#butter keepers to buy

[affiliatemarketingreviewsblog]

The 7 Best Butter Keepers

A butter keeper, also known as a butter dish or butter crock, is a kitchen container used to store and keep butter at room temperature. It is designed to maintain the spreadable consistency of butter while preventing it from spoiling or becoming rancid. The traditional butter keeper consists of two parts: a base and a lid. The base is a shallow dish that holds the softened butter, and the lid acts as a cover to seal the butter inside. Some butter keepers may have a water seal or an airtight design to create a barrier between the butter and the outside air, preserving its freshness.

[sickeninglyshoujo]

a/n: continually obsessed w/ cod dads, here's price

part 1: simon here

part 3: soap here

part 4: gaz here

masterlist here

warnings: pregnancy

word count: 1.7k

buy me a ko-fi

Price was afraid to have babies with you because of the age difference and you rolled your eyes every time he talked about being an old man and how a pretty young thing like you shouldn’t be dating him much less trying to get knocked up by someone his age. As if he’d let you even entertain the thought of leaving him for a young buck who couldn’t spoil you like you deserved.

Throughout your pregnancy he treated you like fine China, afraid he’d say the wrong thing and make you cry. He’s heard about women’s hormones during pregnancy even as you remained rock solid, rolling your eyes when he’d ‘yes dear’ you.

You tried to kick him out of the bathroom when morning sickness hit and he refused. Instead sitting on the tub next to you, petting your back as you leaned into the toilet and tried to soothe you, telling you how strong you were and how beautiful you were carrying his baby even with sick bubbling up your throat at the slightest movement “I thought morning sickness was only supposed to be in the morning,” you moaned with your forehead pressed against the cool floor tile. “It’’s a misnomer, love,” John said, removing himself from his perch on the tub to wet a cool washcloth and wipe down your face.

He wishes this phase was over, hates seeing you in pain like this.

That changes once the baby’s born then he’s ready to do it all over again. He didn’t know how attached he’s gotten to helping you do the things you couldn’t because of your belly  like putting on your shoes (looking up at your belly reverently the entire time before planting a kiss on it) for you and helping you pick things off the floor that your clumsy fingers dropped. He grew a particular affection for helping you rub shea butter and vitamin E oil over your rapidly appearing stretch marks.

Price insists on building the nursery furniture without reading the directions, “Know what I’m doin’ woman,” and to your chagrin he was right. Managed everything without a set of directions perched on his knee and instead chucked them to the side with the box.

The first thing he built was the fancy rocking chair he bought for you, insisting you don’t help him with anything “At least let me hold the screws John, I feel stupid just sitting here!”

To him, peace is this. This is what so many long nights holed up in some shithole on a mission have led to. Him sitting on the floor at your feet, building a life together while oldies play on the record player in the next room. He’s so overwhelmed in the moment he can’t help but pull your hand to his lips and kiss it and laughs at you when you ask him what’s wrong

“It’s all right, is the thing, love.”

When you get the first ultrasound, he stops at the store on the way home and purchased a picture frame (insisting you stay in the car and not overexert yourself, he’ll just be a moment, love). The next day he’s on base it now proudly sits facing him next to the photo of him and you vacationing in London with your faces squeezed together in the frame, selfie-style.

Tells anyone who enters his office about you and how far along you are, whether they ask or not, comparing the baby to different sized fruits, which parts were developing that week.

“She’s the size of a lime now, tiny little thing.”

“Can you imagine that she’s growing fingernails in my bird’s belly!”

Absolutely rubbed your swollen ankles in the evenings when he got home from work, peppering gentle kisses on them when he switched feet

Loved your pregnancy brain fog and would kiss your nose any time he got to remind you about something. He became the keeper of your calendar, scheduling your appointments and taking you to them.

When you go into labor, he’s on base in a meeting with some high-brass in a meeting on a highly classified matter. He’s not even allowed to bring his phone into the room. Instead having to turn it off and lock it in a safe prior to entering even with a baby on the way. He was aware this might happen and had instructed you on the line of succession.

“If you can’t get ahold of me, leave me a message lovie, then go down the line. Simon’s second-in–command-”

“Then Kyle, then Johnny, I know, John, you’ve drilled it into my head,” You soothe him, petting the creases he’s worn between his eyebrows, “It’ll be just fine, women have been doing it for thousands of years.”

“I’ll be there, I promise lovie,” He kisses your palm

You leave the message on John’s voicemail, a curt, “It’s time John, once I hang-up I’m dialing Simon, just like we practiced.”

Simon answers on the third ring, “Missus?” His rumbly voice cuts across the line.

“It’s time Simon and John’s still in the meeting since his phone is turned off.”

“Copy.”

The line goes dead leaving you blinking at the Call Ended screen.

You decide that Simon is aware of the drastic nature of the matter and instead busy yourself, you lug the baby bag and your purse to the floor next to the door and go through the checklist John had created in the front pocket: Stove off, windows shut and locked, televisions off…It wasn’t until Simon was letting himself into your front door that the list was likely a distraction from your husband to stop you from leaving on your own until Simon arrived.

Simon collects you with the cool confidence of a Lieutenant in the special forces.

No, don’t worry about the bags or the door, he’s got it, just get yourself into the car.

You try John’s number over and over on the way to the hospital, narrating Simon’s driving, “John, I’m going to have words with you when this is over, I cannot believe you let your pregnant wife in a car with what has to be the worst driver in all of Manchester!”

Before you know it, you’re being rushed into the hospital with Ghost snapping at the nurse at the desk for a wheelchair, NOW! He barks out orders in true military fashion leaving your head buried in your hands as you’re being escorted to the maternity ward.

“Now don’t worry, Sir, your wife is in excellent hands,” one of the nurses addresses Simon, all muscle pushing you in the wheelchair, unblinking and matching their pace.

“He’s not-” You try and interject.

“She better be,” Simon cuts you off, “And the labor will be handled with the utmost care or someone will have to answer to me personally.”

The contractions have started coming back to back and you’re pacing the hospital room, sucking on ice chips fed to you by a patient Simon.

Kyle and Johnny have also arrived and join him in his vigil, somehow maneuvering their way through the “Father and family only” policy the hospital has.

“She was adopted,” You later find out Kyle deadpanned at the security trying to stop him from entering the room, “Can’t you see the family resemblance?”

True to his word, John is there.

He’s rushed into the room, frazzled and running his hand over his beard, eyes darting until he finds you, “Hey sweet girl, I’m here, I’m here,” pointedly ignoring the nurse trying to count out the men in the room

(“Who are these men to you again miss?”)

(“I’m the father,” Gaz informs, flipping through a magazine to pass the time between bursts of activity with contractions.)

You moan out John’s name slapping at his chest weekly when he gathers you up into his arms and hugs you, “I’m mad at you John!”

“Don’t be mad, love, I made it just like I promised,” He tries to soothe you, smoothing his hands over your disheveled hair. “Not about being late, about getting me pregnant!” “It’s a bit late for that now, love,” He does his best to hide the smile twitching into place under his mustache. 

The boys remain in the room for the entire labor, John holding one hand and the other men trading off when your grip became too strong (“Dinnae know the lass could break my bones with just one hand,” Johnny moans shaking out his aching appendage.)

When the baby finally arrives, the doctor again looks around at the men in the room, “Would…Dad like to hold her?”

John finally extracts himself from your bruising grip to hold your daughter, eyes twinkling with joy at seeing the bundle covered in blood and viscera. Such a difference from every other time he’d been covered in the blood, these are stains he’ll gladly wear.

#1 baby wearer captain price

“I hardly get to hug you anymore because she’s always strapped to you!”

Price’s eyebrows go up at that, “Are you jealous, love?

 “Not jealous, but I miss my husband's arms around me!” When you say that with a slight pout in your voice, Price is quick to arrange Uncle Soap and Gaz so he can wine and dine you like old times. 

You make sure to wag your finger enough at the boys and remind them they’re there to babysit, not throw a rager and rile up the baby, even though you know your warnings are falling onto deaf ears. You wholeheartedly expect to return home to a cranky and overtired baby and two military men.

“Can’t neglect either of my girls” he’d mutter into your hair after pulling you close after dinner, holding you to his chest tightly in the middle of the sidewalk 

“You never do, John, you’re the best man I could’ve hoped for,” You muttered into his chest, “Never did I think I’d get someone so in love with me and our child.”

Will regularly fall asleep with the baby curled on his chest, boonie hat pulled down over his eyes, with your daughter also lulled to sleep by his steady breaths. You can’t help but take a photo every time it happens, so smitten with how your husband enjoys his quiet days on leave.

You can’t help but send the photo to the boys, having the group chat with them immediately blown up with emojis sent by Soap, laughing at the Captain’s prone form.

As a joke the photo ends up framed on Price’s desk, next to the ultrasound. Price actually enjoys having it to remind him of the peace he has waiting at home and the joke is ruined when the photo remains in it’s place of honor.

[cheeseburgersinparadise]

I have a horny friday question for you I suppose, although it is just a rearranging of your question from the other day. Lol

If you had to realistically prove to a feedee that you were dedicated to feeding their gluttony and worthy of being the keeper of their ever expanding belly, how would you do it and why. 😉

been sitting on this one for awhile because I’ve been thinking about it.

short answer? what wouldn’t I do.

long answer? whatever you wanted me to ;)

I would of course talk with you and come up with plans, boundaries, goals (if any), biggest turn ons and turn offs….I would want to make sure I’m able to get you as horny as possible, press all the right buttons so you’re more or less putty in my hands. Can’t do that if we don’t talk about it first.

I would ask you all of your favorite foods and snacks and have them always around for you to graze on. I’d indulge your every craving. I’d cook you big, homemade meals with heavy ingedients - butter, starch, whole milk, cheese, sugar, fat. I’d ask you gently to have seconds and then, not so gently, ask you to have thirds. We’d have dessert every night. You all know I love baking and I’d be thrilled to have someone there to try all of my creations (and eat all the leftovers). I’d push your boundaries because I know you’re so eager and capable.

I’d soothe your aching gut for you every night, rub you down with lotion and touch you, everywhere, so you quickly and easily link that heavy stretch in your belly to the heat in your groin. I’d help you waddle to bed, full beyond belief, spoon you, kiss and caress you. Make you feel so sexy and loved as you drift off to sleep and let those calories turn into more fat.

I’d keep things fresh in the bedroom, buying new lingerie, trying new positions or living out fantasies you always dreamed of. I know exactly how to turn you on, remember? It’d be easy to make you a begging, desperate mess.

I’d take you clothes shopping, so you can be as stylish as you want as you grow. I’d research stores that carry bigger sizes and treat you to whatever you wanted, knowing fully well you’re going to grow out of it sooner than later.

I’d do whatever you wanted me to. In return, I’d just ask you to keep eating.

[conifersncoasts]

Things during my life growing up that sound weird today:

-Rode our bikes for miles and were gone for entire days without our parents knowing where we were or when we'd be back.

-Having to know someone who knew someone who knew someone just to get your hands on a small amount of weed for a joint that lasted about 3 minutes between you and your friends. Legalized weed has improved the shady drug deals of teenagers immensely I imagine.

-Rotary telephones with wires. Hell anything with wires. We used to have to sit right next to the TV to play video games because the Nintendo cords weren't long enough.

-Gateway personal computers. Remember the big cow boxes???

-Not having recycling bins.

-I don't have kids so can't relate, but are hand-me-downs still a thing? Seems like every kid I meet in my family always has new stuff.

-Not caring about wearing sunscreen

-Our parents leaving 4 children in a van while they grocery shopped.

-Trading cards

-POGS

-VCR head cleaner

-Wrapping your textbooks in cut up paper grocery bags. I have to imagine they still do this???

-Trapper keepers

-Printers that had the little holes you tore off both sides of the paper.

-LOL I just realized I hadn't written an actual physical check in about 7 years.

-Your mom using peanut butter on your hair to get the gum out that you fell asleep with. I've told people this and they look at me like I'm crazy.

-We didn't have one of those toy basketball hoops inside the house. One of those ones that hang on the back of a door or whatever. So during winter if we wanted to play and couldn't go outside we just chose a spot on an empty wall and decided that was the hoop for the day. So stupid. 😂

-Video game discs that had Demos on them. Playstation did this when they first launched. It would be like 20 games on a disc and it came with the system, but it was just a small portion of the game, so you could decide whether you liked it enough to buy it.

-Scholastic book fairs

-Saving all the money you had just to spend at the summer fair in town for the year.

[nqn]

i fell headfirst back into flight rising so you KNOW im thinking about the boys playing it

you know kyle would be the bitch in the fairgrounds grinding glimgloom for an hour every day to hit max treasure AND in the coliseum all the time training exalts... type guy who swaps out every familiar he owns Every Day to bond with them all...

i could see eric having shockingly intense lore for his dragons tbh. like its not written down and its not smth he advertises. but he sits there staring at this bitch he named Stinky that he got off the auction house and is like genuinely emotionally distraught over the story in his head

stan's fuckin hoarding dragons oh my god. he's constantly asking his friends for help with hibden tasks and lair space even though he INSISTS he doesnt care that much and he doesn't really wanna play on the website even,,, kyle please, can i have just like. 12 gems. i need another slot i fond anothe rpretty dragon on the AH and all of my nests were keepers-=,

kenny has like two dragons and either No Money or All Of It and keeps buying presents for his friends ('hey stan i found this cool shale/shale/maroon that reminded me of you. its in the crossroads once youve got space')

butters would ALSO have lore. would be playing with eric and theyd have storylines going on with their dragons and custody battles over hatchlings

[robbybirdy]

28. Baking therapy on a budget ft. Genshin Characters - Thoma: Apple Butter

Hello, every birdie. For a while, during the summer it was nothing but Plums. And now with it being fall time we are going to be doing a lot and I mean A LOT of apple recipes. Because in our house, when it is fall time, we end up having SOOO many apples. We have been having apple cider a lot recently. And apple pies are always great too. I wanted to try making apple butter.

Now onto the character in question. Thoma (sounds like Thomas without the S) is a pyro Character from Inazuma. He is the home keeper of the Kamisato Clan. (The guy in the middle of this picture.) He says that he is fine with anything. His favorite food is Rice Cake Soup. However, I am trying to do this series without really buying anything, other than the staples. 

So I thought for a while and thought that it would be fun if I made 3 things that were connected together. Because I thought that it would be needed. Where apple butter is the main ingredient in all 3 recipes. Apple Butter keeps these recipes together, and Thoma keeps the Kamisato siblings together. 

 I doubled this recipe, but I am going to share with you the original recipe. Feel free to check it out in the description down below. 

This recipe that I am going to share does use the Instant Pot. However, I will share with you a recipe for the stovetop. 

You will need: 

4 apples

½ cup of water

¼ cup of brown sugar

½ tsp cinnamon 

½ tsp of vanilla 

You are going to the core and chop your apples. 

Add the water to the pot of your instant pot and add the apples on top. 

Close the lid and make sure that the valve to sealing. Cook on high pressure for 20 minutes. 

If you accidentally add in everything right now, before you closed the lid. It is fine. It will taste the same as it should. 

You will want to allow the Instant pot to naturally release. 

For this next step, there are two different methods you could use. 

Use an immersion blender and blend it until it is smooth. 

Transfer your apples to a stander blender and blend it until smooth. 

If you are using a standard blender return your apples to the blender. 

Now, is when you are supposed to add in your brown sugar and spices. Rather you added it before or now, you are going to make sure you stir it well. 

Set your Instant Pot to sautee low, and allow the sauce to thicken, making sure that stir regularly. 

Transfer the sauce to mason jars for storage. Make sure to store the apple butter in the fridge when not in use. 

For those of you who do not own an Instant Pot, fear not. I have a stovetop recipe that is very similar. 

For this recipe you will need:

2 pounds (900g) of apples 

½ cup (100g) sugar

¼ cup (55g) brown sugar 

½ cup (125g) pure apple juice 

1 Tbsp (15g) lemon juice

¼ cinnamon

⅛ cloves

⅛ salt 

In a heavy saucepan, you are going to add your apples, both the brown and white sugar, lemon juice, spices, and salt. 

Bring this mixture to a boil and then reduce the heat to low. Wait for it to simmer until the apples are softened and begin to break down. This takes about 15 minutes. 

Remove it from the heat and let it cool for at least a few minutes. 

Now you are going to carefully transfer the mixture to a food processor and blend it for 1 minute or until it is smooth and pureed. It should have the same texture as applesauce. 

Return your apple sauce-like mixture to the saucepan and continue to simmer it for another 30 minutes. Or until the apple butter is the same color as caramel and keeps its shape on a spoon. 

Transfer the apple butter to a glass bowl or a measuring cup. And let it cool to room temperature before using. 

Store the apple butter on an air-tight counter in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks. 

This recipe was really easy and I can’t wait to make some more of it. And it was a win in my house. My mom told me that she doesn’t really like Apple butter, but she liked this one. So that one comment made it all worthwhile for me. 

I hope that you like these recipes. Feel free to check it out for yourselves. See you in the next recipe. 

Pinterest: Here

Recipe: Here ~ via Instant Pot

Recipe: Here ~ via Stove Top

[peter-author]

Do We Really Want Countryside Anymore?

Anyone who lives in the city, any city, or large town thinks of the countryside as a peaceful place to go to unwind, to breathe the fresh air, for long spring and summer walks and recreation. In fall it is to watch the changing leaves. In winter enjoying the snow and winter sports. All year long, people seek out country farm market stands as a connection to nature.

There is a growing problem: All those people enjoying the countryside, all those people skiing or snowboarding, all those fall foliage spotters, all those bird watchers, and indeed, all those businesses reliant upon countryside visitors every weekend… not one of them fights for the true keepers of the countryside’s vast acreage: farmers and ranchers.

In Switzerland they have long seen the economic and tourist benefit of the Alps and alpine valleys being beautiful, with traditional Heidi-like farming, cows’ bells clanging, and green grass replaced by ski-able snow in winter. They support this pastoral scene with government tax breaks for farmers that surpass what we dole out to farmers by about 65% per farm. The strange end result has been that all the time farming knowledge and livestock management has improved and when applied to the Swiss antiquated open pasture practices, their productivity has always stayed ahead of intensive farming practices. Maybe the animals prefer the open air as well. In fact, in the early 70’s, a referendum forced all the chicken farmers to abandon battery practices (caged animals, laying an egg a day, never walking, never touching another animal). The chicken farmers were certain this was the end of all affordable eggs and chicken. Within 2 months of being placed outside, free-range, they were laying more eggs, had fewer deaths and illness and, in fact, laid more eggs. Seems it was the improvements in foodstuffs and chicken care that was beneficial, not the cages they had been kept in.

Over a decade ago Britain too decided that the balance of benefit to the economy must favor the farmer and countryside. Over there, Ag Ministers labeled the farmers “the Keepers Of The Countryside” and came up with new promises in farming subsidies. Gone was dime one for intensive farming practices, which produce cheap meat, butter, eggs, and milk by factory means, replaced by subsidies for farmers who re-plant traditional hedgerows, re-stack stone walls, and “look after the land.” New subsidies are pegged to acreage not density of animals per acre (a practice that once led to keeping animals in cages and feeding them high protein foodstuff).  Four decades ago, people bemoaned the loss of paths along canals, historically maintained by farmers who grazed sheep there. Also gone were bucolic country walks, bared by landlords’ “Do Not Cross” tape, soon replaced by “Sold” to a developer. In short the emotional impact had been measurable on the people of Britain. And then the economic impact also became measurable: inns closed, antique shops bust, restaurants empty, town budgets destroyed, property values plummeting, tourist sites standing vacant, and, certainly not least, the big hotel chains had to lobby Parliament to intervene.

So, the little guy and the big buy stood and spoke together: protect our asset, the countryside. Who better to do that than the guy who always has? Who better qualified than the farmer or rancher. In a Magna Carta-like moment for the countryside, Britain changed priorities. Maybe we should wake up and follow Britain and Switzerland before it’s too late here as well or do we need an asphalt jungle coast to coast to tell us how much we loved – and once depended on – open ranch and farmland?

[craftbreaks]

( nightmare telegraph received: @tocook. ) it’s 9 a.m. and you’re interrogating me?

sure, she looks out of place in denny's, dressed up in the charcoal suit and the dress shoes. tara prefers the coffee she makes in her own home, in the way that she prefers everything she makes with her own two hands, but she'll drink whatever. that's what law school teaches you—drinking the dregs from the coffee pot, awake for the forty-eighth hour, staring down the barrel of an endless march of assignments. sitting in a shitty albuquerque diner a little past nine in the morning isn't nearly as bad as any of that, but it does feel almost as debasing.

she jabs her fork down at the hash browns, watching as they're slowly subsumed by the cloyingly bright yellow of the egg yolk. all things meld together eventually, given time.

being involved with all of these people out here in new mexico is bad news. tara knows better. it's a mess in the making. jesse pinkman has bright blue eyes, a too big smile, and a whole roster of bad jokes. she already checked over his very public myshout page to get a feel for who he was. all it told her was that he's not having nearly as much sex as he advertises, definitely. but in person, there's something else in his eyes, a brittleness, a feeling like collapse might be around the corner if someone pushes him just right.

dangerous quality to have, but she's not his keeper. she's just a lawyer.

"this isn't an interrogation," says tara mildly. the tines of her fork scrape against the plate, an aural assault just to make it feel more like an interrogation. "i'm just detail-oriented, pinkman. that's all."

she picks up the piece of sourdough bread, barely toasted, limp and soft to the touch. "besides," she adds, "i'm buying, so if anything, you're getting a free breakfast, and i get to listen to your whole sordid story. and because this is a favor, you're getting advice from a lawyer pro bono and skipping the initial consultation, the need-based applications, the fucking hassle. most people would call that a privilege."

the piece of bread gives between her teeth, too soft. no resistance. tara chews. swallows. the butter is tasteless. still, she chews, swallows, smiles. it's always good to bite down on something and feel it give.

[beaubaczek]

When she asks me if I believe in love, I remind her of the shop keeper who bought in wholemeal bread especially for me! I was his only wholemeal-bread-customer and he couldn’t have been making much profit but every week he sent me a sweet note to let me know the bread had been delivered. I was so lucky! I had never loved anyone before as I had never been loved and me mistaking this kindness for love told the shopkeeper I loved him. He said, with the most sincerity I have ever seen in a man, ‘if it means you can enjoy toast for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch, or bread and soup for your dinner, I’ll buy a thousand more loaves for you.’ Ah! How I loved that man so. When she asks me if I believe in love, I butter a piece of wholemeal bread and eat it with my heart full.

[worstrestaurantsinphilly]

Ralphs Restaurant

Located at 760 S 9th St, Philadelphia, PA 19147, this Italian restaurant is over 100 years old and touts itself as being the oldest Italian restaurant in America, but in reality it is not.

Rao's restaurant located on Pleasant Avenue in New York City is the oldest Italian restaurant in the United States which opened in 1896.

Ralph's restaurant was at one time an excellent restaurant providing authentic italian american cuisine  but as time passed and the restaurant was passed on from generation to generation and finally to Ralph’s grandchildren, Jimmy Rubino Jr. and Eddie Rubino who represent the fourth generation of owners and operators of the longtime family business, these keepers of the sacred name of Ralph's restaurant have turned an excellent Italian american restaurant  into a tourist trap for unsuspecting  patrons.

Most of the food items are drowned  in what taste like canned sauce to me,  and a lot of  the menu items have no taste

For example Ralph’s  Fettuccine Alfredo  tasted to me like egg noodles and was  a watery mix of milk with hardly any cheese, it was bland and tasteless.  I mean an Afredo is supposed to be made with Pecorino Romano cheese, cream, butter, garlic  and black pepper and of course  Fettuccine pasta.

Ralph’s famous Chicken Parmigiana tasted like two frozen chicken breasts that you  can buy at your local supermarket in the frozen food section. I ordered a side of spaghetti which was $8.00 extra. The Parmigiana and spaghetti  was tasteless and drowned in Ralph’s signature tomato sauce. This menu item cost $42.00.

The broiled Sausage with broccoli rabe and long hot peppers sauteed in garlic and olive oil, served over penne was to say the least disgusting. While the  sausage was fresh and cooked to order the rest of the dish was watery with mushy peppers and broccoli rabe and had no taste.

I ordered Calamari as an appetizer, It was my mistake because just about all restaurants that serve calamari serve it fried, but not Ralph’s; it tasted boiled, hard and drowned in their signature tomato sauce - inedible!

This was a disappointng dining experience because many of the reviews were favorable so it is possible it was just a bad night in the kitchen - MAYBE!

In My Opinion

In my opinion Ralph’s is not an old world restaurant it is just old and delapadated. Tables that are too small for patrons to comfortably enjoy their meal, poor service with extremely high prices for their offerings. I mean, the bill for a party of two, with appetizer, entree, two glasses of wine was over $175.00.

Ralph's restaurant is an overpriced restaurant serving below average food to unsuspecting patrons.  It is a restaurant living on its past reputation. Philadelphia has a lot of excellent Italian restaurants unfortunately in my opinion, Ralph’s is not one of them - PASS THIS ONE UP!

[heritage-instrument-insurance]

Keep Catastrophes at Bay with an Independent Guitar Insurance

Do you play the guitar professionally? Do not put your career at stake only because your instrument is in pieces due to an unwanted event. If you think - your home insurance policy is a sigh of relief when your string is broken, damaged, or lost, you might be mistaken. This blog will take you through some critical aspects of home insurance and instrument-specific insurance plans.

Instruments used for paid performances: Home insurance and guitar insurance

Dear reader, home insurance plans are unlikely to cover the musical gears you use for paid performances. Here, there are two crucial aspects to consider:

• Firstly, whether playing musical instruments earns you bread and butter or you play one as a hobby, buying a dedicated insurance plan is vital for so many good reasons. So, if you are a guitarist, ensure getting an independent Guitar Insurance plan for your string. Or else you are more likely to bear expensive outcomes should your equipment get damaged or lost.

• Secondly, to ensure your musical instruments' health, you should best avoid possible tragedies from happening. Here are some tips you may use to prevent mishaps that may damage your gear. Read on!

• No matter where you go, make sure to take your musical gear along. If not possible, ensure it is in safe and reliable custody.

• Always keep your beloved musical items in a professional and high-quality case when not using them.

• Keep your workspace clean and clutter-free to avoid the most common instrument-related accidents, such as trip and fall.

• Always choose separate musical instrument coverage to ensure comprehensive coverage for professionally-used equipment.

• Make sure your insurance product provides rental coverage during an insurance claim.

Always remember! Tragedies are unpredictable. Even if you are the best keeper in the world and take care of your musical equipment like no other, accidents are always likely. However, with an all-encompassing musical instrument protection plan, you can keep your paraphernalia away from home insurance-related tragedies and your finances safe.

Broken instruments: Homeowner’s coverage and specialized coverage

Do you believe your home insurance plan will cover broken musical gear and accessories? Oops! Most home protection policies do not extend financial coverage for broken musical instruments. Sad but true! So, how should you go about the protection of your string?

You should always keep your workstation and surroundings clean to avoid things - like liquid spills, etc. Also, the place or studio where you store and use your guitar should be temperature and humidity-controlled. Most importantly, you should get a specialized musical instrument insurance plan to guarantee maximum protection and ultimate peace of mind.

Instrument theft: Home protection plan and instrument-specific coverage

You never know - somewhere, an unscrupulous person, a thief to be precise, might be lurking on the corners to steal your guitar and make some quick bucks. Do you? However, instrument thefts happen. Your home insurance cover is unlikely to cover your string instrument if it is stolen from outside the insured property (your home). Yes! That's the hard reality.

However, you can prevent such incidents by being vigilant and keeping your gear safe when you are not around. Another thing you may do is - register your string with the manufacturer. Or you may also use an RFID (radio frequency identification) marker. Although a dedicated Guitar Insurance plan cannot prevent theft, it can save you from paying out-of-pocket in order to buy a new or a replacement instrument.

Traveling with your musical arms: Home insurance and dedicated cover

If you are a professional artist, you know how adventurous traveling with your musical equipment is. Isn't it? What if your instruments are damaged or stolen on the way? Will your home protection policy come in handy? Well! The answer is no. It will not cover any transport-related troubles. However, an independent musical instrument insurance plan will come to your rescue and offer financial assistance if your guitar is lost or damaged on the way.

[mcdreary]

honestly if they keep raising the prices of butter and eggs I am simply going to stop buying butter and start befriending local chicken owners. I know for a fact those chicken keepers can’t eat all those eggs themselves. I’ve gotten so many free eggs from people who keep chickens as a hobby not realizing just how many eggs 4-6 chickens produce regularly. I’m already lactose intolerant you’re just raising the prices of foods that make me sick. I’ll get better at foraging and gardening and survive on mushrooms, oats and potatoes. fuck you galen weston I’ll crush your grocery empire with my sheer individual will. do u even realize how much fucking food I can potentially produce under the right circumstances. what I can produce if forming a COMMUNITY??? lmao keep dreaming

[phenakistoskope]

a few weeks ago, i found an aster, bright pink, on the way home. i press flowers, so it was exciting, i rarely buy flowers to press and this one was free. so I brought it home, nestled it in some butter paper and weighed it down with some defunct dictionaries and encyclopaedia volumes.

and then i began to read, i began to read the southern reach trilogy. wherein a biologist descends into a tower underground and inhales some spores from an unknown entity and encounters a flame that knows her name, a flame that in the presence of the strangling fruit acquires every part of her.

and i read on, about the brightness, about the incomprehensible, about the horizons of life and death overlapping in the shadow of an abandoned lighthouse.

about the lighthouse keeper in love with a fisherman, the disgraced special operative attempting to solve a mystery with no solution, about the psychologist who accepted that death is no longer the end.

and two weeks later i remove the encyclopedia volumes, i reopen the dictionary, to see a fungal growth, pristine white, colonising my aster.

and a chill creeps over me as i breathe, as i feel something strange enter my nostrils. i burn the flower in the balcony. i scatter its ashes to the wind.

[rogue-durin-16]

OUT OF TROUBLE

Summary: After a Quidditch match, both George and Y/n sneaked out to grab a drink at the Three Broomsticks with their respective teammates. The tension between the two groups might end up causing more trouble than imagined.

Pairing: George Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Genre: kinda angsty kinda fluffy

Tags:

George Weasley: @meph1stophelian

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @skarlettmikaelson

Warnings: blood, injuries, violence, concussion, language (?)

A/N: idk what to say apart from the idea of George losing his shit big time won't leave me alone and idek why (blaming it on that scene in the Order of the Phoenix in which George and Harry beat Malfoy the fuck up) so enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Well," McGonagall's severe eyes scrutinized all six of us from the other side of her desk. "who is going to give us" she briefly motioned at Snape, who stood by her side with an unimpressed yet disappointed look on his face. "a proper explanation of why Madam Rosmerta so kindly let us know that not only seven of our seventh year students were on Hogsmeade without permission,"

"But also making a scene and coming to blows." Snape finished, quirking a brow. "Do you know how lucky you are that Madam Rosmerta picked on the fact that you were students?" The potions teacher's eyes fixed on the three Gryffindors before inquiring, "Who started it?"

Silence.

"Merlin's— There is a student in the hospital wing!" McGonagall exclaimed outraged. "You all ought to come clean about this one."

More silence.

"Mister Weasley, you seem to be unusually quiet." The Head of Slytherin pointed out.

"Well, you see, professor," George's head, which had until that moment been resting on his arms over the school desk, was tilted up slightly. "I've got a bit of a headache going on." He motioned at the back of his head, in which a patch of dried blood had glued his hair.

"Weasley, I must insist on you to go see Madam Pomfrey." McGonagall's tone, although remaining severe, softened a bit.

"Nah, 's not that bad." George gave Warrington a side look and forced himself to sit upright.

"I'm going to ask again." Snape spoke. "Who started it?" He weighed the possibilities before inquiring, "Mister Weasley?"

"Why me?!" George flinched at his own shouting.

"Do you want me to believe the state Mister Montague was left in was Miss Spinnet's doing? Miss Bell's, perhaps?" The Gryffindor girls grumbled under their breaths, catching the professor's attention. "What was that?"

"I said why us?" Katie questioned with a tinge of indignation. "Is it because we're Gryffindors?"

"Obviously." Snape spat, earning a roll from Mcgonagall, though she didn't oppose her colleague.

Alicia only laughed humorlessly and folded her arms over her chest.

"We can stay here all night, if you'd like it that way." McGonagall stated after around five minutes of just silence.

"Ugh, fine." George let his head fall in the comfort of his forearms again and groaned, "it was me— I started it. Can we go now?"

"What the hell?!"

"Miss Spinnet!" McGonagall scolded her, stomping her desk.

"Can we go now or not?" George's eyes met my shocked gaze briefly.

"Everyone but you, Mister Weasley." McGonagall stated.

"Wait, no." I tapped my foot nervously against the tiles and took at deep breath. "It wasn't him, it was me."

"Miss Y/l/n!" I refused to meet McGonagall's and Snape's face, so I left my eyes casted down, but I still heard the professors' quiet whispers. "What on Godric's name happened?"

Two Hours Earlier

After a Quidditch victory in Slytherin's favor, some of us had resolved to sneak out of the castle and go celebrate with a drink in Hogsmeade.

Turns out some Gryffindors had had the same idea, though the drink they were having was definitely not a celebration.

"Look who's here," Montague nodded in the Gryffindors direction, purposefully walking in their direction. "You're missing half of the team!" He chuckled, not stopping more than a couple of seconds. "Are they crying on their dorms?"

"Get lost, Montague." Katie Bell spat, earning faces from both Graham and Cassius. Alicia Spinnet flipped us off, and George limited himself to give me a small wave, which I returned with a little smile.

"How's the place this crowed?" Kevin questioned with a frown as we tried and failed to find an empty booth.

"No idea." I replied, taking a look around. "I'll go grab the drinks, you look for a place, yeah?" Cassius nodded and I made my way to the counter; I could feel Bell's and Spinnet's dirty looks on me while I ordered the butter beers.

"Celebrating, are we?" My head turned to meet George's form, leaning on the counter besides me.

"Yup." I shortly answered with a proud grin.

"You're missing your seeker." I rolled my eyes at his comment. "I wonder where he's at."

"You know where he's at." I quirked my brow when he played dumb, a smug smile dancing on his lips. "I'm very aware it was you who sent him to the hospital wing."

"It was actually a bludger." He pointed out, giving Madam Rosmerta the coins for a butter beer.

"Oi, what are you doing?" I attempted to shove his hand away, but there was no use.

"Smoothly buying you a drink?" He winked and I felt blood going up to my cheeks. "Just her drink, though." He added, looking at Rosmerta.

"No you're not— he's not." The owner of the Three Broomsticks gave us a look but ended up accepting my money instead.

"Aw c'mon, Y/n" George pouted while Rosmerta passed me the drinks. "I've just lost an important match, let me have a win?"

"You can buy me the next drink," I resolved, chuckling at the way his expression lighted up. "but only if you don't cause trouble."

"Pfft I'm too depressed to cause trouble." I could tell he wasn't joking, though he still made it sound humorous. "Need help with that?" He motioned at the four drinks I was attempting to grab.

"No she doesn't."

George visibly grimaced at the sight of Cassius but, instead of snapping at him, he only leaned on me and pecked my cheek after saying, "No trouble, see?"

"Piss off, Weasley."

"No need to be that rude." I spat, taking two glasses in my hand.

"No need to consort with the enemy." He responded, picking up the remaining jars.

We approached the spot our Quidditch team had taken and had a surprisingly uneventful good time, until Montague started to run his mouth.

"Look at them, they're so pathetic." He obnoxiously laughed.

"Look at whom?" I questioned, a bit lost in my thoughts to know what he was even talking about.

"Don't play dumb." He hissed. "As if you haven't been staring at that Weasel since we entered."

"Ugh, honestly Graham." I lazily played with my jar. "Can't we just enjoy the drink without focusing on the only three Gryffindors in the room?"

"You're one to talk." Cassius mumbled.

"Meaning?"

"Graham's right, you've been staring at him." I pinched the bridge of my nose. They've done this little number so many times that I was no longer embarrassed. "What was that kiss about?"

"Cassius!"

"What kiss?" Graham inquired.

"He kissed her."

"Oh my gosh—" I threw my head down to my forearms in desperation.

"Ew!" Kevin gagged dramatically. "Did you let a blood traitor kiss you with that filthy mouth?"

"You did not just say that." My tone held a serious warning as I looked up at our keeper.

"Great, he's staring." Cassius grumbled.

"Frankly, he could use a lesson." My eyes widened at Graham's words; at first I thought he was joking, but then he grabbed his wand with a wicked smirk.

"Don't make a bloody number." I whispered. "We'll get in trouble."

"Y/l/n, I'm starting to think you're not on our side."

"Montague, if you earn us detention—" my words were cut off by another statement of his.

"No one's gonna know if we're sneaky enough." I looked at Bletchley and Warrington for some back up but they both seemed to be on board with Montague's plan. "What about a little... cruci—" before he could finish the word, I kicked his chair, making him fall to the floor.

"What's wrong with you?!" I shouted, kicking his wand away after standing up myself.

"Y/n, calm down." Cassius said.

"He was gonna use the Cruciatus, so maybe no?!"

"Careful, Y/n." By then, Montague had already gotten up; Bletchley had to tug him back for him not to go against me. "If you get along with scum, you're scum."

I didn't fully realise that I had slapped him until I heard a few people gasping; all from sudden, I was very aware that I had attracted unwanted attention.

There was a moment of tense silence between Montague and me, quickly followed by him grabbing my hair and hitting my face against the table, too fast for me to do anything about it.

"OI!" Cassius pulled me away from Montague, my hands covering my most likely broken nose, debating on whether to hold it to stop the nosebleed or not touching it to avoid more pain.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

"They're talking shit." Katie whispered, squinting her eyes at the Slytherins.

"Of course they're talking shit." I responded.

"I'd love to go there and shove those—" Alicia grumbled, tightening the grip on her glass.

"Don't." They both looked at me expectant and I only shrugged. "Y/n asked me not to cause trouble."

Alicia snorted when my eyes travelled to Y/n and Katie mocked me with a silly grin. "Awww, Alicia, he's in love."

"George Weasley is in love" Alicia faked a gag. "With a Slytherin."

"Oh my— you're two shut up." I felt blush creeping up my neck, though I couldn't help the smile twitching up the corners of my lips.

"I mean," Katie shrugged, sharing a look with our friend. "Could be worse."

"Could be Warrington." Before I could respond to Alicia, a loud noise was heard behind me. "Ooooh your princess just kicked Montague." Our chaser commented; we all turned around to look at the Slytherins. "This is gonna be fun."

"Why do I feel like they're talking about us?" I said with a laugh.

"Did... Did she just say 'cruciatus'?" Katie questioned, a tinge of worry in her voice.

"Damn! Okay, time to go." Alicia whispered, getting up right after Y/n had slapped Montague. Katie and I were already following her to the exit when a thud made us stop in our tracks.

"He did not—" Katie started.

"He did." Alicia replied; she was quick to double check on me, but I was quicker to stalk towards Montague. "George no!"

READER'S P. O. V.

I came to the conclusion that we were already in trouble, so I might as well go for it and get Montague back.

Cassius saw that coming and held me back by my forearms, but Graham was being pushed against the table behind him in the blink of an eye.

It took us all aback the way George had stormed in scene; we stood there frozen for a hot second, until Bletchley realised Montague was trying to shake George off in vain while the Gryffindor threw blows at him whilst tackling him to the table.

"George! Stop!" Alicia yelled, coming to stand by my side, unsure of what to do.

"Get off him!" The keeper was the first one to try and remove George from Graham, whose face was starting to look as bloodied as mine. He did succeed for a split second, giving the Slytherin chaser enough room to get back at George.

I shook Cassius off the moment Montague jumped on George to aid the ginger, but before I could do anything, he was punching Graham again, though now he sported a swollen lip himself, along with a cut on his cheek, probably caused by Graham's rings.

This time, when Bletchley tried to shove him off Montague, he ended up with George's elbow digging into his stomach.

"He's gonna kill him!" Bell exclaimed, genuinely worried about the outcome.

"George!" I called his name, hoping it would have an effect, but the beater was too lost on the fight. "Wait— No!!" I tried to grab Cassius' hand when I saw him reaching for one of the heavy jars, but he was quicker to crash it on George's crown.

He hissed, losing balance instantly; his hands went to the back of his head, releasing Montague from his hold. My teammate took the opportunity to kick him off, but before he could try to punch George again, I reached to them, pulling the ginger away and not so accidentally stomping on my Montague in the process.

Just when everything seemed to have calmed down, I noticed Spinnet had thrown herself to Cassius.

Bell was struggling to tug her friend away, Cassius was being pulled back by a mildly hurt Bletchley, Montague was curled up in a ball on the floor and George and I stayed knelt not far from him while I checked his head.

It was only when Madam Rosmerta appeared with a towering, strong employee who managed to separate Spinnet and Warrington that it came to an end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Graham tried to use the Cruciatus curse on George, professor." I explained without meeting McGonagall's eyes. "And I stopped him."

"He— he what?!" The Head of Gryffindor yelled horrified.

"Miss Y/l/n, did you send Mister Montague to the hospital wing?" Snape questioned wearily.

"That was me." George replied before I could make anything up. "And Warrington broke a glass on my head."

"Spinnet tried to kill me!" Warrington shouted.

"If I had wanted to kill you, you'd be dead!" Alicia yelled back.

"Don't lie to yourself darling!" Bletchley hissed.

"Don't 'darling' her dickhead, I'll jump on you right here!" Bell spat, leaning over her table.

"Shut up, Bell!"

"ENOUGH!" McGonagall shouted. "Fifty points will be substracted from each of you. Your families will be informed of this, and needless to say you won't make any more trips to Hogsmeade."

"Minerva, I think Weasley has earned himself detention for the rest of the year." Snape commented.

"And so did Mister Montague and Miss Y/l/n." She responded. "Now off to sleep, all of you— except from Weasley and Y/l/n, you two go see Madam Pomfrey— no but's, Weasley."

"Yes professor." George sighed, getting up and following me out of the class and into the corridor. "You okay?" His voice was so soft as he fell into step with me that I had to refrain myself from kissing him.

"Nose's probably broken." I shrugged, stealing a look at his crown. "How's your head?"

"Hurts a bit." He was obviously playing it off, but I didn't say a thing about it. "I'm sorry for that little number."

"Nonsense! As if it was your fault Montague's a douche." I reassured him.

"So... you're not mad at me?"

"I'm only mad at the fact that I didn't get to punch him." I replied with a chuckle triggering a smile on his. "Plus," I chewed on my lower lip, hesitating for a moment before adding, "it was kinda hot."

George let out a shocked snort, his whole face redder than mine while words stumbled incoherently out of his mouth, preventing him from forming a coherent sentence.

"Don't do it again, though."

"Uh- yeah— NO- I mean, no- I-I won't— I don't do this often—" I giggled at his stammering and brushed his pinky with my own. He cleared his throat and took the hint, intertwining his fingers with mines. "You know, technically it was you who caused trouble so..."

"So?"

"Can I still buy you a drink?" He sheepishly requested, his thumb drawing circles on the back of my hand while we reached the hospital wing.

"We're banned from Hogsmeade, though." I reminded him.

"Well, I might know a way of getting there without being noticed."

"I'm in then." I stated. "Only if you promise we'll stay out of trouble."

"Can't promise that." He squeezed my hand and let it go when Madam Pomfrey spotted us. "But I'll do my best."

"I'm sure you will." I tugged on his sleeve and placed a kiss on his cheek before following the healer's directions.

[13uswntimagines]

USWNT Master List

Key

♘ = A/B/O Fic

♗= Little Fic

A Swift Life

Your Sister is Who?

Uh Oh Spaghettios

Pressure

The Masked Soccer Player

Loose Lips Sink Ships 

Uswnt x Reader

A Misplaced Shovel Talk

Puppy Problems

Puppy Love (Alex x Reader)

Stubborn Protection

Better Luck Next Time

Fanciest Cast in Town

Peanut Butter blues

Together

Our Troublemaker

Works Like a Charm 

You Don’t Have to Say it for Them to Know

Chanukah Party 

The Choice

Lindsey Horan x Reader

A Question Written in Ink

Protective Siblings

I Don’t Want You to be a Rebound

➛ Was Never Just a Rebound

Girlfriend. Singular 

The One Where Lindsey *Accidentally* Breaks the Internet

→ The One Where Lindsey *Actually* Accidentally Breaks the Internet

The Best Stress Reliever 

Fighting Fires - No Biggie

Loser Buys Dinner

Promises We Make

Emily Sonnett X Reader

Ice Cream and a Baby

Halloween Meetings

Dancing With the Star

Put a Little Love on Me

The Perfect Present for the Perfect Couple

Complicated 

Emergency Contact

Always Hers 

She Might Be a Forward, But You’re a Keeper

Just In Case

Eat My Bubbles

Ghosted 

It Takes 200 to Tango

Soran x Reader

Tater Tot Emergency

We Know Your Tells

Prime

Fraternizing with the Enemy♘

Playing With Fire♘

Breathe

Great Motivation 

My Queens

Bah Humbug

Alyssa Naeher X Reader 

I Might Just be Convinced

My Person, My Love, My Mate

Shutterbug and the Cuddlebug

The Badass and The Keeper 

Our Song

Nothing To Prove♘

Becky Sauerbrunn x Alyssa Naeher x Reader

Things *Good* Alphas Do♘

Alex Morgan X Reader

Prank your way into my heart

Boundary Lines 

Pink Goes Good With Green

Beautiful, Crazy and Jealous

Secret Santa

Thirsty 

A Little Extra PDA♘

Gravity 

⇒Breathe Again

Kelley O'Hara x Reader

Touch Starved

➛Good Thing I wasn’t Asking

Instincts and Media Day: What a Terrible Combination♘

To Just Be Hers♘

Your Ass is Out Of This World

Kellex x Reader

Little Problems♗

Dino Troubles♗

New Friends ♗

Where Do Babies Come From?

Everyone Needs a Little Help

Goodbye, I Love You

⇒ Goodbye I love You Pt. 2

Protective Mamas and Cuddle Time ♗

Mommies Make Everything Better ♗

Honorable Fight

Luh Ooo

Mal Pugh x Reader

Terrible Plans Paved with Good Intentions 

Stay out of this Ok?

Under the Stars 

Anytime

The Knight and Her Princess

Christen Press x Reader

Always Yours

Surprise Superstar

⇒ Trust Me 

We’re the Lucky Ones 

Baby Mamas Don’t Lift Boxes

Pretty Girl

Her Mess

Shy but Fierce♘

⟾ We’ve Got Your Back♘

If That Isn’t Love

I’m In Love With You Dumbass

Never-Ending Adventure 

Let Me Care For You 

Cutie Pie

Tobin Heath x Reader

Choose Your Battles♘

Overprotective Much?♘

Pretty, Pretty Princesses 

Omega Night♘

Cliche

Preath X Reader

Stupid Games, Stupid Prizes ♘

Learning to Love

⟾ Always Have a Place

The Best Gift♘

Where Do I Fit?♗

Toddler Tantrums

Scary ♗

Rose Lavelle x Reader 

Baseball Showoffs 

Slightly Possessive♘

Rosie and the Bengal

Hesitate 

Fans or Foe 

Julie Ertz x Reader

Protective, Not Jealous ♘

You Don’t Need to be Big to be Brave♗

It’s Not a Competition- Or is It?

Fear of the Unknown♘

Locker Room Heat♘

Glad You Came

Krashlyn x Reader

Not the First Word We Were Expecting

Badass to Mushball♘

⟾ Mini Champ on the Way♘

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Tantrum Inducing Day♗

Things to be Thankful For ♘

Knights in Shining Armor ♘

⟾ At Ease ♘

No Want It!!♗

Unconditionally 

I Love You, Even When You Mess Up The Words

My Knotheads ♘

Big Nerves for Little Meetings

Sam x Reader

I Should Sleep With You More Often

12 Drinks and a Kiss for Christmas 

McFiance

Sam x Rose x Reader

As Long As You’ll Be Mine ♘

Leave the Cooking to Me

Bino x Reader

You’re in Wubble now

It’s Called Drowning- not Surfing

Kristie Mewis x Reader

Never Enough

⟾ Family’s Hard

⟾I Am Enough

Love You or Lose You (Playing With Fire Prequel) 

Chapter 1

The Harry Potter AU

Better To Be Friends Than Competition 

Pranksters of the Bunch 

Emily Sonnett x Kelley O’Hara x Alex Morgan x Reader

It Can Be Both

[morocosmos]

FFxivWrite2022 Day 18 - Free Day (Two)

Moro’a sat at the edge of Anchor Yard, watching the gulls ride the winds as the sun continued to sink, and his mood with it. Koh’sae was about half a bell late now. His friend was not known for being punctual at the best of times, but this was by far the worst he’d ever been.

He clutched the two stacked bundles in his arms, hoping the food within would retain whatever warmth it could. Lover be cruel, of all the days to spend his gil on something special. Even the Anchor Yard was blessedly devoid of other people tonight! It was normally impossible to find this place unoccupied, and Moro’a felt sour over the thought of such a rare opportunity going to waste. He was debating on whether to stay or leave when he heard the rush of footsteps up the winding slope.

"Sorry, sorry!” Koh’sae’s voice cried out from behind him, and Moro’a turned to see the other Keeper, doubled over with his hands on his knees. Moro’a made a point to cross his arms and scowl. “What happened?” he asked.

“H'naanza….wouldn't let me go till….satisfied with the quality of my rivets." Koh'sae had clearly run all the way from the guild, and Moro’a looked him up and down – strands of dark brown hair had come loose from beneath his friend’s headband and the rest was stuck to the back of his neck, leaving him looking as though he’d suffered a tempest’s wrath.

“You look terrible,” Moro’a scoffed, shaking his head. “But I’ll take that as compensation for being so late. Come here and eat before these get properly cold.”

“M….m’thanks.” Koh’sae slumped down next to him with a groan. Despite his irritation, Moro’a felt a tug of sympathy for him. “Here,” he said, handing over his flask of water towards Koh’sae, who accepted it gratefully.

When he’d at last caught his breath, Koh’sae looked at him with brighter eyes. “So, what did you get this time?” Moro’a handed him one of the bundles, hoping that the sandwiches would still taste good lukewarm. Oddly enough, he was feeling a bit nervous. “I thought I would get us something different today,” he replied. It was a ritual they’d kept up for several moons now, meeting up to share dinner every Iceday. More often than not they would bring food they’d prepared themselves, or occasionally one of them would volunteer to buy meals from one of the various hawkers down below. But Moro’a had had other ideas tonight.

Koh’sae accepted the bundle, ears perking up. “Well, it smells fantastic and I’m starving, so don’t mind me….swive me sideways!” Unwrapping the cloth, his eyebrows disappeared into his fringe as he beheld the sandwiches. "Did you get these because of what I said the other day?! But the price....you're absurd," he exclaimed, looking at Moro’a with wide eyes, and then back to the sandwiches. He looked so comically surprised that Moro'a had to laugh.

"Don't worry about it. It's a treat." He smiled as he bit into his own sandwich, the rest of his anger fading away. True to the Bismarck’s reputation, it was delicious – slices of buttered sourdough filled with honey-glazed dodo thigh sprinkled with sesame seeds, fresh Cieldalaes spinach and generous layers of spiced tomatoes and eggs – more than worth the gil. But even better was the warm feeling of pride in his chest and how it easily melded into the close sense of comfort Moro’a felt with Koh'sae, who seemed to be enjoying his sandwiches as much as he was. A few moons ago, he wouldn’t have been able to afford this, but since improving in his arcanist studies enough to become a junior assessor, gil was a little easier to come by these days.

As always, Koh'sae finished his food well before Moro’a did, scarfing down his sandwich with unparalleled haste. The armourer wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed with unbridled satisfaction. “That was amazing,” he declared. “My only regret is that there ain’t none left.” He was grinning from ear to ear, and his yellow eyes shone like a pair of crescent moons. Moro’a had difficulty swallowing a piece of dodo.

“It won’t be the last time,” he promised when he’d recovered. “Though you’ll have to fork over a portion of your own wages for the next round.”

“Happy to.” They sat in silence then, watching the last of the ships depart from the docks. Moro’a finished the last of his sandwiches and settled down. Night had fallen and a refreshingly chill breeze blew, smelling as it always did of fish oil and the salty sea; Moro’a listened to Koh’sae breathing beside him, and he felt truly at peace.