#Maeve’s recipes

[exception-witch-proves-the-rule]

The Best Hot Spiced Cider recipe you’ll ever try

I would drink this every day if I could. A friend gave me the base recipe and I have tailored it over the years into my own version. This is the way I enjoy it but feel free to make modifications of your own!

Ingredients:

1 gallon unfiltered apple juice/cider (if it doesn’t specifically say “unfiltered, it’s fine so long as it’s pure juice and doesn’t have any kind of additives)

1 large orange, cut into thin slices

3 cinnamon sticks

2-3 star anise (I use 2 big ones or 3 smaller ones)

3/4 tablespoon whole cloves

1 tablespoon whole allspice

1 inch ginger root, sliced

1 whole nutmeg

Materials:

Large stove pot, or a crock pot

Optional: Cheesecloth (large enough to bundle the the orange slices and cinnamon sticks up in)

Optional: Spice ball or large tea ball (I use the one pictured below)

Directions:

Place the apple juice into the pot/crock pot. If you’re using a cheesecloth, you can bundle the orange slices and cinnamon sticks up into it (like a bindle bag or drawstring bag) so that they aren’t free-floating in the entire container. If you are not using a cheesecloth, free-floating them is fine! Either way, add all the slices/sticks to the juice.

Put everything else (spices, ginger, etc) into the spice ball or tea ball and then place it in the pot as well. If you don’t have something like a spice ball, you can free-float them too (it just makes it a little trickier to clean up when you’re done).

If you are using a stovetop: Bring the mixture to a boil, then immediately reduce to a simmer and cover for 2-3 hours (the longer it simmers the more spiced it will get).

If you are using a crockpot: Put it on High Heat (or a similar setting) for 2-3 hours and then just let it stay warm (mine has a Keep Warm setting) for the duration that you plan to drink it.

Remove the fruit and spices when the mixture is done simmering and serve!

Pro tip: For serving, I recommend using a ladle that has a lip, like the one shown below. It makes spillage a lot less likely!

ENJOY!

[distraughtlesbian]

sorry for speaking my truth it will happen again. i think my main issue with valax’s redemption arc is literally just that there’s never a moment where the mc gets to actually talk to her about what she did—there’s not really a cathartic conversation, so valax and mc moving past what she did to them feels less like forgiveness and redemption and more like an agreement to ignore the elephant in the room

like sure we got to talk about our trauma (in chapter 17 of 20. lol. lmao, even) to the party, but valax wasn’t present for that?? and like, sure, she says once that she is sorry “for the pain she caused [them]”, but there’s a difference Tew Me between “sorry for hurting you ig ✌️😗” and actually being like “yeah, i abducted you and forced you into a magically induced coma and stole your blood and robbed you of a full year of your life and repeatedly tried to murder you, to say nothing of the grief i caused your loved ones. i did all that shit and i’m sorry for it and deeply regret it, and i acknowledge that you don’t owe me forgiveness, but i will spend the rest of my life working to build a better world for my people instead of being my mother’s pawn”, and a difference between “my mother is unhappy with me for saving you :(” and actually like, giving the mc space to talk about the impact of her actions towards them. like girl you are not getting out of this shit with one sentence’s worth of apology and a sex scene lmfao!!!

during the first half or so of the book the focus for mc is not falling the fuck apart bc they have a friend group to tentatively piece together and they’re averse to showing fear in front of valax, so they’re repressing all their trauma—and by the time valax joins the party, the narrative has gone full Valax Cool And Good mode, and fully allows you to flirt with her and tease her and generally stops taking her seriously as an antagonist. which would be all fine and good if we had actually at any point gotten to be like, “hey, you abducting me and keeping me in a magically induced coma and stealing my blood and trying to kill me has actually caused me a lot of lasting fear and pain,” followed by some set of choices wrt forgiving or not forgiving her for all that in light of the revelation that she did all that shit bc her mom tortured and brainwashed her

like why are my friends more pissed off about the time this bitch abducted me and did evil little experiments on me than i am. free valax she did all that shit bc of her mommy issues but i should’ve gotten to call her a cunt just once. pb stop making all your mcs generals in the idgaf war challenge (IMPOSSIBLE)

[enam3l]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMYHUKpBj/

Three words: Dad! Eddie Munson

Ok well I'm obsessed? I was literally just gonna reply like I love this but no I got too carried away and produced one of the most random and bizarre fics I've ever done. I'm sleep deprived okay!

the munson sandwich (rockstar eddie x reader)

/ hella fluff / taglist and requests open

you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist! and check out my new series love, lola

Should kids sleep in their parents bed? It was always going to be a bone of contention. Eddie was to the core, a clinger, he wanted to be in physical contact with you constantly. So you knew from the get go it would be no better (if not worse) with your children. After reading all the parenting books your brain could handle before imploding, you decided you didn't have a strong opinion either way on whether kids slept with you or not. 

However, once you had Sloane, both of you were so besotted, it wasn't even a question. As if meant to be, she fitted perfectly between you and Eddie in bed. Every night you would all get cosy and form the Sloane Sandwich. A perfect recipe with a slice of mom and dad and in between was the filling of Sloaney Bologna (a nickname coined by Eddie that neither you or your daughter were too thrilled about). Both of you were infatuated with the perfect little cherub you made together and just wanted to be near her always. Sloane could happily snuggle against her dad with you being big spoon and still able to keep your arm over her and Eddie's torso. It was ideal. 

Then Iris came along aka Eddie's clone and shadow. Naturally, she inherited her dad's clinginess as well as everything else. Unlike Sloane, who just slept happily in the middle enjoying both parents. Iris insisted on clinging to Eddie like a tiny curly headed spider monkey. Now it was a slice of you, Sloaney Bologna and then Iris insisted on being so close to Eddie, she was more like a condiment smeared on top of him rather than an extra filling. For the first time in your relationship, your sleeping position of having your arm draped around Eddie's stomach was no longer possible. Instead he just had a little Iris laying right on top, a mini Munson stack. But, you couldn't be angry, not when they looked so cute. Little duplicates of each other who'd become inseparable. 

It worked out that you had two years between each daughter. So by time you were pregnant with Maeve, the bed was full with four year old Sloane and two year old Iris, plus you and Eddie. Realising there's quite a difference between that and just a baby and a two year old in the bed. Iris was now less of a little mini Munson stack on top of Eddie but rather a lump. All of that mixed with your baby bump, meant it was time to have the talk with Eddie. 

'Baby, we can't all fit in the same bed anymore,' you broke it to him. 

He gasped like you had suggested something outrageously cruel, as if you now wanted your kids to sleep in cages. 

'But we're a Munson sandwich?!' He huffed. 

'Well, you've overfilled the sandwich,' you raised a finger at him, stopping him from sniggering at the innuendo. 'I am the top piece of bread that can no longer balance on top! Between you, your clinger, Sloaney and now the bump, your beloved wife and carrier of your children is practically falling out of bed.'

Over the years, you had learnt using carrying his children was a sure fire way to win with Eddie. He groaned like a teenager, knowing you'd used the secret weapon. 

'Fiiiine. We'll get a bigger mattress, sweetheart!'

Your jaw dropped. 

'Eddie! That is not what I was suggesting!'

He held his hand up in protest. 

'Well, sweets, you should've known better than to have ever let me have my way and have the girls in the bed. We're a bed sharing family now. Deal with it. We shall be getting a bigger mattress!'

By the end of the week you were the proud owner of a mattress that seemed to be the size of every other one you've owned, stitched together. Yet, Eddie would soon learn it would not be enough. Nothing was a match for the terror of Maeve Munson. 

'I don't know how, but I know you've taught her to do this,' he accused, outraged that a baby kicked him so hard he had a black eye. 

After you dealt with Iris clinging to your husband for the last two years, he was now getting a taste of his own medicine. Although, Maeve was far more ruthless than her sister, even as a newborn. 

'You were in her way,' you smirked, 'she thought you were trying to steal her Mommy.' 

'You were mine first,' Eddie grumbled from the other side of the bed, sore eye and all. 

Now Sloane was six, she wasn't a permanent feature in the bed but her absence did not create more space. Maeve simply turned it into a buffering zone. If her dad were to encroach on the space, little limbs would kick ferociously to keep him at bay. 

One night you had even been awoken by a wail from Eddie. 

'AHhh you better be sure that you didn't want anymore kids, Y/N because Cerberus Munson has just crushed all hope of it!!'

To go with his now sore balls, he got a hard shove from yourself. 

'Cerberus Munson? Absolutely not. That nickname is vetoed. Far worse than Sloaney Bologna. If Maeve is Cerberus, that means I'm hell!!'

He knew he'd stitched himself up with that one so sulked in silence the rest of the night; bringing you your favourite breakfast in the morning. 

As you sat on your bed, eating your apology breakfast, alongside a black eyed and tender balled, Eddie, you strategised. Despite how funny it was, there was no denying your precious, protective Maeve was a health hazard. It would be a real shame to injure him further considering you'd married a man with such a pretty face and balls. So, a new arrangement was made. No longer were you and Eddie the slices of bread in the Munson Sandwich. It now went a slice of Iris, a filling of dad, a filling of mom and then a slice of Maeve. It meant for the first time in four years, you and Eddie could actually fall asleep on each other like you had your whole relationship. Then, on the occasion Sloane joined, she could slip perfectly in between you just as she had when she first arrived. 

Even as your children grew older, the Munson Sandwich was still beloved. On sad days or chilly nights, the Sandwich would reassemble. It didn't matter if they were adults with their own children, Eddie and you were going to cuddle your girls like they were still your little babies. 

---

my taglist angels: @whoahoney@lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos @munsonology@mseddiemunson @kreepja @midnightsgetawaycar @therosietoesy @littlepotatobeansworld

@josephquinncore

[sojutrait]

chu hua's current favorite past time is going to her aunts' house and pretending she has sisters for once 😭her aunt maeve even taught her her secret brownie recipe

[natewynoou]

how would the oou characters react to getting sick cus i can js see cooper like 'eh its not that bad' and kris like 'its 1pm. and your eyes are still watery and you sneeze after ever sentence dont sit here and tell me youre not sick'

OMG That scénario is so cute!! I can definitely imagine cooper and kris acting like that!

I think for the others it’s definitely a “I’m not sick” “yes you are” situation aswell.

For Maeve and Luis, Maeve is definitely the stubborn one, but you know that Maeve is sick whenever she gets REALLY clingy, especially with Luis. Maeve will never admit she is sick, even if her head is in the toilet after she has just been sick, but she will always be wrapped up in her duvet, soup in one hand, tissues in the other. With Luis holding her.

When Luis gets sick, he would definitely stay st home, and not let Maeve near him, because he doesn’t want her to catch his sickness bug. However, in the end Maeve wins him over with her mom’s special soup recipe.

For Nate and Bronwyn, they very much take care of eachother. Initially, Nate has no clue what to do when bronwyn gets sick, but after the first few times, he’s pretty much on the ball. Warm oat milk, hot water bottle, and those gummy pain killers. He makes sure her hair is held back whenever she is sick. He knows what movies she likes to watch. And no matter what, he doesn’t leave her side.

Both Bronwyn and Nate don’t outwardly admit they’re not sick, but they will both go about their day pretending they’re fine. When Nate gets sick, Bronwyn turns into his personal doctor. Nate loves taking care of her, but he hates Bronwyn fussing over him. Typical really. But, like him, she never leaves his side.

With Addy and Keely, they both straight up admit they’re sick. It’s the female intuition of knowing you’re gonna fall ill. They’ll text one another, and 20 minutes later a care package is at the other’s door. I don’t think they’d be the kind of couple that initially stays with each other through the sickness, but they would call and text constantly, and be in touch with their parents. But because of the care packages, they know they’re loved.

I’m genuinely not too sure about Knox and Phoebe, but if @izzielizzie or @glitterandgoldrush have any ideas, please let me know!

[frogspond200]

𝚈𝚊𝚗!𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Requested by: @xoxo-maeve-xoxo

Ask: Could you write yandere! Poly Huntlow × gn! Reader who like... DOESNT believe the two are obsessed with them?

Warning: General Yandere, Insecure Reader

──────────────────

Hunter and Willow are completely infatuated with you, but you can’t wrap your head around why. They’re both talented and unique individuals, and you often question why they’d choose you. They both have their own ways of expressing their affection, from Willow’s sweet gestures to Hunter’s subtle protective instincts, but you chalk it up to them being friendly or caring in general.

You use humor as a defense mechanism to cope with your insecurities. Whenever they compliment you or act affectionate, you make jokes or deflect with sarcasm, not believing their sincerity. Deep down, you’re afraid that if you take their affection seriously, you’ll only set yourself up for disappointment when they eventually realize you’re not as special as they think.

worthiness of their attention. You think, “Why would they like me when there are so many other interesting people out there?” This feeling of inadequacy often leads you to self-doubt, but you try to push those thoughts aside to enjoy their company.

Despite your doubts, you’re continually surprised by how devoted Hunter and Willow are. They go out of their way to spend time with you, make you smile, and protect you when needed. You secretly cherish these moments but try not to let your guard down too much.

You convince yourself that their affection is temporary, that they’ll eventually lose interest in you and move on to someone better. This fear haunts you even in the happiest moments with them. You haven’t fully accepted that they genuinely love you, even though their actions say otherwise.

Your internal struggle is a constant battle between your feelings for them and your self-doubt. You want to believe in their love but fear being hurt if it’s not real. Sometimes, you seek reassurance from them, asking if they’re sure about their feelings, hoping they’ll convince you it’s not just a passing fascination.

𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛

Hunter tends to be more protective when cuddling. He wraps his arms around you securely, often placing a hand on your waist or back to make sure you feel safe and comfortable. His touches are warm and reassuring.

Hunter displays physical affection by small, protective gestures. He might place a hand on your lower back when guiding you or subtly intertwine his fingers with yours when walking together. His affection is quiet but constant.

Hunter’s hugs are firm and comforting. He embraces you in a strong and reassuring manner, making you feel safe and protected in his arms. His hugs convey a sense of security.

When you all sleep together, it’s a cozy and intimate experience. Hunter likes to be the big spoon, wrapping his arms around you, and Willow, forming a protective cocoon of warmth.

𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠

Willow, on the other hand, is gentle and nurturing. She likes to spoon you from behind, holding you close with her arms draped over you. Her touches are tender, and she loves leaving soft kisses on your neck or shoulder.

Willow is indeed the better cook between the two. She’s a natural in the kitchen and loves experimenting with different recipes and flavors. She often prepares delicious meals for you and the others, and her dishes are always a hit.

Willow is more openly affectionate. She loves holding your hand, cuddling, and showering you with kisses on the cheek or forehead. Her warmth and affection are palpable in every touch.

Willow’s hugs are tender and full of love. She holds you close, resting her head on your shoulder, and often sways gently when hugging. Her hugs are warm and make you feel cherished.

Willow often rests her head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as she drifts off to sleep. Hunter keeps watch, making sure you all have a peaceful night’s rest.

[atranioum]

Sex Education Season 4 (an attempt to cope after witnessing the horror they call season 4)

this is a rant with full on spoilers so you've been warned.

back in 2019 when i first found out about sex education, i thought it was just your usual typical cringe-fest teenage drama with who the fuck cares love story. knowing that asa butterfield is the main lead it's kinda a given what kind of character he's gonna play (no hate to asa i love him and i think he showed a lot of range in this series but it's kinda obvious) and then finding out about maeve's character, i remember rolling my eyes and thinking welp if it isn't your usual rebel and nerd pairing and then proceed to not give two fucks about this show. but then there's this one time when i just needed something to watch and after season 2 dropped, videos of maeve and otis kept popping up on my youtube recommendation, so finally i decided to give it a shot, and just in one episode they proved me wrong big time.

sex education is honestly a series none like any other, even until today i don't think i've watched any series that's even remotely close to sex education, in terms of what they bring and the way they presented it (season 1 to be precise aka goat season), it's very vibrant, it's somewhat stereotypical and yet it defies it too at the same time (idk how else to describe this), it's like you expect certain things about a certain character and it turns out they're completely the opposite, and overall the show just has a very unique tone. the scores, soundtracks and cinematic shots paired with powerful and impactful moments, and just the overall composition is the recipe that they served us with, and my god do we love it, and we craved for more, so they did just that, they served us the same recipe for 3 seasons straight (well 2.5 but i'll let it slide).

and then season 4 slithered its way into our lives🤗

can someone please get me a paper bag cause i'm gonna throw up.

man where to begin? to even call this season a dissapoinment is still a huge understatement, i guess i should've known what's coming when i feel zero excitement watching the trailer, but then i convinced myself like come on it's sex ed it's for sure gonna be great, and yep it's so great that i wish i could unwatch whatever travesty i just witnessed.

watching the first episode i can still feel some familiarity in it and it's still kinda sex education-esque but i didn't love it, a great contrast towards my reaction after watching the first episode of season 3 in which to this day still is one of my favorite episodes of the series. it has a little bit of everything, a refreshing ruby and otis dynamic, the good old longing looks between maeve and otis, and the very heart and core of the show which is otis giving advice helping out his peers and motis being a fucking great team and just the episode as a whole really.

but you know you can never judge something after only watching one episode, so i bite my tongue and just carry on watching. and after watching 2 episodes, something very apparent reveals itself, the pacing is fucked. like how am i supposed to feel anything when the show kept on throwing one thing after another, it feels like when you're eating something and you're still very much chewing but someone keep on feeding you stuff before you can digest or even swallow the food first.

and i think that's the overall theme of season 4, a whole lot of everything and nothing all at the same time, like i'm sorry how are you supposed to end a show after 4 seasons but shoves a bunch of new characters in the finale, how are you supposed to connect to said characters? however powerful the topic and message you're trying to bring it's hard to even care about these characters, because all we expect from a finale is a conclusion of a 4-season long story not an opening of a new chapter.

i rewatched some of my favorite episodes a few days before season 4 dropped, and now looking back at it i just feel like i don't appreciate it enough at that time, i mean the soundtracks are amazing especially season 3 and for a tv series their cinematography is kinda top notch. but then season 4 came out and we got the walmart version of it all.

and then a few hours after watching and hating the season i realized something, ben freaking taylor didn't direct any of the episodes in season 4, my god that explains a lot and idk i think that's kinda why the pacing is fucked? like i know he didn't direct every episode in the whole series but i always think of him as an executive director(?) if that's even a thing, i just feel like he kinda dictates the overall flow of the show. it's such a shame really, if he's involved in this season maybe things could've been different, but then again maybe even ben taylor wouldn't be able to salvage whatever shitshow the writers gave him. it's as if you're watching an avatar movie that's not directed by james cameron, it just feels... wrong.

the whole season just feels freaky to me, a lot of things felt too over the top and comical even. not to mention the storylines are super all over the place, take jackson for example, bro went from thinking about his feelings for cal and then having a cancer scare to getting rejected by his biological father, like what???

now i want to dive in to the characters a little, let's start with ruby and yes i do ship her with otis and somewhat wished for them to be endgame but we'll touch on that later. anyway ruby is not ruby this season and it feels exactly like when maeve wasn't herself in season 3 (which is mainly why i jumped ship). the whole "i was bullied when i was 10" shit is such a tryhard, if it's an attempt to make ruby more likeable and make her being a bully acceptable, dear beloved writers you failed, miserably. if i'm someone who hates ruby (which i'm not) this whole thing would make me hate her even more, like okay i get it you got bullied because you're a bed-wetter but then you became a bully yourself and did worse things to others? how is that suppose to be tolerable. like bro deal with it don't backtrack, she's a bully she did what she did, but that doesn't mean she can't change, doesn't mean she can't grow. and that was the whole point of her arc in season 3. the reason why she was one of the main attraction that season was because we get to see a different side of her, yes she's mean, demanding and particular about every single little thing that revolves around her, but hey turns out she can compromise, she turns soft when it comes to her family and at some point even otis, and don't even get me started on her fucking voice on that call the night she said she loves otis. i understand that they're trying to give her a back story explaining what made her the way she is but honestly the whole bed-wetter thing was a big big miss.

and what's with the whole speech thing at the end of episode 8, it's very un-ruby like, if they're trying to show her character's growth and depth then wtf there's so many other ways to do it without making her super out of character. for instance here's a few things i have in mind; and this one is my personal favorite, like she could have a real conversation with maeve about shit like idk letting otis go or maybe the other way around like maeve telling her about how otis is actually happy with ruby and whatnot (idk maybe something less cringey but still along those lines); or they could explore her friendship with adam, and they could lean on one another and talk about how they lost their first loves, and how a certain pair of best friends completely broke their hearts (because come on why would they show the glimpse and the potential of adam and ruby and not explore it at all fuck they fumbled so bad); or the most logical of all, her dad dying (sorry roland)(i still don't get why maeve's mom is the one that died), anyway her dad being sick was always a big part of her arc, so with him dying we could explore how she would handle and cope with the whole thing now that there's literally no escape, with otis being with maeve etc.; or idk have a fucking proper conversation with otis, have some closure, either it being "i can't be friends with you because my feelings haven't changed", or yes maybe we could be friends, the point is just have a proper closure ffs, don't go around helping him whenever he comes begging for your help, like honestly i refuse to believe the real ruby (the properly written ruby) would let otis string her along like that. yes i get it she's in love with him, has a soft spot for him, but she's still ruby fucking matthews, so really the whole season she was way out of character.

moving on to our boy otis (but still ruby related hehe).... Read the rest of the thread on Twitter.

[izzielizzie]

Izzie’s One of Us is Back Celebration (Day 15)

headcanons: kris, maeve, cooper, & luis’s friendship

below the cut

maeve doesn’t really hang out with all three of them until a few months into her relationship with luis

it’s not that she doesn’t like them it’s just that they’re never all in the same place at the same time

the first time they do something together they go for a walk in the bayview arboretum

it’s still luis’s happy place, even though some of it was ruined by the bomb

maeve spends the entire time talking to kris about books that they’ve both read while cooper and luis toss a ball between them

“how do they walk and play catch at the same time?” maeve asks kris

kris just grins “i do not pretend to know their ways, maeve”

they always find themselves outside

maeve isn’t a big fan, but it’s hard to toss a ball around inside and cooper has decided that kris doesn’t spend enough time in the sun

“you’re basically a ghost, kris” he’s always saying whenever kris complains

luis, cooper, and maeve have a text chain to keep each other up to date on how kris is doing

it’s equal parts sweet and chaotic

“did kris eat something today”

“i saw him eat a granola bar on tuesday”

“that was three days ago luis!!!”

so many long drives that usually end at the beach

maeve taught cooper how to make a daisy chain once and every time they’re in a field he makes everyone crowns

it’s the cutest thing ever

maeve has way less energy than the boys, so every once in a while they have a day when they stay in and just hang out

kris studies, maeve reads, luis tries out new recipes, and cooper curls up against kris’s side and reads out ingredients and instructions to luis

they always show up to each other’s events

the boys go to maeve’s high school graduation

maeve, luis, and kris always make sure to go to cooper’s games

kris, maeve, and cooper are always cheering luis on at his pickup football games 

(even though none of them understand the sport and therefore sometimes cheer at the wrong times)

luis, maeve, and cooper go to kris’s graduation too

they also always drop him off and pick him up at the airport when he takes trips home to germany

maeve’s parents adore cooper, kris, and luis

and kris’s family has meet the other three briefly via facetime and they love that kris has great friends

the santoses though?

oh boy they’ve adopted cooper, kris, and maeve

maeve, cooper, luis, and kris will talk about anything and they’re the closest out of the bayview crew

they throw maeve a little party when she commits to a college

and they all ask her to teach them spanish when she decides to become a spanish teacher

even luis which maeve finds silly since he speaks spanish better than she does

they make dinner together once a week, and every week one person picks the dish

luis always chooses things he wants to put on contigo’s menu

cooper usually goes for the southern food he grew up eating

kris introduces them to food he ate when he was in germany

maeve chooses whatever she’s feeling at the moment, but it’s usually ajiaco

they end up living near each other when they’re older

maeve goes to college in new england and the separation was the worst thing that happened to all of them

she went to grad school in california because she couldn’t stand being away from her friends for so long

cooper, kris, and luis think it’s hilarious that maeve ends up teaching at bayview high

luis helps cooper propose to kris

and maeve helps kris propose to cooper

and since luis and maeve basically share a brain they separately tell both boys to basically do the same thing at the same time

it’s the most chaotic, hilarious proposal ever and yet somehow incredibly perfect

maeve and luis just wake up one day after luis’s restaurant is stable and decide to get married

cooper and kris are so irritated about that because they wanted to help plan the wedding

but like they’re not that irritated because it’s very in character for maeve and luis

maeve, kris, and cooper are the first people to eat at luis’s restaurant

also kris and cooper were told beforehand that the restaurant would be named after maeve and her reaction when she finds out is so cute they all end up crying for nearly half an hour

neither couple has biological kids (maeve and luis foster and eventually adopt, and kris and cooper adopt and eventually foster) but the rest of the bayview crew turn to them for help when babysitting

they’re truly just best friends who adore each other so much and make each other’s lives so much better

[upsidedownwithsteve]

tbh I totally forgot about Basil the cat and I just imagined Maeve sneaking off to her room with an actual thing of basil and thinking it was totally normal because she’s a preteen and probably interested in witchcraft and potions 🤷🏻‍♀️

eddie tried to teach her recipes from a young age but then he found her hoarding his good sage and rosemary under her pillows and the good mixing bowl he thought he’d lost was in her closet, filled with crystals and worms 😔

[thegreyj]

Stirring the pot

Rowaelin month day 11: Work rivals @rowaelinscourt

Stirring the pot

It all had started, when celebrity chef Rowan Whitethorn had joined the kitchen staff as a sous chef. Aelin had been running the kitchen for years under immense pressure, coming up with the most incredible menus for each day, and never even thinking someone might come in and change things up. Here change was, in the form of a gorgeous arrogant bastard. The restaurant owner Maeve wanted a change of pace, only the gods knowing why. Aelin was pissed about the decision, but ever the professional, as the head chef she did her best to continue working the kitchen, creating magnificent dishes and leading the kitchen with her iron grip.

Honestly, working with Rowan Whitethorn of all people wouldn’t be a bad thing, if it weren’t for the fact that he was arrogant and thought he walked on water. Until one of her chefs had changed the recipe for her special lemon sauce, that was supposed to go with the cod she’d specifically gotten that day for the baked lemon garlic cod that was going to be the special of the day. Apparently, chef Whitethorn had an idea to change her menu a bit, forgetting to mention it to Aelin. At that point, she prompty walked out of the kitchen to Maeve’s office, where she was informed that Rowan Whitethorn brings a certain reputation to the restaurant and should have his signature dishes made more often.

It was obvious Aelin was perpetually mad. She had made the kitchen to what it currently was, her skills and dishes bringing the level of the restaurant higher, making it a very popular place in the city. And Rowan Whitethorn with his perfect looks and amazing skills coming in ruining her creation did not belong in her daily plans.

After that one recipe change, it was expected for Rowan to choose one dish for every menu from his signature recipes – usually they just happened to be a new variation of one of Aelin’s special dishes, or somehow unfitting the entire menu, creating more work for Aelin to change things up again. Day after day it was the same. Every single time Aelin tried to talk about it to Maeve, her complaints were promptly swept under the carpet.

Aelin felt her position as the head chef wasn’t respected. The staff was supposed to work under her instructions, but celebrity chef Rowan somehow had come sweeping in as the second-in-command and her honest work seemed to be for nothing. It was supposed to be an honor to work with her, as Aelin was a very well-known skilled chef in the restaurant industry.

She felt threatened. Did Maeve bring Rowan in so it would be easier to kick her out? Had she done something to make this happen?

One day she had reached her breaking point. She had been working on her favorite dessert, a layered chocolate mousse, when she found out that her specially ordered chocolate truffles were gone – one of the chefs had taken them per Rowan’s orders and now they were a part of a chocolate truffle raspberry cheesecake. And definitely not on Aelin’s menu that day. She had had enough.

Feeling disrespected and down, she didn’t even finish her mousse. What was the point, as it was missing one of the key components. Seeing Rowan laughing with her kitchen staff, she saw red. And in the blink of an eye her unfinished mousse was sliding down Rowan Whitethorn’s perfect silver hair.

The man looked shocked, slowly turning around to look at the perpetrator. His gorgeous green eyes focusing on none other than Aelin. He couldn’t have anticipated Aelin to do something so childish, but there it was.

“What?” he couldn’t even form a coherent question; he was genuinely stunned.

“I’ve had enough! My chocolate truffles! I had specially ordered them for my signature layered mousse, but do you respect my menus? NO! I’ve given you leeway, changed my menus so many times and given you a chance to add your dishes to the menu, but for some reason you just love to test my patience!” Aelin stomped her foot like an angry toddler before swiftly exiting the kitchen and going outside.

After cooling down for a while, she was feeling a bit embarrassed of her outburst. She knew she had trained the kitchen staff to work well even without her present at all times, but still she usually preferred to make sure everything was going perfectly. Now, however, she was sitting outside with her back against the wall, pondering if her life truly made her happy. Maybe it was time to change things up a bit. Maybe she could open the restaurant she had always dreamt of opening, instead of running someone else’s business.

The door opened, and someone joined Aelin on the ground. She didn’t raise her gaze, she was so lost in her thoughts. A lone tear slipped down her cheek.

“Look I’m sorry about the truffles. I didn’t realise they were yours, one of the chefs just brought them to me after I mentioned I’d like to make my truffle berry cheesecake,” Rowan began. It was the first time Aelin heard him speak with a gentle voice. Usually his tone exuded a bit of arrogance, which of course just added to Aelin’s irritation.

“The truffles were just the tip of the iceberg, Mr Whitethorn,” Aelin stated coolly.

“Rowan, please. And what do you mean?” His brows scrunched up in confusion.

“Like you don’t know what you’ve been doing! Coming up with dishes that don’t fit my menus, creating new variations of MY dishes. The disrespect, no one listens to my instructions anymore! What am I, air? I thought it was supposed to be my kitchen but I’ve been swept under the carpet. Maybe Maeve truly is letting me go,” she said with a dejected voice.

“What? I thought- this is not- I don’t know what to say, I thought you knew?” Rowan’s words shocked Aelin. Wait, he knew she was going to be fired? And he played with her in her kitchen like that all these weeks? Well, apparently not her kitchen anymore.

The anger came back doubled, making Aelin stand up.

“YOU KNEW? You knew I was going to be fired and you just toyed with me, disregarded my decisions and made me a laughingstock as a head chef?” Aelin yelled. Rowan had gotten up too and looked at Aelin with wide eyes.

“Fired? What? NO! Maeve is about to step away from the business entirely and is looking to hand the ownership over,” he stated.

“So, you’re here to essentially become my boss? So much better, wow,” the words coming out her mouth were dripping in sarcasm.

“You don’t understand, it’s not me she wants to take over! Well, in a way it is. She wants me to take your position,” Rowan tried to explain, but Aelin was just getting madder at him. She was now up in his face, almost seething.

“You mean to tell me that my boss is about to leave the business, and I’m losing my position? I get it, everyone else knew, that’s why the blatant disrespect at all times-,“ she began before being interrupted.

“Maeve wants you to take over the business side, and me as the head chef. She wanted me to bring in some of my dished in to make the transfer smoother, and as for the variations of your dishes, well… I’ve always admired you as a chef and thought you were a culinary genius. I honestly did not realise you’d think of it as disrespect, I just wanted to show off a little for you – kind of as a sign of respect, really. I’m so sorry, and I won’t do it again, I promise. It’s just… Well, I- I’ve really enjoyed working with you,” Rowan explained.

Aelin stared at him in shock, with her mouth open and eyes blinking. No other reaction.

“Say something, please,” Rowan pleaded.

“And here I was ready to hand in my resignation,” Aelin said with the shock still in her voice. Rowan chuckled.

“Please don’t. Your kitchen is the best one I’ve worked at, and I’ve worked at quite a few. You’re a genius when it comes to food, and I love to watch you work. The way your eyebrows slightly scrunch up when you focus on something, the small smile that graces your lips when you taste something you like. Trust me, there is no disrespect from my side, only admiration,” he smiled at her. Aelin once again looked absolutely stunned. Something fluttered in her stomach. He’d noticed such tiny details about her – when was he looking at her? He was always surrounded by his fan club in the kitchen.

“Well- I- I suppose-,” Aelin blabbered as she realised just how close they were standing. She swallowed. She’d have to just lean in a bit and they’d- no. She shouldn’t think like that. She was a professional.

Aelin was about to take a step back when she felt arms surround her. Rowan was looking deep into her eyes and suddenly the hatred she had felt was forgotten, leaving only the tension between them. Tension that had been there since day one, but Aelin had thought it was simply anger.

He really has beautiful eyes, Aelin thought just a moment before she felt his lips on hers. A brief kiss that left her wanting more, but also her mind jumbled; she couldn’t have imagined that this morning she would throw mousse on him, and the next moment be kissing him. The world really worked in mysterious ways.

She thought they should be getting back to the kitchen, but as she looked at Rowan who was staring at her with those perfect green eyes of his showing how much he admired her… She supposed one more kiss couldn’t hurt.

--

Tags: @rowanaelinn | @morganofthewildfire | @tomtenadia | @leiawritesstories | @aelinchocolatelover | @backtobl4ck

[exception-witch-proves-the-rule]

Hot Chocolate Mug Cake

Hey all, I just made this again tonight and thought that others might enjoy. I found the recipe a while ago on an ancient, now-deleted blog and wanted to make sure it wasn’t forgotten because it is delicious and infinitely customizable! You don’t need any fancy tools or baking expertise, just some simple ingredients and a microwave.

Ingredients:

Packet of hot cocoa mix (I use Swiss Miss Dark Chocolate but whatever floats your boat!)

4 tbsp all purpose flour

4 tsp granulated sugar

4 tbsp milk of choice

1/4 tsp baking soda

All you’ll need to use is a microwave-safe mug (please double check, I accidentally used a mug with metallic paint once! Luckily I caught it before anything caught fire), a spoon, and a microwave!

Directions:

Mix all the ingredients together in the mug. Doesn’t matter what order. Stir them well, you want it to be a smooth consistency without any dry or powdery spots left. It should look something like this when you’re ready.

Once you’ve got everything mixed well, you’re gonna put the mug in the microwave for about 1 minute and 30 seconds (maybe a touch more or less depending on your wattage, but luckily there’s no raw ingredients in this so it’s okay if it’s a bit underdone. You can always microwave it longer if needed!)

Afterwards it should look something like this!

It’ll have a thick, cakey texture. You can then top it with whatever you like (marshmallows, ice cream, powdered sugar, etc) or just eat it as-is! I use a spoon and eat it straight out of the mug. Experiment! Enjoy!

[kindred-sims]

In the days since Maeve and Agnes' visit, Jo had given a lot of thought towards their suggestion. A nice gesture to Caleb, a gift of some sort to express her gratitude and prove that she wasn't so dimwitted, but what? She considered maybe knitting him a pair of socks, but her hands were far too clumsy to work the large needles properly, and she doubted he would have much use for needlepoint art.

It was only when she'd awoken one morning to the smells of bacon and eggs drifting in from the kitchen, did she at last come up with an idea.

She was going to cook something for him.

He already did a bulk of the cooking in the first place, and while she appreciated it, what sort of wife would be she be if she didn't know how to prepare at least a few basic meals? She'd never learned much growing up, having only the knowledge from the times she'd watched her grandmother's cook as a child, but how hard could it be?

One afternoon, after Caleb had left to work the fields, she'd slipped into the kitchen and pulled out a box of old recipes, many of which had been handwritten by his mother and grandmother. She picked the easiest one that she could find -- that one being a simple chocolate pie, and got straight to work. She couldn't help but feel a pinch of hopeful excitement, thinking of how pleased Caleb would be when he came back in from a hard day's work to find a delicious treat waiting for him.

Maybe, just maybe, this would her chance to prove herself to him, to prove that she was worth being here.

That she was worth loving.

The kitchen was soon filled with all sorts of wonderful smells as Jo eagerly pulled the pie from the oven, and she began to walk over to the nearest window, so as to place the pie there to cool. In her haste, however, her elbow ended up bumping right into the one bowl left on the counter -- a bowl that she must've missed during her cleanup of the kitchen, and it soon went careening onto the floor, landing with an alarmingly loud bang, sending any remaining ingredients spilling with it.

Jo could only stand there in absolute horror, mortified at what she had just done. Oh, why must she be such an oaf! Papa had always said she was far too gawky for her own good, this only proved it. What a failure of a wife she was, she couldn't even manage something as simple as navigating her own kitchen!

She was only broken out of her trance by the sound of the front door opening, and immediately dropped to her knees, trying in vain to clean up the horrible mess before Caleb could see it. Caleb -- oh Caleb, he was going to be so angry with her! He was going to be furious! This was surely going to make him hate her even more, she was as good as doomed.

"Josephine?"

She seized in fear at the sound of his voice, his footsteps approaching the kitchen. Despite everything within her mind screaming at her to just sweep the mess away under the nearest counter and run for the next room, she couldn't do it. She couldn't move, far too petrified, far too ashamed.

This was how Caleb found her when he entered the room just a moment later.

[moiraimyths]

How would everyone save MC (or each other) in their contacts? I predict the chat group being all kinds of board game night hell hahaha

Shae: Saves MC under their full name. They spend their time in the group chat telling everyone when Keagan is lying to them for fun or when Robin is up to no good. Sends a lot of food pics and recipes. Keagan: Saves MC as "Mo Chuisle". Sends a lot of selfies in the group chat. Spends most of the time trying to get people to believe outrageous things, correcting grammar/spelling, and gossiping. More often than not he is doing one of these things purely to annoy certain other people. Aífe: Saves MC as "Darling <3", obviously. She sends the group chat a "good morning~!" text/selfie whenever she wakes up and then barely interacts, except to gossip with Keagan or to comment support on other people's pictures. Maeve: Saves MC under whatever name they generally go by. She's the chat member who is always inviting everyone out to events in town. Half of the time she has notifications muted. Flannán: Saves MC as their first name with a little :) emoji. Constantly falling for Robin and Keagan's respective antics and lies. He is surprisingly online, though. One of the first respondents to any given conversation and he tends to keep the group chat updated with what he's doing.

Robin: Saves MC under an obscure nickname that basically no one but you two understands. Constantly spamming/linking cursed content and memes. Will never fix their spelling despite being fully capable of doing so.

***

The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe) is now out on Steam and Itch.io! Check our pinned post for details!

[tomtenadia]

Rowaelin month: A blessed Samhain

Rowaelin month day 7: holiday celebration. ( @rowaelinscourt) This fic is set in the Island Dream AU and we meet again our favourite pagan family. ---

It was the morning of the 31st of October and Rowan was excited. The previous night he and his family had adorned the house with scary decorations. He had baked an enormous batch of witch-shaped cookies for the evening. Aelin had bought him the cookie cutter and he did the rest. Online he had researched some other recipes and was ready to celebrate with his family. The twins were now six and Thomas was just over four. When the girls had asked about Halloween he had told them about Samhain and how he used to spend it with his parents. 

Aelin had been more than happy to let Rowan teach the kids the old ways. It really meant a lot to him and the kids seemed to be loving his special beliefs too. With time he had built a tree house on the great tree in their backyard and that’s was where they were going to spend the night. The kids were far too young to go out guising so he had an alternative plan. Grandma Evalin had created dresses for them. Both girls had decided to dress up as their namesakes. A few months past they had asked their parents about their names and Rowan had told them. So Morrigan was now obsessed with crows after he told her that her mythological counterpart would appear as a crow. Freyja had loved to hear that she was meant to be a goddess and Evalin had created her a cloak that was meant to represent Freyja’s cloak of falcon feathers. Thomas was a much simpler soul and had been happy with a cat costume. Rowan was dressing up as a warrior and Aelin as his queen. In secret he had decorated the treehouse, the floor lined with quilts and pillows. He had carried some books of Celtic legends, and will bring all the spooky food he was preparing and some candles. Aelin was still at the hospital but she was due to come off her night shift in a few hours. And while she rested he would take the kids at the bookstore where they had become a permanent feature. Morrigan had told him that she wanted to sell books like him. Freyja on the other hand, after the fire in their house, had decided she was becoming a firefighter, while Thomas was now set on veterinarian. He and Aelin were proud of their kids. Some days were hard, but they would not change their lives for anything in the world.

As he was removing another tray from the oven, he heard the distinctive chatter of the twins. The two had always been an early riser like him, to dismay of his wife and their little brother who loved to stay in bed as long as possible.

“Morning dad,” the girls went to kiss him.

“Morning my little witches.”

The twins giggled and Freyja grabbed one of the biscuits and laughed when her father glared at her “they are for tonight, have this,” and he passed them a few of the pancakes he had made.

“Is mama coming too?”

“Mum is still at the hospital but will be home soon.”

The girls squealed in delight and went back to their breakfast while their father finished his cooking marathon. It was Sunday and although he was usually closed he had decided top open for a few hours in the afternoon. Aelin and the kids had helped him decorated the bookstore too and Maeve had created a a special menu too for her cafe. After a really bad storm damage at her old location, Rowan had bought the old disused shop beside his bookshop and had given it to his aunt to reopen her cafe. It had a very appreciated move in town too as Maeve’s cafe was very popular. Thomas had woken up too eventually and they all had breakfast together and Rowan had to calm down his super excited kids.

*

Evening eventually came around. Aelin had come back from the hospital later than expected after they had a last minute emergency airlifted from South Uist. She had taken a shower and gone to bed and that’s where he found her after he came home from the bookstore with the kids all hyper and ready to celebrate. 

In October the sun set very early so it was already dark outside. While Aelin was finishing getting ready he had dragged the last few things to the treehouse, had lit up the fairy-lights and the battery candles. The place was now perfect. He had worn his costume earlier on but had left his plastic sword in the living room and once he got back in the house he laughed at the image of Freyja pretending to slay dragons. Some things would never change.

Aelin emerged from their bedroom and for a second he froze. She was wearing a gorgeous blue dress, a fake crown and the cloak she had used for the solstice and their wedding many years ago. She was beautiful and he’d never stop telling her. Even after six years of marriage she had the power to make his legs go jelly.

“Kids, my queen,” he announced while offering his arm to his wife “please follow me to our dwelling for the night.”

He bowed deeply and then ushered his family outside. Luckily the wind had stopped and the night was relatively mild and clear of clouds. He could see the stars already heavily adorning the night sky. The bonus of living in the country side was the lack of light pollution so he could spend evening outside with his kids and tell them all about the constellations. “Ro, it looks beautiful,” Aelin took his hand and stared at the corner of peace he had created for them. Freyja ran for the ladder and Rowan was suddenly behind her, guiding his daughter on the steps and then the other two kids followed. Finally he offered his hand to Aelin “my queen,”

Aelin kissed him “thank you, my king.”

He followed and once inside he removed his cape and joined his family under the heavy blankets.

Aelin distributed the food around while Rowan was placing the candles at the edge of the house and placed a plate with two biscuits on it and a small glass of milk.

“Dad are you offering food to the gods?” Asked Freyja with curiosity.

“Yes, my love. It’s an offering so that the livestock can survive winter.” And he explained them that Samhain marked then end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter. Then he grinned “It is also when it is believed that the boundary with our world and the Otherworld is thinner and fairies and spirits can easily slip through.”

“Do fairies love witch-shaped biscuits?”

Aelin grabbed one “they do and the fae will be very happy with your dad’s baking” she added munching away.

Morrigan laughed happily “mama is a faerie queen.” She then stood “and I am the Morrigan and will keep the bad people away,” she added swaying her cloak about. Both Freyja and Thomas stood and the three kids started jumping around the three house until Rowan grabbed them all and landed on the softs quilts and started tickling the kids. Aelin joined in until Rowan started making ghost sounds and they pretended to scream in terror. Morrigan drew her cape over her head and joined her father, but Thomas got spooked all of a sudden and ran to his mother.

“Girls, easy, now let’s all sit down under the blankets, have some food and I will tell you some stories.”

They all loved story telling time. Thomas sat between Aelin’s legs whereas the two girls laid down on her bellies and head propped up on their knuckles facing their father. Rowan covered them both and moved under the blanket and grabbed one of his many books on Celtic mythology. 

“A long time ago in a land far away it existed a supernatural race called Tuatha de Dannan, they were kings, queens, bards, druids, warriors, heroes and they all lived in the Otherwold.”

Aelin loved listening Rowan tell stories to their kids. His story telling sessions at the bookstore had become very popular and she and the kids were regulars. 

“Is the Morrigan a tuttnanna?”

Rowan smiled at his daughter’s attempt at pronouncing the words.

“Yes, she is ?”

“Freyja too?”

Rowan and Aelin knew from experience that story telling in the house was always disrupted by the non stop questions coming from the kids. 

“No, Freyja belongs to Nordic mythology. Do you remember the viking?”

Freyja squealed.

“I love the viking,” added Thomas quietly in Aelin’s arms.

“And you my queen who do you fancy?”

“Definitely Thor,” a wanton smile on her face that he did not miss.

Slowly Rowan recalled everyone to attention and did manage to tell a few stories and by the time he was over the kids were asleep.

“We should take them to bed.”

Slowly they carried the kids back to the house and then Rowan went back to collect all the remaining items.

Before he left he stopped and looked up at the sky. The Milky Way had appeared and it was shining brightly. A moment later he felt Aelin’s hand on his hips “what is it, my king?”

He brought her in front of him, her back against his chest and held her “another aspect of Samhain is that with the barrier with our world and the Otherworld being thinner, our loved who have passed can also cross and be close to us for one night,” he whispered quietly “I was just imagining my parents being closer to me tonight and I was telling them of my life, my wife and my children. I want to believe they are proud of what I have become.”

Aelin turned in his arms and looked at up at him. Rowan was still staring at the sky and his eyes shone brightly “They are, buzzard, and I am imagining my dad joining them and the three of them are here right now with us, or in the room hugging the kids.” She brushed his hair gently “they are proud, you are an amazing husband and the most caring dad one could imagine.”

Rowan kissed her and then they stood in silence in each other arms for a second. But before they left a breeze in a very calm evening brushed them and Rowan wanted to believe it had been his parents and Rhoe giving them their last goodbye before fading back in the Otherwolrd.

“Until next Samhain.”

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @acreativelydifferentlove @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98 @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart

[samuraiko]

Orym vignette request~

“Nap” or “Will’s sisters”

I couldn't decide which one I wanted to do, so… you're getting both! :D I hope you like them!

-------

"A Moment's Respite"

Orym approached the tall, graceful woman standing at the cliff edge and bowed. "You summoned me, Tempest?"

"Yes." She turned as Orym straightened, and he could see that her eyes were shadowed with worry and concern. "Orym… are you… all right?"

"Tempest?"

"It's been almost four weeks since the attack, and I don't think you've slept more than three or four hours a night since then." Keyleth reached out and very lightly stroked back Orym's soft brown hair. "I know you want to be vigilant, but… you can't protect me or anyone else if you're asleep on your feet."

"It's… not just that, Tempest. It's…" He tried valiantly to hide it, but the druid saw the flash of anguish in his eyes.

Too late, Orym looked down at his feet awkwardly, and Keyleth sighed. Then she put one hand on his shoulder and began to walk through Zephrah, guiding him along at her side.

"Come. I have an idea."

Together they walked through the village, and those they passed bowed their heads in respect to Keyleth. Eventually, the two arrived at the foot of a large tree. Unlike most of the trees of Zephrah, this one stood far taller, its branches spreading wide and its canopy high. The trunk was an almost shimmering white, but most intriguing of all was the number of ravens that sat upon its branches.

Now it was Keyleth's turn to look momentarily stricken, and she briefly closed her eyes, then re-opened them and looked down at Orym.

"Do something for me, Orym."

"Of course, Tempest. Anything you command."

Keyleth pointed up to a small cluster of branches. "Climb up there, and rest." She raised her voice ever so slightly. "The ravens shall guard your rest." In response to her words, a few of the ravens fluttered away from the cluster to make room, then they looked down at Orym respectfully.

"Are… you sure about this?"

She nodded and smiled, then rested her hand on his shoulder. "Yes." Keyleth lowered her voice to a near-whisper. "This is where I come when I want to dream of the one I loved and lost. I see no reason why you can't do the same."

Orym swallowed hard and nodded, then he clicked his heels and sprang several feet straight up into the air to land dextrously on the branch that Keyleth had indicated. He set aside his sword and his shield, though keeping them within easy reach, and stretched out his legs while leaning back against the tree.

One raven, larger than the rest, coasted down from higher in the tree to land beside him, and the halfling couldn't help but smile wanly at it.

"You're gonna guard my rest, right? You're almost as big as me, so I'll trust you."

The raven tilted its head and lightly pecked at Orym's chest, just over his heart.

Orym closed his eyes, did his best to swallow his tears, and slowly, slowly, slowly, let the exhaustion and pain and heartache take him as he slid into sleep.

-------

"Found Family"

"ORYM, CAN YOU COME HELP ME, PLEASE?" Berenie's voice carried from the kitchen, and a moment later, the halfling appeared in the doorway.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"I just realized I forgot to pick some fresh herbs from the garden, would you mind going outside and getting some for me?" She saw him raise one hand and immediately shook her head. "No, no, no, don't waste your Druidcraft on that. Besides, I need more than one type of herb so you'd have to go outside anyway."

Orym laughed softly. "Fine, then, which ones do you need?"

"I need…" Berenie glanced over her shoulder at the recipe book. "Tarragon, some dill, and a double handful of parsley."

"Roast stew tonight, I take it?" Just the thought of it made his stomach rumble, and he heard a giggle from behind him as Lita came in.

"I heard that in the hallway, Orym."

"Sorry, I haven't had breakfast yet. I only just finished my morning routine and-"

"Oh, no, don't let Maeve hear that you skipped breakfast, she'll take your head off."

"I didn't skip breakfast, that's why I was actually coming in here-"

"DID HE FORGET TO EAT AGAIN?!" came a bellow from outside.

"I didn't forget, Maeve, I just finished exercising!" he called out the kitchen window, while Lita gave him a knowing grin and Berenie went back to preparing the stew for the evening meal.

"ORYM, DON'T YOU DARE DO ANYTHING BEFORE GETTING SOME FOOD INTO YOU, YOU NEED TO KEEP YOUR STRENGTH UP!"

"But Berenie needs some herbs-"

"DON'T MAKE ME COME IN THERE!"

Berenie laughed and called out, "If you're going to come in here to yell at him, maybe you should bring me some herbs instead!"

"Nah, I'll get them." Orym swiped some freshly baked waybread from the table, broke off a piece, and popped it into his mouth. With his mouth still full, he glanced back at Berenie and asked, "You said dill, tarragon, and what else?"

"Parsley, double handful."

"Got it. Back in a little bit." Munching on the bread, he left the house and circled around to the large garden in the back, where he found Maeve on her hands and knees, tending to one corner where she kept her medicinal plants.

"G'morning, Maeve… see? I'm eating." He waved the waybread in her direction, and she gave him a measured glare.

"I've seen sparrows that eat more than you. And with all that you put yourself through, you really should be eating better, Orym."

"It's fine… I'm like half your size, so I only need to eat half as much."

Maeve tossed a clod of earth at him, which he easily dodged. "Make sure to get something more substantial into you after you finish picking those herbs for Berenie. Will needs something solid to hug."

"I've not heard him complaining," Orym murmured under his breath as he gathered the requested herbs.

"True, you usually just have him making other sounds-"

Now it was Maeve's turn to dodge as Orym chucked a handful at her, his face flaming red.

"MAEVE!"

"I'm not wrong, though!"

"Oh, shut up."

Maeve laughed and went back to tending her plants, while Orym finished gathering the herbs for dinner and came back inside. Lita and Berenie were working side by side in the kitchen, Berenie industriously scouring and washing the heavy iron cauldron, and Lita quickly making some eggs and bacon.

Orym set the herbs beside Berenie on the counter, then accepted the eggs and bacon from Lita. "Thanks, Li."

"You're welcome, little brother."

[redflagromance]

Short Story Release: Duck Hunt (Maeve Le Fey Story- 8,122 words)

"I won't be making frogs." Maeve slapped the papers onto her end table, next to the lamp. "I appreciate you dropping these off, I really do. But I'm a little offended that you would even add that spell to my library requests unasked." She sniffed. "It's simply not to my tastes, Adelaide."

Adelaide followed her down the entryway, giving a cursory glance at the songbird peeping furiously for his attention in a golden cage.

"It's a classic for a reason." Her old classmate rolled his eyes, as if she was being unreasonable. "How can you call yourself a practitioner if you've never turned someone to a frog?" He turned away from the bird and fiddled with a ceramic on a display shelf. "People are starting to talk, Maeve."

"Why would I need to do that?" Maeve threw her hands up, sighing. "Why do they even care?" She shrugged off her coat and hung it on the hook. “Busy bodies, all.” She shot a disapproving look at the silly red bird beating its wings for attention.

Adelaide turned and shook his head piteously at her. "I suppose that if you don't know, you'll never know. Chin up darling, you have other skills. Eventually people will forget. Maybe you could make a point to show off something soon?" he suggested kindly.

‘They think I can’t do it? How ridiculous.’

Maeve took a deep breath and shook off whatever latent insecurity made her fear peer disapproval. She didn’t have to prove anything to anyone.

"I'm afraid of hyenas," Adelaide said. He was clearly trying to comfort her with some relatable anecdote. "I've been as far back as I can remember." His voice went quiet, his gaze distant. He was seeing some other time and place now.

Maeve tuned him out.

"It's probably just because a pack of hyenas ate my Father," Adelaide muses.  "I wasn't old enough to remember, but I was there. The first time I saw The Lion King on Broadway, I lost my mind and killed 34-"

"Adelaide," Maeve interrupted tersely. "I appreciate that you're trying to cheer me up, but I'm not in a headspace for it."

He stopped talking entirely. He gave her a dazed look. He didn't seem entirely present.

She ignored that. "I'll see you tomorrow," Maeve said, hoping he'd take the hint and get out of her living room without their customary cup of coffee. She let out a sigh, because he was being kind. "Thank you for bringing this." She picked the spell details back up. He really did mean well. “I’ll think on what you said, darling. And I’ll see you at the reunion next month.”

Adelaide looked at her long and hard. He let out a sigh. His eyes softened with fondness. "Don't work too hard," he admonished. Then he left in a swirl of smoke. The distinctive aroma of his magic spread out through the room.

She closed her eyes and indulged in a deep, calming breath. Then she opened her eyes and gave the songbird a stern look. It had gone quiet and sullen when Adelaide left. “Don’t think I didn’t see that,” Maeve chided.

It peeped in response.

“So rude,” she muttered, and went to make something for dinner. She gestured sharply upwards with her left hand and the cookbook obligingly lifted to hover above the counter. She hummed and flipped pages, looking for the recipe that she’d chosen yesterday.

Music started for her, a pleasant background to the evening chore of preparing food. She was in a very good mood by the time that she had finished meal preparation, a ritual that soothed the rough edges of an irritating day at work. She plated a serving and put the rest away for her lunch tomorrow.

At said lunchtime Maeve opened the fridge at work anticipating culinary perfection- a particularly exemplary rendition of duck confit and a salad- but all she found was confusion.

“Where is my lunch.” She asked the universe flatly.

The universe didn’t respond, but the nosy man from the advertising department did.

“Oh, wow,” He said, coming up behind her. His hot ham breath was on her neck.

Disgusting.

“Looks like you’re the latest victim of the lunch bandito.” His pronunciation was abominable. Why were white men like this. This interaction was somehow worse than some contemptible peon stealing her lunch.

He was definitely doing his finger-guns thing. She shut the refrigerator door and walked away.

‘Someone is going to pay for this. For my lunch, and especially for Greg talking to me.’

Incensed, she went back to her office and flung herself onto her office chair. She stared at her laptop, musing over her options.

‘How long has this been going on? Greg implied that I wasn’t the first.’

She opened the anonymous HR complaints inbox, noting not for the first time the sheer number of complaints regarding the ply of the company toilet paper (unlikely to be changed).

Maeve would not say that she was particularly given to caring about the concerns of others, but she did like to think that she was competent at her job. She tended to review most suggestions on the same day, so it would have been bizarre to not have known about a, a- what did Greg call them?- a lunch luchador.

The only complaint that she could identify as being plausibly related was from four months ago. Faheema in Client Relations had had her tomato and peanut sauce salad stolen from the break room. Unfortunately, there were no suspects and the complaint had languished there.

‘That can’t be the whole story.’

Maeve leaned back and gently massaged her temples. ‘I should check back at the crime scene, and interview the witnesses.’

The work refrigerator betrayed no new information, save that her expensive glass container wasn’t there.

Neither was it in the sink, or the trash can.

‘The unsub must have taken the evidence with them.’ Maeve took out a tiny pad of paper from her pocket, and wrote ‘careful’ in it.

Of course, lunch was mostly over, so there was no one to interview in the break room.

‘I guess that means I have to go back to my contact.’ She mused. ‘Find other victims and witnesses. Walk the streets.’

She found Greg at his cubicle, drinking stale coffee. His oversized khakis billowed in the air conditioning breeze.

“Mr. Wilson.” She greeted, putting her hands behind her back. “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”

He looked up at her, wide eyes filled with something she couldn’t discern. Fear? Hope? Guilt? Surprise at being accosted by an HR attorney?

“That- that would be fine.” He put down his green mug. It said ‘I’d rather be golfing.’

“How can I help you?”

“My lunch.” She stated clearly. “It wasn’t the first to be stolen, was it?”

He coughed.

‘A sign of guilt?’ She eyed him up and down. Greg would be a prime suspect, if contemptibility were a sign of the criminal element. He didn’t seem to be able to afford a full pair of shoes to go with his socks, which would explain his motivations in purloining paninis.

“No, ma’am. It wasn’t. It’s been happening for over six months.” He rolled over to part of his desk, where he removed a legal notepad covered in scribbles. “I think the first one was Niraj,” he gestures a few cubicles over, “but there’s been one almost every work day.”

Maeve did some quick mental math and the answer was appalling.

‘The depths of this unsub’s depravity knows no bounds. That’s over 120 lunches.’

“Why haven’t people been reporting this?”

She could tell from his flinch back that her tone had come out too sharp. Meave compensated with a smile.

Greg gave her a wavering smile in return and ducked eye contact. “No one wanted to bother you,” he said vaguely, with a smarmy grin that made it evident it was a joke at her expense.

Her immediate theory was that the lunch thief had somehow intimidated the cubicle peasants into silence. She dismissed that after a moment- they would have compromised their anonymity if they communicated. No, the answer was much more likely that she had some kind of reputation for being unapproachable.

She got no further with the mystery that day. The incident might have faded if it wasn’t for the fact that when she warily opened the shared refrigerator the next day, her butternut squash risotto with porcini mushrooms and chicken was not in it.

“I am going to take a life,” Maeve said through gritted teeth. She ignored the sudden sound of a chair scraping and someone leaving the room. Someone coughed. She stalked over to the sink to look for her container– there it was, along with yesterday’s. She picked it up and made a sound of disgust. “Neither one of them have been washed.” Her voice came out incredulous. “This- this animal kept the first container in the office, unwashed, for 24 hours?”

She absolutely had to unmask this vile and petty bandit.

Maeve stalked back to her office and wrote up a scathing email. Then she deleted it and wrote another one, addressed to the entire company, with sugary sweet concern for whoever had eaten her lunch. She’d just found out that the sauce in it had been expired, after all, and anyone who ate it should seek medical attention immediately. She hit send and waited.

She did not have the kind of reputation that made people dismiss her as a threat. Whoever had eaten that was probably feeling fear for their life right now. Any minute now, someone would confess, or ask for permission to go to the doctor for a sudden stomachache.

Any minute now.

Minutes dragged on into hours and Maeve had to admit that whoever had robbed her had done something far more insulting than steal from her. They had dismissed her as a threat.

With that poisonous thought in her mind, Maeve found herself tempted to put a little something extra in the next day's lunch.

She refrained after remembering that the pattern indicated that it was likely she would be eating her own lunch tomorrow.

It wasn’t a targeted attack: the thief selected victims randomly.

After making that assessment, it was absolutely infuriating to open the fridge door at lunchtime and discover once again that her lunch was not inside. This time there was, again, no storage container in the sink or garbage.

“It’s in their desk,” Maeve muttered to herself, punching in an order for delivery with unnecessary force. “That little freak has my storage container in their rancid desk.”

They were definitely targeting her now.

…It was legally inadvisable to actively poison her own lunch, as well as a waste of a good container.

‘My only option is surveillance.’

It took a few days for the equipment to arrive and for the mail personnel to deliver it to her desk.

She reviewed the instructions multiple times, and waited for the end of business hours.

As usual, the feral masses fled the building at exactly five. She stalked back to the crime scene with a box of cameras and wires.

She was furiously drilling a hole into the wall when she heard someone call out to her from behind.

“Ma’am.” Someone said, vaguely threatening.

She turned around, one hand on the ladder for balance.

The security guard turned a gruesome shade of pink at the sight of her face. “I’m sorry ma’am, but do you have permission to do this?”

She waved her drill at him. “I’m a lawyer. This is all very above-board, I assure you.” Then Maeve leaned down at him. “I have noticed that you have been remiss in your duties. This lunch thief”, she spat, “has been allowed to run amok in this place for far too long. I am merely putting it right.”

“O-Okay then.”

The guard left in a hurry. No one evidently dared to check into whether she did have the authority or permission to install cameras, which was the first bit of luck Maeve had had all week.

Once they were installed, all she would have to do was watch and wait.

Maeve resentfully checked the recording from the previous day, rewinding and rewatching over and over again to try to catch sight of her container as hands moved in and out of the fridge. But it was no luck- she hadn’t managed to capture any definitive proof. It was difficult to determine at what time the unsub was striking, and there was significant traffic in the break room at all times of day.

She scowled as yet another office worker got their coffee and then stepped back to hang around in the aisle, blocking her view. They seemed unaware of the woman who was obviously waiting for them to move. Her blood pressure rose and she gritted her teeth, fighting her anger.

Why? Why were so many people that way? There was perfectly adequate seating.

Not for the first time, she considered moving her camera. But the only answer was patience. So she set her jaw and admitted that it would take at least one more day.

The options for camera placement had been limited. It would have been ideal to put it three feet from the refrigerator: except that the thief would see it immediately.

The unobtrusive placement she'd settled on had a direct line of sight to the fridge - as long as no one was standing in the way or there wasn't a tall person sitting at a certain table. That should be fine. What kind of lunatic spent their time standing around cluelessly in the walking path?

Apparently, one of the most beloved traditions of office workers was lurking in the walkway clutching their instant coffee. One of them was swaying back and forth on the recording she was watching at the moment. Maeve felt her hand curl into a fist.

She rewatched Angelica sip coffee on the monitor, taking over half an hour for a paid coffee break that she seemed to nurse beyond reason. Good for Angelica, honestly. She wasn't paid enough: Maeve had checked.

‘What I have managed to discover is that a large number of workers are avoiding work in the break room.’

But that wasn’t her concern. Frankly, she didn't give a damn about squeezing productivity out of office workers. She wasn’t one of the managers. Her concern was not with the cubicle jockeys escaping the crushing oppression of open plan offices, but of weightier merit. And she was failing at identifying the culprit.

‘I will find this thief if I have to comb through every inch of this office campus.’ She gripped her own coffee mug tightly. Her coffee was certainly cold by now, but she drank it anyway.

The office grade coffee left a sour aftertaste in her mouth and a film on her tongue. It was even more contemptible cold, but her sorry detective work merited sorry coffee.

She sent the next update, cc'ed to the President and Vice President, as per her habit. She didn't mind that they didn't respond.

Every day, it was the same. She would bring in lunch -unpleasantly textured, overly spicy, bland- the criminal devoured them all. Maeve would find her containers in the sink over the next few days, unwashed.

She considered seeing if DNA was left behind, and trying to see if the culprit could be identified that way.

It did seem likely that the kind of monster that would do this might have DNA on file with the authorities, but she didn't have access to any DNA databases in her capacity as an HR representative.

It made her think about criminal profiling, though. Everyone who'd had food taken was a young woman.

…That meant that he'd been in the room watching people either put their food in or eat it, she realized. In order for there to be a type of victim, the lunches couldn't be randomly selected.

He'd been grocery shopping. Looking at a menu.

And that, Maeve realized, implied free time.

She didn't know what that meant, but it wasn't something she'd forget.

The problem was beginning to interfere with Maeve’s actual work. Stacks of policies up for review were threatening to topple over her desk, erecting skyscraping monuments to corporate thoroughness.

But it was hard to care about that right now. Maeve hadn’t had a proper lunch in three weeks. She was tired of ordering in or waiting until after work. She was also tired of making lunches she was never going to eat, even if they were inedible.

‘I could always just stop bringing in my own lunch.’ She glared at the empty fridge accusingly. It wasn’t like she’d truly expected her lunch to remain. ‘Or I might put a mini fridge in my office.’

But both of those options were intolerable. The lunch thief would just be forcing her to either continue to not eat, eat foods that she did not want to eat, or buy a fucking fridge just to avoid them. And even if she solved the problem for herself, this godforsaken cyst of a person would just steal from someone else.

No. She had to solve it. She could crack this case.

The cameras had identified a few general trends. There was a general group of peons that came in around 10:15 for coffee refills, and then it was consistently busy from 11:00-1:00PM.

‘I’m going to check the fridge at half hour intervals, to see if there’s a pattern as to when the thief strikes.’

The next day, she clutched the steering wheel just a bit too tight on her way in. She wasn't even at work and the tension was ruining her mood. She hit the brakes at a crosswalk, eyes glancing over to check for children among the pedestrians by sheer force of meticulous habit.

There was a gaggle of elementary students laughing in an uneven pack on the left. She kept some attention on them in her peripheral vision as she went through the intersection.

In her rearview mirror she saw the next car come up the block and barrel through the intersection without stopping at the sign. They caught up with her right away and clearly hit the brakes hard, jerking when they slowed suddenly.

She saw the driver lift a hand and gesture at her in irritation, mouth moving as they doubtless raged.

The muscle in her jaw twitched with tension. She glanced at her speedometer to confirm that yes, she was driving at the limit.

So. That asshole was speeding in a school zone and blowing through stop signs.

"You know what I do to men like you?" Maeve asked her empty car, all coiled tension and tightly leashed violence. She flexed her fingers on the steering wheel and considered it: they'd pass her, legally or not, as soon as she gave them the chance.

She could follow them. They wouldn't notice. Anyone who didn't notice stop signs and children in a school zone was too self absorbed to realize they were being followed. It might make her late, but she had flex time. She could just arrive at work later. It wouldn't be the first time.

Maeve was sorely tempted, her blood rising with the thrill of the hunt.

It took real, punishing self control to flick on her turn signal at the normal place. She turned away with only a lingering glance at the bad driver in her rearview mirror.

She had to get to work on time to put her bait in the fridge at the normal time. She was already hunting down one piece of human refuse. Besides, that kind of thing required resources that she hadn't yet freed up.

Her iron self control got her to the break room by 8:00 am. She put the container in the fridge and gave it one last resentful look before she closed the door. It wasn’t even appealing to her anymore. She’d made this food to punish an asshole. It wasn't enough retribution, but it made her feel a little better.

The lunch was fish, cooked in ghost pepper sauce and served with leftover pasta. She'd gotten the fish on sale and then left it in her fridge for two days.

‘Honestly, I hope they eat this. I can’t.’

When she checked the fridge later, it was still there. And at nine, and nine thirty. Perhaps they had some self respect after all.

At ten it was gone. She made a note in her notebook. She hoped it caused vicious indigestion.

The next day, her lunch was gone at ten thirty. It seemed like a general pattern might emerge.

The trend held on Friday- her lunch disappeared sometime between ten and ten thirty.

She went into the weekend feeling victorious. Monday. This would end on Monday. She’d do a stakeout from 9:30 or so, until she caught the thief red handed. She couldn't just camp out in the break room and stare all day; not while catching up on her workload. But she could spare one morning.

It was not to be. At 9:30 on Monday, Maeve found herself staring at the empty space where her lunch (a phoned-in effort of three boiled eggs and a quick pickled salad) ought to have been. It was already gone.

The rest of the week made it clear that there was truly no pattern. This maniac took her lunch anytime from 8:05 (within the amount of time she’d used the break room bathroom on Tuesday), to 11:45.

That tickled at her hind brain. There was something familiar about that… Oh. She'd thought before that the thief must have a lot of leisure time in order to wait in the break room and choose victims. But the times that the food went missing was a clue too. No one who was being managed could just go wandering around the building at any time in the morning. Breaks were staggered to prevent congestion.

That meant that the thief wasn't being managed. The thief might be a manager.

That would narrow things down a lot. She printed off a few pages of company headshots of all managerial staff in the building.

When she took the document with her to the head of security, he got an uncomfortable look on his face. "I don't think that we can send someone to watch the break room for managers," he said in a steady, soothing tone.

"Why not?" Her tone came out sharper than she wanted. Maeve compensated with a little smile.

"Because," he said slowly, "no one will enjoy their breaks if they think that security has been deployed to watch them taking their breaks."

She rolled her eyes and left the security station in a huff. Something had to be done. This couldn't go on.

It was ridiculous and undignified. She'd never been hounded in such a petty way before. The effect that it had on her was surprising.

Her sleep started to suffer. She didn't enjoy cooking as much as she had before. That was infuriating, since she had deliberately cultivated the skillset as part of her routine. Spending a long time cooking quality food had made her feel proud of herself: now she just felt annoyed, constantly bothered by the hovering reminder that someone was toying with her.

She wasn't going to waste gourmet ingredients on live bait for some asshole, so she either had to eat leftovers or adjust all of her recipes for single portions. For weeks, she wasted time making a lunch that she knew she would never eat. It made her shake with a sort of helpless fury in her own home. This person was stealing more than food: it was her time and labor, her peace of mind and some of her dignity.

Maeve could feel her tight grip on her life slipping. It was on the fourth week of this unending nightmare that she realized that she’d nearly missed a meeting while waiting for lunch delivery in the lobby, and she hadn’t even ordered.

‘Enough is enough.’ She slammed a briefcase full of files onto her desk and gritted her teeth. ‘I’m going to find this person and deal with them myself. They're going to regret toying with me.’

The next morning, she packed up her laptop and brought everything to the break room, setting up at the table closest to the fridge.

People edged around her anxiously over the next hour, filling up their coffee mugs quickly and escaping to their cubicles in a way she knew was atypical from her study of the cameras and several office sitcoms. No one lingered foolishly several steps away from the coffee station, blocking the walkway.

She watched and waited for her patience to be rewarded. But no one came. At two in the afternoon, she left.

The next day, she considered her options. The thief had not struck when she had placed herself directly in the break room.

‘Then again, I was visible from the doorway. They probably saw me and chose not to steal. Perhaps they didn't even enter the room. If I want to observe my prey without detection, I should sit further away and decrease suspicion.’

The nature of her job made it very difficult to do in a public setting like the break room, which meant that Maeve was forced to only do reports instead of bringing out private files. She waited and waited, glancing up from her computer every few seconds.

Time drug on, and her nerves were shot. Maeve felt fried, tired, and hungry. She wanted to leave. Patrick from accounting kept trying to make bad puns in her direction. He'd seemed to misinterpret her behavior as an attempt to make friends with the other workers.

Movement by the doorway caught her attention, as someone in an obnoxiously colored jacket shuffled in. They crossed the room, pausing by the coffeepot to leave their mug with a careless clatter before making their way to the fridge.

It caught her attention. It wasn't criminal, but it was a little antisocial and selfish to leave your dirty dishes around.

Her intuition was humming at her. She watched intently as this person opened the fridge and removed a small glass container. She felt a heart-stopping thrill.

It was him.

The thief didn't even pause before turning to refill his dirty mug with coffee. He looked totally unbothered and casual, as if he did this every day. He wasn't in the least bit worried.

‘That’s mine! He's actually holding my food. There's no way to explain that.'

She quickly closed her laptop with a nasty little smile and got up, crossing the room in a graceful lope. She managed to insert herself between the long legged thief and the break room door just as he was about to exit with his coffee and her lunch.

He barely avoided walking directly into her. Instead of looking at her face, he tried to step around her. She side-stepped to block him.

“Hello.” She smiled, poisonly sweet. She was so close to vengeance. “Is that my lunch?”

“Hey.” The man just looked at his phone, and barely addressed her at all.  “Nah, it’s mine.” He sounded so casual. He was blowing her off.

“That is clearly my container.” Maeve said sharply. Her tone rose a little. Of course it was hers. She'd paid extra for the customized design on the glass. "That's a ridiculous lie when I actively watched you try to steal my food." She put a hand up for her food. "Here." She waited.

He sighed as he lowered his phone. He lifted the container with the braised duck she’d made last night, and finally made eye contact with her. He stuck out his lower lip in a mocking pout for a moment before he responded. “I don’t see your name on it. That’s one hell of an accusation, miss.”

He was… amused.  He was fucking getting off on this power play.

The sheer fucking gall of it stole her breath for a moment. She'd caught him holding her property, and he didn't think she could do anything about it.

‘I made that food. The rest of it is still in my fucking fridge at home. I could fit that duck breast back in like a puzzle piece.’

“Give it back.” She said, low and slow. Anyone could hear the danger in her voice. Even people who had no idea that she was a witch knew she was intimidating.

“Why would I do that? It’s my lunch.” Then he chuckled at her, and walked around her. She was frozen stock still. “You should be careful of who you accuse of things, miss. I’m an important man and you don’t want to get in trouble.”

Her heart rate was through the roof and her whole body was tense with fury. She turned to watch him go, blood thumping in her ears. Had that really happened? She'd caught him in the act and he'd condescended to her? He didn't even glance over his shoulder.

She'd never been dismissed like that. Never.

She had a furious and helpless lightning realization: this was why the other women  hadn't complained about the theft. They'd known that they were powerless to stop it. People just had to accept this vile, selfish behavior, because it was coming from someone above them.

'And it's because I'm a woman. He thinks he can do this to me because I'm a woman.'

Well. The unpleasant joke was on him. She wasn't an office worker. She was a lawyer. She'd go over his head. The company owner was a family friend: whatever caché this shitstain had wouldn't outweigh her position and connections.

He was going to regret the way he'd treated the office workers. Even if empathy was beyond him, he'd know that he fucked up by stealing from her.

“I am going to find out who he was," Maeve said to herself, icy cold in the chatter of the break room. He didn’t look familiar. "He's not from this department."

She would know. She'd been studying pictures.

“I think he’s a programmer.” Someone said quietly, and Maeve swiveled her head around in time to see a cubicle worker’s face disappear behind their mug. Whoever it was didn’t matter.

“Does anyone know his name?” She asked. No one met her eyes, but everyone shook their heads.

"He said he's a team lead," someone offered.

People had been watching that confrontation. A few weeks ago, she might have been mortified to be disrespected so publicly. But it wasn't the first time, she realized. That was probably why the complaints had stopped: someone had seen this man steal, and he'd threatened their job the way he'd tried to threaten hers.

She’d start with the website development team. They were only a floor down.

The unfortunate thing about massive streaming businesses is that they have an infestation of programmers. Maeve had to click through hundreds of faces before she found the rat-faced dillhole that had stolen her lunch and lied about it to her face.

“Raymond Atwater, meet your doom.” She whispered in victory at the screen. Evidently he was a team lead for the server security team.

What was obscene was that his team was in an entirely different building. This asshole had gone across campus to steal her lunch.

To be clear, he'd walked out of his office, through the office pool, out into the lobby of his own building, across two parking lots and a decorative garden,  through the lobby of her building and up the elevator to the 9th floor, all to steal her fucking lunch. And he'd done that almost every day for 3 and a half weeks. What was wrong with him?

‘Maybe he got caught in his own building.’ She mused, before sending a quick exploratory email to the HR team in his actual building, as well as the HR heads in the buildings closer to it. They might have more information.

She wanted dirt. Filthy dirt. And as much of it as possible.

In the update to the president, she happily included the footage and Raymond's name.

The response from the HR head in Raymond's building was fast, professional, and immediately confirmed that he was a problematic employee.

Maeve frowned at the email, rereading one line in particular.

"Management has been disinterested in pursuing suggested corrective measures for multiple instances of problematic behavior," the rep had written. Maeve glanced back up at the head of the email to jog her memory of the other woman's name, Kimberly Lianson.

"I would recommend a meeting with his head of department, Mr. Patel, and perhaps part of the executive team, since Mr. Atwood's actions have had an impact across the campus."

"I can do that," Maeve murmured to her screen. She sent off an inquiry with the company President's secretary about meeting availability. Most people needed to wait a week or two. But for Maeve, the secretary made time.

Two days later, she met Kimberly Lianson outside the meeting room. The older woman's eyebrows shot up.

"Would you like any help preparing for the meeting?" Maeve said, instead of a greeting.

Kimberly's face relaxed. She smiled. "That would be very helpful, thank you. Could you get the door?" She shifted her burden to the side and shook one hand free so that Maeve could access the key dangling from her wrist and open the door.

She pushed it open and strode in first to find the light switch.

"Thank you so much for putting all this evidence together," Kimberly started. She blew a little strand of sweaty hair off of her face. "I really start to wonder if they'll ever be willing to punish a manager, but I'm hopeful."

Maeve let out a surprised laugh. "He's guilty," she said. "I have him on camera stealing from me, and notes about everything I can see that he stole. The dollar value actually becomes rather substantial."

Kimberly's warm smile became a bit fixed. "Well." She glanced over Maeve's shoulder for a moment. "I think it's an uphill battle, if I'm honest."

Maeve stared. "There's enough complaints against him to wallpaper my office."

Kimberly's lips went thin as she pressed them together. "Yes," she finally said. "He does a very important job and makes the company a lot of money."

That was such bullshit that she couldn't speak for a moment. When she could control herself again, Maeve took a deep breath. "Well, I do a very important job as well," she said. "I'm confident that we can present the facts and get some justice."

Kimberly was obviously not convinced.

Maeve didn't mind. She'd see.

They finished setting up for the meeting and were ready before the head of information and security and the company President arrived, obviously finishing up some funny conversation. The president clapped Mr. Patel on the shoulder before he took in the room, amusement crinkling his eyes.

"I hear that there's a presentation." He took a seat. "About a, uh- somewhat difficult engineer."

Maeve smoothed the front of her skirt as she took a seat. "Yes, Ms. Lianson has a presentation prepared to make things shorter. Thank you so much for coming,  Mr. Conway, Mr. Patel."

"Yes, it's about Atwood, isn't it?" Mr. Patel didn't return her greeting. He glanced over at Mr. Conway. "Brilliant man," he explained casually. "Steps on some toes, but he gets results."

"Interesting," Maeve cut him off. "Ms. Lianson, if you wouldn't mind?"

She sat with her fingers folded precisely on her lap as Kimberly listed the types of complaints leveled against Mr. Atwood from his department and others. She had a still image from Maeve's camera of Atwood taking one of Maeve's lunches: and two other photos of him with different lunches. Because apparently he'd been stealing more than one lunch per day.

As Kimberly spoke, Mr. Patel fidgeted, pulling at his collar and fiddling with his cuffs. He tapped at his watch at one point, peering at the second hand. He didn't touch his stapled papers.

Maeve hated him. He obviously didn't care about this.

"When confronted about the theft, Mr. Atwood lied and insinuated that confronting him for the theft would mean retribution." Kimberly seemed resigned.

Maeve felt very tense.

The President was a family friend. He wasn't much more interested in the facts than Atwood's department head was. But that didn't matter. He wasn't going to let someone treat her that way.

When Kimberly wrapped up, Mr. Conway was the first to break the ice. He shifted in his chair and tapped his fingers on the table as he spoke. "Well, what are you expecting to happen?"

"According to company policy, he should be terminated immediately," Maeve answered immediately. "In light of the fact that he's causing disruptions in three different departments with impunity despite being made aware of the unacceptability of his actions,  he doesn't meet the standard for employees."

Mr. Patel let out an incredulous scoff. He waved a splayed hand around the room. "Over a few missed salads?" he said incredulously. "Don't you think that's a bit dramatic?"

"It does seem petty," Mr. Conway agreed, shaking his head. "The whole thing- he should write up an apology." He rubbed his hands together as if to wash them of this affair. "He's clearly immature, but no real harm was done.

Maeve stared at him. Making someone apologize is what one does with naughty children.

"This is a case of theft. Theft is a fire-able offense, and the dollar amount Mr. Atwood has stolen from employees is in the thousands."" Kimberly said, a little stiff. "Regardless of what has been stolen, Mr. Atwood has been stealing from other employees for years. This is not to mention the multiple complaints of harassment and creating an unsafe work environment."

"Snacks," Mr. Patel dismissed. He let out a sigh. "I'll increase the budget for snack food in our department so he isn't roving around for food."

"Good man," Mr. Conway said, and stood up cheerfully. "Well, thank you for your time, ladies, keep up the good work." He winked at Maeve. "Your cooking must be something! Your mother would be proud." He left with a little chuckle at his own joke.

Maeve was too furious to speak. If she opened her mouth, actual venom was going to spurt out. She stood dangerously still as the two men left the office.

A sigh from Kimberly broke the spell. "As I said," she started ruefully, "an uphill battle." She gathered up her materials.

She managed a stiff nod.

The older woman looked sympathetic. "I know," Kimberly said. She let out a sigh and rifled a hand through her hair. "That was frustrating. You could always go to the police." She gave Maeve a wry look. "I don't know that it would be much more effective." Then she walked out of the room, balancing the precarious stack of folders that neither Mr. Conway or Mr. Patel had bothered to even open.

She felt like her legs were numb in her expensive shoes. The red bottoms wobbled awkwardly on the carpet as she stood still and tried to process what had just happened.

The shame won out after the door closed behind Kimberly, and she exhaled a painful held breath. At least there was no one in the room to see her like this. Ungainly and unbalanced, Maeve walked to her office in a haze. People walked by her, clutching papers and mugs. She hugged the wall and averted her eyes.

'Maybe they'll do something about it,' she lied to herself. The elevator dinged above her head, but it sounded dull and remote. The lie coiled in the bottom of her stomach like a viper. She carefully stepped into the elevator, mindful that if she acted too out of the ordinary, people would make it the subject of gossip.

She tried again to console herself in the quiet of her office. 'At least he might stop.'

He'd changed buildings after the last few complaints, anyway. It seemed likely he'd move on to a new victim. Then Maeve could hold her head high enough in her building, and pretend that that meeting didn't happen. She could fix it.

Her lunch wasn’t missing the next day. Maeve ate it, thankful for the return to her routine. But it tasted like nothing.

She'd forgotten to season it properly. Maeve ate it mechanically, bite after bite of bland pasta.

Something worse happened in the afternoon.

It started with the little ‘ding’ sound her computer made when an email landed. Maeve put down the files she’d finally started working on, and clicked on the notification.

It opened an entire email from that skunk, Raymond. It started out banal enough.

“I’m sorry”

‘A good start, if a little lackluster in the begging he should be doing.’ She thought sourly, before starting on the rest. The viper in her stomach twisted.

“- if you were offended that I enjoyed your cooking. You are a decent cook, and I thought that the opportunity I provided you for someone else to try your cooking might improve your abilities while providing me with a quick lunch. I am, after all, very busy- I have 50 people under me”

‘No you don’t, you twat, I can see the personnel files. Why are you lying to me?’

“And my time is very valuable. Someday, if you work hard, I’m sure you will understand. As for feedback, I have to say that some of the food was better than others. You make a competent risotto, but you need to work on how you prepare fish. Hopefully you can improve.’

She had to look away from the computer for a long moment. The rage and embarrassment were bubbling up again. She felt nauseous.

“The President said that I needed to send you an email to resolve this misunderstanding. If you have any questions, please let me know. I’ll try to get back to you within a few days, as my schedule allows.

Thanks,

Team Lead Ray”

“You’re not my team lead,” she uttered, feeling petty and filled with bile. “In fact, you’re a fucking loathsome little worm. An utter wretch, a thieving pile of donkey mucus.”

The air in her office began to feel a little claustrophobic from her own malign energy, so Maeve took a second to breathe and lean away from her computer. Her stomach roiled.

“So, they won’t be doing anything about him.” That should have been less surprising after that awful meeting. Maeve would have thought that her history with the President and his family might merit a little more consideration.

At the end of the day, it obviously meant nothing. Or worse, that that doddering twit thought she was a whining child. Whose mother would be 'proud of her cooking'. It made her feel sick.

Something she'd heard yesterday came to mind, unwrapping a painful present of context.

'The President implied he hadn't heard about this before.' she realized. 'I've been sending updates on this for weeks. They… didn't read them. Any of them.'

Maeve’s outlook on her employment really began to shift at that moment.

'They didn't care about my work. And they don't care about my position. About me.'

She took a look at the pile of HR complaints and considered her options.

‘I’m going to ensure that this is the worst mistake they’ve ever made.’

She turned back to the computer screen, still lit up with the offending email.

“And I’m going to start with you," she promised venomously.

Two weeks later, she was waiting on a bench under sun-dappled leaves in the local park. It was earlier in the day than she would have usually been off work, and she was enjoying the chance to relax and commune with nature. The birds were singing, the breeze was blowing, and the sun was shining its beneficence upon her.

She watched the ducks in the pond bobbing in the warm water, while a bird yammered endlessly next to her. Some elderly couples and a young mother were slowly walking around the lake, while some speedwalkers marched around the paths single file. She waited for all the passersby to face the other direction.

A particularly large bird scream in her ear disrupted her sense of peace, and made her ears ring.

“Oh, shut it.” She turned to the bird in the birdcage. It peeped at her, seemingly furious. “I’m about to release you anyway.”

She opened the cage and reached her hand in, delicately lifting the bird out of the door. She whispered something onto the wind, and threw it up into the air.

Its wings outstretched as it reached heavenward, before curling down around it in a shimmering golden light. Within a second, a dazed man in a red running suit was standing in front of the bench. He blinked blearily at her, before swaying. His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed on the dirt path.

She left him there.

“Good luck explaining to your sand volleyball friends why you were missing for three months, you ass.” His hand moved, but it was going to take him a while to remember how to use those limbs again. Doubtless someone would report a man collapsed on the running path within a few hours, and the police would return him to his grateful family. Pat would never remember where he’d been, and couldn’t explain his absence. All he’d remember would be the new, bone-shattering aversion to running red lights in a school zone.

The tinny quality of a personal bluetooth speaker heralded her quarry.

As ever, she was well-timed. Just as Pat began to snore into the dirt, a familiar figure jogged around the bend of the lake. His long legs worked lazily, eating up ground in the middle of the path. He barely seemed to register the other people, prompting one of the elderly men to take a doddering leap off of the path, before Ray clipped the side of a stroller with his right thigh.

Maeve watched as the woman tried to tear into him, but Raymond, Team Leader Extraordinaire, seemed very convinced that she had been in his way, being that she wasn’t entirely off the public sidewalk.

He huffed at her, and then left, diverting up to the otherwise abandoned path Maeve was sitting on.

She idly ran her fingertips over the wire frame of the birdcage next to her. The sun had made it almost uncomfortably warm.

Raymond only stopped in front of her when he tripped on Pat’s unconscious body.

“What is that doing there?” He asked, sounding disgusted.

It somehow inspired more contempt for him than she had previously possessed.

‘Anyone remotely decent might wonder if he was alive or okay, you infested carcass.’

“Hello Raymond.” She rose, and stretched out her arms. “Lovely day.”

“Uh, yeah.” He looked at her without any comprehension. This muppet faced buffoon had stolen her lunch for over a month, and didn't know what she looked like outside of the office.

It rankled more than it should.

“Do you happen to have a fever, a cough, or any symptoms that would lead you to believe that you might have the flu or another illness?” She asked, businesslike. Her hands were at the ready.

“Of course not.” He had the audacity to look offended. “And where do you get off asking me that? Who-”

She waved her fingers and concentrated. His long white shirt became wings, and he shrank. And shrank.

In the span of a few moments, a confused white duck was standing on top of Pat’s back. She pulled her waiting phone out and snapped a picture, and sent it to Adelaide with the caption 'Look what I found in the park!'

Then she tilted her head, mentally measuring the waterfowl's dimensions.

“I probably should have made you a songbird.” She sighed, grabbing the duck with both hands. He made a weird sound in response. “I was just thinking of those beautiful ducks on the pond. Now you’re too big for the cage.” She stuffed him in anyway, working with the fresh transformation limpness. It would be more difficult to deal with him later, when he’d figured out how to be a duck. Then again, nothing she’d seen would have led her to believe that Ray was capable of learning.

She shoved the cage into the newspaper-lined backseat of her classy black car, and left the park without a second glance.

NOTE:

This was originally posted on my Patreon, where I am continually writing other character stories for Deplorably Devoted. Check it out here!