Mandarins

Original writings and artwork by Tolkien fans.
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Black Númenórean
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The origin of the slightly peculiar thread title comes from when I was creating this thread on the OG plaza and intended to write 'Maunderings,' but I typoed, it was autocorrected to 'Mandarins,' and I went with it.

Originally this was a photography/visual arts thread, but this time it'll be a catchall, since this is a catchall forum. So stay tuned for fiction, fanfiction, poetry, sword stuff, whip stuff, baking stuff, photos, and who knows what else. Can't promise how frequently I'll post, but I'll post!

Enjoy :grin:



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Table of Contents


Plaza Characters History/Development:
May be found in Tavari Tales!

Fanfiction
With You (Naruto, Kakashi/Sakura, ~5000 words)
Martin (Redwall, ~1600 words)

Food/Recipes
WIP Sourdough Bread
Asiago Dill Sourdough
Tomato Basil Sauce
Last edited by Moriel on Tue May 26, 2020 4:59 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

Black Númenórean
Points: 2 528 
Posts: 1866
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 3:21 am
I've never been a terribly prolific author of fanfiction, but I write it. Anyone else like Naruto? I love Naruto. Kakashi has always been my favorite character, and Kakashi/Sakura my favorite pairing (with everyone being consenting adults obviously). I also love a good songfic. So when Avril Lavigne's I'm With You came on while I was running last spring (this fic is over a year old! How did that happen?!) my mind started spinning (running's good for that) and this was the result. It's a one shot, ignores Boruto, and diverges from canon towards the end of Shippuden. Spoilers through the end of Shippuden. It's 5000 words long, so bring a snack! Warning, feels ahead.

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With You


Rain in Konoha could be the sign of rebirth, a freshening of the soil that fed the roots of the trees from which the village gained its life, empowering the Hidden Leaf and all its inhabitants. But this was no such rain: this day, the rain had come down heavy and cold, not a breeze stirring the leaves, but a chill biting deep into any exposed flesh. Winter gripped the Leaf deeply, drenching the village in a stinging lash that was just short of snow. Windows and doors were shut tight against it and chimneys seeped tentative smoke into the twilight, residents attempting to drive out the chill as night began to fall. Not a soul trod the streets who did not have to, except one.

Kakashi was sixteen.

Konoha had been rebuilt for the most part by now. The Leaf was resilient, but despite its recovery from the Kyuubi’s attack, it would never be the same. The academy he had graduated from had been razed by the fox, and future students would never try to sit quietly in the back row of classroom three in the bench that squeaked no matter how little you moved, or compare the wall paint to different shades of snot, or find the elaborately decorated KH he had carved into one of its desks. The city had been rebuilt, yes, but some things could not be.

The Copy-Nin, Sharingan Kakashi, Friend-killer Kakashi, Anbu captain Kakashi, elite jōnin Hatake Kakashi, the sixteen year old orphan boy with the wild silver hair, the scar, and the mystery face, tilted his head back and allowed the rain to soak his face. His hands gripped the railing of the bridge tightly, fingernails attempting to dig into the freshly painted wood. This bridge, too, had been rebuilt- a gathering place now empty of any but himself. Obito was still dead. Rin was still dead. Now Minato-sensei was dead. And Kushina, whom Minato had entrusted him to protect. She was dead, and the demon that had killed her was sealed inside his sensei’s unacknowledged son. Failure. Sometimes it seemed his entire career had been a long succession of failures.

It’s a damn cold night. Kakashi thought, opening his eyes. His hitai-ate was pushed up onto his forehead, exposing eyes both red and black to the sting of the rain. It did not seem to matter whether the rain hissing against his corneas instigated the tears, or whether they fell of their own accord, drawn from the gnawing pit of despair that had taken up residence in his chest. No one would ever see them anyway, not with the rain. He was utterly alone, in any case. There was no one trying to find him or bring him home. Darkness had fallen, only the occasional lamp lighting the streets. The rain hammered down relentlessly, but Kakashi was unaware of the cold, or the sound of the rain on the bridge around him. He closed his eyes again. He had thought more and more often lately that maybe his father had had the right idea… a little bit of lightning in a storm like this, a tumble into the fast moving river below… no one need ever know what had happened to Sakumo’s son. Another missing body to be recorded and forgotten.

Whump.

Just as his fingers had been flexing to initiate a Chidori, something had collided with Kakashi’s leg. He flinched sharply and looked down, jerked out of his reverie, one hand automatically reaching up to slide his hitai-ate down as he realized that the object was no threat. It was not, in fact, and object: it was a person. A girl, he was sure, looking down at the thatch of pink hair that covered the face buried somewhere in his thigh. Her arms were wrapped around his leg, and they squeezed with surprising strength.

“Yo,” he said warily, and the small face turned up to look at him, pale and heart shaped, with large expanse of forehead beneath the pink locks plastered across her face. A pair of concerned jade-green eyes stared up at him. She couldn’t have been more than two or three.

“Don’t be sad. I’m with you.”

“What?” Completely nonplussed, Kakashi stared at the child still wrapped around his leg.

“You looked sad. That’s what my mama always tells me when I’m sad. She says, ‘I’m with you, and it’s all going to be ok.’ So don’t be sad! I’m with you!”

Kakashi’s first instinct was the punt the little girl back across the bridge, but this feeling was quickly shoved aside by something else, something he couldn’t quite describe that filled the pit of his stomach with warmth. It didn’t quite drive away the gnawing in his chest, but did cause the teeth to ease. His eye crinkled upwards into a smile as his lips curved beneath the mask, and despite himself, he reached out to place a hand on top of her head, and ruffled her sopping hair.

“Thank you. I feel better now. Now where-“

“Sakura! Sakura!” A frantic female voice called, and a woman came dashing around the bend in the corner, and skidded to a halt at the base of the bridge. ”Sakura, there you are! What have I told you about running off like that? Oh, shinobi-san, thank you for finding her.” Haruno Mebuki bowed at Kakashi, then beckoned to Sakura. “Come Sakura, let’s get out of this rain!”

“But I didn’t-“ Kakashi began to protest, but the little bundle of pink energy cut him off.

“OK shinobi-san! You go home and have some cocoa and feel better! I’m going to be a ninja when I grow up too!” she executed a slightly wobbly crescent kick, then raced back to her mother. They joined hands and dashed off, alternately scolding and laughing as they faded into the rain. Kakashi stared after them, then thoughtfully formed the seals and shunshined back to his apartment. Surely there was some cocoa hiding in the back of one of his cupboards…

***

Kakashi was twenty-seven.

He stood on the same bridge, and this time, his fingernails did bite into the wood. It was raining. Why did it always rain at times like this? This time it was a steady drizzle, what they called a “soft day” in some parts of the world. It wasn’t winter, so the cold did not bite deep, but a chill still crept up Kakashi’s spine, causing the flesh to creep. He shuddered, and the trickle of water that had been threatening the bottom of his hairline broke loose, cascading down his back through the gap between vest and shirt his movement had caused. The chilly water soaked through the fabric instantly, causing it to cling to the groove of his spine between the muscles of his back. Tiny splinters forked up from the railing and drove themselves beneath his fingernails. Kakashi turned his face up to the darkening sky.

Why?

“Sensei?”

The voice startled him, almost as much as the fact that he had not sensed anyone’s approach. He lowered his chin and turned to look, though he already knew who it was. Sakura stood at the edge of the bridge, questions in her eyes. Her hair lay limp against her head and neck, and he could tell that she, too, had been out in the rain for a long time.

“Sakura. What are you doing out in weather like this?”

Kakashi’s eye crinkled in its signature not-quite-real smile. His student’s mouth twitched, then curved upward as well. It was a small hint of her usual broad smile, but it was something.

“The same as you I think, Kakashi-sensei. Thinking. Missing them. Wondering what’s next. Hoping I might meet their ghosts here.” She stepped onto the bridge and crossed to stand by him, looking out over the river. Kakashi watcher her brow furrow thoughtfully. Her hands were clasped loosely behind her, the fingers of the right curled around the pinky of the left. “I wanted to be alone, and sometimes it seems like the rain helps me think.”

“Well then, I’ll let you-“ He had begun both his sentence and the hand seals to shunshin when she cut him off.

“But I’m glad I ran into you. I have good news!” Sakura smiled a real smile then, turning to face Kakashi. “Tsunade-sama has agreed to take me on as her student!”

“That’s wonderful, Sakura. I’m proud of you.” And he was, the smile genuine this time, skin crinkling all the way back to the hairline at his temple as he slid his hands into his pockets and slouched. “So-“

“So you don’t need to worry about me any more.” Sakura interrupted him for a second time, and now there was something steely about her. He had seen it before, but never quite like this. “Tsunade-sama is going to help be become the strongest kunoichi Konoha has ever seen. I swear it! Sasuke is gone, and Naruto is training with Jiraiya-sama, now I have Tsunade-sama to teach me. I’m going to work harder than anyone else, and earn my place as a shinobi!” He could almost see the shannaro! threatening to escape her, but it was gone as soon as it had come, and her face melted back into a smile. “But sensei,” her eyes crinkled, and she stepped closer to him. “Don’t worry. We’ll always be a team. And I’m with you.”

“Eh?” The sound escaped Kakashi before he could stop it, as the gears of his memory turned rapidly, attempting to parse the phrase from somewhere in his past.

“It’s what my mom says whenever I’m sad or something’s going wrong. She says, ‘I’m with you, and it’s all going to be ok.’ So, I’m with you, sensei. And it’s all going to be ok, someday.” A tear trickled down her face, but even as it did so, this time she really did punch the air. And before he knew what has happening, Sakura had flung her arms around Kakashi’s neck- which was quite a feat at her height- and was hugging him. He stiffened, then slowly relaxed, allowing his arms to gently embrace her shoulders, one hand patting the back of her head.

“And I’m with you, Sakura-chan.”

***

Kakashi was thirty-one.

This was not his first war, and the experience hadn’t improved since last time. Death and destruction carved deep chunks out of his world. So many had died. Obito had come back from the dead, or at least what he had thought was the dead. Naruto blazed with the light of the Nine-Tails, and Sasuke radiated cold power. He had seen Sakura shatter acres of ground with her fist, seen her bring comrades back form the brink of death- bring him back from the brink of death- seen her, Byakugo unfurled, rise high on the head of the massive Katsuyu she had summoned to the field of battle, then leap through the air, illuminated by a massive burst of green chakra, as Katsuyu scattered into thousands of tiny clones, dispatched to heal and protect. He had seen her pierced by Madara, and thought his heart would stop. He had seen the fear in her eyes as they warped dimensions, seen her falling towards a pit of lava and snatched her from the air. He had seen the final shattering of her love for Sasuke when the Uchiha explained that he had only saved her from the Tsukiyomi because she happened to be there. She had always just happened to be there, for him.

Now Kakashi watched Sakura as she watched Naruto and Sasuke battle Kaguya. Her fists were clenched so tightly that blood began to pool under her fingernails. She shook like a brittle leaf in the wind, her eye blazing with fear and determination at once, her depleted body still seeming somehow to radiate with the power of her enormous chakra. This was war. Her first. Hopefully her last. Through the chaos and noise, the blood and the death and the threat of imminent destruction, Kakashi’s world narrowed to his former student’s face, and all everything else seemed to die away, granting him a moment of calm.

“Sakura.” He reached out and squeezed her arm. She turned automatically to look at him, her face still paralyzed. With two black eyes, his smile crinkled the whole of his face above the mask that still shielded his curving lips, the scarred eye tugging lopsidedly. “I’m with you, and it’s all going to be ok.” Sakura’s eyes widened, her mouth forming into a silent O. Then she returned the smile, laying her hand on top of his and giving it a gentle squeeze. When her eyes opened again, her smile had turned into a feral grin, more like a wolf baring its teeth, the roar of battle rose up again, and they both returned to the task at hand.

The sound her fist made when it connected with the back of Kaguya’s head would haunt him forever.

***

Kakashi was thirty-two.

He stood a little ways behind Sakura, hands in pockets, watching. She stood on the path outside the main gate of Konoha, staring at the place from which Sasuke had disappeared. Pardoned of his crimes, he had decided to leave the village, for a time at least, and asked Kakashi not to see him off or let anyone else do so. But he was not surprised to see Sakura there; so unsurprised that it was why he had come. He had known she would and so, for some reason, he must also. The rice-farming committee would be in hysterics that he had skipped out on their meeting, but they would have to get used to his ways sooner or later.

“I know you’re there, Kakashi.”

At some point during the war she had stopped calling him sensei, and it felt right. Kakashi slouched forward to stand next to Sakura, and glanced sideways at her. Her fingers were laced together before her, palms face up. Her eyes were dry, if slightly wistful.

“He’s gone,” she said, unnecessarily.

“Yes,” he replied, with just as little purpose.

“I don’t love him. I haven’t for years now really, but I thought I would just come talk to him one more time, at least try…” Sakura laughed, a bitter tone to her mirth, turning to face him. “Why is everything so confusing? Maybe I’m just out of my mind.”

Kakashi mirrored her motion, and reached out to catch both her hands with his. “Sakura, you’re not out of your mind. I understand… at least I think I understand. It’s confusing and sad and… we worked so hard to bring Sasuke back, and that’s all over now. But don’t worry,” her words came unbidden to his lips, “We’ll always be a team. And I’m with you.” He made to release her hands as he lowered his own, but her left hung firmly onto his right. She turned shining jade eyes upon his quiet black ones as she murmured,

“Take me somewhere new?”

Her burning desire to get out of the village, just for a short time, to leave it all behind, was palpable, and this he understood without question.

“Maa, I think I can get away with one more mission before they pin me to that desk…”

***

Kakashi was thirty-nine.

It was raining on his wedding day, but he didn’t mind. Good things always seemed to happen when it rained. It had been raining, in fact, when he’d asked Sakura to marry him.

Their relationship had grown up slowly, like ivy creeping on a stone wall, growing stronger and more tightly entwined the further it climbed. That day at the gates of Konoha had been the beginning, even if they didn’t realize it at the time. They simply seemed to fall together as though it was the most natural thing in the world- which in the end, of course, it was. Sakura was there throughout his tenure as Hokage, becoming one of his most important advisors. And he in turn supported her efforts to expand the scope of their already cutting-edge hospital and the mental health programs. No one questioned it when they began to walk through the streets hand in hand, when messengers began to find one or the other of them at the opposite home, or when, after his formal resignation as Hokage and Naruto’s elevation, Kakashi stripped off his mask and kissed Sakura for the whole village to see. There were wolf whistles and blushes aplenty, but no one was surprised. They all knew, and the shinobi community bursted with pride that two of its finest had found love with each other.

They began living together without quite noticing. Kakashi had finally returned to his family home, and Sakura had joined him on the project of cleaning, refurbishing, redecorating, and generally restoring the place to a livable condition. She spent many nights there in the process, and gradually more and more of her things began to migrate to the house. When Kakashi vacated his apartment, all of her things that were there ended up in the house. One night when Sakura appeared in his living room with a poof, complaining that she had no pajamas at home, he had casually suggested that they bring the rest of her things over in the morning. And suddenly they had been living in the Hatake family home for six months, then a year, then two years. Sakura was in every part of the place, and he knew it could never be home without her. They were united in a rock-solid, unshakeable faith that they were in this forever. A shinobi’s forever isn’t always very long, but no matter how long theirs was, they would spend it together. And yet, they had never talked about getting married.

Kakashi hadn’t been sure, that day, if he was doing the right thing. He had always been of the opinion that you should talk about getting married before anybody proposed. Sakura had never expressed any particular desire or put any pressure on him to get married… but she’d never said anything against it either. They’d already talked about all the important things: cohabitation clearly worked by now, finances mostly separate, no kids, team before mission, the smell of brussels sprouts was forbidden from the house, muddy dogs must wipe their paws before coming inside, etc. And yet somehow, the question of marriage had never come up. For all intents and purposes they were already married, so why did he feel a burning desire to make it official? He had used a henge when buying the ring, so as to avoid awkward questions from the jeweler. The little velvet box had burned a hole in his pocket, waiting for an opportune moment.

They had planned a picnic that day, walking out to a small lake near the house carrying a basket full of all their favorite things. All of the ninken came with, gamboling about and getting into play fights, running ahead and running back, playing like ordinary dogs in their time off. It began to rain just as they reached the lake, a few pitter-patters here and there. Neither of them was daunted by a little rain, and so they settled on some large rocks near the waters edge, spreading out their rustic banquet under the cover of a handkerchief tent. Kakashi watched Sakura’s hair (she had grown it out again, and today it was half up in many small braids) get slowly wetter and wetter as they laughed and talked and ate. Her skin seemed to sparkle in the greyish light, and he thought she had never looked more perfect. He straightened suddenly, cocking his head.

“I’ll be right back! I hear Bull getting into something.”

Before Sakura could reply, he had darted off into the nearby trees. She shrugged and went back to nibbling at a dango stick, humming softly to herself. Time passed. She finished her dango and leaned back, supporting herself with arms stretched out behind her, the cold surface of the rock somehow comforting beneath her palms. Sakura turned up her face to the rain, allowing it to tickle her closed eyelids as the drizzle began to come down harder and more evenly. She was already wet, so what was the point of hiding under cover?

“Ey, brsh ld-“

A familiar bass voice was struggling to say something, and Sakura immediately sat up and looked around to see Pakkun, trotting towards her on the bank. There was something in his mouth obscuring his speech, and as he halted a few feet away, he spat out a small object onto the muddy ground.

“Hey, boss lady. The boss has something for you,” the pug nodded, indicating the object. Sakura hopped down from the rock and strode over to the spot. She could feel the texture of velvet on the surface of the object through the mud that covered it, but didn’t make the connection until, bemused she opened the tiny box. Her gasp covered the sound of Kakashi materializing in front of her, on one knee on the soggy bank.

“Sakura,” his mask was pooled around his neck, and his whole face lit up as he smiled, eyes curving. It was just as well he was kneeling- his knees were shaking. “I can’t imagine my life without you. I’ve already had more life than I ever thought I’d see, and I can’t wait to see the rest of it with you. We don’t need a ceremony to tell us what we are to each other, but being able to call myself your husband would be the greatest honor of my life. Will you-“

His back hit the ground before the words "–marry me" had fully left his lips, and he found them covered by those of the kunoichi who had just tackled him with the full force of her body. Her arms wrapped around him and her fingers fisted in his hair, and they both gasped for breath when she finally broke the kiss. Soaked to the skin, covered in mud, with the uproarious laughter of a very cheeky ninken in the background, they grinned at each other from extreme close range.

“Yes,” Sakura had whispered, tracing Kakashi’s scar with one fingertip, “Yes. I’m with you. Forever.”


And so, today, all of Konoha celebrated the wedding of Haruno Sakura, the greatest medical shinobi and strongest kunoichi in the world (they were sure), and Hatake Kakashi, Rokudaime Hokage, hero of the Hidden Leaf, genius ninja, and (so the grumblings of every nin Sakura’s age said on the street) one lucky bastard. Rain drummed down on the canopies that covered the seating area of the ceremony, but it seemed to be beating a welcoming march for the couple that stood below an elaborately decorated awning. The water cascading off the sides was a waterfall of blessing. Eight neatly bathed and combed ninken lined the front row before the assembly of their friends and family. Sakura was radiant, her Byakugo almost seemingly to pulse with the excitement of her chakra. This being a formal occasion, Kakashi had allowed himself to be talked into wearing his former Hokage’s robe, but there was nothing to be done about his hair, which stuck up as wildly as ever. Sakura had laughed and said she wouldn’t know who he was without it like that anyway. Neither of them had eyes or ears for anything but the other as the ceremony went on. When at last it ended and they joined hands, leaning towards each other, there was a collective gathering of breath as Kakashi reached one hand up to pull down his mask- but at the last second, Sakura flicked open her fan, hiding their faces from view as he completed the gesture and lowered his head to kiss her. The groan from the audience was audible, and they giggled together behind the fan.

Kakashi was thirty-nine, and his life was just beginning.

***

Kakashi was old. His silver hair had turned white at some point along the way. Shinobi who managed to reach old age tended to live for a very long time, and he had stopped keeping track a while ago. Whenever someone asked how old he was, he crinkled his eyes and said, “Old enough to still be here.” He had discarded his mask long ago now, and his face usually held a gentle smile. Being old was a luxury he had never thought he would experience. Sure, his body had slowed down over the years, but that hardly mattered. The shinobi world was in an unprecedented era of peace. Many of the younger residents of Konoha had no idea who the ancient man walking slowly but steadily down the streets was at a glance, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Let Sharingan Kakashi become a piece of history. He was Old Man Hatake now, and had been for a long time.

Sakura had never looked old, not to him. Her petal-bright hair had faded to a pastel hue, her eyes had acquired some crows feet, and her steps too had slowed. But her vitality always shone through, giving her an eternally youthful quality, even when her students had begun to address her as "hii-obaasan". Perhaps it was for that reason that she had gone first: Sakura had always given so much of herself to others; maybe she had not kept enough for herself to outlive him. He had knelt by the side of their futon that day, years ago, with her hand in his, stroking her hair as her gentle breaths grew fainter and fainter. Her chakra was so small he could barely sense it. Kakashi knew what was coming, had known for some time as she slowly declined; worked less and less, then left the house less and less, and then the bed. His face was calm, but his heart was shattered. His hand stroked her hair endlessly. She had not spoken for hours. He was no longer sure she could. Try as he might to prevent it, tears welled up in his eyes, and broke to stream down his face. The salty drops landed on her face. To his shock, her eyes flickered, then opened. Sakura stared up at him from the pillow, the same Sakura he had loved all this time.

“I’m with you,” she whispered, and her gnarled fingers separated themselves from his, lifting shakily up until she poked him in the chest. “Here. Forever. I’m with you.” Her hand fell back, and he took it up again, even as her eyes drifted closed.

Several hours later, he ceased stroking her hair.


Kakashi meandered his way home. He had a cleaning and gardening service now, that came to help him with the upkeep of the Hatake family home. He nodded to the workers as they made their way off the property for the evening, remarking about how it looked like rain that night. Kakashi smiled. He loved the rain.

The night was chill, but his home was warm. Kakashi pottered around making tea, wearing the frilly pink apron Sakura had hated until he started wearing it. Hers, still hanging on a hook in the kitchen, was dark blue and patterned with pugs. He made one cup just the way she liked it, with an extra squeeze of honey, and set it on the windowsill, before retiring with his to the bedroom. He always let it steep a little too long. Something about the bitterness on the back of his tongue was comforting. Unlike Sakura, who could spin a cup of tea out for hours, he always gulped his down scalding hot. Setting the empty cup down by the edge of the futon, Kakashi burrowed beneath the covers. He had come to appreciate warmth and comfort more and more with every year that passed, and some thoughtful member of the cleaning staff had placed hot irons in the bed to warm it for him. He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes. Rain drummed hard on the roof, but the volume did not keep him awake. Rather, it lulled him with a steady rhythm he imagined he could still hear after sleep had claimed him.

He was not sure precisely when the transition occurred, but one moment he was still vaguely awake, wrapped in the warm cocoon, then he was asleep, the echo of the rain thrumming in his mind; then, his body was stiller than it had ever been, and the rain had stopped. Kakashi blinked. And yet, the ceiling of his bedroom did not appear before him, nor was he aware of the physical sensation, only a feeling of lightness, and the sense that everything was very white. He turned, suddenly aware that he was on his feet. He was also aware that he was free of the stiffness and subtle pain that had followed him for years; that his limbs felt straight and strong, that his vision was clear and unclouded. And in the field of that vision there appeared a figure he had not dared to hope for. Slowly, from a swirling cloud of pink petals, Sakura materialized. She was young and strong, looking just as she had at twenty-five, that day by the village gates. Her smile was as broad as ever he had seen it, and in the jade reflection of her eyes, he saw all the wisdom and memories of their lifetime together. Kakashi breathed a sigh of relief and understanding, and returned the smile. He reached out to her, and she took him by the hand as he spoke,

“Take me somewhere new.”
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Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

Master Torturer
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Oh, that definitely got to me at the end. :smiley13: I really like all the little glimpses of Kakashi's life.

Thanks for sharing this here, @Moriel. I wasn't expecting to see a Naruto fanfic on the Plaza, but I've been reading a ton of Naruto fics this year and even went on a bit of a KakaSaku binge recently, so this was a treat.
Loremistress Emerita | she/her

Balrog
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So I'll confess, I've never watched or read anything concerning Naruto until this. It's probably a bad idea to jump into a fandom by reading the fanfics before you know anything about it but here we are. Despite not knowing anything about any of the characters, their relationships and dynamics, you managed to enthrall me and make me feel for characters you clearly have a much deeper connection to. I applaud that! You don't rely too heavily on background information about the characters, which is fantastic because otherwise I'd have lost interest in too many names, places, and things that had nothing to do with the story. You've done a marvelous job in relatively few words! :smiley8:
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Captain of Tower
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I came over to take a look, and can really only echo what Frost wrote. I am unfamiliar with the Naruto world, but this was beautifully written. Well crafted from beginning to end, and an excellent read. It really helped to listen to the song just before reading as well, as then I heard the echoes throughout the story. Very well done!
Ziranphel of the Green Hills ~ Thûllir Bregedŷr of Ithilien

Black Númenórean
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@Eldy Dunami so glad you liked it! :smiley8: And that it got you at the end... muahaha! KakaSaku is definitely my I will go down with this ship.

@Frost & @Karis Ziranphel That's such wonderful feedback to hear! I was hoping that it would resonate even with those not familiar with the characters/world- familiarity would give even greater understanding, obviously, but what's important is the story and the connections between people. So, so pleased you both enjoyed it :smiley8: :smiley17:

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I shared this recipe in the discord, but thought I'd put it here too, along with some pictures! I'm a semi-professional baker I suppose- I've had my own home bakery for a couple of years now and while it's by no means lucrative, it allowed me to sell a bit of something I love to do, and indulge my baking habit without having to eat all the results :smiley8: My family have always been sourdough people, but most of my life it was typically waffles and pancakes. I started branching out to other things 5-6 years ago, split my started into "bread" and "everything else" a couple years ago, so I've been nurturing two starter children, and have only been tinkering with this particular recipe for a few months. It's given by far the best results of everything else I've tried, so here it is for you to try! The tone is pretty informal and direct as I was originally writing it out for my mom :smiley16:


MORIEL’S SOURDOUGH BREAD
work in progress


Notes on starter:
I feed my starter for bread with roughly 25% dark rye flour and 75% AP flour. For this recipe, you want your starter to be frothy on top with a weblike but fairly liquid texture underneath. It’s probably significantly stiffer than you’re used to doing for pancakes etc, but still liquid. For optimal flavor development for a starter coming from the fridge, I recommend feeding it twice a day for at least two days before baking.

Note on timings:
This go around the fermentation time on the levain and the rise time on the loaves after shaping was significantly shorter, primarily I believe to the greater liquidity of my starter and the decrease in amount of salt. I let things rise under the hood lights on my oven where it gets nice and warm. The recipe I based this off of calls for a ferment of 8 hours on the levain, which is how long it took the first time I made it. Pay attention to what the dough is doing more than your timer.

Note on flour:
The first time I made this, I only used a bit under 5 cups of flour. This time I used all of it, but the loaves were still lighter and less dense. Use your judgement but definitely don’t put all the dough flour in at once! I put in some guidance on this.

INGREDIENTS
Levain
1/2 cup AP flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 Warm water
1/3-1/2 cup starter

Dough
2 cups strong bread flour
~4 ¾ cup AP flour
2 ¾ cup warm water
¾ cup whole wheat flour
1 tablespoon fine salt

1.
For the levain, combine flours, starter, and water in medium bowl using a spoon or spatula. Start with ¾ cup water and add more as needed to achieve a thick pastelike consistency. Cover and let sit until bubbly and increased at least 20% (approx. 2hrs under the hood lights on top of my oven)

2.
For the dough: add whole wheat flour, water, 7oz (approx. 1 cup) levain, 2 cups bread flour, and 2 ¾ cups AP flour to a large bowl. Mix until a shaggy dough forms, adding more flour as needed to bring it together. Reserve any remaining flour. Cover and let sit for 30 mins. NB: you’ll probably want to start the mixing on this step with a large spatula or wooden spoon as it may be fairly liquid. If you have a stand mixer, use it and a dough hook.

3.
Sprinkle salt over the dough and knead until it feels a bit sticky and wet but looks smooth and stretchy, adding from the remaining flour as needed. This process should only take a few minutes. Do not over knead! Cover and let sit until puffy, about 45 mins. If using a stand mixer, let it run on medium for about 2 minutes, adding the flour as needed as you go. Resist the urge to add too much flour, you can always incorporate a little more during the next steps.

4.
Grab the dough from both sides at the center of the lump, as if you were trying to pick up a cat. Allow the ends of the dough to stretch down, shaking it slightly to assist if necessary. Flop the ends of the dough back down into the bowl and fold the center over like a book. Google ‘coil fold’ for videos of what we’re trying to do here. Repeat this process (stretch & fold) 3-4 times. Cover and let sit until puffy, about 45 mins.

5.
Repeat step 4. After the third 45 minute rest, the dough should feel soft and pillowy and start to spring back when poked.

6.
Turn out the dough onto a floured surface. Divide in half. Gently tuck the ends of each piece under to shape into a loose ball. Cover and let rest for 30 minutes.

7.
At this point you have to decide what shape you want your bread to be. For rounds: lightly dust the top of the dough balls and your work surface. Form the balls into tighter rounds by folding the edges of the dough over the top all the way around (3-4 pulls), and pinch them together to seal on the last fold. Gently flip the ball over so that the folds are down and, cupping the dough ball gently, pull it toward you, using the tension between the dough and the board the tighten the ball. Turn the dough ¼ and repeat 2-3 times. Place each dough ball, seam side up, into a prepared bowl/basket for its final rise. To prepare a bowl: take a medium (~8”) bowl and line it with a kitchen towel. Linen is best, but the less fluffy the better. GENEROUSLY flour the towel to prevent the dough from sticking. Eliminate as many folds/wrinkles from the towel as possible. They make special rattan baskets for this purpose that can be used with or without a linen lining, they’re super useful and much easier to deal with. To make any other shape, use the same basic principles but do whatever shape you want! Make a log for sandwich loaves baked in a pan, and let them prove in their pan.

7.5 FOR BEST FLAVOR: Cover loaves with cling film and let them prove in the fridge overnight. If you want to bake same day, cover and let rise until 1.5 times original size, ~2-2.5hrs. If you do a cold prove, take your loaves out of the fridge and allow them to warm up before baking. Don’t have to come all the way to room temperature, but shouldn’t be COLD.

8.
Dutch oven method: about 20 mins before baking, preheat oven to 500ºF with Dutch oven and lid inside. When preheated, flip one round of dough out onto a square of parchment paper. Score top in desired pattern. Using the parchment paper to lift the dough, set it carefully inside the hot Dutch oven and cover. Bake for 20 mins covered, then uncover and bake until dark brown (~10-15mins) at 425ºF. Remove first loaf, return oven temp to 500ºF and allow to reheat for at least 10 mins with Dutch oven inside before repeating with second loaf. Use a new piece of parchment paper. Tricks for not scorching the bottom of your loaf: put rack with Dutch oven as high as you can in the oven. When you uncover, the crust should be firm enough that you can lift the loaf out and put a ring of tinfoil underneath it to hold it up off the bottom of the DO.

Tray method: same temperatures and timings as above, but you don’t have to worry about the lid. If using a stone or stoneware tray, preheat it. I haven’t tried this with a metal sheet, so I’m not sure what difference preheating or not will make. It’s helpful to still use parchment paper to transfer the loaf to your sheet, so you can flip it over and score it without having to open the oven for too long. For this method, I recommend throwing a few ice cubes in the bottom of the oven just as you shut the door, the steam helps with the crust.

Loaf pan: Scoring is not necessary, but you can if you want! Steam based on whether you want a crunchier (steam) or softer (no steam) crust.

I like a nice crusty loaf usually, so the Dutch oven is my favorite method so far.


And now what you're really here for... pictures!!


Beginning with the most attractive bread I have ever baked

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Slightly less attractive but tastier breads (I figured out the salt ratio on this batch)

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This guy came out of a tea towel/flour bowl and had some sticking issues hence his especially rustic appearance

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Vs nice neat banneton

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Some crumb shots

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Bubbles are good

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Scoring. I don't do fancy scores... yet

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Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

New Soul
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This looks amazing. I think I made bread once when I was little, in a bread maker-- but it's been almost too long to remember. Really, this bread looks GORGEOUS. You're making me homesick for Germany; I never see bread that looks like that around here. XD I appreciate the rustic looking bread. Seems fitting for around here. (aka en le Plaza)

Also- I know next to nothing about bread, and don't really understand the concept of the 'starter'-- what exactly is that? (Sure, I've googled, but I thought getting it from someone directly working with it might make more sense).
they/he/mischief

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@Mor Toast It's basically wild yeast glop :smiley16: Really all you have to do to make one is mix flour and water and let it sit uncovered in a warm place for a few days. Wild yeast is everywhere, and some will land in the mixture and start to eat- and expel gas- in it. You'll know it's working when you start to see bubbles in it, aka yeast farts. Once you've harnessed the wild yeast, all you have to do to hang onto it and have a constant and renewable source of yeast for baking is keep it fed and happy! If it's at room temp you have to feed it pretty much constantly, once a day or more is best, to keep it from getting upset (which you can tell by changes in color, aroma, and development of a skin on top)- this also depends on what kind of container you're keeping it in. In the fridge, it'll keep practically forever as long as you keep it in an airtight container (I use quart mason jars), and take it out periodically and wake it up, or at least stir it. Sometimes if I'm waking up a starter that's been in the fridge for a long time (months) I'll give it a sprinkle of what sugar to eat along with flour and water. Most bread or bread-like recipe call for active, or fed, starter, but you can make lots of things with sourdough "discard," that is, starter that hasn't been fed yet that day. If you're feeding all the time it builds quickly so there's often plenty of discard to use for things like pancakes that don't require as much yeast power!

The flavor and character of the starter develops over time as well, so the longer you keep your it alive, the more unique it becomes. My mom killed our family starter ages ago (left it in the fridge too long in a container that wasn't quite airtight and it dried out- it is possible to reconstitute started from dried flakes but i don't know if she knew that), but she got a "new" one from a friend of hers. And I say "new" because that starter was over 50 years old. I inherited that starter when she moved to AZ, and since then I've developed it into two different starters, one for bread and one for everything else.

Does that help? :smiley16:
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New Soul
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"Wild yeast is everywhere", "harnessed the wild yeast", "keep it from getting upset"...
This is very quickly shaping up into a horror novel.

Over 50 years old?? That's amazing. This is an entire fascinating world that I know next to nothing about-- thank you for this!
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Whoa. I just learned so much about sourdough starters. I've always heard about them from baker friends, but never really understood. Thanks for the edification, @Moriel! :smiley9: (Also, hi, your bread looks absolutely amazing and I wish I could buy some!)
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

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The only thing I know about Naruto is that I have a lot of friends who love Naruto, but I do love a good time skip, missing (well, I don't know how much of this is canon) scene, relationship fic! The last section reminded me--admittedly mostly due to the obvious similarity of "old Japanese married couple being domestic"--of a little gem of an app game called Hungry Hearts Diner. If you've never seen it, I highly recommend playing through the story. It's not too long.

Alas, it will be a while (decades? :smiley9: ) before I get around to making sourdough bread. But the photos are lovely! I certainly want some of yours!
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@Mor Toast You're welcome! It's a wild wild world of yeast :smiley16:

@Tarawen I would absolutely share some bread with you but alas, mailing it is probably out :smiley9:

@Aerlinn I don't know that one!! I'll have to check it out!

Up next is a story I've posted before on the old plaza, but I like it a lot so I'm sharing it again. It's a oneshot Redwall fic I wrote a number of years ago all in one go, with only minor edits since- that seems to be the way of things with me for fics a lot of time. I get an idea for a oneshot and just let it have its way with me until it's done :smiley9: This one's a lot shorter. Another warning for feels. Enjoy!


---------------------------------



Martin


A cool breeze passed over the sun-drenched walls of Redwall Abbey, ruffling the headfur of a mouse standing on the southeast walltop, looking out over the path and Mossflower Wood beyond. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he took in the sweet summer air with pleasure. There was just the hint of a chill on that cooling breeze, the first breath of the autumn to come. Martin the Warrior exhaled with a sigh, and opened his eyes. Yet another season was beginning to turn, and he with it. Age had not wasted Martin, but he was silver-furred now, and a life of constant activity and physical use had left him a bit stiff. But his mind was sharp and his eyes were clear, and though his beloved Redwall had never had need of a warrior, he stood ready to defend her.

The Warrior was one of the few left now who remembered the abbey’s infancy, and even fewer who had known Mossflower before the great red sandstone building had begun to jut its way out of the landscape. Bella of Brockhall remained, of course; but Abbess Germaine, who had been ancient when Redwall reached completion, was long gone- poor Timballisto had been claimed by that hard winter long ago; Skipper had gone to his rest, and Gingevere, Goody and Ben Stickle, Lady Amber, Spring the otter, and so many others. And, last spring, Gonff, the Prince of Mousethieves, had joined his love Columbine in the unknown sunny slopes that waited beyond. So it was that Martin stood alone, now, surveying his country with a wistful eye.

Shaking his head at his own fancies, Martin turned and began to make his way down the wallsteps. All creatures must pass on, even those most loved, and it was not the way to remember a long and fulfilled life by thinking on it sadly. It took him a bit longer to negotiate the steps these days, but Martin made it to the grass below with no great difficulty, and as he struck out across the lawn towards the main abbey building, he saw a horde of Dibbuns approaching. They had reached him in seconds, and at once were jumping and climbing, begging the Warrior to come and play with them, they were going to fight off a horde of corsairs and needed his help! Laughing, Martin allowed himself to be dragged off for the game- he had always been a great favorite among the abbeybabes, and was always willing to take a little time out of his day for them.

It was much later, and the sun had begun its nightly descent, when Martin made his way down to Cavern Hole. Slowly, for the rambunctiousness with the Dibbuns has exacerbated his aches, and the many steps of the abbey could take their toll on a rheumatic creature. But when he arrived, a smile crept onto his face again, as it always did when he came to table at Redwall. All the creatures of the abbey, young and old, plainly garbed or green-habited, gathered around the long tables in laughter and cheer, to share the bounty of the season together. Martin paced across to his seat at Bella’s right hand, at the head of the central table. The great badger rang her comically small bell for silence, and once a hush had fallen, recited Gonff’s grace. Otters, squirrels, hedgehogs, mice, moles with fur like sable…

After supper, Martin said his goodnights, and climbed the steps back up to Great Hall. He made a slow circuit of the room in the flickering torchlight, the moon now streaking through the stained-glass windows to form eerie patterns on the floor. Finally he arrived at the tapestry. It was an old, worn, magnificent cloth, portraying the warlike image of his grandsire, Martin the Elder. The Warrior was not to know, as he stretched out his paw to caress the tapestry, that one would soon take its place in which he himself took on the position of watchful guardian. As was his wont, Martin brushed his paw lightly over the image of the sword. The sword, before it had been broken, before it had been remade by Boar the Fighter into the mighty weapon he had wielded. A plain, serviceable weapon it was in the paws of the Elder, and unbidden his father’s voice stole into his mind. Always use the sword to stand for good and right, never do a thing you would be ashamed of, but never let your heart rule your mind, Luke had said to him that windswept day on the northern coast, before pressing the hilt into his son’s paws.

Wise words, father, Martin thought, If only I had heeded them more often. Letting his paw drop, he slipped it beneath the tapestry, and felt the reassuring lines in the stone, where his message lay graven. A smile played across his lips and this thoughts strayed from past to future, wondering who would one day be the creature with the strength, courage, and wisdom to find it. Turning away from the tapestry, he made his way back across the hall, and began the climb up to the dormitories. Like most of the abbey elders, Martin had his own room, and he pushed its solid oaken door open easily, for the hinges were kept well oiled. Moonlight penetrated the flimsy curtains and the breeze ruffled them, sending the silver light dancing across the wall and floor. Martin glanced only briefly out the window at the silent, peaceful night, before pulling back the coverlet, and sliding into bed.

Sleep was swift to descend on the Warrior, and dreams followed on its heels. Martin dreamed many things that night- things of which he had not dreamed or even thought in many long seasons. A flickering fire outside of a cave and a rain swept shore, a comforting female face, the lash of a whip around his paw and the evil face of a stoat. A voice in the storm and the bravery of Felldoh, the most fearless beast Martin had ever known. Cherry cordial, deep winter snows, the faces of wildcats; one wise, one gentle, and one full of venom. The last face, filled with terror, wavering and fading before his eyes. Gonff, singing and cavorting, Germaine watching with tearful eyes as the weathervane was raised. Raucous squirrels, quiet glades, and at last, Noonvale. The banqueting hall was full and joyous, for the great sycamore had been felled, and there was naught but happiness. From within the dream, Martin looked about, but before he could find the face he sought, the hall of Urran Voh faded, and was replaced by a copse of tall black trees, and a wrought iron gate.

Outside the gate stood a pair of great male badgers, and Martin knew that he had arrived at last at the gates of Dark Forest. He approached the badger on the right, smiling slightly. Boar the Fighter bent and put out his paw to be shaken. He and the other badger, whom Martin knew to be Boar’s sire, old Lord Brocktree, then bent their backs together to part the gates, the iron hinges creaking and groaning, until they stood at their full span. The two badgers straightened and flanked the entrance again, and Boar extended his paw within. He who had once denied Martin entry now welcomed him, but the Warrior hesitated. He had lived a long and, he hoped, good life, and though he knew that all good creatures made their way to Dark Forest, the trees beyond looked forbidding. He looked up at Boar, and the Badger Lord nodded slowly.

Plucking up his courage, Martin stepped through the gates, and began to make his way down the path through the woods. He heard the creaking of the gates behind him, but forged onward: there could be no turning back now. The wood was misty and infused with a faint, predawn light. The further he walked, Martin noticed that his aches began to fall away, receding as though they had never plagued him. He looked at the backs of his paws, and the silver had gone, they were smoothly dark brown as they had been in his youth. Martin’s pace quickened, the trees began to thin, and he imagined that he could faintly hear the echoes of voices, the familiar voices of his departed friends- but over it all, a light and dreamy silver voice, like a summer breeze through bluebells.

The light began to grow stronger and, impelled by some unknown force, Martin ran, until he burst from the edge of the trees and into a rolling field, where he was blinded by the dazzling sun as it rose over the horizon. He put up a paw to guard his eyes, and realized that he had been transformed: youth and strength were his again, and the blood coursed through his veins as it had not done in more than a score of seasons. Slowly his eyes adjusted and he lowered his paw, able to make out a figure approaching down the side of the hill before him. It was a figure so distant but so close and familiar, its voice ringing out with a strong sweet joy, until finally its face was revealed in the passing of the first ray of dawn. As in a trance, Martin approached the mousemaid, his paws lifting of their own accord. She raised her own to take hold of them, a beatific smile on her face, and the Warrior’s eyes filled with tears.

“Rose!”
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Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

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.............you are the worst. This is the worst. Why would you write this you monster??

(sniffle)
(okay but now I wanna write bittersweet Martin Rose fic too)
(first-est and truest OTP)
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@Aerlinn The OTP to end all OTPs. Do it! Write the thing!!

--------

Today I bring more breads! Same recipe as above, but this was my first experiment at adding extras into the bread. These are Asiago Dill sourdough boules, with the cheese and dill folded in after the bulk fermentation (so during step 4 above). I thought I was putting in PLENTY of dill, but it could use a bit more! I also used some really nice dill i bought from the farmer's market last year and dried, but next time I want to use fresh- so farmer's market it is for me on saturday :smiley8: Could probably also go a little heavier on the cheese, I thought there was plenty, but it could use juuuuuust a little more. Chunks are definitely the way to go, as I discovered years ago with muffins, rather than shredded cheese.

I normally give away one of the two loaves when I bake, but these may not survive.

No, I did not clean my cooktop before taking these pictures, my kitchen is a disaster deal with it :smiley16:

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*drools onto the floor*

I don't know if you watched Schitt's Creek, but "Folding in the cheese" evokes a particular moment in that show for me.

These look amazing, and I am so so jealous (as usual) of your incredible bread-making skills.
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@Silmarë I haven't watched Schitt's Creek but maybe I should just for the cheese reference :googly:

----------

Today I started to make pasta sauce and it reminded my I forgot to post the pictures from the last time I made it, a couple weeks ago! This is a very basic tomato basil sauce. Don't ask me for quantities as I haven't measured anything. There's a producer at my local farmer's market that sells BEAUTIFUL tomatoes, that actually taste like something, unlike the tomatoes we get in the stores up here (Alaska). I was also given a basil plant a few weeks ago, and the opportunity was too good to pass up!

All you need is:

Tomatoes
Basil
Garlic
Onion
Stock (any kind)
Salt & pepper
Olive oil (or whatever oil you like)
Thai pepper (optional)
Tomato paste (optional)

Ingredients! Chop onion and garlic smallish.
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Cut tomatoes in half and squeeze out the seeds
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Sautee garlic and onion in oil, and the that pepper if you're using it. I also like to salt and pepper my aromatics at this point. Optional but recommended step that works best in a cast iron pot: stretch that sauté out until you get a maillard reaction and stuff starts to stick to the bottom of the pan and smell EXTRA good. Give it a couple of minutes of doing that, then splash in just a little stock. Using a wooden spoon, scrape the bottom of the pot to incorporate all that maillardy goodness. This is a sort of sideways version of deglazing! Once you've done this, dump in the tomatoes, basil, and tomato paste if using, and some more stock. But not too much stock. The tomatoes will release a lot of water.
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Simmer this magical stuff on low until you can easily squish the tomatoes with the back of your spoon. Now's the time to break out the immersion blender if you have one and pulse that stuff to your desired level of smoothness. If you don't have one, you can (carefully) do batches in a regular blender or food processor. Or just simmer it longer until things fall apart more and smash em with your spoon. Let reduce to your desired thickness, then serve it up!
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Final product on noodles! Yum!
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Today I went to the farmer's market to get tomatoes and walked right into a wall of BEAUTIFUL onion smell, so i bought a gorgeous and huge local onion to use in my sauce, seen here in the artistic ingredients shot.

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And a couple of pretty progress shots from today

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Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

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*cries with longing for this pasta*

Oh my gosh, I really need to make this recipe! It looks absolutely incredible. I am highly envious of your farmer's market finds!

And yes, you totally should watch Schitt's Creek for that reference and general hilarity. :wink:
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

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One of my absolute favorite authors, Ellen Kusher, is currently having a thread on twitter for AltHallelujah- basically asking people to write new and in her words “increasingly rambunctious” verses to Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah, using the same structure. So of course I had to jump in, and here’s my appropriately themed contribution!

————-


I heard there was an elven lord,
He was a smith, but forged no sword,
At least not until after Melkor’s whispers-
He forged three jewels both gold and pale,
And with them Doomed his house to fail,
That dreadful oath he swore oh Fëanáro!
Fëanáro, Fëanáro...
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Sorry it's been so long since I've come by here! Your food looks amazing, as always. Love the pics of the tomatoes and basil from the beginning of the pasta sauce making. So colorful and homey looking.

I feel like Silmarillion-themed Hallelujah verses could be an entire Plaza thread in itself. If you record and post that I'll do the same? :grin: Not your verse of course, I'll have to, er, write a verse first. Added Ellen Kushner to Goodreads, I've never read her. Would you suggest starting with Swordspoint or somewhere else?

Note to self: Don't look at this thread unless you're already eating something delicious.
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Hi Moriel!
Your sourdough bread looks amazing. Lovely scoring. What do you use to score your dough? Have you ever proofed your dough overnight? Do you increase the liquid when you add dill, cheese, ect.? Have you tried adding raisins or onions? How about seeds? Do you knead by hand or do you have a mixer?

I started my mother (I call my starter my mother which really confuses my mom when we chat about bread :)) in 2015, using 100% WW flour and unsweetened orange juice. I have been making 100% Whole Wheat loaves since. It still amazes me to this day the results a simple starter creates.
Making your own bread is so fulfilling. Thanks for sharing your loaves. I hope we see more.

Wonderful, simple, pasta sauce recipe. Fresh tomatoes and basil, perfect.

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Hey @drifa! I use a lamé, basically a razorblade on a stick :lol: I cold prove my sourdough overnight in the fridge after shaping (step 7.5 in the recipe) and I find this makes the best result. When adding things in I make the dough as normal, and fold the additions in during bulk, after the first rise. Dill and cheese are the only things I've experimented with so far as far as bread goes, though I make sourdough muffins with many different additions! Prior to beginning to tinker with the recipe I posted here, I was using a different recipe and mixing everything by hand, but the recipe I based the one here off of had instructions for a stand mixer, so I decided to play around with that as I have one! It works very well, but you can do it by hand also, as I've written in notes about. My mom has used my recipe and done everything by hand several times with great success!

Orange juice, fascinating! How does that impact the flavor? Or does the additional sugar just make for a very active starter? I have two mothers at the moment, both developed from the same starter- a friend of my mom's gave it to her in.... 2014? 15? I forget exactly when. We had a family starter for a long time but it dried out and died :googly: The starter from her friend was over 50 years old, and I've developed mine into one for bread which is ~25% dark rye and 75%AP, and one for everything else which is fed straight AP. And I was recently gifted a piece of someone ELSE's starter to experiment with that I haven't touched yet :lol:
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LOL @Aerlinn I'm so sorry, i just realized I completely forgot to reply to you. I was absolutely thinking of starting an alt!Hallelujah, now I know at least one person will participate :tongue: And bonus points for recordings!!

As for the Riverside series, I would start with The Privilege of the Sword. It is chronologically after Swordspoint, but more accessible imo, and I personally loved discovering the story this way! But if you want chronology: here it is from the woman herself! And there is SO MUCH MATERIAL.
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*dusts the cobwebs off this thread*

Well hello! No bread updates, however, as this is a catchall thread we're making a pivot into digital renderings/art. I'm taking a scenic design class this semester and, due to the COVID situation and virtual learning situation, our first big project is entirely digital- we're working with a group of animation students to design environments for their short films. I am a.) not a scenic designer and b.) not a digital artist, so this is mildly terrifying for me :lol: I am a lighting designer with some training in scenic design, and someone who has lifelong (but fairly casual) training in traditional art media such as pencil and watercolor due to artist grandparents. So I know a thing or two, but I am now having to learn the Adobe CC suite and Procreate from zero in order to complete my work :moon: The only program I'll be using for this class that I have any experience with is Vectorworks, which I had previously used fairly extensively.... about ten years ago :headshake:

Anyway, context over, here are the first two incredibly simple and rough sketches I did for my animator based on questions she had after I send her some reference images, trying to show the relationship between performers onstage in the concert venue environment, and possible configurations of the relationship between the stage and backstage. Hopefully I will be able to succeed in producing some good work for this class and be able to share my progress here as I go :lol:


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And also, now that I have these tools at my disposal, I decided to try and start drawing characters digitally, which is also new to me. Here's the base sketch for a bust that will eventually become one of my plaza characters :grin:



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Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

New Soul
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Love your "Not to scale" note next to the sketches :lol: :smooch:
She/her.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant
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Black Númenórean
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@A Good Wife Thank you :lol: There will probably eventually be a vector drawing that is to some scale or another, and then color/texture/perspective to be manipulated on top of it per the animator's vision and my creative input. We'll see how that goes, I haven't built anything to scale in Vectorworks in a decade :googly:

For now, an update from the drawing board as I was able to put in some more time on this portrait's sketch today! Braids are hard.


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Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

Khazad Elder
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Cool Moriel! I enjoy the way the sketch starts out looking like a crash test dummy (that is what first sketches remind me of :grin: ) , then progresses in the second sketch into an actual being. Soon the personality of this person will shine out. Actually, if you look at it for awhile, it already does. I find sketching hard to do. Nice work!
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*meanders into the thread to observe the visual making of a character*
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Black Númenórean
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Ooooooo character sketch! As someone not at all trained in any art except a little photography, it's so illuminating to see your progress with this sketch. I'm also very excited to find out which character this is! :lol:
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

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While I ponder whether or not I want to repost everything that I had shared since March 27th, please enjoy this sketch/preliminary design of a snail I am currently making for my Giant Puppets class :googly:

The primary materials of construction for this design are paper and cardboard, although after I shared my concept with the prof today, he said I could make the armature for the shell from wire if I wanted :dance: The idea is that the snail head is worn on my head, and my body is completely covered by the body of the snail, and the foot/shell drag along as I walk. The goal is for the antennae to be sufficiently springy that they moved around cutely with the motion of the head! I am also figuring out how to leave a slime trail :lol: And for reference, I am 5'9" so complete with antennae, the snail will probably be at least 7' tall.

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Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

New Soul
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Love, love, love the snail sketches! So cute <3 and I like your handwriting there too <3
She/her.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant
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High Lord of Imladris
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Ohhh I love the snail design I think there are a lot of people that I know that would LOVE to see this finished cardboard and paper will be fun I think a wire undermesh is smart considering the size and shaping that that's rather nice of the prof. I look forward to seeing it completed! 7 foot snail will be awesome.

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:grin: Progress on the snail! She has to be completing structurally by Monday so it's going to be a long weekend of finishing, and of course I have two long lighting days to contend with :googly:

Here's my color rendering, followed by some progress shots! I was going to do the body of the snail in the same dark paper as the shell (which I spent four hours shaping last night), but then I lucked out and was able to scavenge a bunch of lighter paper that the scene shop had used as a drop cloth for painting, which had some awesome built in texture for me! The shell is slightly caved in in some of these pictures because I've been throwing poor Shelley around while working on her, but not to fear, I can pop those bits back out.

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Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

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At long last, may I present....


Shelley having a lovely morning in a garden somewhere :grin: Sound on for music and crowd reactions!! This was the final product of the snail saga, and it went of absolutely without a hit ch and wonderfully! The audience reacted exactly the way I hoped they would to all aspects of the performance, but especially the slime reveal!

Below are some more process shots and rehearsal clips!

Clip of slime test
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Clip of head only rehearsal, in case anyone ever thought i was a serious human (with sound, hence vimeo link)
https://vimeo.com/606317938


Slime test:
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Shelley under final construction in my office, c. 130am

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She survived the trip down two flights of stairs, through a very narrow hallway with two sharp turns, and across the building to the theatre! You can see here the head piece is on a mic stand, which I adjusted to be the same height as me, which is how I was able to construct her in 3D at the correct height for me to be inside :grin:

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Securely tucked in in a back corner of the theatre
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First outing with a human inside
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Shell texture!
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Eyeballs!! I got feedback from the audience that both the shell texture and the eyes read super well from the audience, huge relief :googly:
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Final form
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Inner workings & slime contraption
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Spot the puppeteer :moon:
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Edit: and how could I forget to include this charming contraption? I made a form of my head to wear inside Shelley's to control her/to use as a base for sculpting her head and face, by putting brown paper over my head and going around and around it with masking tape :lol: so inside of the cute snail, I look something like this:

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Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

New Soul
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Shelly Snail sashaying across the stage is goals! :rainbowheart: You were amazing, the movements were great the soundtrack spot on! It was charming and lovely and I loved seeing, well hearing mostly :lol: , the audience's reaction.
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@Nessa Saelind thank you!! Shelley is definitely going down as one of the crowning achievements of my puppetry career :joy:

But... she has now moved on to her next life, as I begin construction on *drumroll please* My papier mâché balrog!! Due to the large amount of paper needed for a giant papier mache puppet and the sturdiness required, I decided to start by reclaiming all the paper from Shelley so I could make the base and do the first few layers of the balrog from the thicker brown paper, before moving on to newspaper for details and sculpting. My grand design idea is to have a headpiece that sits on top of a shoulder piece (possible connected by a fabric neck for additional movement, but I haven't quite figured out yet how I'm going to attach the head to me- I've constructed the base of the shoulder piece to sit on top of my shoulders, but it's TBD whether i'll attach the balrog head directly to that, or whether I need to rig up a bike helmet or something inside the balrog head to attach it to my head. Papier macho requires SO MUCH drying time that I've decided to charge forward with that question unanswered for the moment :joy: I'm also planning to create papier mache hands, as I intend my performance to include live whip cracking and the hands would ideally be visible. And, being a lighting designer, I am working on how to make the eyes and mouth light up, as well as carving cracks into the head (and potentially shoulders) that wouldn't be visible until i light them up from the inside. Stay tuned!!

Progress so far (sketches forthcoming in the next update probably):

The death of Shelley




Mini-balrog head test


Day 1 full size balrog head
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Day 2
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Day 3
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Evil is a lifestyle | she/her

New Soul
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Moriel: Still in the arts? I remember a lot of you. Looks great all in here.
Just call me Aiks or Aikári. Notify is off.
Find me stuff in Gondolin.
And let us embark to Valinor!

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Well? Whatever happened to Mr. Flame-y Pants? Did he burn down the theatre? Eat your professor? We need answers!!
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

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