make a track that holds for several seconds). Add paneer and optionally simmer for another couple of minutes. Serve with rice.

The dish will look duller at first; the bright red colour appears when it is allowed to rest and a layer of red oil rises to the surface.

#vegan cooking #vegan recipes #recipes #Indian #Kashmiri #tofu #miso paste #Kashmiri chili powder #gluten free

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thana-topsy · 10 months

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A Conversation on Grief

Had this little scene spring to life in my head yesterday while going through bouts of personal melancholy, and it was an absolute joy (despite the tone) to revisit my beloved Father and Son Duo.

A quiet moment between Aerik and Nilandur. On AO3 for those who prefer to read it there. Below the cut for anyone else who still cares about these two and have wondered what they might be getting up to.

The sun had long since set when the bell at the downstairs backdoor rang unexpectedly. Nilandur had just settled into his chair for the evening, a warm cup of tea in hand.

“Who in the world might that be?” asked Erandur from across the room. He was in the process of drying their dinner dishes, rag still in hand.

“I haven’t the faintest,” said Nil, setting his tea down and getting to his feet once more.

“Want me to come with you?” Erandur offered.

“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

Nilandur descended the stairs silently, knees soft, his robe shushing across the freshly swept floorboards. He passed through the shop’s backroom and peered cautiously through the peephole. He could make out Aerik’s profile through the blurred glass and the dark night around him.

“Oh!” He unlatched the lock and opened the door. “Aerik! What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” Because something was wrong. Aerik’s eyes were puffy, his shoulders hunched in an unusual posture.

“Why’s something gotta be wrong?” his son countered with a forced smirk. “Maybe I just wanted to visit.”

“At this hour?” Nilandur gave him an emploring look, glancing over his shoulder, then back to his son. “Did… you want to come in?”

Aerik hesitated, and something vulnerable and frightened passed across his expression, before he roughly wiped his nose against his arm and shrugged. “Nah,” he said. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“No!” Nilandur stepped forward to grab him by the shoulders. “Don’t say that. I’m very happy you’re here! I’m just–you have me a bit worried, is all. Is–” He swallowed the cold lump that had materialized in his throat. “Is everything alright…at home?”

“With Tel?” Aerik let out a watery laugh. “Oh yeah, don’t worry about that. He actually sent me over here. Or, well, he didn’t send me. Gently suggested it. Encouraged.” Aerik looked away with another laugh, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Aerik,” Nilandur said softly, running his thumbs in soothing circles over the front of his shoulders. “Come in, please. I’ll make us some tea.”

“Erandur up?”

“Yes, but we’ll sit down in the shop. Please.” He tugged gently, pulling him forward. “Come.”

After briefly skittering upstairs to let Erandur know that all was well, that it was just Aerik, and that they’d need some privacy, he’d stolen a quick kiss before nimbly descending the stairs once again. He found Aerik wandering around the darkened storefront, peering aimlessly into ingredient jars.

“It’s kind of spooky in here at night,” he observed. “All these jars full of mystery ingredients.”

“Well, there’s no mystery, Aerik, they’re labeled.”

“Yeah, you know I don’t read.”

Nilandur huffed a laugh. “That is a bold lie for a bard to tell.”

Aerik just waved a hand at him with a smirk. “So, what’s on the menu?”

Nilandur chose a new blend he’d been working on as their tea for the evening. It had a warming effect—a base of roasted snowberry and crushed dragon’s tongue with an imported spice mixture from Hammerfell—burnt and earthy on the first sip that settled into a lingering sweetness, slightly energizing without causing the jitters. Aerik stared into his cup without taking a sip, bouncing his leg nervously beneath the table. Nilandur waited, taking a sip of his own tea and breathing deeply.

“It’s the, uh…” Aerik began unprompted. “It’s the anniversary of her death. Mom’s.”

Nilandur’s stomach hardened, his fingers tightening imperceptibly around his own tea bowl. “Ah…” he said after a moment of silence stretched between them, thin and delicate like a spider’s thread. “How long–?”

“Seventeen years,” Aerik said before he could finish.

Nil tucked his lips around his teeth, his gaze falling to the table.

“I kind of thought,” he continued, his leg still bouncing. “I thought it would get easier as I got older, y’know? But now I’m just–I’m getting closer and closer to the age she was when she–” He hissed through his teeth, clenched his jaw against the crack in his voice. Cleared his throat. “And I just want to talk to her. I just wish I could… talk. Ask her about her life more than I did. About my grandparents. About–” He gestured into the empty air before letting his hand fall against the table with a soft thud. “Anything.”

Nilandur continued his silence, judging his place in this conversation. He was Aerik’s father, yes, but he rarely felt as though he’d properly earned such a title. Empty condolences over the death of a woman he hadn’t seen in over fifty years would ring too hollow. Too practiced.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever told you about your grandparents on my side, have I?” he began softly, staring down into his tea. “Mostly because they aren’t terribly pleasant.”

“You can if you want,” Aerik said after a loud sniff. “Or not. It’s fine.”

Nilandur took another quick sip of tea, cleared his throat, then looked up to meet Aerik’s eyes. “I was disowned.”

Aerik lifted his brows slowly, his expression settling into something both surprised and interested. “You have not mentioned that before.”

Nilandur couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, it’s not a pleasant tale. And after living outside of Summerset for over a century, it’s all painfully ridiculous to look back on. The reasoning for it all, I mean.”

“And what was the reasoning?”

Nilandur offered a small, delicate shrug, drumming his fingers lightly on the rim of his tea bowl. “I’m a naturally inquisitive person. I had far too many questions concerning the ever-tightening control the Thalmor had over our lives.”

“And they disowned you for asking too many questions?” Aerik pressed. His leg’s bouncing had slowed to an occasional jiggle and he absently took a sip of his tea. “Oh,” he looked down into the cup, then took another sip, pausing to swish the liquid from cheek to cheek (making Nilandur wince). “Nil, that’s pretty good. That’s really good.”

“Thank you, dear. And, no, they didn’t disown me for asking too many questions. But it practically became an ideological battle field in our household. It escalated to the point of no return when they attempted to destroy my collection of religious books.”

“The Thalmor?”

“No, my parents. My father, specifically. I was quite grown at that point, but unwed, much to their persistent disappointment. So I was living under their roof.” Nilandur sighed.

“Hey, you really stuck it to them then,” Aerik said with a conspiratorial grin, his tears forgotten. “Knocked up a Nord woman and then bagged yourself a Dunmer husband? So proud of you, pops.”

Nilandur felt heat creep into his cheeks and ears. “Please don’t say it like that,” he said with a laugh. “You make me sound like some sort of rapscallion. Might I remind you that I spent nearly forty years of my life on an island of monks?”

“Are the Psijics celebate?”

Nilandur groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Aerik, please.”

“Kidding, Nil. Lighten up.” He took another sip of tea, leaning back in his chair, his shoulders relaxing. “So, book-snatching. I assume you didn’t let them?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed over the years that I’m not well-known for my ability to stand up for myself.”

“I’ve noticed, yeah.”

“Well, they found my limit that day.”

Aerik let out a low whistle. “What did you do?”

“Well, nothing too outlandish. Mostly just loudly protested their actions and forcibly reclaimed my property. I was then given an ultimatum: surrender the contraband and live under their roof, or keep my illicit knowledge and leave.”

“What kind of books were these?” Aerik asked. “Also, can I have some more?” He pushed the tea bowl across the table and pressed his hands together politely.

“Funny enough, they were rather tame,” Nilandur continued as he refilled Aerik’s cup. “At least by today’s standards. But a few very openly questioned the prevailing dogma that the Thalmor were pushing. So, they were quite illegal.” He laughed self-consciously and handed Aerik the refilled tea bowl. “Illegal knowledge has always been a ridiculous concept to me. Ironically enough, it was the same philosophy that drove me away from the Psijics—this idea of hoarding knowledge, keeping it hidden away under lock and key.”

“You don’t think some knowledge deserves to be kept hidden?” Aerik asked. There was a curious tone to his question—something unsaid—as if he were conducting a test. It gave Nilandur pause.

“Well… I do believe there is such a thing as dangerous knowledge. And I believe these things work best under the guidance of those who are wise enough to provide it. Take Urag gro-Shub, for instance. He is a Lorekeeper, yes, but he acts as a funnel as opposed to a gate. He can guide students appropriately. Or, at least, he has tried his best over the years.” Nilandur chuckled fondly. “I do hope he’s well.”

“We’ll have to pay him a visit sometime,” Aerik said with a soft smirk. “It’s been too long since I’ve properly bothered the old geezer.” He heaved a heavy sigh, sitting back in his seat. “Thanks for telling me all that. I like hearing about your past, you know.”

“Well, I did have a point in bringing all that up. We just wandered a little off the path.”

“What point was that, then?”

Nilandur refilled his tea bowl, brow drawn as he prepared to broach the topic once more. “Grief,” he began. “Is more complicated than I think most believe.”

Aerik went still and silent. Nilandur didn’t look up from his cup.

“I grieve the loss of my parents, though it’s very likely they are both still alive. I grieve what wasn’t there, what could have been. I grieve the pain that they surely endured in their own lives before they ever came together to create me.” He sighed softly through his nose. “And as you said, I expected it to become easier with time. But it does not. I wish that I could tell you that it does.

“Instead, I find that grief feels more like… the ebb and flow of the sea. There are days when the water is high and you are drowning. You are drowning and you cannot see the shore—there is only wave after wave crashing over your head and the dark, fathomless depths beneath you as you struggle to keep your head above water—to even breathe.

“Then, there are days when the tides recede and you’re left gasping on the beach, shaking and drenched but alive. Surrounded by the wreckage of your grief. But you pick up the scattered pieces along the shoreline and you rebuild. And slowly, eventually, when the tides return, you are better prepared. You become a stronger swimmer, I suppose. But the tides will always come back—that is simply something you must accept about grief. But they will also recede.”

When Nilandur finally looked up, tears had returned to Aerik’s eyes, and he briefly worried that he’d made things worse. Then Aerik cracked a smile. A tear broke free and slid down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away.

“That’s some good stuff, Nil. Ever consider the Bards College? In Solitude? I’m sure you’ve heard of it. I could write you a recommendation.”

Nilandur laughed, though tears blurred his vision as well. “Yes, I hear your name carries weight there.”

“So,” Aerik said after a moment. “Are you… a strong swimmer?”

Nilandur laughed again—a watery, pathetic sound even to his own ears—and shrugged a little helplessly. “I don’t think so, no. If I’m honest, I feel like I’m drowning most days.”

They both fell silent, each staring into their respective cups. Nilandur swallowed around the tightness in his throat, the weight of his own melancholy threatening to drag him fully beneath the waves in that moment. He came to you for comfort, and you’ve made this about yourself. He took a shaky sip of tea, a tear escaping the corner of his eye before he could stop it.

“Forgive me, Aerik,” he whispered.

Aerik rubbed a hand roughly across his eyes and straightened with a loud sniff. “Whatever it is you’re asking forgiveness for, you’ve got it.” He got to his feet, eyes downcast, but motioned for Nilandur to get up. “C’mon.”

Nilandur pushed shakily to his feet. “What–” Aerik’s arms were around him before he could finish the sentence, pressing his damp cheek to Nil’s shoulder. His hugs were always just shy of too-tight, but for once Nilandur gladly accepted the crushing embrace, returning it as best he could. Aerik was a large man, though still an inch or so shorter than him. He rested his temple against Aerik’s head, running a hand soothingly up and down his son’s back.

“I love you so much, Aerik. Always come to me when you need to. Even if I offer terrible support.”

“You offer great support, fuck off,” Aerik replied with choked amusement.

They pulled away and Nilandur took Aerik’s face into his hands, wiping away the tear tracks. “You look so much like her, you know.” It was a melancholy observation. “And you act like her, Divines help us all. It’s uncanny,” he laughed through the emotion. “She’s alive and well within you.”

Aerik nodded, expression pained but hopeful. “Yeah, I guess that’s how it works.” He put space between them with a cough and an overly expressive stretch. “Well, I think I’ve kept you from your adoring husband for long enough.”

“Oh, please, Aerik. Don’t feel like you have to run off. Would you like to come up and visit for a bit? I can make more of the same tea if you’d like.”

“Nah, it’s late. I should get back to my own adoring husband, though, y’know. He tries to play it cool on the whole ‘adoring’ aspect.”

Nilandur smiled warmly. “Please give Teldryn my regards.”

He sent Aerik home with a jar of the new tea blend after finally convincing him to come upstairs to say hello to Erandur. Then, after a few more lighthearted farewells, he was on his way back to Breezehome. Nilandur watched him from the upstairs window as he made his way out of the market and down the main thoroughfare. Anxiety gnawed at his nerves, his stomach sour with regret.

“Love,” came Erandur’s deep rumble from behind him. Warm arms encircled his waist and lips pressed between his shoulders.

“I don’t know if I helped or made it worse,” Nilandur confessed.

“You helped.”

Nilandur turned around and allowed himself to be pulled down for a kiss—soft, reassuring. He let out a shaky breath and forced a smile. “I’ll trust you to tell me the truth.”

“Always,” Erandur said with a soft laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Nilandur’s ear.

Nilandur kissed him again. “Thank you.”

#topsy writes #topsy's oc #nilandur #aerik havardr #skyrim #skyrim fanfiction

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