alright y'all, putting this recipe idea here so that i don't forget about it when the time comes: duck thighs braised in chili-ginger mead, with a side of stirfried white cabbage, mushrooms (king oyster seems to be what the shop is offering atm though if they got chantarelles than def that), parsnips, and lightly toasted chopped walnuts, with the leftover braising liquid reduced to a sauce (maybe? with some milk product? i wanna balance the sweet of the mead a bit so maybe a creme fraiche?) with some sage and nutmeg for additional herb because i wanna lean on earthy, warm notes without using many 'sweet' spices or herbs in there. probably gonna be browning the duck on the skin side before it goes to braising so that 1) i get some color and flavour 2) i can use the duckfat to fry the veg in later for maximum flavour extraction
i got the mead in the mail and taste-tested it and oh god it's so good? the chili and ginger are a subtle heat that goes real well with the sweetness of the honey and i think it'll be like, real good with the duck so next week? time for some Shopping
1) due to being technically-undead, catnip does nothing for Mod. She still plays with the toys tho because it makes Matt happy to watch her 2) Ariel can cook but by god you should nto let him cook for anyone else, he's liable to try and season to match whatever emotion he's currently tasting, not what the food actually would need in terms of seasoning
3) Geme would very much like to have a dog, but they don't live very long and it just makes her incredibly sad. She's been eyeing up those turtles that can live 200 years, but the logistics of keeping that as a private person are pretty tricky, so mostly she takes patronages from zoos and goes in at night to pet the animals.
4) Elizaveta's and Eloise's both play videogames! Eloise's a big fan of things that involve voice chat, and always uses it, the more people the better. The advent of MMOs was agift for her. Elizaveta likes stuff she can do on her own, particularily puzzle games 5) Matt's favoruite book is The Last Unicorn 6) The Towerraven has made sure that all the birds at the tower can cuss out tourists that litter. He even made sure to teach different birds different language so that everyone can get called a pig in their native tongue.
7) Njall is a very passionate LARPer and DM. 8) Destiny!Matt is on Probation with the corsairs because he plant-burgled Mara's garden. That's not stopped him. 9)Ena's favourite food is sour gummis, the more aggressive the better
10) Mod is in a cold war Situation with a pair of Robins nesting in tge big willow. They don't know fear and she likes having eyes.
Recipe for Mead Braised Duck Leg (because it's like really good and i gotta write it down somewhere) Spoiler needs, for one person: 1 duck leg half a small onion quarter of a white cabbage handful of mushrooms (king oyster but chantarelles would be good to) a large parsnip handufl of chopped walnuts 300ml mead (used chili-ginger flavoured) a generous tbs of creme fraiche potentially a lil water sage, salt, pepper, nutmeg for seasoning do: toast your chopped walnuts in a dry pan until fragrant, then reserve in a bowl put duck leg in the pan on medium-high, skin side down to render out some fat. Leave it there until nice crustification happens. While that's going down, pour your mead into a small pot that fits your leg and warm on low heat. Use the time to chop up your onion and peel/cut your parsnip into bite sized chunks. Flip duck leg over to get some crustification on the meat side too, once that has happened, transfer it into your warmed mead and turn mead up to medium heat. Put a lid on it and ignore it for the time being. Turn heat on the pan down to low. Put your parsnips in the pan with some salt, stir-fry for a few minutes, then add onions, stir. While this is going, cut your cabbage into 'ribbons'. After about ten minutes add your cabbage to the pan, stir in. Add a bit more salt. Chop your mushrooms while this is going. after another ten minutes, add your mushrooms and stir them in. Check to see how the liquid level on your duck is looking. Add a splash of water if it's too low, flip duck leg over. Lid goes back on the duck, for another ten minutes or so while veg also continues on low heat. once veg is done (parsnip soft, mushrooms browned, cabbage still got some bite), throw in your toasted walnuts, stir. turn heat on the duck pot up to high, remove lid. We're reducing this now. Remove duck into veg pan, on lowest possible setting just to keep it warm. Add your creme fraiche to the braising liquid, stir in. Reduce that baby down however far you want it, taste for seasoning. put veg onto plate, duck on top, spoon sauce over generously. NOM
I've been using one of my many, many fleece blankets are a makeshift body pillow and it's freaking brilliant. I sleep much more soundly and wake up well rested even after like five hours of sleep, and much reduced the lower back pain. Granted, now my upper back's like 'wtf my dude' but i think that's because it's not yet used to getting forcibly course corrected for hours at a time. Overall very successful Experiment though!
You can tell that it's Winter because my lips feel like sandpaper and just split when i smiled at a tumblr post
okay here we go setting is Destiny, specifically post Forsaken to mind spoilers for that? Also: gore, interspecies violence, allusions to cannibalism, general violence and hive being hive Spoiler There were Lightbearers in the Nest. She only knew because In Anahn was furious, her screams echoing through the Tunnels. Her rage was palpable in the air, sheer hatred choking everyone who got too close. It was more than just the presence of the enemy in her dominion, it was the death of her consort calling for vengeance. Hiraks death had shaken her, Shermi knew this. She also knew to shut her mouth about it and stay out of sight, keep her arms tucked close and her face turned down. It didn't stop her from coming to fight. Cowardice was death, and the brood Queen would know who had obeyed...and who would be punished. Now Shermi was perched on a rock ledge, rifle in the bent of her arm. She wanted to aim, to pull the trigger. But the Lighttouched were quick, efficient. Just three of them, but they tore through the swarm like it was cobwebs. Miniaturen stars bloomed on the ground and reduced a group of Thralls to ash. Lightning enveloped one of the Lightbearers like a shell and arched into an Oger. Its seething mass of eyes exploded into charred chunks and rained down, just before the rest of the head followed. Purple Voidlight pulled at a wizard's shield like a blackhole sucking in a star, then dragged her to the ground, into easy reach of a slender sword. It pinned her through the head. For another few seconds she still twitched, but the fight had already moved on. It had taken less than five seconds. Less than a minute for the fighting to move across the open area and further into the Tunnels. Shermi sat back, shaking. She'd fought plenty of times before, she was good at it, Blades and guns and sheer claws brought to bear against her hatchmates for food, or space, or bare survival. It wasn't the same as this. Fighting it was like trying to fight a solar storm. She'd die. She didn't want to. She was still frozen in that ledge when another scream echoed through the Nest. It was In Anahn, and there was pain in that voice. Shermi had never heard her like this. Not when the message of Hiraks' death had reached them, reality shivering with the death of a Throneworld. Nit when another litter of Thralls had been weak and useless. No, this was a death knell, and Shermi could feel it in her soul. The broodqueen was dead. The Nest descended into Chaos. Within hours, most of the Nest was dead. Sure, the Lightbearers had helped, but mostly? Mostly the Hive had torn itself apart. The swarm rounded on its weakest members, a dozen Wizards vying for the position of broodqueen and trying to secure it any which way, halfway between bloodrage and breeding frenzy. Shermi tried to flee. She'd seen enough of her ilk, marked by ether, torn to pieces by those Hive not 'sullied' by Fallen blood. She knew that the only way to survive was to get away. She wrapped herself in scavenged cloth and crawled up the tunnels. It went slow, she had to pause and crawl up walls to hide from roving Acolytes, Knights with the strange petrol blood of the crossbred on their swords. A wizard, sandwiched between more Knights, screaming in pleasure at being bred, or maybe just the pleasure of plunging her claws into the Knight beneath her until he stopped moving. Not that that stopped her. Shermi clung to the ceiling to get past them It took hours for the ascent, but finally she reached the mouth of the cave, opening into desolate wreckage and the familiar shape of healthy nest-growth. It was brighter than expected, forcing her to wrap some of her cloth over her eyes to shield them and take cover in the lee of a torn up engine until the expanse of sky above her stopped being so disorienting. It felt like it would suck her up into the void if her feet left the ground for more than a second. It took nearly a day before she could bring herself to move. Slowly, carefully she crept forward, always in the shade of the wreckage. By now the Nest was scattered enough that others moved in. Fallen in strangely spikey uniforms, Cabal in heavy dropships. Scorn. Those she was most afraid off. They smelled strange, rotten, in a way that made even her stomach turn. The big, lumbering ones seemed almost like ogers, beasts of combat, walking siege engines but little more. Shermih avoided them all as best she could, but it meant moving slowly, carefully, and she was still too close to the Nest, always too close. But it wasn't the other hive who got her in the end. It was the Fallen, and the sirensong of their ether tanks. Her hunger had driven her close before, but it was much easier to grab a dreg from the edges of a camp, drag them into a cave and tear out the throat before any scream. The flesh was good, sweet with ether, and much better than Psions - always screaming in her head as she bit down - or though-skinned warbeasts. But it wasn't enough. Every day she grew hungriger, shorter of breath, dizzy, until it was impossible to ignore. She needed Ether. And Shermih knew where to find it. It was a camp of the spikey Fallen. She knew by now that they belonged to the Spider's Nest, sigil emblazoned onto ships, cloaks and pikes. She snuck close, picked one of the patrolling Fallen - Vandal, but barely, secondary arms weak still. Her own twitched at the thought, but the Hunger demanded swift action. Shermih took a rock and threw it. Enough noise to warrant a check. Not enough to warrant more than one patrol. The vandal approached carefully, eyes scanning across the landscape, but she was pressed into a hollow, ratty, dirty fabric hiding her well enough. The vandal only saw her when it was too late. One moment the landscape was empty, the next a strange creature rose from the dirt, three eyes glowing blue in the darkness. They tried to bring their gun to bear, but she was faster, stronger, and more desperate. Her hands closed around four wrists, crushing the secondaries in her haste. Her mouth opened wide, flashing needle teeth and thicker fangs for a second before sinking into her victim's neck. The plates protecting big veins cracked and filled her mouth with etherlaced blood. She wanted the real thing, needed it, but this was already enough. Shermih dragged the vandal down under her weight and just kept biting at their throat. There was no struggle, not anymore, but she kept going, chasing the taste of ether and its sustenance. Before long, the neck gave entirely, head rolling away uselessly, eyes dark. It lasted perhaps half a dozen heart beats, until the body stilled entirely and the blood stopped flowing. For a second she was tempted to lick the spilled fluid off the rocks. But no. No she needed the ether. Her head had cleared enough that she could do it. The nearest cache was only a few meters away... Shermih crawled over the corpse, six limbs spidered out to keep her low to the ground as she crept closer to the tanks. She could smell the ether, sweet and electric, enough to make her mouth water and pulse spike. This. She wanted this. Fallen blood just didn't compare. The circle of light of the camp didn't reach the caches entirely. If she pressed to the ground just so, thought quiet, hungry thoughts and moved slowly...yes. She stayed in the blind corners and it was so tempting to move faster, grab a small can and dart away but it wouldn't be enough. So slow she went, whispering promises of future feasts to herself until she finally reached the tanks. They were cool to the touch, and crystals of if had gathered at the valves. Impure, yes. But easy to store and better than nothing. Shermih pried them off as carefully as she could, long claws leaving blood on the metal, and pocketed them one by one, until she had maybe a handful. One she ate immediately, letting the chemical melt in her mouth as she tried to lever an access latch open as quietly possible. It worked well enough. Ether flowed out of the opening, heavier than air, forming a little puddle that she just stuck her face in to inhale. Immediately her head cleared and the Hunger receded, leaving her blissed out if the ground, face still in the slowly growing cloud. What if she just stayed here? The crew....well she killed one of them, she could kill the rest too. Then she'd have meat and their gear...at least some nicer cloth to wrap around herself, perhaps some weapons or at least ammo? The Pikes.....the thought made her giggle. A pike would be nice, all her own...she could go anywhere in the reef, hole up and grow stronger until her ether was used up and she needed to hunt down a new supply. Her dreams were interrupted by the whining noise of Arcspears being fired up. Her head jerked up, out of the Ether puddle. For a second she just stared at the Fallen holding it, on the other side of the tank. They looked surprised, all four eyes widening, hands tightening on the spear. That was all the time Shermih needed to whirl around and run, close to the ground, more nimble than her bulky plating would have anyone suspect. She thought she was safe when the circle of light of the camp faded behind her, but the moment she was cowering behind some half-buried rock, the telltale sound of Pikes started approaching. It was so unfair. She hadn't even taken that much ether, and the Fallen could spare it! She could pick out three pike engines, and maybe they would go past... She pressed further into the shadow of the rock, thinking quite thoughts once more. Go past. I'm not here. Nothing is here but rocks and dust. Go past. They did, three pikes speeding past her, lights scanning the ground. She relaxed as they vanished into the dark. It didn’t take long before the sound was swallowed by the constant creak and gnash of asteroids lashed together and struggling to escape their bonds. She exhaled slowly and turned back towards the camp. Maybe now that the pikes were out she could go and get some more ether…. She made it all of two steps before a bullet hit her in the shoulder and threw her to the ground with a strangled screech of pain. What-? A foot came down on top of her spine and pressed her deeper into the dirt even as she tried to wind out from underneath it. The one on top of her was heavy, smelled of ether, some sort of captain? She twisted enough to catch a glance. Yes. Captain. Spikey. Angry. Shermih lashed out with her primary arm to try and claw at that leg and make them get off her. She had to get away. Before the pike- her thought was cut off by a shockspear jabbed into her lower back, right between the armour plates. It cut through the worn fabric and flesh, splattering petrol blood over the dust. She shrieked in pain, and this time her claws found their target, tearing at the Captain’s leg. They stepped back and she scrambled up and away. It tore the spear through her flesh even more, and she felt things shift inside her, but only dimly. “Filthy.” The captain hissed at her, rough and full of rage. “Hivebred abomination.” And that was only what she understood, the rest Fallen clicks and chitters she had no idea. Not that she cared. No, it was more important to get away, so she whirled, found herself faced with a wall of more Fallen, cutting off escape with spears and guns. She still tried, lunging forward only to get jerked back at the captain grabbed her makeshift cloak and pulled her back hard enough for the fabric to cut into her throat. They all but threw her to the ground again, rocks digging into the open wound in her back, but any scream was cut off when that heavy food connected with her stomach again and knocking the air out of her. The claws cut into her skin too, more blood soaking her fabrics. But she still grabbed onto that food, primary and secondary hands clenching. Her claws were sharp, and cut through the leather wrappings, the skin, the flesh underneath, to the hard bone and then she raked them back. The captain reared back with a shout of pain, and the motion flung her further. Far enough to be past the ring of Fallen. Far enough to run. She didn’t bother to get up, her back felt like it was on fire, like she’d break apart if she tried to stand. But she skittered, still fast, still desperate to get away. Another shout rose behind her, and bullets rained down around, shockgrenades, wire rifle shots. Shermih threw herself to the side, felt more skin tear at the sudden motion but she couldn’t stop. If she stopped, she would die. It didn’t matter. The blade of the arcsword nailed her through the right leg and buried deep into the ground. The charge surged through her, arching her spine in a single violent spasm. Her injured leg convulsed like it wasn’t even part of her anymore, the current burning her flesh. It smelled atrocious, smoking blood and skin. It smelled like when the Lightbearers had torn through the nest. Twisting around hurt like nothing she’d ever know. It hurt more than when a Knight had stepped on her when she’d still been a softskinned Thrall. She caught a peek at something soft and pale-blue bulging forward from her side where the spear had cut into her. But she couldn’t care about that, only about getting at the arcsword in her leg, the handle the blade, try and tear it free and only cutting her own fingers up in the process. The captain was approaching her slowly, limping on their injured foot. They’d throw the sword through her and still embedded it deep enough into her leg that she couldn’t pull it free. For a split second she wondered if her leg would give first, free her like that, but then how would she run? Still, she swiped at the Fallen that approached her, hissed at the jeers she didn’t understand. She caught a few more of them, cuts across their arms and legs before they grew wise and stood back, throwing rocks, or hitting her with their spears until she was all but blind from blood and pain. Not even the Captain tried to get close to her until she was barely moving anymore. The dust around her had long since turned to mud with her blood, somehow burning even more in her wounds. What blood was left in her was rushing in her skull, the entire world tinged blue and grey at the edges as she looked up at the approaching captain with a hiss. But her hands couldn’t come up anymore, and she couldn’t remember if it was because the stones had broken her arms, or not. It felt like it had. It felt like everything in her had been broken. The rushing in her head got louder, the captain now haloed by a bright red light as they reached down to yank the sword out of her leg, lift it high- she hissed and that was all the breath she’d had left. The world went dark before the sword came down. ------ She came to in the light. Everything was bright above her, and hurt. Pain radiated up from her leg, pulsed up her spine, stabbed through her eyes like a burning triangle. She closed them again with a sound of pain that only wasn’t louder because her throat was as raw as everything else on her. “Careful, little one.” The voice beside her was soft, and had the same insect-chirr of all Fallen, but the words were the trade language of the Shore, many tongues twisted together. Shermih jerked back from it, or tried to. The motion was aborted by the walls around her, and that had her open her eyes again. The first thing she was the ceiling above her, curved and many-times overpainted. Then the walls around the...cot? Was that the word? She was lying on. It was soft. Her eyes drifted to the side, towards the voice. She almost jerked back again. It was another captain, even larger than the one who had- hadn’t killed her, it seemed. This one leaned down slowly. “Easy. You’re hurt, little hiveling. A healer will come soon, but you most hold still. We will not hurt you, if you do not hurt us. Do you understand?” She found herself nodding every so slightly, yes falling closed again from sheer exhaustion, as if that little motion had taken all her energy again. She couldn’t fight this, even if she’d found the will to. After a second, a soft touch landed on her forehead, just above her eyes. Just a light little touch tracing the edge of some plating. “Good.” The voice sounded satisfied, and the touch stayed on her. After a moment, the voice started humming softly. A bit uneven, but it seemed to settle right into her mind like a soothing blanket.
