#i have done the orange juice and cookies one

[theclairvoyage]

Centrifugation: Chapter 10

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

An anonymous source discloses something that threatens to ruin your relationship with Joel.

Chapter Warnings: allusions to smut, ANGST!, anxiety, mentions of past traumatic event, adult language, kissing, fluff

WC: 4.2k

Divider by @plum98 <3

Tuesday, October 26th | 1505

Shaky hands reach up to unlock the door to your apartment, keys jingling with your movements.  Fuck.  Your hand falls to your side as you try to recollect yourself.  Eyes closed, you take a few deep breaths and straighten your spine.  Why am I nervous?  This is my goddamn apartment.

“Okay,” you say to nobody.  “It’s fine.  It’s just a door.”

Courage pools in your belly.  Taking one last deep breath, you unlock the door and push it open, eyes widening at your surroundings.  The place is spotless.  Keri stopped by your place to stock the fridge and clean up for you a couple days ago.  She must’ve either baked or sprayed some Febreze in here—it smells like cupcakes.  A smile forces its way on your face.

You set your purse on the kitchen island and gaze around.  Empty sink, full fridge and pantry, clean countertops.  Clean blankets thrown over the couch, new candles centered on the coffee table, remote on top of the TV.  There’s a small piece of paper on one of the candle lids.  You trod over to the couch and pick it up to read, grin creeping up your cheeks.

Hey, love.  I made your favorite enchiladas and stocked the fridge full of your favorite goodies.  Laundry is done and folded.  There’s some special liquid in the fridge, too—but don’t take it when you’re on your meds!! 😉 Call me if you need anything.

-Ker

Curling the note up to your chest, you walk over to the fridge and open the door.  Keri was right—she got everything you like.  Cheese, salami, fruit, wine, cookie dough, orange juice, and two giant containers of half and half.  A large, covered baking dish is calling your name.

Two enchiladas and what feels like half a pound of cookie dough later, you turn on the TV and scroll through Hulu until you find your favorite comfort show.  It starts halfway through the last episode you played.

“Picture it: Sicily, 1922…” Sophia Petrillo’s loud, Brooklyn-accented voice speaks to you.  You smile and sink into the couch, whipping your phone out to check your messages.

Joel: Have a great night, baby.  Sweet dreams.

You send him a picture of your blanket-clad body curled into the couch, along with a witty caption.  Missing your couch already.  He replies after a few beats.

Joel: Gorgeous as ever.  I’m missing more than that, though.  Gnight baby.  See you tomorrow.

You: Night, Joel. 🥰

Happy to be home and tired of binging your show, you decide it’s time to rinse off the day with some hot water and get ready for bed.  After hopping out of the shower and changing your bandages, you pick your phone up from the bathroom counter and stare at the screen.

Three messages from an unknown number stare back at you.  The area code is unfamiliar to you.  The fuck?  Your stomach flip flops like a fish on a dock as you shakily long press on one message to open it.

(XXX) XXX-XXXX: Better watch your man.

(XXX) XXX-XXXX: Sent 2 photos

Shock sucks the air out of your lungs.  You blink once, twice, three times to make sure this is what you’re really looking at.  Beads of sweat emerge from the pores on your forehead, and your hands tremble.  This is exactly how you felt after you left the hospital—panicky, lost, terrified.

The first picture is of Joel’s truck parked outside of a Motel 6, with someone in the passenger seat next to him.  It looks like a woman, but it’s too dim to make out the rest of her features.  The second picture is the same angle, but of Joel leaning near the woman’s ear, smile plastered on his face—and there’s no question that it’s him.  Salt and pepper beard, curved nose, those fucking brunette tendrils you adore so much.  He’s even wearing one of his green flannels that you’ve worn while he’s fucked you.  This photo is better lit, almost like headlights of a passing car flashed on as soon as it was snapped.  The woman’s face is—gorgeous.  She’s Latina, with beautiful caramel skin, long, shiny black hair cascading down her shoulders, bright red lips, piercing hazel eyes, and a low-cut top that shows some massive breasts stuffed in a pushup bra.

The phone slips out of your hand and lands on the bathroom tile with a thud.  Fuzziness clouds your vision, and your pulse is racing so fast there’s barely any time between heartbeats.  Confusion hazes in your mind, interrupted by a loud voice telling you to sit down before you pass out.  You plop on the toilet seat and pick up your phone.

Nausea pierces your stomach as you stare at the photos again.  Clamping your eyes shut, you lean back against the toilet and take some deep breaths, allowing reason to squeeze itself back into your head.

When were these taken?  Where?  Is this pre-Omaha Joel?  Is that girl his cousin?

His hair and beard look the same as they did yesterday—and the motel looks like a Motel 6 near the Denny’s on 84th and Center, posted up right by Interstate 80.  Though it could be somewhere else, maybe in Texas, you’re almost certain it’s Omaha.  Oak and maple trees line the back of the motel, with leaves of various shades of red, yellow, and orange—you don’t know enough about Texas to know if they have fall foliage like Nebraska does.  Maybe you don’t want to know.

Your heart feels like it stops beating altogether at the realization that this was taken very recently—maybe even today.

A tear drips down your burning cheek and lands on the screen of your phone, painting the woman’s face in rainbow pixels.  Somehow, she looks even more beautiful than before with your tears plastered on her perfect face.

Anger sears your insides and clutches your throat.  You ignored every little voice in your head that was telling you something wasn’t right, shoved it into the depths of your brain and tried to stay present, optimistic.  Joel had given you everything—took care of you, made you feel safe and loved, went out of his way to be there for you.  What was the fucking point of this shit?  He could have easily dropped you and carried on with his life.

Standing up from the toilet, you lean over the sink and splash some cold water on your face and neck, arms propped up on the bowl as you hunch over and continue to take deep breaths.

How am I gonna address this with him?  Send him the pictures with no context?  Screenshot the messages, including the number?

No, no, no—the latter would be too easy for him to explain.  You wanted him to squirm and roil like you are now.  Sure, you weren’t exactly a fucking couple, but you never expected him to do this.  Fuming, you save the pictures and pull up your messages with Joel.  You look at his contact picture in your phone—it’s one of him and you from your date at Village Pointe, when he’d watched you admire the flowers at one of the boutiques.  God, he’s fucking handsome, and he looks so happy.

Fuck that.  You send the pictures over to him and shut your phone off before stomping off to bed.

Wednesday, October 27th | 0712

Cheerful chirps of the American robins outside your window wake you.  You rub your eyes, quickly realizing that they’re sore—probably from all your sobbing the night prior. Dread fills you quickly as you recall the events from last night.

Shit. Your phone is off. Probably wasn’t the best idea, considering you’re still recovering from a traumatic event and people might worry if they can’t reach you.

Anxiety weighs your arm down as it reaches for your phone. You hold the power button and watch the screen light up with fast, shallow breaths.

15 missed calls.  10 from Joel, 2 from Sarah, and 3 from unknown numbers.  20-something messages, mostly from Joel.  Your heart skips a beat and your finger inches toward one of them to read it before stopping.

Nope.  You’re not giving up so easily.  He can squirm for a bit.  After all, he made a conscious choice to do this.  Another question burns the back of your brain, though.

Who took the pictures?

You open your messages and see that the unknown number that sent the 3 messages is the same one that texted you the pictures.  You open them, and your stomach falls to the floor as you read.

(XXX) XXX-XXXX: Oh, girl.  You sent him those?  Tsk tsk.

(XXX) XXX-XXXX: Now you’re giving him time to come up with an explanation??

(XXX) XXX-XXXX: If you can’t get rid of him after he did this, imagine what else you’ll let him get away with.

Lips tightened and jaw jutting angrily, you puff out a hot breath and feel anger bubble inside you as you type a response.

You: Who the fuck are you?  What is your problem?

They don’t miss a beat replying.

(XXX) XXX-XXXX: Someone you don’t want to fuck with.  Let it go now and you’ll get over it in no time.

A rough, defiant snarl rips through you as your fingers zip across the screen.

You: You’re so threatening that you have to send shit anonymously?  Grow the fuck up.

You: Fucking clown 🤡

The number doesn’t reply immediately.  You sit up in bed, hot tears starting to brew behind your eyelids.  And your head is pounding—likely from the crying, which has no doubt left you dehydrated.  You slowly stand up and wait for the stars to fade from your vision before padding into the kitchen.

As you brew a strong pot of coffee, your phone rings.  You close your eyes, inhale deeply, and flatten your palms on the countertop to ground yourself.  The cold material heats up underneath your fingertips, leaving condensation in their wake.

You pick up the phone, slowly.  It’s Joel.  The air in your chest halts.  Do you answer, or continue ignoring him?  Part of you wants so badly to hear his deep voice, hear him tell you this was all a big mistake, and the photos are AI.

But you know that’s not the case.  You accept the call and wait a beat before speaking, lips sucked into your mouth.

“Baby, you there?” His voice is frantic, and you can hear him pacing in what you guess is his kitchen.  It’s early, and he’s probably making coffee of his own.

“Why are you calling me?” Your voice is frigid, distant, setting the stone blocks of the wall you’re placing between him and you.

He sighs heavily, footsteps echoing in the background.

“Darlin’, it’s not what you think, I—,” he groans, exasperated.  You interrupt him before he can finish.

“I’m sure you can, you’ve had plenty of time to think about it,” you snarl, voice scathing.  Joel is silent for a moment, shocked at the anger in your voice.  He’s never seen or heard you like this.  He chooses his next words carefully.

“Please, let me see you and we can talk about this,” he pleads, agonized.  Part of you wants to smile, making him grovel at your feet—the other part is heartbroken, the photos plastered in your mind permanently.

“I really don’t want to talk to you after what I saw.  I-I trusted you, and you had every opportunity to cut things off with me… Jesus, Joel, we weren’t even a couple!” you spit, voice transforming from strong and firm, to shaky and choked.  Your fists are clenched so hard, your knuckles are bone white, and salty tears roll down your cheeks.

“Baby, you don’t realize h—,” he starts, but you cut him off again.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you spit through gritted teeth.

“Please, please, just lemme explain and it’ll all make sense,” he cries, almost whimpering.  Frustrated, you hold a deep breath in your ribcage and pinch the bridge of your nose as you contemplate a response.

“I’ve seen everything I need to see,” you say, surprisingly calmly.  “You made me look and feel so… so fucking stupid.  I don’t even know who sent me the fucking pictures and now they’re threatening me, I j—,” you continue, and this time Joel cuts you off.

“Threatening you?” he hisses.  Your eyes roll so hard it hurts.

“Gimme a fucking break, Joel.  You’re pissed you got caught—you don’t give a fuck about me,” you sear, irritated.  Part of you knows that you’re not being entirely truthful—you know that he does care.  But you want it to sting, and it does.  He inhales sharply.

“Now you know damn well that ain’t true, and that I lo—,” he stops himself, your stomach twisting at the realization of what he was about to say.  He clears his throat.

“I want you to be happy.  If that ain’t with me, then I have no choice but to let it be.  But if you wanna talk, I’ll be here.  I’m askin’ ya one more time to let me explain,” he chokes, the pain evident with each syllable.  He sounds like he did when he first came to the hospital after the stabbing—broken and worried.

You close your eyes for a moment and think about your life since you’ve met Joel.

Happy, exhilarating, euphoric, a whirlwind.

A new version of you—confident, glowing, sexy.  Now it all seems so abstract, utopian.

What’s the worst that could happen?  He explains, you don’t believe him, and you never see him again?  As much as you’d like to stick to that plan, you know once you’ll see him it’ll be over.

“Baby, you there?” he asks quietly, hesitantly, trying not to poke the bear.

“Yes, I’m here.  Thinking,” you reply, matching his volume.  “Fine.  We can meet up.  Tomorrow,” you offer, tone stern.  You need a day to think.

“Whenever y’want.  Just let me know and I’ll be there,” he says, voice like a warm hug.  It’s pissing you off, how easily he can melt you.  You give him a pinched mhm.  He sighs.

“D’y’need anything?  Bandages, food, anythin’?” he asks, kindness slicing your heart open.

“No.  Keri stocked my place while I was gone.  I’m good,” you reply coolly.

Shit, you don’t want to tell Keri—you can’t bear to rehash what you saw last night and break your heart all over again.

“I’m—m’sorry, baby.  You mean the world t’me,” he laments.  You pinch your eyelids shut, running a clammy hand through your hair.  He’s not making this easy.

“Do you realize how hard it is to believe that after seeing those fucking photos, Joel?  How do you think I feel whenever I think about them?” You sob, hands waving with each pained syllable that escapes your mouth.  He sniffles on the other end, but you continue.

“Seeing you close to that… that woman, who is clearly so much fucking better than me, that perfect fucking wo—,” he cuts you off.

“Nobody is better than you.  Nobody.  Get that through your head,” he says, voice angry.  You groan angrily as tears continue pricking your eyelids.

“What do you expect?  Like… I don’t understand what you thought I’d think.  Maybe you thought I’d never find out,” you mutter.

“Y’won’t believe me when I tell you what’s really goin’ on.  She’s not who y’think,” he sighs, and you can hear him hanging his head on the other line.  “I’ll tell y’everything tomorrow.”

Jaw ticking, you nod before realizing he can’t see you.  “Okay.”

“F’you need anything, y’know I’m here.  Bye, sweetheart.”

“Bye.”

Wednesday, October 27th | 1239

After the call with Joel, your crying and frustration exhausted you to the point that you fell asleep on the couch while watching TV.  The quote from the Golden Girls episode you watched struck a painful chord with you, sending you further into the abyss.

I don't want to talk about it. Oh, how could George betray me this way? Dammit, those wedding vows were sacred to me. Well, they must have been. I turned down hundreds, thousands of offers. Teachers, doctors, astronauts. I even said no to a journalist famous for his work on 60 Minutes. Now, if that's not fidelity, I don't know what is. Then I find out that the only man I ever loved cheated on me. On me! Oh, I could just die.

Blanche discovered her late husband had an affair that produced a child—but only when the adult child showed up at her doorstep.  It puts things in perspective for you.

One, you and Joel aren’t married—maybe this is a sign not to let it progress further.

But—you hated to admit to yourself that he was the only man you had ever loved.

Does the pain come with the territory, or is it an omen?

You roll off the couch, frustrated still but filled with a bolt of energy.  You needed to get out of here.  It’s not like you have work the next day, or anytime soon—somewhere far, far away was calling your name.

Fuck it.  You decided to head to Chadron early—your grandma’s house was ready for you and clearing your mind with some time at the rustic farmhouse sounded hypnagogic.  Thinking of the rolling hills, buttes, pine trees, and open skies filled you with tranquility.  Joel’s face sits in the back of your mind, beautiful brown eyes filled with love and adoration.  A wave of sadness engulfs you.

Joel would have to figure out fast if he really wanted this.

Having packed a decently sized suitcase in less than 30 minutes, you stuff it in your car and hop in the driver’s seat.  You quickly type a text to Keri asking her to check up on the place every few days before starting the car.  The gas tank was at half, and with you leaving later in the day, it was probably smart to fill up before starting the 7-hour drive.

You make a quick stop at a QT not too far from your apartment and fill up.  As you watch the numbers on the pump display tick, a sleek black truck pulls up to the pump next to yours.

Shit.

It’s Joel.

He steps out and saunters over to you.  It’s only been a day since you’ve seen him, but it feels like months.  His handsome face looks sullen, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes absent.  His frown lines have deepened, stubble grown out, some new gray hairs have erupted along his chin.

And then you see his eyes.  Despondent pools of dark chocolate, no traces of the golden flecks you’ve grown to love.  What pisses you off the most, though, is how much love pours out of them.  It’s so hard to be mad at him when you know that he loves you.

He stops at your side, and you turn away to stare at the numbers.  The nozzle clicks and the numbers freeze.  Ignoring him, you yank the nozzle out of your car and shove it back on the holder, fingers still gripping the handle.  His warm hand envelopes your forearm, rendering you motionless.  You can’t look at him.

“Sweetheart,” he says, tone of his velvet voice echoing the sullenness in his eyes.  He takes the pump from your hand and turns you toward him.

Tears pool in your eyes for the zillionth time the last 24 hours.  Your lip trembles, and you snap your eyes shut.  He cradles your face in his hands and tilts your head up to look at him.  Your eyes are still squeezed shut.

“Look at me,” he says your name gently, and the familiar scents of sandalwood and bourbon waft into your nostrils, relaxing you subconsciously.  Involuntarily, you inhale deeply and slowly open your eyes.  A single tear falls from the corner of your eye as you stare at him.

He winces at seeing you in pain—pain that he caused.  He leans in and kisses the tear on your cheek. Your gut feels like he reached in and twisted it.

“Where y’going, darlin’?” he says quietly, soothing your cheeks with his thumbs.  You can only imagine how this looks—the two of you wrapped in each other in the middle of a gas station, tears streaked down your cheeks and looking a hot mess.

“To Chadron,” you sniff.  At some point you grabbed his forearms, the familiar feeling of safety washing over you.

“So soon?  Baby,” he says, deep line etched into his forehead.  You reach up and smooth it with your thumb.  He closes his eyes, exhaling in relief at your touch.

“I needed to get away from here,” you say quietly and absentmindedly, distracted from smoothing his skin.  He grabs your hand and kisses it, featherlight, eyes locked on yours.  He opens your hand and leans his cheek into your palm.

“Let me come with you.  Please,” he pleads softly.  His eyes are melting you from the inside out.

“Not before you explain what the hell those pictures are… and who sent them,” you say, arching one eyebrow.  He sighs, long and heavy, glancing to his left as he shakes his head and rakes a calloused hand through his stubble. He huffs again before turning back to face you.

“S’my cousin, Valeria.  She left her abusive husband in Laredo and is stayin’ at that Motel 6 since that asshole cut her off.  I paid for her room f’the next few weeks while Tommy n’ I figure out somethin’.  I’m sure I was givin’ her a kiss on the cheek.  M’sorry I didn’t tell you—it was sudden, and she wanted me to keep it a secret,” he says with a loud swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing.  Your shoulders slump instantly. You feel like a fucking idiot.

“As f’who sent ‘em… no goddamn clue.  Pretty fuckin’ close to hiring a PI,” he grumbles, chest puffing out slightly. The knot that’s been tightening in your stomach the last day finally releases, relieving tension throughout your entire body. Your shoulders lift and fall as you take deep breaths, before tensing again as you realize you made a mountain out of a molehill.

Jesus.  You’re a complete asshole.  Of course, you assume the worst.  You’d be surprised if he still wanted you after this charade.

The tears flow before you can try and stop them.  You bury your face in his chest, and he wraps his solid arms around you, rubbing your back and soothing you as you sob quietly.

“Shh, baby, s’okay… I understand,” he murmurs into your hair.  “Don’t cry. You’re still my favorite girl.”

You alternate between giggling and sniffling into his shirt.

“I’m so sorry, Joel—that was psychotic behavior,” you bemoan.  You feel him shake his head.

“Don’t apologize, baby,” he coos.  “Y’didn’t answer me, though.”

“Hmm?” you say, craning your neck to look at him.

“Y’gonna let me drive you?” he asks, gazing into the somber pools of your eyes.  You roll them, small smirk stretching your cheeks.

“I ‘spose.  Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.  And ‘cause I’m a fucking asshole.”  He chuckles, pulling you into his warm embrace.  He kisses the crown of your head.

“My asshole,” he soothes.  You squeeze him tightly, a nonverbal apology flowing from your fingertips into his broad back.

“Baby,” he says, and you pull back to gaze at him.  His eyes flick between yours, a question hidden behind his pupils.  You arch one eyebrow at him.

“I love you—y’know that, right?” he says, the volume of his voice lowered, redness creeping up his neck.  He looks shy, almost childlike.

Shock doesn’t fill you; rather, warmth blooms in your chest.  You knew he did—it was just a matter of when he decided to tell you verbally.  He shows you constantly with his actions.  The corner of your mouth ticks up in a sly grin.

“Fastest you’ve ever told someone that, yeah?” you poke, and it’s his turn to roll his eyes.

“Been through more in 12 days with you ‘n anyone in a lifetime—seems like we’ve known each other a long, long time,” he says, picking some stray hairs from your face.

“Yeah, very true… I love you too.  Even though you hate the coffee I drink.”  He beams at you, shoulders shaking along with his deep chuckles.  He leans in and stops just prior to his lips brushing yours.

“Hey, I’ve tried and tried to like the sugary shit—ain’t my thing.  But you certainly are,” he croons, pressing his lips against yours before you can respond.

This kiss feels much like your first one, back at McKinney’s—passionate, fresh, experimental.  It doesn’t heat up immediately, either—you two savor each other’s lips and embraces, content in the softness and sweetness of this moment of forgiveness.  It’s almost a new beginning for both of you.  Liveliness surges through your veins, scraping the sludge of uncertainty, self-doubt, and anxiety from the walls that have built up since the stabbing.  His lips are chapped, longer stubble chafing your skin, hands holding you a bit tighter than they did when he kissed you goodbye yesterday.  He pulls back, teeth lightly pulling your lower lip with him.

“Y’know, you’re sexy when you’re mad at me,” he teases you, lusty undertones echoing in his deep voice.

“Don’t make it a habit, Miller,” you scold him, squinting your eyes at him.  He laughs again.

“Come over so I can pack, and we can hit the road, sound good?”

“Sure does.”

Taglist: @burntheedges, @syd-djarin, @anoverwhelmingdin, @danaispunk <3

[foodandfolklore]

Dry your own Orange Wheels and Peels

For many people it's strange to think that Oranges are often seen in winter decorations and are traditionally eaten this time of year. I know my house always had tangerines around, and I still buy them to this day in December. People also got them in their stockings as a treat. I didn't know still did this until I had my first Christmas with my now partner and they made me a stocking with an orange and apple. Gotta say, that orange was good. Now, this is partly because citrus fruits are in season in the winter. But there's another aspect.

The winter Solstice, the longest night of the year, is in December. Also called yule. It marks the celebration of the returning of the Sun, and Oranges are packed with solar energy. An orange wheel, fresh or dried, is a perfect symbol of the Sun to decorate with. Many people will dry their oranges during this season to make storage and decorating easier.

A dehydrator makes things a lot easier, but not everyone has one. However, fret not, you can still dry your oranges in the oven. You just need to set your oven to as low as it will go. Start at 150F and see if it will accept. Most ovens the lowest it will go will be between 160F to 200F. Don't try higher than 200F, your Oranges will get too toasty.

Orange Peel

If you want to just preserve orange peel, first decide what you are going to be using it for. If you plan to use it in things like tea, spell jars, basically need big chunks, simply use a vegetable peeler to peel the zest from the pith. Then place the strips on some parchment lined baking sheets, and place in the oven for around 30 minutes until they start to curl.

However, if you are wanting to use the peel in ways where us would need to be smaller; like curry powders, cookie doughs, and other general cooking, I strongly recommend grating your zest before drying. You can grind or cut up the larger chunks after they have dried, but orange zest (and all citrus to be honest) becomes rather leather like once dry. So grinding with a simple mortar and pestle is near impossible. You will need a coffee grinder or some other blender.

Orange Wheel

Lay your orange on it's side, so it's bump bits are on the left and right. This way, when you slice into the orange, you get your desired wheel look.

Now Start slicing. You want them to be fairly thin. I'm talking like no thicker than half a centimeter or quarter of a inch. If you have a mandolin, that'll make things easier. But if you're like me and don't have one nor can you consistently cut straight to save your life, fear not this will still work. These wheels just need to be thin.

One you have your wheels, arrange them on a baking sheet lined with parchment. You can dab off excess juice with a paper towel if you happen to have a leaky fruit. Place them in the oven and check on them after 3 hours. They may be done, or they may need more time. Be prepared to wait 6 or 7 hours drying orange wheels. Maybe have a home day planned.

If your wheels are getting brown but not dry, remove them from the oven and give them a moment to cool. Turn the tray around before placing back in the oven.

You can store these in a clean glass jar, and if done right can last a few years. This process will work with other types of Citrus too. Lemons, Limes, Grapefruits. You can make lovely decorations or dress up a gift in an eco friendly way.

[octoberobserver]

Aprons and Ascots - Benoit Blanc/Phillip Fic

(Read on ao3)

“Is that one of the tie-dye aprons Helen’s third graders made you?”

Phillip froze, left foot suspended over their notoriously creaky floorboard.

“Nothing gets past you, Sherlock,” he teased before turning on the spot to finish up the breakfast tray he had been surreptitiously preparing (or so he thought) for his husband before he was unceremoniously interrupted.

“One for every day of the week,” he continued as Blanc crossed to the coffee maker. “They meticulously chose the colours and patterns for all seven of them. Being back in their classroom, even on a staggered basis has done them the world of good, it seems. They’re a very nice payment for my legal fees.”

All of Andi’s assets had been released to Helen months ago, but neither Blanc nor Phillip had accepted a cent for their detective or lawyer services. Watching that shithead Bron suffer under the weight of his own idiocy had been payment enough as far as they were concerned. Well, that and Helen’s sugar cookies. Those too. Not all baking had halted when lockdown lifted, thank God. Though he could admit, his own kitchen endeavours probably had, for the greater good of his tastebuds and waistline.

“I will say, I’m glad it was an open and shut case, to be sure, for our dear Ms. Brand’s sake,” Blanc murmured between sips of his coffee, coming up to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder. “But I’d also be remiss if I didn’t admit that I rather mourned your very delectable lawyerin’ theatrics during the trial.”

“Says the most dramatic man in the world,” Phillip scoffed back, slapping his hand away when he attempted to reach toward the buttered toast.

Blanc wasn’t easily deterred, however, merely stepping closer and leaning his chin on his shoulder.

“Watching you tear down the Thrombeys’ revolving door of rabid dogs was very sexy and debonair, Mr. Thacker. I have missed the spectacle.”

Phillip chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for the orange juice.

“You just like my courtroom voice, Mr. Blanc.”

“Lord help me, I do.”

Their eyes met.

“Hmm. Well, aren’t I ever so glad a certain private detective convinced me to leave my bustling London law firm and spend the next two decades setting up sticks Stateside?” Phillip replied cheekily, hip-checking him out of the way and carrying the laden tray over to their breakfast nook.

It was all true, of course—he had fallen for the (Texan? Louisianan? He hadn’t been sure at the time) foreigner whom he met when he had been under suspicion of the murder of his boss, of all things, near Westminster Abbey, in 1998. Benoit, who was reluctantly brought there at the behest of Phillip’s other, very rich, very powerful boss, had ruled him out immediately, but somehow still found a way to keep questioning him, much to Phillip’s baffled delight and to Scotland Yard’s continued annoyance.

It had been the meek personal assistant who had done his boss in, in the end. And once the guilty party had been stuffed into the back of a patrol car, Blanc had turned to him, with his mesmerizing gaze and in his famous Southern drawl, set his heart racing with words he would never forget.

“I confess, Mr. Thacker, but I feel a type of connection with you. As if we’ve known each other all our lives. I cannot make any sense of it…compels me, though.”

They had dinner that night.

And almost every night since.

For twenty-three years today, Phillip Thacker had spent his life with the whirlwind that was world-renowned, private-detective, Benoit Blanc, and he wouldn’t give up one single second of it.

Well. Maybe the lockdown sulk baths. They could stay firmly in the past, thank you very much.

“Oh, speaking of those wretched Thrombeys, Marta wants us over for dinner at six pm on Friday. Her mum is making that delicious Ropa Vieja again. Natasha wants us to save her some leftovers.”

He could feel Blanc’s steely blue eyes follow him as he set himself up at the nook.

“Those leftovers stand no chance against your midnight munchies,” he smoothly retorted, joining him, taking his usual seat opposite, newspaper folded under his arm.

“I already told her that,” Phillip smirked.

They tucked into their cheese omelets, toast, tea, and coffee, respectively.

“A package arrived for you earlier,” he piped up after a few minutes, as innocently as he could, knowing there was absolutely no way he was getting anything past his husband and loving him anyway.

“Oh?”

Those gorgeous eyes locked onto him like a beacon.

“Another mysterious box,” he added, trying and failing to hide his smile behind his cup of tea.

“Well now,” Blanc smiled back, “that’ll be somethin’ for after this very nice meal. Thank you,” he raised his glass of orange juice in a toast. “Happy Anniversary, mon chéri.”

“Happy Annivesary, love,” Phillip echoed, clinking their glasses before gesturing out to the hallway. “I did try to get it closer to the bed for actual breakfast in bed this time. But you caught me, as always.”

Blanc gave a half-shrug.

“You have as many tells as you have talents.”

“Of course I do, dear. And you know every single one.”

Blanc narrowed his piercing eyes, pensive.

“Not every single one. For example, I had no earthly idea that you brushed up on your art law to help bury Bron deeper than a groundhog in December.”

“Miles Bron is an insufferable, murderous twat and he’ll get everything he deserves,” Phillip sipped his tea before lowering his cup and clasping his hand. “But I am glad I can still surprise you, even after all these years.”

“Compel me,” Blanc murmured, squeezing his hand back and leaning in to peck his lips, humming into it when Phillip deepened it, turning it just a little devious, as was his wont.

Once they finished breakfast, Blanc filled the dishwasher and made his way out to the living room, calling over his shoulder.

“I have a new movie we can watch.”

“As long as it’s not another one of your blasted rom-coms, Ben,” Phillip yelled back, head deep in their pantry, searching for the chocolate biscuits his mother shipped over for his birthday. They were perfect for dipping in his tea, much to Benoit’s disgust. “You know I loath them more than you loath Cluedo.”

“We call it, ‘Clue’ here, darlin’,” Blanc retorted same as always, edging closer to the large, dark box sitting pretty by their front door.

Phillip emerged, biscuits in hand, just as he was grinning down at the familiar handwriting, tearing the cardboard open with zeal and laughing in delight at what it revealed.

“Tie-dye ascots! Seven of them! Just look at these beauties. Helen’s students are marvels.”

Phillip chuckled as Blanc tied the ascot more like a neckerchief in his haste and began inspecting himself in the mirror.

“You look as handsome as ever.”

He made a mental note to send a card of thanks for the extra anniversary present. Helen Brand and her clever third graders truly were a godsend.

[allfryam]

Spider-fat part 1

Peter was your average college student. He liked sports, did well in most of his classes, and had plenty of friends. But he had one big secret. He was Spider-Man. He had never told anyone. Many people were beginning to become suspicious however. This was mainly because of his amazing body. Peter had rock hard abs and bulging biceps. His toned muscles were all formed because of being Spider-Man. His friends would ask him how he was able to look so good without ever going to the gym. Peter just brushed it off as good genes.

After months of peters friends questioning him, peter decided to come up with a plan to stop them. While being Spider-Man had lots of perks, it also had some drawbacks. Peter had an enormous appetite. He could clear a buffet without breaking a sweat. Of course, he had to control himself or he would gain weight. And who ever heard of a fat Spider-Man. But this gave peter an idea. If he put on a few pounds, people would stop suspecting him as Spider-Man.

the next day, peter went crazy. For breakfast, he ate 10 pancakes drenched with butter and syrup, as well as a dozen scrambled eggs. And he washed it all down with a pint of orange juice. Peter liked the feeling of being full. His tight stomach made him feel confident. On his lunch break, Peter was still a little full from breakfast but he knew he couldn’t stop eating. There was a McDonald’s across the street from his office that he decided to go to. Peter ordered a Big Mac, 3 large fries, and a large coke. “14.85” said the cashier. “I’m not done” said Peter. The cashier looked shocked, but a little intrigued as Peter ordered 20 nuggets, a double quarter pounder, and a large chocolate shake for dessert.

Peter picked up a pizza on the way home and ate the entire thing by himself. He went to bed rubbing his tight stomach.

as the weeks passed, peter had gained about 20 pounds. His six pack had turned into a sizable gut, and his ass was a little thicker too. Peter decided it was a good stopping point to get people off his trail. He tried to eat a small breakfast but he was too hungry. He decided that one more day wouldn’t hurt so he ate his usual massive breakfast. Peter had began to develop a relationship with the cashier at McDonald’s because he would go everyday on his lunch break. Kevin, the cashier, had invited peter over for dinner that night, and Peter couldn’t turn up free food. Peter showed up with an empty stomach, and a button up shirt that was beginning to feel a little tight. Kevin welcomed him and Peter saw the massive spread that he had prepared. There was an entire chicken, baked potatoes, turkey, loads of vegetables, and burgers. Peter was almost drooling at the sight of all of the food. He took a seat and loaded his plate with a mountain of delicious food. Peter was in a hungry daze as he shoved handfuls of fettening food into his expanding gut. Peter was stuffed. He leaned back in his chair and let out a massive burp. “I can’t eat another bite” he said. “But look at all these leftovers. I would hate to have to throw them away.” Kevin said. Not wanting to make a bad impression, Peter reluctantly continued to eat. With every bite he could feel the buttons on his shirt getting tighter. He finished the rest of the food and he felt like he could pass out. Peter sat in his chair groaning as Kevin walked into the kitchen. What else could he possibly be getting? A few minutes later, he came back with a platter of desserts. It contained pies, cakes, muffins, pastries, cookies, and more. It was the most appetizing dessert peter had ever seen. “I don’t think I can…” Peter said. “Come on… sugar expands your stomach. It won’t even make you feel full.” Before peter could protest, Kevin had scooped two pieces of pie, a scoop of ice cream, and a thick slice of cake onto peters plate. Peter slugged his way through the desserts, giving up on silverware. He decided to just use his hands to shove his dessert filled hands into his mouth. As Peter shoveled the last bite of cake into his mouth, he felt a pop. He looked down to see a button had popped off his shirt, revealing his tight, fuzzy belly. Kevin decided it would be best for Peter to stay at his house for the night.

to be continued…

[jessicanjpa]

errands

A mundane little snippet from this chapter of 1950. In which Edward is in a bad mood because that's always more fun.

I yanked the huge stack of mail out of the tiny post office box and began to flip through it with disinterest. A paycheck for Carlisle, a letter from the broker, a couple of college things for Rosalie and Emmett, and a letter for me from the correspondence school. I tore it open to find that I had officially earned my bachelor's degree in mathematics, and would I kindly send in a check for twenty dollars if I wanted a framed diploma done in calligraphy, versus the folded paper one included in this envelope. Which was torn already, because our family was outgrowing our post office box. We had signed up for it as soon as Alice and Jasper had arrived—the same precaution we had taken for Emmett when he was a newborn.

"Anything else for Cullen or McCarty?" I asked the postmaster as I flipped through the rest of the mail: just a few bills and some kind of European fashion magazine that was addressed to Esme, but had obviously been ordered by someone much shorter.

The postmaster disappeared for a moment, returning with a stack of three hefty envelopes which he deposited on the counter with a thud: my three other courses had arrived.

"Here you are, sonny. But I'll need an adult to sign for them…?" He leaned around me, looking to see if either of my parents were waiting out in the car.

"I'm twenty years old," I muttered. I grabbed the pen from his hand and signed my name with an angry flourish. He jerked away, his heart skipping a beat.

"Have a nice day," he said doubtfully as I scooped up everything and headed out the door.

I headed next to the grocery store, mindlessly filling a cart with random fruits, vegetables, and dry goods. It didn't really matter what I got; most of it would all go straight to the compost pile or the food bank. I did pick up a bottle of the laundry detergent that Esme seemed to burn through, and a can of powdered bleach: always handy for getting out those stubborn blood stains. I topped it all off with a carton of orange juice and wrinkled my nose as I passed the butcher. We would be real vegetarians this week; there was no way I was driving home with a hunk of expired animal flesh sitting in my car.

But as I drove home, I decided that I would do errands like this more often. Esme was so busy lately that she had taken to doing everything at vampire speed, which I knew she didn't prefer. She usually enjoyed going about her housecleaning and gardening at a human pace, humming and enjoying her fantasy world in which we would come home from school, sunburnt and tired and hoping for a plate of cookies fresh out of the oven.

But now there was so much laundry, and so many errands, and she had so many sewing and construction projects going at once, that she went about everything with a sort of fierce energy. She seemed happier than ever, what with her full house, but that didn't mean I couldn't pitch in to help now and then. It wasn't like I had anything better to do.

[barclaysangel]

Junior Wheeler Playlist

*pats playlist* This bad boy can fit 207 songs that lasts in total 12 hours and 27 minutes. I fixate too much on Junior. But I got inspired by @high-functioning-fang1rl Nica playlist so I had to do one for Junior too.

This is on my iTunes account and idk how to manage Spotify so if y'all wanna listen to it, I'm going to put all the songs down below. The ones with * on it are the ones I 1000000% relate for Junior. And feel free to send asks about any of the songs and I'll legit do a lyric analyst to explain why I chose it for Junior.

Anyway, enjoy :)

Avril Lavigne

Losing Grip*

Wish You Were Here

Let Me Go

Billie Eilish

COPYCAT

lovely*

you should see me in a crown*

bury a friend

everything i wanted*

Therefore I Am

Happier Than Ever*

Christina Perri

Distance

The Lonely*

Tragedy

Human

Digital Daggers

Where the Lonely Ones Roam*

The Devil Within*

Can't Sleep, Can't Breathe

Still Here*

Bad Intentions

Dorothy

Raise Hell*

Wicked Ones

Beetlejuice the Musical

Dead Mom*

Say My Name

That Beautiful Sound

Home*

Evanescence

Going Under*

Bring Me To Life

Everybody's Fool*

My Immortal*

Tourniquet

Hello*

My Last Breath

Whisper*

Sweet Sacrifice*

Weight of the World*

Lithium*

Like You

Lose Control*

All That I Am Living For

Made of Stone*

The Change*

My Heart Is Broken

The Other Side

Lost in Paradise*

Sick*

Never Go Back

A New Way To Bleed*

Even in Death

Missing*

Farther Away

Fall Out Boy

I Don't Care*

My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark

Alone Together*

Young Volcanoes*

Irresistible

Centuries*

Immortals*

Halsey

Empty Gold

Hold Me Down*

New Americana*

Ghost

Colors*

Colors, Pt. II

Gasoline*

Control*

I Walk the Line

Alone*

Now or Never

Sorry

Good Mourning*

Lie*

Angel on Fire*

Devil in Me*

clementine

Graveyard

Forever ... (is a long time)*

I HATE EVERYBODY*

3am*

Finally // beautiful stranger*

Still Learning

Bells in Santa Fe*

Easier than Lying*

Lilith

Darling*

1121*

honey

Whispers*

Ya'aburnee

People Disappear Here*

Hollywood Undead

Young*

Paradise Lost*

Another Way Out

We Are*

Medicine

Renegade

Imagine Dragons

Radioactive

Demons*

I'm So Sorry*

Monster*

Who We Are

Natural*

Enemy*

LINKIN PARK

Faint

Numb*

What I've Done*

Heavy

Livingston

Shadow*

Surprise!*

Marina and The Diamonds

Oh No!*

Teen Idle

Melanie Martinez

Dollhouse*

Soap*

Training Wheels

Pity Party*

Milk and Cookies*

Mad Hatter*

The Principal

Show & Tell*

Drama Club

Lunchbox Friends*

Orange Juice*

High School Sweethearts

DEATH*

VOID*

FAERIE SOIREE

LIGHT SHOWER

SPIDER WEB*

LEECHES*

BATTLE OF THE LARYNX*

THE CONTORTIONIST*

NYMPHOLOGY

EVIL*

PLUTO*

Olivia Rodrigo

brutal*

Can't Catch Me Now*

Queen

Bohemian Rhapsody*

Under Pressure

The Show Must Go On*

Set It Off

Nightmare*

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead*

Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Skillet

Falling Inside the Black*

Monster*

Taylor Swift

I Did Something Bad*

Don't Blame Me*

Look What You Made Me Do*

my tears ricochet

seven*

this is me trying*

hoax

Anti-Hero*

You're On Your Own, Kid*

Vigilante Shit*

Three Days Grace

Just Like You*

I Hate Everything About You

Born Like This

Overrated*

Pain*

Animal I Have Become*

Riot

Let It Die

Bitter Taste*

Break

The Good Life*

Someone Who Cares*

Chalk Outline

Misery Loves My Company*

Human Race*

Pain Killer*

Fallen Angel

So What*

Nothing's Fair in Love and War

One Too Many

twenty one pilots

Stressed Out*

Ride

Fairly Local*

Other Artists

Let Me Down Slowly by Alec Benjamin

Here by Alessia Cara*

Panic Room by Au/Ra*

I'm Gonna Show You Crazy by Bebe Rexha*

Dark Side by Bishop Briggs*

idfc by blackbear

Break the Rules by Charli XCX

Arcade by Duncan Laurence

The Monster by Eminem*

Gorgeous Nightmare by Escape the Fate*

Seven Devils by Florence + the Machine*

You Found Me by The Fray

Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths*

So Alive by The Goo Goo Dolls*

Blood // Water by grandson*

Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day

Impossible by James Arthur*

Human by John "The Ragin Cajun" Jones*

Broken by lovelytheband

How Villains Are Made by Madalen Duke*

Twisted by MISSIO

Voices by Motionless In White

Funeral by Neoni*

How You Remind Me by Nickleback*

Don't Let Me Get Me by P!nk

Cradles by Sub Urban*

Bad Things by Summer Kennedy*

Shattered by Trading Yesterday*

Unsteady by X Ambassadors*

Heads Will Roll by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

[quibbs126]

Trade offer

I get: Licorice x Almond fan child

You get: a wacky Mushroom that will fill you with whimsy

Do you accept? (PleazspelasepleaseIneedlicolmondcontentibegofthee)

I know this has been probably months in the making (sorry about that), but I finally got to it, and their names are Marzipan Cookie and Black Sesame Cookie

Originally I was just going to stick with Marzipan, but after getting that thing from anon with suggestions for Marzipan’s character, I decided to use one of the other names for some of the other ideas listed. Thanks again to that anon for the help

I came up with these names a long time ago, so I don’t entirely remember Black Sesame’s name reasoning, other than I think it was based off the seeds and it was because those seeds are a dark color like licorice? And probably some other reason relating to Almond that I can’t remember. But for Marzipan, it’s because marzipan is made from ground almonds

Marzipan and black sesame seeds:

I’ll say one thing, I feel like Marzipan looks almost nothing like Licorice. Hmm, maybe she was younger she had a goth phase where she dressed more like him and maybe dyed her hair? I dunno, but at this point she’s moved past that. I also feel like she looks more like a journalist, when she’s supposed to be a cop. She has a badge somewhere on her jacket, you just don’t see it. The anon mentioned something about skull cuffs, so I thought might as well give her that, so yeah her cuff links are skull shaped. Also originally, her jacket was orange, but I changed it to purple because I thought one of them should at least have a color scheme similar to Licorice (also I was waiting on my friend for a consultance on which colors to use, but she’s going out on vacation, so I just stuck with purple. I should probably find more consultants on this stuff than just her, but also I feel like that’d be rude)

Also I know neither Licorice nor Almond have white hair, but the pictures of marzipan I found were usually an off white color, so I chose to stick with that

As for Black Sesame, I’m pretty happy with his design, it’s pretty much what I wanted. I wanted him to look somewhat like a crazy and/or homeless person, even though he isn’t one. Though maybe I could have given him more detail. Ah well. Oh also, Black Sesame has a slouch, but is also just generally a bit short. Sorry just random detail I wanted to mention

So anyways, let’s get into the two, starting with Marzipan. So she’s part of the police force like Almond (who’s probably the Commissioner at this point), and she specifically deals with homicide cases. Previously, she attended the Parfaedia Institute and learned magic, as well as some from Licorice, and probably her most notable asset is that she can temporarily bring a victim back from the dead via licorice magic (even if she herself doesn’t have much licorice in her dough), so they can figure out how they died and who killed them. Unfortunately, she has the bad luck that almost all of the victims she deals with don’t have those answers, so she still has to try and figure things out for herself, though the victims can be helpful in the process. To be honest, her cases tend to go more like Ace Attorney cases, with a lot of wacky hijinks and things being relatively light hearted (you know for a murder case). She loves her job but she can get frustrated sometimes with the amount of weird stuff she has to deal with to get her job done. Also you know that clip of suspects having to sing I Want it That Way? I’d imagine she’d be the cop in that scene (sorry I’ve never seen Brooklyn 99, only clips)

As for Black Sesame, he’s a teenager that also attends Parfaedia, but he has little if any interest in learning magic, and is only still going because he likes the potions track (which Prune Juice likely had some involvement in, but I’m not sure how). His big thing is that he’s an author of a series of murder mysteries, which he loosely bases off of Marzipan’s talks of her cases (and case files as well as her diary, but he doesn’t tell her about that last bit). Like he’ll lift certain elements from her cases that he thinks are interesting (as well as the main character being a cop that brings people back from the dead), and then insert them into this stories. Though unlike how Marzipan’s actual cases tend to be more on the wacky side, Black Sesame’s versions tend to be incredibly dark and gritty with gratuitous amounts of violence and vulgarity. However, Black Sesame doesn’t just do this because he wants to make edgy fanfiction, it’s because he’s trying to make statements based on the stories at hand, choosing to use the dark tone as a form of satire while also being a commentary on things (unfortunately I don’t really know what those messages or things are, because I’m not good at deeper meanings to stories, I kind of have to be told them by other people to understand them). He generally doesn’t condone the dark things he puts in his stories, he just uses them to make a point

His books are actually incredibly successful, some people reading it for satire, and some just because of the dark content. However he hasn’t made it publicly known that he’s the writer of the series (he uses a pen name), with it really only being kept between his publishers and his family. He does it partially because he thinks that revealing a teenager wrote these books could lessen people’s opinions on the books, and also he thinks it’s funny if he doesn’t tell people, like some of his classmates read them and love them, including plenty of people who just generally don’t like him, and he thinks it’s hilarious, and he wants to keep it up until the best possible moment to publicly reveal himself so that he can see the looks on their faces when they realize he’s the author

Marzipan doesn’t read the books (hence why she doesn’t know he reads her diary for info), mostly just because she knows the main character is based on her and the stories are based on her cases, and she finds it a bit too surreal to read about. And while no one knows the real identity of the author, other people in the precinct suspect Marzipan has some connection to them, considering the main character sounds suspiciously like her and the cases in it sound a bit too much like their cases for these to be complete coincidence

Also I’m considering the idea that they have a youngest sister called Swirl Taffy who wants to be a wizard and is just generally an optimistic child, but Black Sesame keeps trying to get her into dark things and Marzipan has to stop him (but she probably already knows the dark stuff and is cool with it), but I don’t think I’ll draw her, just a random concept

But yeah, I think that’s all on Marzipan and Black Sesame. Hope you like them!

[sweeethinny]

Hinny Fest - Day 10

I'm so lucky to be able to live this life with you"- day ten

didn't know what to write, I admit, but it came out easily I think it's the best domestic hinny I've ever written

@hinnyfest

-----

He was at work and that seemed to be the topic of the day.

''It's easy to say you love when it's okay,'' he heard someone say. ''I want to see when everything is a mess, children screaming and running, messy house, dirty dishes, bills to pay... That's when we see true love.''

''That's why she left me,'' Cecil said, still looking sad but now a little angry. ''We wanted to have kids but as soon as our little one was born and things got tough, she dumped me for a new woman.''

''Sorry, sweetheart,'' Someone spoke, compassionate tone and low voice.

''Alright, we're getting through it.''

''But what I said is true, look when you get home, tell them you love them even when the biggest mess is happening, you'll see how their reaction is different from when everything is perfect and we are having the most romantic time together .''

Harry continued to do his work, silently in his office, until it was time to leave. He as usual closed everything, ensured that nothing had been left behind, made sure he hadn't forgotten anything…

The usual routine.

He stopped by the kids' school to pick them up, went to the bakery to buy some bread, cheese and some chocolate cookies that Ginny asked for, tried to keep the kids from sleeping in the backseat like they always did, and went home.

As soon as he arrived, he had already started to set the table for dinner — he had left a potato and chicken pie ready in the freezer — and was still trying to prevent them from sleeping without eating. Harry put them to feed Khaleesi and Sir, their cat and dog, and then made them open all the windows and curtains - it was an absurdly hot summer - and water the plants around the house. They made a mess, of course, they weren't tall enough yet and they fought over who would do what, but at least they were staying awake.

Harry and Ginny had already made the mistake of letting them sleep too early a few times, and the price they paid the next morning wasn't low.

When she arrived an hour later, Harry had already finished making dinner and was trying to settle a fight between Lily and Albus over the flavour of the juice they wanted to drink, sleep making them a little angry with each other, but he was doing a good job.

''Hello,'' Ginny walked over to him, giving him a quick kiss and then bending down to hug and kiss the kids. ‘'How are we?''

Lily and Albus went back to talking about the juice fight while James talked about what he had done at school. The three of them followed Ginny upstairs, while she went to change clothes and wash her hands, Harry finished putting all the food on the table and squeezing some oranges to put with the pineapple juice, putting together Albus' and Lily's wishes.

''No Khaleesi,'' Harry took the cat off the table, who meowed angrily at him and headed out into the garden, a place she loved to hang out during the summer.

While everyone else didn't come downstairs, Harry made sure the dirty dishes wash themselves, as well as the clothes in the laundry room, remembered telling James to put away his toys that were scattered in the living room, put away the things that were out of place around the house and took the dry clothes off the line, folding them and leaving them in a pile, later Ginny was going to take each one to its proper place, but now he just wanted to sit down and eat.

''Yummy, it looks great,'' Ginny set the kids up in the chairs and Harry served them, they were both hungry and tired so dinner was always quieter, everyone concentrated on the food.

James was almost asleep on top of his plate at the end of the meal, which indicated that it was bath time.

Harry and Ginny took turns, while she helped with the children's baths, he made the beds and sorted out the pyjamas. As long as they could still get the three of them to bathe in their big bathtub – one of the first things Harry bought with his first paycheck, and he would never regret it – they wouldn't waste time in the shower, having already experienced it. It was faster, yes, but with three kids who loved a mess, it became a very difficult process for a Wednesday.

He helped them dry one by one, wearing only Lily, who was the youngest and still had some difficulties putting on her clothes.

It was Ginny's turn to put the children to bed, so Harry kissed each one good night and left the room, heading for theirs.

They used to sleep late before they had kids, but then during the week, Harry and Ginny were passed out in bed before eleven at night. It was a tiring routine, they would wake up early, Ginny would drive them to school not far away (after a lot of silly arguing between the kids, as their moods were so bad in the morning), they would have breakfast together, go to work, and they only saw each other again during lunch, and that was only sometimes. He wished he could stay awake with her longer, but it was eight-thirty and Harry could barely stand it with his eyes open as he showered, looking at himself in the mirror inside the shower and trying to find the strength to shave.

One more day, that would be for later, he decided, putting down the razor he was using and just washing his face.

When he came out of the shower, Ginny was walking back to the bedroom, a tired smile on her face. ''They didn't even fight today, Lily barely drink her milk,''

''She'll stop asking for the bottle soon,'' Harry hung up the towel and went to their closet, looking for a pair of underwear in the drawer. ''It was like that with the other three too, remember?''

''Yes,'' Ginny hugged him, her warm hand touching his cold skin and making him shiver. ''This weekend, Mum will take them,''

''Hm,'' Harry smiled. ''What do you want to do?''

''Today, if I had to decide, I'd tell us to do nothing, just sleep, no interruptions,'' They laughed, but Harry might have agreed with that. ''But then I thought we could do something. Go out a little, I don't know, it's been a while since we've done anything, just the two of us, outside the house.''

''We can do it,'' Harry took her hand, kissing her ring, as he always did. ‘'I'll think of something. Now go take a shower, I'll make the kids' lunch tomorrow,''

''Let me do it,'' He denied.

''I'd rather you handle the clothes,'' Ginny groaned in frustration, leaning her forehead against his bare back.

''Urg, I hate storing clothes,'' He knew, and that's why he always preferred to spend more time in the kitchen.

She left, went to the bathroom and Harry finished getting dressed, only old trunks and flip-flops, so he went back downstairs and into the kitchen, starting to pack the children's lunch boxes. After a few years of experience, Harry and Ginny realised that losing a few hours of comfort in bed at night was far more worth it than having to get up early to cook; it was a double-edged sword, but this was a less painful stab.

James ate everything, so his lunch box was never a problem; Harry made a sandwich he had already asked, put in two pieces of cake, some fruit, and a granola bar that he loved to eat while waiting on the way out or in the car back home.

Albus didn't like to eat sandwiches like that, so for him, Harry would knead the slices of bread until they were thin, and fill it the same way, but then roll the bread, as if it were a Japanese food that Albus loved. He only got him a piece of cake, as he wasn't eating as much as James. For him, instead of the granola bar, Harry added some more fruit, which he also liked to eat in the car.

Lily was the most selective. For her, at the age of five, everything needed to be more beautiful to the eyes than necessarily to the taste. Harry was more dedicated to hers, with star and bunny cutters, plastic flower sticks and paper towels decorated with her favourite characters. It was the same food, but it took Harry a lot longer to arrange everything beautifully than anything else. She also only got one piece of cake, but less fruit, as she wasn't eating much.

By the time it was all over—and after Ginny had finished putting away the clothes—it was close to ten o'clock. They were talking while she in the laundry room folded the clothes and hung up the ones that were clean now, and Harry made sure the kitchen was clean by tomorrow morning. When they went to bed, they were already too tired to do anything, so he just gave her a kiss and hugged her.

''I'm so lucky to be able to live this life with you" He said, kissing her forehead once more, remembering what he was listening to at work earlier. Ginny laughed softly, hugging him tighter.

''Hm, that took me by surprise,'' she said, smiling. ''I feel that way too,'' She kissed him. ''I love you.''

''Love you too.''

[count-alucard-tepes]

Could I ask for you're headcanons on what the op hotties would be like when their s/o is poorly. I know you did one for when theyr sick, but what about if the table weer turned??

Headcanons for my One Piece hotties: Their reaction to their S/O being sick

Kizaru ✨

He’s worried about his S/O and wants them to get better as soon as possible. So he makes sure to take them to the doctor and have them resting. He doesn’t really cook so he’d have the housekeeper make soup and watch over you while he’s at work.

Akainu🌋

He would make sure to cook some chicken soup that’s a little spicy and would feed it to his S/O. He’d make sure they getting enough rest and when he’s at work, he’d call to check in to see how his S/O is feeling. He’d also buy their favorite snacks when he’s done with work.

Ryokugyu 🌱

He wouldn’t worry too much as he knows this is normal for everyone to get sick and would just make sure to order some food in that his S/O likes. He’d get medication for his S/O and wouldn’t disturb them while they rest.

Fujitora🐅

He would request the day off so that he could take care of his S/O and take care of the daily chores at the house so that his S/O doesn’t worry too if he deals with the kids and what not. He would bring them food in bed and feed them lovingly, trying his best to make them feel better.

Sir Crocodile 🐊

He would worry about his S/O and would have a doctor come home to check on them just to make sure that they’re okay. He’d make sure they take their medication and gets lots of rest so they could recover quicker.

Doflamingo Donquixote 🦩

He isn’t too concerned to be honest, he knows it’s just the common cold. He does remind his S/O to get some rest and to take their medication before he heads off to deal with some work.

Benn Beckman 🔫

He would get some herbal medication for his S/O to recover faster and tries his best to cook but he’s not very good at it. He makes tea and brings it his S/O hoping that might help too.

Katakuri Charlotte 🍡

He gets the village doctor to see to his S/O and then takes a few days off so that he could care for his S/O. He makes tea and brings it to bed for his S/O. While they’re resting, he feels pretty helpless and cuddles up close just to make sure he’s protecting his S/O in some way.

Killer 🔪

He is pretty good at cooking so he whips up some recipes that he got from Sanji to make his S/O feel better and feeds them even when they say they’re not hungry. He’d make freshly squeezed orange juice for them too.

Kaido🐉

He would get a doctor to see to his S/O and ask a close member of the crew like Black Maria to watch over them while they rested and to make sure they get better. Otherwise, he doesn’t really know what else to do.

King 👑

He would stress bake and make tons of baked cookies and cakes because he doesn’t know how to make his S/O feel better quicker. He would offer them cookies and tea…and then he stress eats when he hears his S/O coughing or sneezing. He doesn’t deal with stress well but everyone in the Beast pirates love his baking so they’re not complaining.

Queen👑

He gets really worried when he finds his S/O in bed for longer than they should be and looking pale, he immediately takes them to the doctor and wants to make them feel better. He’d do some performances for them just to get his S/O to laugh and what not.

[herbertwest]

i don’t remember why im following u so i have to go off of url. herbert and dan run out of milk

The clock struck 3 am…the witching hour. The walls of the house seemed to breathe (and breathe they might – what wretched fiends lurked behind the old bricks, their rank breath moving the bricks and mortar?).

Dan awoke from a restless slumber, dreams of being buried alive crumbling from his eyes. He shuddered once and looked at the clock. The tick-tick-ticking reminded him too much of the sound of a shovel hitting earth. He needed to shed his nightmare, and what better way to do that than a little past-midnight snack?

The thought cheered him. He sauntered into the kitchen and opened the highest cabinet, the one that Herbert could not reach. Inside were all Dan’s favorite snacks: glorious gummy worms; savory Slim Jims; crumbly chocolate chip cookies; and, the best, om-nom-able Oreos.

He took down the package and placed a generous helping onto the only clean plate in the house. Now he just needed some milk; it was a crime against nature to have Oreos without milk, and while Dan routinely participated in crimes against nature, milkless Oreos was a crime too far.

Opening the fridge, Dan pushed aside jarred experiments and bottles of glowing serum. He removed pickles, mustard, peanut butter, and frozen mice. He frantically tossed old orange juice and cheese out of the way, but he could not find what he sought. They were out of milk.

Dan knew that there had been a nearly full carton earlier in the day.

“Herbert…” muttered Dan, narrowing his eyes. He marched down the steps into the basement.

“Herbert, did you drink all the milk?” Dan asked, neatly sidestepping a reanimated corpse as it tried to tear out his jugular.

“It turns out that milk gives my test subjects strong bones if added to the serum,” replied Herbert, who appeared to have been thrown across the room recently and was just picking himself up.

“Why is that something you want? Aren’t they strong enough as it is?” Dan picked up a nearby shovel and slammed it into the reanimated corpse’s head. It dropped like a sack of bricks, falling next to an actual sack of bricks.

Herbert paused to think for a moment. “Science,” he replied.

“Do we have any milk left?” asked Dan.

Herbert gestured to a carton on a table. It had toppled, and the last dregs were dripping onto the floor.

Dan raced over to it, but too late! It was empty. He took a shuddering breath. It was as he had feared. They were out of milk. How was he supposed to eat his Oreos now?

“Herbert, you’ve really done it this time,” said Dan.

“Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the greater good,” said Herbert, nodding sagely.

“The only sacrifice that’s going to happen is you if you don’t replace the milk.” Dan brandished his shovel.

“Let’s not be hasty…check my minifridge. I keep some in there for post-experiment Oreos.”

Dan glanced at the blood-spattered minifridge, squeamishly opening it with his foot. Inside was a severed hand, several vials of reagent…and a small carton of milk. Dan snatched it up. “Get more non-experiment milk tomorrow,” he said, and returned to the kitchen.

The Things in the Walls had taken all his cookies.

This was the worst night ever.

[thatmexisaurusrex]

See, this is how you show a character love and appreciation. Shown em how it's done!

❓

🥙 (apparently I don't have a sammich emoji, but let's pretend lmao)

🐶

🐤

Excited fer your fabulous answers! ❤

Sam Wilson Ask Game

COOKIE 😆 Thanks for the wonderful asks, friend 🥰

❓ Sam, Gideon, and Sarah have one weird habit in common: what is it?

Oooh, I answered this in another ask, but lemme think of another fun one 😆 🤔 Sam, Gideon, and Sarah all believed using orange juice as a substitute for milk when eating cereal is a completely normal thing that other people totally do 🤣 And they're just in the habit of eating their frosted mini wheats with orange juice.

🥪 Most irredeemable food Sam loves.

I feel like this was one he developed with Gideon and Sarah as a kid, but basically, he'll make a "Sam-wich" which is just the soda suicide of sandwiches - a little bit of everything in the fridge must go in it. And Sam says it's delicious, but no one believes him 😂

🐶 Sam gets interviewed for a fluff piece - what animal do they have Sam cuddle with?

Falcons. And it would have gone horribly wrong if not for the fact that Sam's bird telepathy finally kicked in and he asked the falcons to be cool during the interview.

🐱 Cutest thing Figaro has done this week?

She reached up for a butterfly that had somehow wandered into Sam's house, only to flop on her little floofy back.

[cloud-ya]

personal rating of my favourite desserts and beverages from a local pastry shop (that I've tried so far)

1. Ice Cream Dessert (12/10)

tried it just once just today and it already took the first place. looks and tastes great. it's expensive and takes some effort and time to make, but it's absolutely worth it

2. Iced Coffee (11/10)

all time favourite. classic and simple. creamy texture which I enjoy every time and would love to recreate at home one day. every summer I must grab a cup without whipped cream because I have no idea what to do with it once I'm done with the coffee

3. Raspberry And Chocolate Coffee (10/10)

winter special. as someone not liking fruits in desserts I was actually surprised that the mix of raspberry and chocolate can be so tasty and cozy

4. Gingerbread Coffee (10/10)

another winter special. nothing more but cup of gingerbread flavoured coffee, but it's great for cold weather

5. Banana & Apple Milkshakes (10/10)

putting two flavours in one place because they're similarly enjoyable. nicely soft and creamy with not overwhelming flavours

6. Cream Rolls (10/10)

a simple and small cheap thing. tasty and crunchy with soft cream inside. great

7. Cookies (9.5/10)

hazelnut cookies and ones with orange jelly are my favourites. I grab a box sometimes when I'm able to

9. Granita (6/10)

the shop seems to be changing its flavour every day. it's refreshing and all the flavours I managed to try so far (kiwi and pineapple) are enjoyable. it's sold in large cups so I can't just grab it and finish quick enough before class starts unfortunately, once it took me over 2 hours to finish one. hard to deal with the juice getting to the bottom of the cup and separating from the ice, ending up with straw being able to reach only the juice

honourable mention: Watermelon Lemonade (4/10)

I don't know what I was expecting, but it was just water with pieces of fruit and ice cubes. the pieces sure are enjoyable and the drink itself is refreshing, but I wouldn't order it again

[tom-whore-dleston]

What are your icks as far as food goes? 🤔

Nasty combinations? Overcooked meat? Terrible in general? Lay it on me.

Broken Clocks - ask me my ‘icks’ about anything

ooh I like this question! I am a huge foodie so I can't name any foods that I hate off the top of my head. but that doesn't mean I don't have my opinions on certain foods lol

for starters, I already got the ick when you mentioned overcooked meat 🥴 I work at a wedding venue, so I tend to eat the same foods every time I work. before i go into my little rant, I want to make it clear that I love our chef. He is a great cook, he loves his job, and he's like another dad to me. But I cannot eat any of the beef he cooks 😭😭😭 I'm the type of person that needs rare or medium rare for any beef. But our chef cooks it well done, like I do not see any red or pink when I bite into it. basically, I'm eating beef jerky with a little bit of juice lol chef kyle, if you're reading this, please don't disown me 💔💔💔

okay since we're still talking about my work, I'm gonna share a story about one couple that I worked for. So this couple was interesting. They had a few food allergens, but what made it more interesting was their wedding cake was TRAIL MIX FLAVORED

I wish I was joking about this but no...I watched my coworker cut the cake and we found nuts and berries in that shit 😭 also the cake was topped with pistachio nuts like---- you can't make this up fr

I might get canceled for this but I do not like orange creamsicles or any desserts with oranges. But here's the thing: I LOVE oranges and I LOVE other fruit flavored ice creams. idk something about orange flavored ice cream just doesn't tickle my tastebuds.

I feel like this is a pretty popular opinion but I am not a fan of oatmeal raisin cookies. HOWEVER, my guy works at Mendocino Farms (bonus points to anyone that knows this place bc I learned about it when it met him jadhdjsgh) gave me a complimentary oatmeal raisin cookie and it was the best one I have ever eaten in my life and I'm not just saying that bc he's the Daddy Dom of my dreams dhgadlghgfh

In conclusion, those are the main food icks I have. If anyone has any that I am forgetting, let's chat about it ;)

A Thousand Thank You’s Celebration | Ctrl + SOS Sleepover

[dabookgoblin]

tagged by: @silvergifting Thank you! I've never done one of these before!

favorite time of the year: Autumn! It's literally so pretty, THE VIBES, Halloween and when everybody starts selling the drinks I like. I can also begin hibernation. 11/10

comfort food: My mom has this recipe for these frozen no-bake Buffalo-chip cookies and they are chocolatey goodness.

favorite drinks: Orange Juice/Orang Julius (anything with citrus really)

do you collect anything?: [glances at my shelves] Definitely not books... Various Office supplies? (I type this at my desk that is drowning under the assorted tools for the five projects I have going on all at once rn😅) All jokes aside my personal goal in life since I was four was to have my own library in my house. So I have books. Many more books than I (currently) have space for them. Yes, I blame Disney's Beauty and the Beast for this.

Seriously tho, I can only put my shelves in one corner of my room so lemme show you how bad this is getting:

It is so hard to write digitally omg T-T

current song on repeat: I finished watching Jackcepticeye's playthrough of the latest Dark Pictures anthology so "O Death" the ending credits version for The Devil in Me has been on repeat constantly for the past 4 days. (also the soundtrack for God of War:Ragnarok, STUNNING) (also Blood on the Snow by Hozier is amazing)

favorite fic: I don't read a lot of fanfiction so I can't really give an answer. (feel free to give recs!) Red from Overly Sarcastic Productions had a charity livestream read of My Immortal that I really enjoyed and StrangeAeons is planning on doing one too so I'm looking forward to that.

favorite video game: The Legend of Zelda Breath of the Wild! I can loose SO many hours to that game lol

tagging: @grsnbriar @ra-grace @kalopziaa

[edelweiss-coffee]

chapter seven is here, beloveds <3

ao3

Mike woke up first, of all the boys. When he rolled out of his bed, he glanced behind him and saw Will sleeping peacefully. A smile stretched across his face as he changed his clothes and made his way down to the basement.

Upon Mike's arrival, Dustin and Lucas kicked each other awake, one of them on either end of the sofa, curse words aplenty spewed between the two of them. Complaints of headaches and chewed aspirins (just as Dustin predicted) washed down with warmed orange juice started their morning.

Will slept later than the other boys. As Mrs. Wheeler prepared chocolate chip pancakes for them, Mike strolled up to his room to wake him.

He rapped lightly on the door, then opened it, sliding inside the room. 

“Hey Will, it’s breakfast time. You okay?”

Will groaned, covering his eyes.

“Ow, shit.”

Mike widened his eyes and smiled at Will’s complaint.

“Here, aspirin. For the ow,” he laughed.

“God, that was so stupid, we’re so stupid,” Will sighed. He sat up, toying with his hair.

“Yeah, it was. We– we are.”

Mike sat on the bed next to Will. He fixed a loose strand of Will’s hair and then rested his hand on Will’s cheek.

“Except for the part where I got to kiss you. And dance with you, and sleep next to you…” he trailed.

Will almost immediately turned pink. 

“Yeah, except that part. That was brilliant. Amazing,” Will smiled.

Mike planted a kiss on Will’s lips that sent Will leaning back into the pillows.

“C’mon, pretty,” he whispered, standing up. “Let’s go get some pancakes.”

He drummed on the bed frame impatiently.

Will stood up, too. 

“Hey Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“D’you think we can wait to tell–um, everyone else? A-about, us? Just until I tell my mom. I have to tell my mom before anyone else finds out, okay?” Will asked, tucking in his shirt.

Mike nodded his head, mouth wide open, drinking in all of Will’s words.

“Yeah,” he cooed. “Of course. Can I–come? When you tell Joyce?”

“Yeah, I think she’d like that.”

“Cool,” Mike smiled.

“Cool.”

– – – – 

The boys made their plans after breakfast. They decided, after some light protesting (“I want to come! We wanna see how happy Mama Byers is when she hears that her baby’s in love!”), they decided that Dustin and Lucas would head to Lucas’ house and Mike and Will would head to Will’s. 

Will was quiet on the ride to his house. Though smiling, and blushing, and very clearly happy, he was still quiet. Mike followed suit– he was quiet too. He always said that the two of them didn’t need words to communicate, that they had a connection that knew no language. Their eyes said enough. Their smiles said enough.

The boys slowed when they reached Will’s driveway, stepping off their bikes in sync to walk them down the slight decline.

“Are you nervous?” Mike whispered.

“Oddly enough, I am, a little,” Will breathed, behind a half-laugh.

“Don’t be,” Mike sighed. “Your mom is the best.”

The boys set their bikes gently against the porch and Will opened the front door, letting Mike in first. They were met immediately by the smell of cookies and Joyce’s friendly voice. They ventured to the couch as she seemingly explained herself;

“Hi, boys! I was just trying to get these almond cookies done before–Ouch! Before you got here, baby, but I lost track of time watching my shows–you know my shows,” Joyce rambled, first grabbing the pan with no oven mitt covering her hand. She scrambled around the kitchen and opened the window before sitting down on the couch with Mike and Will.

“How are you guys? How was your impromptu sleepover? Did you eat? Mike, baby do you need a glass of water? Will?”

“Mom, we’re fine,” Will laughed, breathless. 

“But, we do– we do want to talk to you, i-if that’s okay,” Mike rushed.

A shared look between the boys left Joyce with a scrunched up face.

“Of course, you can talk to me. What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

Her look of concern washed away as Will giggled some more.

“Mom! Nothing is wrong, it’s just some news.”

“Good news,” Mike added.

“Okay, I’m all ears, boys,” Joyce smiled.

Will’s hands began to shake, and his cheeks flushed a deep pink. Mike glanced at him and put his hand on his shoulder.

“‘S’Okay, Will,” he whispered, his smile beaming.

Will took a deep, deep breath and put his hands on his knees.

“Well, first of all, mom,” he sighed, a bit shakily. “I’m, um. I’m gay.”

Joyce covered her mouth, her eyes shining with tears. She was smiling, albeit softly.

“Baby, I am so glad that you felt comfortable enough to come to me,” she sobbed, throwing her arms around Will. “I love you, Will, and I support you no matter what, forever, okay?” 

Her voice was muffled by Will’s flannel. Mike squeezed the other boy’s shoulder, wiping his eyes.

Will hugged her back, a tear in his own eye as well. 

“I love you too, mom,” he choked.

Joyce sat back, wiping her eyes with a wry laugh. 

“Gosh, that makes me so happy. I’m so happy that you know who you are, baby,” she sobbed again.

“There’s something else, mom,” Will laughed. 

“Oh my gosh, I don’t know if I can take much else!” Joyce sniffled, laughing too.

“Well,” Will said, “Mike and I,” he took Mike’s hand, they intertwined their fingers-- “Mike and I are together now,” he smiled.

“You two!” Joyce squealed, leaning in for another hug, but opening her arms wide enough to include Mike this time. 

“I could explode, I am over the moon for the two of you!” 

Tears poured out of her eyes incessantly as she pecked both of the boys on the foreheads, on the cheeks, on the tops of their heads.

She looked to Mike. 

“Do your parents know?” 

Mike shook his head and looked at the floor. 

“No, no. Not yet,” he mumbled. “Dad is… Dad, y’know? And I–”

She took Mike’s face in her hands.

“You listen to me. I love you. I love you like you are one of my very own, Mike, and I have since you were just a little boy. I will support and protect you like you are my own. I promise. No matter what,” she wept, kissing his forehead one last time.

She stood up and shook tears away.

“Do you boys want some cookies? Some water? Tissues?” She laughed.

“Those cookies smell incredible, Mrs. Byers,” Mike beamed.

Will nudged him with his elbow, a smile plastered on his face.

“Please call me Joyce, Mike. I’m just Joyce. Come get some cookies, you cuties.”

[aikrathecat]

I haven’t done some incorrect quotes for a while so here some more for my au.

Before we get started here's a little key

Amy -> cheerleader (she/her)

Masha -> goth kid (they/them)

Marc -> hippie boy (he/him)

Riley -> red-head (they/them)

Here we go!

Reliy: Amy likes to win. When she was 8, a little Club Scout friend of hers bragged they could sell the most cookies.

Reliy: Damned if Amy didn't walk the neighborhood till she got blisters on her feet, and won by 10 boxes.

Reliy: Best part is, Amy wasn't even a Club Scout.

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

Masha: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life.

William: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back...

Gus: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this.

Amity: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years.

Hunter: I knew I lost that potential somewhere.

Luz: Mental stability, my old friend!

Masha:

Masha: I was going to show you the trunk I found in Marc's attic, but are you guys ok?

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

Luz, to Hunter: You're starting to forget your Spanish. You don't practice.

Hunter: Lo siento. Estoy embarazada.

Luz: You just told me you're pregnant.

Vee: Congratulations Hunter, you're glowing!

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

Gus: Any questions?

Hunter: Uh, yeah, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?

Gus: Uh, a plan, duh...

Luz: Hunter, chill, I know it’s weird, but Gus has a point.

Hunter:

Hunter: THAT WAS LITERALLY A PONY DOODLE WITH A HAT!!

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

William: I drink to forget but I always remember.

Amy: You're drinking orange juice.

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

Luz: Croissants: dropped

Masha: Road: works ahead

Marc: BBQ sauce: on my titties

Reliy: Shavacado: fre

Amy: Miss Keisha: f-ing dead

The boiling isles squad:

William: ...I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.