#that was my last package of sausages

[mcrfanfic-screenshots]

[gildedoak]

Crab/Crawfish Boil! Coloring the food was a challenge of "what shade of Copic Marker is this?"

The last time I had a Crab Boil was in… middle school? My friend’s mom dumped the whole thing on a giant plastic sheet on the dining room table and it was DELICIOUS. Definitely made an impression, that's for sure!

SOUTHERN COMFORT FOOD SERIES Chicken and Waffles Sweet Tea Peach Cobbler Hushpuppies Gumbo (plus character notes!) Beignets (part 2) Shrimp and Grits Cornbread Biscuits and Gravy Pecan Pie/Sugar Pie Fried Catfish ??? - Season 1 Finale

Image description under the cut!

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: 5 panel comic

PANEL 1: (Charlie stands to the side, looking at something offscreen.) C: Hey Dad? L: Yeah? C: We’re you expecting a package from Uncle Levi? L: A what?

PANEL 2: (Charlie looks at two giant towers of seafood crates. One has a note that reads “2 Luci w/ ❤️.” Another note reads, “Call more often u dick.”) C: It’s a bunch of boxes from Uncle Levi!

PANEL 3: (A blur runs by Charlie in a flurry of feathers, sending her hair flying askew.) L: WOO YEAH!

PANEL 4: (Lucifer bounds away, the crates stacked high above his head.) L: SEAFOOD IS HERE - FRESH FROM ENVY! AL, GET THE KITCHEN READY!! C: Uh… Dad?

PANEL 5: "A few hours later…" (There is a giant, messy pile of cooked crab, shrimp, crawfish, potatoes, corn, and sausage on a long table. Charlie is agape with amazement, and Alastor hands her a plate.)

A: Charlie - be a dear and fetch the others for dinner please? And you’re going to catch flies if you keep gawking.

(Lucifer is taking photos with his phone, sending them to a group chat.)

L: Eatin’ good 2nite! Thx Levi! <crab emoji> Levi: OMG JEALOUS Levi: Is that a GODDAMN CRAB BOIL?? F U Bee: No fucking way bitch u only cook pancakes Bee: Who’s cooking 4 U?? DEETS U BITCH <heart emoji heart emoji>

END DESCRIPTION]

[justonebigbee]

In Weird Baseball news: The Minnesota Twins were on a 12 game winning streak which the team hasn't had since 1991, the year they last won the Baseball World Series. Professional athletes love to get superstitious, and the Twins' latest good luck charm for this win streak? An un-refrigerated "Home Run summer sausage":

Here is a video of Rocco Baldelli, Twins Manager, talking about the sausage:

Video transcript: "It's--it's bringing us a lot of hits and runs and stuff, so I'm all for it. I mean. It's a--for anyone who hasn't been following, it's a substantial...packaged...y'know...sausage that uh...uh...Jeffers has been carrying around in his bag and throwing at people when we score runs and hit homers. I'm not even an adult, but slightly concerned as like, more of an adult than maybe some of the people in the other room, that the package is gonna open up, and the thing hasn't been refrigerated in..many days? And there's no doubt that when that thing opens up, whoever's touching it is in deep--is in deep trouble. That thing is...that--there's no doubt in my mind that we are carrying something around that is very, very unhealthy to the human body."

[uc1wa]

my song rec of the fic

tags: soft baby jason

at last, the day you had dreaded every week had finally come once more. the day pronouncing the beginning of the week filled with classes, exams, homework, and actual work. the day that would sometimes consist of meal prep, if you were caught in a better mood than usual, and the day that your sweet boyfriend, jason todd, had patrol, just as every other weekend went.

today, though, you rolled over in bed—and while nobody was there, the spot that your lover laid was strangely warmer that you’d expected. your eyes glaze over to your alarm clock which reads that it’s ten o’clock in the morning.

jason had never told you that he was leaving for work later than usual, so your brain is up and running at a faster pace than it should be for just gaining consciousness. he was never late, nor did he ever miss when he was needed.

throwing a pair of sweatpants on, you open and creep around your bedroom door to the kitchen. a scent of breakfast and coffee flooding your senses immediately, and you’re already smiling wide.

"good morning, princess," jason smiles, one hand on a pan, the other outreached for you to close the space between the two of you.

"why didn’t you tell me you were off?" you ask while making your way to your boyfriends side, wrapping both arms around his abdomen while his pulls you close to his warmth. gratefulness enveloping both of your bodies in the form of a tight embrace.

he was wearing a plain white tank top, the ones he always wore to sleep and under his vigilante uniform, and a pair of basketball shorts that were comically long, even for his tall stature.

"wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed," he smiles, "didn’t cook fast enough to reach the bed part," he laughs a sweet and gentle laugh, one that fills your chest with warmth.

you shake your head as you close your eyes, breathing in the mixture of scents that is the breakfast being cooked in front of you and the natural smell that’s always glued to the man beside you. it was comforting, woodsy, but not overwhelmingly so.

jason’s plating the last of the pancakes he had made beside the plates of already cooked bacon, sausage, and eggs. "i don’t have to go in at all today," jason smiles, grabbing two plates for the two of you, and beginning to give you a portion of everything he’s cooked while you rest your back against the counter, watching him.

"so it’s just me and you, pretty lady," he assures, grabbing a handful of the berries he had washed, piling them on top of your pancakes in no special fashion.

despite jason’s schedule that is only fit for a vigilante, he was the best boyfriend. even when the man had patrols for hours that would go in the double digits, he was checking in on you. he’d text, and sometimes call when he’d get the chance to ask what you had for dinner, always making sure he said goodnight before it hit the later hours in the night. and, he’s still come home to you, whispering a soft, "i love you, gem, goodnight," before wrapping an arm around you and sleeping in the bliss that was the warmth you both shared.

if he knew you had a busy day, he was bringing lunch to wherever you were in the city you lived, writing 'from jason' even though he was hand delivering it to you with a sweet kiss on the cheek apart of the package.

he was always showing you off at galas that his father was making him go to, struggling to find the silver lining that ended up always being able to see you in a pretty dress, hands interlocked as he was forced to greet those who walked in the door.

jason gave the care to you that you gave to him when you had met. when he was heartless and could care less about having a significant other, when you showed him that loving somebody wasn’t all that bad, and that somewhere in him, he had the ability to love back.

and you gave the care to him that he had grown up without knowing, excluding when he was taken in by bruce, of course. the care that only somebody who willingly chose to be in his life, would care to give.

"i vouche for staying in pajamas all day," you smile, as he sets the plate down in front of you, both of you taking your spots on the sofa that was in front of your coffee table. "you read my mind," he grins, beginning to eat alongside you.

once your stomachs were full and plates cleared, you both laid back on the sofa, jason’s arm wrapped around your shoulders while your body burrowed into his side, a movie that you both had picked playing on the television in front of you.

"i wish we could have weekends together more," jason frowns at that, making sure that you don’t see the way his lips changed by continuing to look up at the tv screen. "i do too," he says, hint of sadness in his voice.

redirecting his emotions to now, jason’s bringing a calloused hand to your chin, his touch gently tilting your eyes to meet his. "we have all of today, and we’re gonna spend it being lazy and eating, okay?" he says with a small laugh which instantly pulls your lips upwards, leaning in to press a kiss to his.

and just as promised, you and jason filled the day with movies that filled your list, homemade cookies that gave your shared home a cozy smell, and kisses pressed all over one another.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

girls just wanna have fun 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, blackmail, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your struggle to push back against your controlling father result in a misguided crush. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself

Shelby shows up with her switch case slung over her shoulder. You don’t really touch your system anymore, only when she’s around. The last time you tried to boot up, the update took too long and you lost interest.

“So, MarioKart?” She asks.

“I told you, we’re swimming. My dad just left for his stupid work thing.”

“Oh, I didn’t bring a suit,” she frowns.

“Why? I said--”

“It’s late. The water’s cold,” she whines.

“Really, Shel,” you roll your eyes, “why don’t you just play your switch by the pool then and I’ll go swimming.”

“Wow, you don’t have to be rude. You know I’m not comfortable in swim suits,” she sneers, “what’s gotten into you, anyway?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ve grown up,” you sigh, “I’m over playing video games in the dark. I want to live.”

“Fine, we can sit by the pool. Can I have a blanket?” She huffs.

“Whatever, grab one,” you wave vaguely. She knows where everything is.

You head off down the hall to the French doors and step out in the dimming air. The solar lanterns glow dully as the sky dulls slowly and you strut over to the pool in your new suit. The red might be a bit much but you’ve been working hard.

You sit with your legs in the pool as you search through your phone for a playlist. You connect to the bluetooth speaker and play some buzzy pop. Shelby comes out with a throw around her shoulders and her switch clutched to her middle. You don’t get why she’s so shy. She’s pretty enough and she has a nice shape to her hips. If she smiled and maybe did something with her hair, or wore nicer clothes she might not feel so crappy.

You hum along with the music as her nintendo tinks and deeps under the drone. You push yourself off the edge and dip under the water. It’s refreshing. You don’t see why she doesn’t just hope in in her undies. It’s just the two of you.

As you break the surface, you hear Shelby’s voice but her words are garbled. A low timbre comes in return and you whip around to face the fence. Sam’s once more popping his head over, leering as you wipe the water from your eyes.

“There you are,” he smirks, “was just checking in. Me and Bucky got some extra dogs and we’re about to do some smores. Wanna join?”

You nostrils flair and your lashes twitch as you consider the offer. Sure, you’d love to go over and show off your new fit for Bucky but if it means spending time with Sam, it’s not really an opportunity. You shrug as Shelby stares at her lap. Oh yeah, she’s shy. And the perfect wing woman. You can distract the pest with her.

“Do the smores come with drinks?” You challenge.

“Are you two a package deal?” He sticks his tongue, “don’t need a sausage fest.”

Shelby mumbles your name and gives a desperate look. You wade through the pool to the ladder and climb out, the water slaking down your body. You grab the towel from the chair next to your friend and wrap it around yourself, knotting it low between your cleavage.

“Sure, you like smores, don’t you Shel?”

“Um, yes, but...”

“Come on,” you turn and lower your voice, keeping your face hidden from Sam, “loosen up, alright? It’ll be fun.”

“Please,” she begs.

You hush her and snatch the switch, “come on or I’ll throw this in the pool.”

“You wouldn’t!” She exclaims as she stands.

You send her a darting look then glance over at Sam with a sickly smile, “will you be a doll and go get our drinks ready?”

He chuckles and winks before he descends back behind the fence. You grab the edge of the throw and rip it away from Shelby. You look her up and down and shrug.

“Just do me a favour and distract him, alright?” You snip, “tell him one of your jokes.”

“He’s a stranger,” she ekes out.

“His name’s Sam, there, not a stranger,” you drag her by her wrist through the yard and along the side of the house.

“But... he’s old. Why would you want to hang out with him?”

“It’s not him I’m interested in,” you growl, “okay? Look, it’s just a bit of fun. You don’t have to do anything. I’m not planning on it either. I just want a few drink and to flirt a bit. You said it yourself Shel,” you stop her just outside Bucky’s gate, “they’re old but they’re rich, got it?”

She makes a face, “your dad’s rich.”

“So’s yours, but they’re both assholes. When’s the last time you saw yours, huh?”

She looks away. Her dad’s always on some important business trip and her mother never mentions the perfume on his clothes. You hate to bring it up but you may as well get something out of some old pricks at some point in your life.

“Just smores, alright,” you promise her and keep hold of her arm as you knock on the gate.

“Hey, girls, give me a hand,” Sam calls over, “hands are full.”

You open the back gate from the other side and find him waiting with two bright bottles in hand. The coolers aren’t what you expected. Hadn’t he teased Bucky for drinking Corona?

“Smirnoff Blue Raspberry, huh?” You take one and read the label, “didn’t take you for the type.”

“Oh, I got a hell of a sweet tooth,” he purrs, “speaking of, who’s this little slice?”

Shelby gurgles and you try to ignore her awkwardness.

“This is Shelby, we’re like best friends. Since grade school.”

“Mmm, best friends,” he nods as he looks her up and down, “well, come on in. The old coot is searching for marshmallows. I swear if I wasn’t around, he’d lose himself too.”

“Sure,” you utter dryly and take the other bottle, shoving it towards Shelby. She takes it reluctantly and eyes it with suspicion.

“It’s fine, it’s like five percent,” you squint at the corner, “I don’t think that’s very much.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you drank,” she whispers.

“Not a lot but...” you stop and sniff the neck, “smells alright.” You taste the bright blue elixir and hum, “like a popsicle.”

She takes a reluctant sip and her eyes roung, “mm, yummy.”

“See, it's fine,” you elbow her as you follow Sam into the yard. You've never been this far.

You take in the large oval pool and the grotto hot tub to the far edge of the lawn. Just like the front, it's well-kempt. The patio set all matches perfectly to the tile around the pool.

“So, you guys hungry? Got some spicy hotdogs?”

You look at Shelby, she gulps down another mouthful to save herself from replying. God, you gotta do everything.

“We'd rather the smores. I don't eat whatever hotdogs are,” you scoff.

“Huh, makes sense,” he gives you a lurid look, “how about you, Shelbz? Don't let her do all the talking? You want a nice thick sausage?”

“Don't be gross,” you nudge him out of the way and flick your fingers for Shelby to follow.

She tails you across the grass and you spread out across one of the loungers. You just want Bucky to come out and see you. You just need a bit of a thrill to tide you over, to get you through your next vibe-assisted session.

“Guess I'll go check on that dope,” Sam mutters, “always keeping me waiting.”

“Fine, fine,” you dismiss him.

He retreats and you pose yourself on the lounger, adjusting the towel so when you move the right way it'll come loose. It's not much of a plan but you'll play it up.

Shelby slurps loudly and you look up at her, “jeez, Shel, slow down.”

Her bottle is almost empty as she wipes her lips with the back of her hand.

“I'm nervous,” she quakes. “That guy… he's so… is he flirting with you?”

“He's flirting with you, dummy,” you shoot back, “what's up? You want his sausage?”

You cackle and she nearly chokes, “you know I've never–”

“Relax, I haven't either,” you trill, “it's a game, Shel. They wanna feel like they still got game and well, it doesn't hurt to get a bit of attention, does it?”

“I… guess not.”

“Don't even worry about it,” you snort, “they're probably getting close to bedtime. Just smile, will ya?”

She forces a smile and looks down at her bottle. Maybe she should have another drink. She's such a wet blanket.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

Hey guys! I wanted to put together a list of low spoons foods, and thought you might enjoy it. My primary objective was to come up with a list that requires little to no prep, is relatively inexpensive, and has a fairly long shelf life. There's also a few of my favorite simple recipes at the end. Bon apatite!

Proteins: Tuna/Canned chicken: Canned tuna/chicken can usually last a few years, and you can get it for a dollar or two, sometimes cheaper. It can be cooked easily in a skillet, eaten raw, or added to soups/pasta. Mix with some mayo for a quick tuna or chicken salad that goes well on bread, tortillas, or crackers. You can add raisins or cheese for a little extra variety as well! Breakfast sausage: A lot of meats are really scary to cook with, but I've come to the conclusion that breakfast sausage is designed for people with that groggy, zombie-like morning brain, so it's fairly simple; just pop it on a plate (usually with a paper towel to catch the grease) and toss it in the microwave. You can get it as links or patties, and if you're like me where foods with a hint of flavor are unreasonably spicy, there's a maple variety that's sweet rather than spiced. Deli meats: There's no rule against buying a package of pre-sliced ham, turkey, roast beef or even bologna that's designed for sandwiches and instead just snacking on it when you need some protein, or just serving it on the side with your meal. If it feels weird to just eat sliced deli meat and you've got the time and energy, get some sliced cheese as well, cut them into squares with a butter knife, and eat them with crackers for DIY lunchables. Peanut Butter: Peanut butter is an excellent source of protein, and you can eat it on bread, crackers, tortillas, celery, pancakes, or even just on its own on a spoon! If you don't like the texture, you can mix it into something else like oatmeal, sauces, or pancake batter. If you don't like the flavor, try it with a little cinnamon sugar (put cinnamon and sugar in a jar or shaker and shake it until incorporated.) If you've got a peanut allergy, alternative butters are good too, but often separate if you leave them out for too long, but are much better in baking than on their own. Eggs: Making eggs is hard sometimes, but you can boil a bunch in advance and leave them in the fridge for when you need them (not too many or for too long, though.) Just put them in water and bring it to a boil; once the eggs start to float, leave them there for ten minutes. Once they're done, drain them and leave them in cold water for ten minutes to cool. Either peel in advance if you've got the time, or peel as needed. Store in an airtight container in the fridge.

Dairy: Sliced Cheese: Just like with deli meats above, you can get sliced cheese to chomp on when you need a little boost. There's a lot of flavors to choose from! Shredded Cheese: Shredded cheese is great for sprinkling onto your meals or just snacking on handfuls of. You can also throw some onto some tortilla chips and pop 'em in the microwave for ~30 seconds to make quick, cheap nachos. Cheese sticks: Not a fan of eating slices or shreds of cheese? Cheese sticks are much more snackable and can be eaten on the go! Yogurt: You can eat it as is, or you can mix in frozen fruits and honey to create an almost ice-cream like treat! Chocolate Milk: A carton of chocolate milk that you are going to drink is better for you than a carton of regular milk that is going to go bad because you can't bring yourself to drink it. If you're like me and milk leaves a weird taste in your mouth, try following it with water or finishing the milk before you finish the rest of your meal. Cream Cheese: You can put this stuff on anything, guys. Bagels? Crackers? Toast? English Muffins? Tortillas? Regular muffins? Cookies, even? Go crazy! Cottage cheese: A lot of people like cottage cheese for salads or with peaches, but it can also be tasty on its own.

Grains: Crackers: You can eat them as is, you can add cream cheese, nutella, peanut butter, tuna salad, deli meats and cheeses, or you could dip them in a spread like hummus, guac, or ranch. Tortillas: Sometimes bread can be Scary and Evil and there's no way you're gonna eat a whole loaf before it goes bad. I get it. Tortillas last longer, they're a better texture, and it's only eight servings per bag. Use them whenever you'd make a sandwich- pb&j, ham & cheese, tuna salad and more can all go in a simple wrap or roll up. If you're feeling ambitious, you can also make a quick breakfast burrito by throwing scrambled eggs and breakfast sausage in a tortilla with a little cheese. Pancake mix: Boxed pancake mix is simple enough- just add water, or milk to make it fluffier, then cook according to instructions. It's a little time consuming, but it's simple to learn, and if you make a big enough batch you can just pop them in the microwave, airfryer, or even the toaster in the morning for the rest of the week. You can also spice up your mix by adding frozen fruits, peanut butter, bacon bits & cheese, or chocolate chips, or by replacing the water in the recipe with coffee, apple cider, or chocolate milk! Toaster Waffles: Toaster waffles are great for a quick breakfast or snack, but can also be used for sandwiches, or topped with a protein like peanut butter!

Fruits and Vegetables: Raisins: Raisins are sweet, inexpensive, take a long time to expire, and are guilt free— no one in the history of ever has ever felt bad about eating too many raisins! You can easily throw them in a trail mix (trail mix is a loose term; just throw whatever little snacks you have in the pantry into a bowl and mix 'em together,) or a chicken salad, and they're really good sprinkled on peanut butter! Dried fruit: You can find these in the trail mix section of most stores. If you don't like raisins, there may be a different dried fruit you do like. Dried bananas are delightfully crunchy. Dried mango is still a little moist. Find a dried fruit that works for you! Pickles: Pickles are a vegetable with an extremely long fridge life. You don't have to settle for pickled cucumber though; you can find all kinds of pickled vegetables at the store, or ask a friend who pickles (you know which friend came to mind) if they have a jar of pickled veggies they'd sell you or any tricks to pickling your own. Frozen Fruit: Fruits last so much longer frozen, and you can get fairly good sized bags of them for not too much at the store. They're great for mixing in with yogurt, baking, pancakes, and more! Frozen Vegetables: If expiration dates are your worst enemy, consider getting some longer lasting frozen veggies. They can be microwaved or added to soups or ramen. If you're not a fan of the taste, you can hide them by adding some in with the frozen fruit in a smoothie. Canned vegetables: Canned veggies also last a while, and can be added to soups, boiled, or sometimes eaten as is. Canned soup: Tomato soup or a soup with veggies in it is a great way to get some vegetables into your diet. You can also add any canned, fresh, or frozen veggies to any can of soup you have on hand to use up some of your leftovers before they go bad. Tomato sauce: If you keep a jar of marinara, pasta, or pizza sauce on hand in the fridge, you can spread it on any grain you have lying around (bagel, biscuit, crackers, bread, english muffin, tortilla) and add shredded cheese to make a quick and fun pizza. You can go crazy with extra toppings as well! Applesauce: It's great as is, but you could also mix in brown sugar and cinnamon, or add it to pancakes or oatmeal. It can also be used as an egg substitute in most of your baking, and you can even use it as a spread on pancakes!

Quick Recipes: 3 Ingredient Pancakes • 1/2 cup applesauce (or one mashed banana) • 1 egg • 1 packet instant oatmeal Mix all ingredients together and cook on a greased skillet at 375°

Two Minute Mug Cake • 6 tablespoons boxed cake mix • 4 tablespoons water or milk Combine ingredients in a mug and microwave for one minute.

Toaster Crispy Quesadilla • 1 tortilla • 1 slice of cheese (I like to use cheddar!) • deli meat Place a slice of cheese toward the top of the tortilla. Layer desired amount of meat on top. Fold the sides over your meat and cheese (so they can't drip out the sides) then fold in half over the cheese (so it won't drip out the bottom.) Place in the toaster with the open end UP! Toast as desired.

Tuna Bagel Melts • plain bagel • tuna salad (one can of tuna with a few spoonfuls of mayo to taste) • two slices cheese Open the bagel and spread tuna salad on it. Place the cheese on top of the bagels. Broil or airfry for a few minutes.

Cracker Pizzas • a dozen crackers • a few tablespoons tomato sauce • three slices of cheese Arrange the crackers on a plate. Spread a spoonful of sauce on each cracker. Fold each slice of cheese into fourths so they break apart. Place one little slice on each cracker. Microwave for thirty seconds.

Simple Smoothie Recipe • 1/2 cup yogurt • 1/2 cup milk • 1/2 cup frozen fruit Combine all ingredients in the blender. Blend. [To make this easier, pre-mark your blender. Add a half cup of water to your blender and mark with a sharpie to the fill level. Repeat twice. You now know what level to fill each ingredient to without the hassle of measuring them.

[skymagpie]

I recently read "The Last Guardian" and I am absolutely delighted by it, I feel like when it comes to Khadgar content this is a huge "must read" because the whole book is just so good-natured despite the fact that this sets off a never-ending series of deeply traumatizing events for Khadgar.

Here's some things that canonically happen in this book and that I just found so endearing or fun:

The Kirin Tor literally sends Khadgar off to Medivh because Khadgar kept wandering the halls of the Violet Citadel at night and being so nosy that he caught his professors on drinking binges, sleeping with students or trying to summon demons. Medivh knows that they sent him here hoping he dies because he knows too much.

Khadgar rambling and babbling and being delightfully awkward

Khadgar forgets how to talk when he meets Medivh and makes some strange sound to which Medivh asks Moroes if "the lad is ill."

Medivh having scheduled times for breakfast, lunch and dinner and keeping to them. Also he and Khadgar are just eating porridge with sausages for breakfast every day when he is around.

Khadgar having his inscription set with him that he carries all neatly packaged and tidied up, even though he is this scruffy dirty looking teen boy.

Lothar and Medivh both have this dad relationship with Khadgar, but Lothar is like the cool supportive dad who would take you to a soccer game and would support you at pride with the wrong flag.

During this particularly deep conversation about time and space, Medivh encourages Khadgar to have a bit of wine, Khadgar gets a little tipsy and then Medivh encourages Khadgar to live a little and try to levitate e mug with his magic even though he has been drinking - naturally it ends with Khadgar cleaning the floor afterwards.

When Medivh falls into a coma after their demon encounter at Stormwind, he entrusts Khadgar with handling his mail and Khadgar spends most of his free time sitting next to Medivh's bed and reading him the mail - especially the funny parts.

In the same situation when Medivh wakes up, he sees the startled Khadgar on the floor (after a vision of Sargeras) and softly asks him why he didn't ask Moroes to set up a bed for him there if he wanted to stay in his room.

Khadgar goes very quickly from "Guardian! There is an ORC in the tower!!!" to "Garona is my friend :)"

Khadgar and Garona spend a lot of time rebuilding the library after Garon thrashes the place in order to save Khadgar's life. They make a makeshift woodwork station in the stables outside Karazhan.

Khadgar has like a lowkey puppy crush on Garona and this is actually innocently cute.

Khadgar and Garona on the road when they flee from Medivh is such a nice sequence because they protect each other (from the orcs and humans who would hurt the other one) and also about the fact that they feel betrayed by Medivh. Also Khadgar just wants her to like and trust him 😭

Lothar gets Garona to wear the Stormwind armor by telling her that it matches her eyes and that Khadgar will wear it - and then Khadgar also tells her it matches her eyes and she looks good in it. Lothar using elementary school level tactics to get them to wear the Stormwind armor is so funny.

I just feel like this book was really fun and the pacing of the story was great between building up Medivh as an antagonist who genuinely cared for Khadgar, solving the murder-mystery around him and had the right amount of just daily domestic stuff between Khadgar and him and Khadgar and Garona. Not to mention the excellent parallels between Medivh losing his youth and waking up as an old man and Khadgar losing his youth while also going through what is a very sad coming of age story for him.

[flyingwargle]

osamu knows suna is at his door, has been for the last ten minutes. he refuses to let him in.

he can hear the raucous knocks while buried under his thin blankets. unread notifications pile on his phone, probably from his boyfriend to let him in, or his brother telling him to let his boyfriend in.

they didn’t have a fight or anything; osamu just isn’t in the right state of mind to meet him. the end of the semester is always stressful, and suna visits every time to care for him. osamu loves him for that, but just this once, he wishes he wasn’t here, was held back by practice, or something. he doesn’t want to be seen like this, barely hanging on a thread–

the lock turns. the door clicks open. osamu jolts upright. how the hell did he–

suna catches his eye, studio apartment and all. he doesn’t look surprised, lazy eyes narrowed with the faintest spark of concern. his backpack hangs over one shoulder, plastic bag in hand. “i knew you were ignoring me.”

“how’d ya–“

he lifts a familiar set of keys with his pinky. “you can thank your brother.” suna pockets them, turns to take groceries out from his bag. “i’ll start lunch. you can go back to moping, or whatever.”

“rin–“

osamu draws back when his boyfriend shoots him a look. “i’ll cook. i learned from the best, after all.”

“no,” he mutters as suna turns his back. “i’m not.” bold of suna to say that when the aforementioned best bombed his cooking assessment and nearly sent one of his instructors to the hospital because of his mistake. not to mention what his mentor said the other day, still raw and painful to touch.

suna moves through his kitchenette with ease – he learned how to tango with the pots and pans, cutting boards and knives, bowls and plates. he drops a handful of vegetables in the sink to wash, prepares them one at a time. curious, osamu wraps a blanket around himself and shuffles to his side, watching him dice a green bell pepper, onion, and mushroom. from the fridge, he removes a package of sausages to dice along with slices of bacon. on the stove, a pot of water boils, and suna spreads spaghetti noodles around the rim. a bottle of ketchup remains on the counter.

of course he’s cooking napolitan. it’s the first dish that osamu ever taught him.

“making sure i don’t burn your kitchen down?” suna teases, glancing at him.

he could, and osamu would blame the oil instead. “nah, i trust ya.”

after the noodles are cooked, he strains them, leaves them aside while he sautés the protein and vegetables, adding a generous amount of ketchup. tossing some butter in, he adds the noodles, combines it altogether. osamu hands him a pair of plates, lets him dress the dishes by twisting the spaghetti with his tongs, artfully placing the sautéed vegetables and meat on the sides, and then grates cheese on top. suna grins at him. “lunch is served.”

osamu clears the dining table of his books and laptop so they can eat. it’s always refreshing to eat someone else’s food, someone who isn’t trained in the art of spices, knows the science behind boiling the optimal pasta, isn’t worried about pleasing a variety of palates and tastes…

“hey.” he blinks, suddenly aware of the hand over his. suna looks at him with a frown. “is something wrong?”

“sorry.” osamu swallows the lump in his throat, tries to enjoy his meal. “just stressed. ya know, it’s the end of the semester, an’ all. what ‘bout ya? don’t ya have plans for the off-season?”

“yeah, making sure my boyfriend is cared for.” suna doesn’t look away. “you’re about to cry.”

“no, i ain’t.”

“’samu, i know the look. what happened?”

this is why he didn’t want him here, but at the same time, he does. osamu takes in a breath, feels the familiar pressure behind his eyes, the tightness in his chest. “i bombed my assessment yesterday.”

“i’m sorry. i’m sure you did great–“

“no, rin, i almost put one of the instructors in the hospital ‘cause i used somethin’ they were allergic to. we all knew beforehand but i forgot, an’-“ he closes his eyes. the first tear drops. “but that’s not even the worse thing. ya know, my mentor? i looked up ta him so much, but when i told ‘im i wanted ta open my own restaurant, he just…he…”

i admire your determination, miya, but it’ll be impossible, especially with onigiri. it might be a simple dish, but it’s easy to mess up, and although you’re diligent, i don’t think you have the skills for it.

did he really have to say that, after a year and a half of culinary school? literally a semester away from graduating, from scouting locations for his shop, from fulfilling his dream? now, all he can hear is his mentor’s sigh and apologetic tone. all he can see is his pinched expression and weak smile. i don’t think you have the skills for it.

suna wraps him in a hug. “i’m so sorry. that bastard doesn’t know anything.”

“what if it’s true?” osamu whispers. “i almost poisoned someone. i almost failed business management. i almost chopped my lab partner’s hand off–“

“’samu, you said it yourself – almost. but you didn’t, and you’re aware of what you did wrong. plus, who cares if you suck at numbers? i said i’ll help, and so did your brother, and gin, aran – even kita-san. we’re all here to help.” suna smiles at him. “we help each other with our dreams, did you forget?”

they all attended aran’s debut match. they were subjects for ginjima’s kinesiology projects. they bought all of kita’s rice stock on the first day of opening his business. and now, it’s his turn.

“i shouldn’t hafta rely on ya,” osamu murmurs. “a business owner should be able ta do everything themselves–“

“that’s not right, and you know it. just like volleyball, it takes more than one to be successful, and if you struggle, there’s always someone you can ask to help. that’s where i come in, yeah?”

“yeah. thanks, rin. i really appreciate ya.”

“and you mean more to me than words can ever measure. eat your food and let’s look at properties together.”

cuddled on his bed with his laptop shared between them, it eases the doubt in osamu’s heart, receded for another day. it has a way of manifesting at his most vulnerable moments, but he knows that when it happens, suna will be there for him, and reassure him that everything will turn out fine because he isn’t alone.

[brigitttt]

CHEESEMAS❄️✨🧀

I went to the store late November and saw the most egregious advent calendar that deigned to call itself the extremely good name "12 Days of Cheesemas". I was dismayed to read on the back that it actually just contained no less than 10 pieces of cheddar, which is just not the right way to celebrate winter. So, I decided to do Cheesemas good and proper, by having at least 12 different kinds of cheeses throughout the month! Bon appetit:

1. Baked Brie (with ploughman's spread of baked potato, beef sausage, salad, and pickles; the perfect start!)

2. Double Gloucester on toast (with beef, barley, and rutabaga stew; tried not to phone it in on this one but it really is just a sandwich kinda cheese sorry gloucesterheads)

3. Mt. Moriarty cheesy toast (with mushroom chili; EDIT, I misremembered which cheese this was, and it's a local brand)

4. Gruyère potatoes and mushrooms au gratin (this was the most rich and decadent thing I've ever consumed in my entire life)

5. Jarlsberg smørbrød (with avocado, greens, and strawberries on rye; back to the norwegian roots)

6. Cheddar (on top of black bean soup; since this was the only cheddar I would allow Cheesemas to have we got cave aged cheddar from Wookey Hole, England, ooh & aah, etc)

7. Caciocavallo Quesadillas (with peas, avocado and beans; this was meant to be Oaxaca but the store decided that every oaxaca package would be out of date so last minute substitutions had to be made)

And I'll append the last five at the end of the month! Happy cheesemas I love you <3

[copperbadge]

I am so close to being done with Royals/Ramblers I can taste it, and it's one of those frustrating situations where the last remaining work to be done is just annoying. I have to write one damn scene, which of course is the most emotionally fraught and difficult one, and then pick from the *counts on fingers* three separate versions of the epilogue I wrote, none of which are very satisfying. I'll probably slam them all together and then sort it out somehow.

And then I definitely have to give the whole thing one more pass before I think about posting, because it's going to clock in at right around 150K words, and I already have notes on continuity issues that need fixing.

Anyway, please enjoy this scene, in which I realized at the same time Gregory and Eddie did what a great joke their names make. (Some brief context -- Joan uses she/her but doesn't like the word "princess", so she chose the gender neutral Princeps as her title.)

Friday evening, when Gregory came on the air for the address, Eddie was sitting next to him, and Joan was leaning on Eddie's shoulder. Her excitement was almost a visible thing; she'd been fussed over that afternoon, Gregory helping her pick out clothing followed by Jerry doing her makeup for camera and Eddie doing a slightly less clumsy job of braiding her hair than she generally did. 

"Good evening, Fons-Askaz, Askazer-Shivadlakia, our neighbors, and our viewers abroad," Gregory said. Behind the camera, Jerry mouthed the words along with him absently. "I'm pleased to greet you all this Friday evening and I hope you're well. I find myself, for the second time in a year, setting aside the usual issues of the day and questions from citizens to talk to you about family...."

His idea had been to talk about Joan's history just a little, then introduce her as the newest Royal, their daughter the Princeps. He could use that as a platform to present to the country his new funding package for adoptive families, meant to encourage adoption and support children coming out of the foster system. Each half of that would hopefully make the other half seem less random.

It went pretty smoothly; Eddie chimed in at all the right moments, and Joan got to say a few words of introduction at the end. After he signed off, he gave her a hug and a forehead-kiss and told her she'd done a great job. 

And then Noah, standing with Monday and Jerry behind the camera in the little studio, said, "Well, you crashed the internet again."

Gregory sighed. "Can't blame Eddie this time, can we?" 

"It was only the tourism website, and it wasn't on purpose," Eddie said. 

"He was always breaking my stuff when we were kids," Monday said.

"Nope, this one's all Joan," Noah replied. "As soon as you introduced her as your daughter, traffic started spiking -- palace website, tourism website, and every royals' Photogram."

"Katie in Communications says told you so," Jerry said, already on the phone with her.

"Joan's Photogram is down, looks like bandwidth-suck. And there goes mine, and yours," Noah said, nodding at Gregory. "There's two hashtags trending, PrincessJoan and PrincepsJoan." 

"Let me call my guy at Photogram," Eddie said, taking his phone out. 

"You have a guy just like, at Photogram?" Monday asked.

"Yeah, he handles my requests, I send him sausages," Eddie answered. 

"How is it you simultaneously live in the 22nd century and the 14th?" Monday asked. 

"Have him kill the Princess hashtag," Noah suggested.

"It's fine," Joan said. "They can use it for now, it'll keep things, um." She narrowed her eyes, searching for the word. "Segmented. Spread out the discussion a little."

"Someone's been reading my data analytics memos," Gregory said. 

"You leave 'em out," she pointed out. 

"Good news is people seem excited," Noah continued. "The hashtag's glitching, it's moving so fast, but overall pretty positive," he added.

"Well, we knew this would be intense," Gregory said. Joan, studying her own phone, squeaked. "Joan?" 

"Mas Corbin tagged me," she said, with possibly the most excitement they'd seen from her, at least since her first trip in the Jaguar. 

"The footballer?" Gregory asked, confused.

"Who?" Noah and Eddie chorused. 

"He's a Shivadh footballer, I think he's playing in Ireland right now," Gregory said, and his voice took on a slight edge as he considered some of the reasons a football player might mention his daughter. "What did he say?" 

"Dedicating my next game to my new Princeps JoanMac, long may she reign," Joan read, and Gregory relaxed. "Congrats to Gin&Tonic, she's cute as a button. Mas Corbin thinks I'm cute!"

"Gin and Tonic?" Gregory asked, and then said, "Gregory and Theophile," right as Eddie and Monday both began to laugh. "How did neither of us think of that before?"

"You get used to it," Noah said to Joan. "All kinds of famous people are going to have opinions on you."

"What do I do?!"

"Gram him back," Noah said. "Comment and say thanks and that you're a fan and you'll be watching the game."

"I'm gonna have to do a video with some gin and tonic recipes," Eddie said, as Noah and Joan debated the best wording for her response. Gregory leaned back in his chair, exhaling, and let the chaos happen around him for a minute. 

[nowritingonthewall]

Cake me up before you dough dough

Pairing: Poe Dameron x female reader

(Special appearances by Snap and BB-8)

Words: 3500

Summary: You try to bake a cake. Poe tries to be… helpful.

Warnings: Poe being an adorable menace, suggestive language, terrible (and I mean terrible!) puns, double entendres and innuendos (including some for pregnancy and having children), food mention, may contain traces of nuts, not beta alpha or omega read

This is fiction and definitely not meant to be taken too seriously but please remember to never tease anyone about having or not having kids unless you are 200 per cent sure that they are absolutely fine with it.

Also, I would like to point out that the reader’s light headache is definitely not a migraine because if it was, Poe would have behaved completely differently.

And, of course, the gifs aren’t supposed to represent the reader’s physical appearance, they are purely for inspirational purposes.

As always, please be aware that I am not a native speaker, so I sincerely apologize in advance for any crimes committed against the beautiful English language! (Except for the innuendos. Those are entirely Poe’s fault.)

If you made it to the end of the warnings, you are amazing and deserve all the cake in the galaxy 🥰

“Nuh-uh, Poe, those have been measured!”

You tried to gently shove your boyfriend’s hand away as he indulged himself in at least a hand full of chocolate chips from the bowl on the kitchen counter.

His answer lay approximately somewhere in the middle between “Gfewfmpphlasfefuh” and “Hmeheetsluludfere”.

“Oh really, why didn’t you say so before?” you asked trying to keep your attention on the mixing bowl in front of you.

The crinkly-eyed smile he gave you would have melted the complete bowl of chocolate chips in no time. “I said: Since when are you using instant mix?” he laughed.

“Since someone keeps nibbling on all my ingredients whenever I try to prepare them!”

“Can’t help it, bups, I’m hungry.”

You sighed, “There are some leftover sausages in the cooling chamber.”

His eyes began to shine with a mischievous glint. “Maybe I’m hungry for something else,” he said approaching you gently from behind.

Placing his warm hands on your hips and a chocolaty kiss on your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder, he continued, “And since you are strictly off nibbles whenever you are in the kitchen…”

“I’m pretty sure Leia’s words were ‘The kitchen is strictly off limits to you’!” you snorted. “You know, since the latest incident with the caf maker? And that you’re not allowed to enter any kitchen without a fully prepped extinguisher droid by your side. So… “

“Sooooo… what are we baking?” he changed the subject semi-elegantly.

“I am baking a cake,” you chuckled, giving him a playful boop on his nose, which made him scrunch it up so adorably, you couldn’t resist adding a sweet little kiss on top of it.

He hummed in approval. “What kinda cake?”

“Just… you know… cake…” you more mumbled than answered, suddenly very focused on the mixing bowl in front of you.

You could practically hear him raise his eyebrow without having to see it.

“Is it a secret?” he asked.

“Not really…”

“Does it contain nuts?”

“Not yet, but you can add some if you like?”

“You know my nuts are always up for grabs for you, babe!”

Too late did you notice how his hands had been wandering towards the front pocket of your apron, from which he pulled the package of the instant mix with a triumphant laugh, keeping it out of your reach amidst your protest with ease.

“Haydaria Prebun’s Super Moist and Juicy Cake Mix?” he read out loud, with particular emphasis on the moist and juicy parts.

As one brow was lowered, the other one shot up even higher.

At that moment you knew that you were in trouble.

But, of course, you weren’t ready to accept your fate that easily.

 “What are the chances of you forgetting what you just read?” you asked, not quite able to keep the pleading undertone out of your voice. “If I told you that it was the last one at the store?”

“That depends…” he said, stroking his chin as if pondering over a particularly complicated flight maneuver.

“On what?”

“On whether your cake will come out of the oven with a soggy bottom,” he deadpanned without so much as a twitch of his facial muscles.

“And what if it does?”

“Don’t worry, babe.” Putting one hand on your shoulder, he gave you a solemn look.

“As long as you penetrate deep enough when you check for leftover moisture, you should be fine.”  

“You’re really gonna make me regret this for the rest of the week, aren’t you?”

“Come on, bups, that name’s nearly as bad as the one Snap chose when he tried to open his night club.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be a night club!” you automatically said in almost perfect involuntary unison with Snap, who entered the kitchen exactly at that moment with BB-8 following right behind him.

Not too eager on being pulled into that discussion again, you knelt down to pet the little droid, making him beep in excitement.

“Hey, Beebs, what’s up, are you hungry, too?”

“No, Bee Bee ate!” Poe declared brightly, not quite succeeding at suppressing his grin this time.

Kriffing maker, why did he have to be so cute? Fighting somewhat to keep your composure and not give him the satisfaction of bursting into giggles, you said, “Poe, you don’t even qualify for the position of purveyor of dad jokes.”

“Told you so, buddy!” Snap grinned.

“Wait, told him what, exactly?” you asked.

“Well, me and the squad have discussed the matter and it’s obviously time for Poe to…”

“Please don’t say it!” you groaned.

“…put a bun in your oven?”

“I am so proud of you, buddy!” Poe grinned with glee while you just huffed.

Looking from Poe’s excited to your slightly irritated expression, Snap obviously thought it would be best to try and tread a little more carefully, so he said, “Aaaaaall right, I have no idea what’s going on here, I just came to ask whether you have some of that amazing koyo juice oft yours left?”

“Sorry, Snap, we’re all out of koyo juice.” Poe shook his head.  

“Because somebody drank it all,” you added.

“Only because somebody loved it so much,” he left a quick and sweet kiss on your temple, “and somebody also happens to knows that his baby prefers grown up juices anyway.”

You just gave him a look and turned back to Snap.

“I could offer you some milk?” you suggested.

“From the cooling chamber!” you immediately added a little more high pitched than intended before Poe could open his mouth.

“Excited already, are we, bups?” Poe grinned. “And I haven’t even started to lick any of your tools yet.”

The ease, with which he caught the dish cloth you threw at him, was more than infuriating.

“There’ll be no licking tonight, Commander, unless you start to behave!”

“Hmmmm…” Poe took a step towards you and placed both his hands on your shoulders to pull you a little closer. “Are you telling me that you would like your commander to be a little less cocky?”

Putting one hand on your hip before popping it to the side with enough force to throw him off balance, you took a deep breath before explaining, “First of all, there’ll be no beaters to lick because the ingredients are mixed together by…”

“Yeeeeees?” Both Poe and Snap seemed to compete for whose grin would be able to eat more shit.

“Ne-ver-mind!” you grumbled when BB-8 chirped a helpful, “Mixed together by hand?”

“Thanks, Beebs!” you sighed.

“Sooo…” Poe deducted with ineffably deliciously furrowed brows, “it’ll be a hand job, then?”

“Not in front of my cake, Poe!”

“Of course not!” he nodded sympathetically. Doing a cute little half-pirouette, he approached you from the other side. “From behind, then?”

“Please, sweetie,” you groaned, “I already have a headache!”

“Hold on!” Snap piped up while pouring himself some milk into a mug. “Isn’t he supposed to ask whether he could get in before you pretend to have a headache?”

“What exactly do you think I am doing here, pal?” Poe asked.

“I am not pre… all right, that’s it!” you exclaimed, pointing your thumb towards the door.  

“You two – out!”

Beebs gave a confused “Blee blup bloo?”

“Not you, Beebs!”

To put some emphasis on your demand, you grabbed your whisk and held it up in front of Poe’s face in what you hoped would come across as an at least slightly intimidating stance.  

“I won’t be afraid to use this!” you warned him.

“What are you planning to do with that, bups, beat us until we’re stiff?” Poe said, only partially successful at trying to suppress a smirk, which turned into a half-giggly hiccup.

“I could always upgrade this to a broom, you know?”

“To sweep me off my feet? Nah, you don’t need any toys for that, babe.”

“Hon, if you want to threaten him, you really need to stop turning him on,” Snap threw in some well-meaning advice.

“I am trying!!!” you cried in exasperation.

“All right then, let’s settle this like gentlemen… and ladies and… those who have yet to make up their minds!” Poe announced.

Hopping theatrically towards the counter, he picked up one of your spatulas and turned around to cross it with your whisk in an only slightly overdramatic gesture.

 “I’m game!” he declared wiggling his eyebrows.

“As in you’re a wild animal?” you asked trying to sound as unimpressed as you could manage.

“Only if you want me to be,” Poe said without missing a beat.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” Snap giggled.

“Okay, then, how about you try to be a gold fish for a minute?” you suggested.

“You mean moist and slippery and with an ever present kissable pout on my lips?”

Trying to ignore his very pouty lips that were indeed more than kissable, you said, “I mean mostly quiet!!!”

“Moistly quiet?” he asked as his eyebrows started another round of advanced cardio exercises. “That’s not how I remember moist parts of last night.”

“Would you like me to put a sausage into his hole?” Snap offered his help again.

But you had already grabbed the next best thing to throw at Poe, which you realized too late turned out to be an open bag of flour. Even though he ducked immediately, his upper body ended up covered in a layer of fine white powder. Which made him shut up for exactly two and a half seconds.

The dust settled just in time for BB-8 to realize that Poe hadn’t actually set fire to his booty this time and that his extinguishing services wouldn’t be required today. Shaking his little dome he started to sweep up the mess.

Meanwhile, Snap was squirting milk everywhere between hiccups of laughter, when Poe remarked dryly, “You leaked a little there, pal.”

Snap had to give himself a little shake. “I had no idea it was that easy to make you see white, buddy,” he giggled.

While you were still contemplating whether you should apologize or whether he maybe actually deserved it at least a little, Poe was already laughing again.

“That’s all right, I’ve always wanted to wear a flour crown. Like a proper flower girl!” he beamed.

“You look more like an inverted version of a chimney sweep, buddy,” Snap remarked.

“Well, I’d be more than happy to sweep my baby’s chimney.”

“How about you sweep yourself out of the door, instead?” you suggested. “This kitchen obviously ain’t big enough for your cake and mine!”

“Ahhhh, but you see, babe, the great thing about my cake is that you can eat it and still have it.”

His proud little grin was maddeningly adorable and the lovely crinkles around his eyes, which were even more prominent now that they had been decorated by a crust of flour, didn’t exactly help to lessen his effect on you.

So you thought that simply biting your lip might be your best option right now.

“Aren’t you even gonna help cleaning me up after making a mess of me?” His smile turned into a pout.

You just rolled your eyes.

“And after that I can provide you with a way better reason to roll your eyes,” he said becoming more enthusiastic by the second.

“Tell you what, bups!” He began to jump up and down in excitement. “You help me clean myself up and I’ll lube up your dish for you.”

“You can oil it up for me.”

“Whatever you fancy, bu-hu-hups!”

The last words evolved into a hearty sneeze, sending a cloud of flour from his curls to the ground.

This drew a series of seriously indignant and frustrated beeps from BB-8 before he started to sweep all over again.

“Sorry, Beebs, you really don’t have to do that,” Poe tried to appease his little droid.

“Blooeeeyyy beep boop buhp blippy?”

“Wh… did he just say…?” you asked in disbelief.

“ ‘Shooting out of two holes, are we?’ ” Poe confirmed with a proud smile.

“Sweetie, what have you done to your droid?” you said as you began looking around the kitchen to try and find some tissues for him.

“Like father, like son,” Poe beamed, giving his droid son a fond little pat on his dome. “Talking about shooting out of holes, babe…”

You turned around with so much force that all three of them took a synchronized cautionary step backwards when you said, “You even think about making a joke about covering my cake in juicy and thick cream, sweetie, and you’ll be creaming nothing but your own cake for the next month.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be any fun at all, would it?” Poe pouted a little deflated before his face lit up again. “Unless you’d like to watch?”

“Not particularly, no,” you said convincing, basically, no one.

“Come on, bups, I’ll even whip up all the cream for you you could possible ask for and I’m gonna take extra care not to whip it out…” he paused dramatically, “...of the bowl.”

“I’ve never loafed so hard in my life.”

Poe eyes widened as he gasped, “Babe, was that… was that a pun?”

“No, it wasn’t. And just so you know, for every bad innuendo or pun of yours, my cake will be off limits to you for another day.”

“Just to be clear, what kind of cake are we talking about now? Because if it isn’t the one you are currently baking, that would mean you just made an innuendo yourself and this would kind of cancel out whatever I hmpnfssefefed…”

Placing a hand over Poe’s mouth, you mentally prepared yourself for the licking attack that was inevitably going to follow. Instead, you let out a surprised little gasp when his eyes softened and he gave you the gentlest of kisses to your palm, because he just had to be adorable like that when you tried to be angry with him.

Forget about melting chocolate, the way he looked at you with his soft baby ewok eyes would have melted parts of you in a way that would have been considered unhygienic even if you hadn’t currently been lingering in a kitchen setting.

You couldn’t help but smile at him, even if it came with another fond rolling of your eyes.

“If you two don’t take the cake,” Snap said shaking his head. “Come one, Beebs, I think it’s time to leave mommy and daddy alone.”

“Thank you for cleaning up Poe’s mess, Beebs!” you shouted after them over Poe’s shoulder as they left the kitchen.

“Oh really? Don’t you mean your mess?” Poe’s voice took on a growling undertone as he took another step towards you.

“I wasn’t the one who made me throw the flour,” you shrugged.

He had to open and shut his mouth a few times before settling for a particularly expressive raised eyebrow instead. Which send another little cloud of flour towards the ground.

“Your face looks a little cakey, there, Commander.”

“Really? Hmmm, I wonder how that happened.”

“It’s a complete mystery,” you professed. “Need some help clearing that up?”

“The mystery?”

“That.” You nodded. “Or I could start with your face?”

Lowering his head so that he was looking up at you from beneath his impossibly lush long lashes and dropping his voice by an octave, he growled, “Dough it!”

You tried to suppress a snort as you drenched a washcloth in warm water and hopped onto the kitchen counter.

Less than a nanosecond later, Poe was standing between your legs, leaving precisely zero point zero room for you to get to work.

“Sweetie!”

He just gave you an innocent smile.

As you let the wet washcloth dangle over his head, dangerously close to his curls, he sighed and took half a step backwards.

That sigh was only the beginning, as he began to hum with pure contentment when you started to gently wipe down his face. You couldn’t help but smile at the way his eyes fluttered closed as if he was receiving the most luxurious spa treatment.

Judging by his disappointed look, you were finished way too soon for his liking. “I think you missed a few spots there, bups,” he said.

“You think so?”

“Definitely.”

“Let me take a closer look, then.”

Cupping his cheeks with your hands, you gently turned his head from side to side.

“I think the use of professional equipment may be required here, Commander.”

“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” he choked up. “I’ll be brave.”

So you left a soft kiss on the middle of his forehead. And one on the tip of his nose. And one on each temple. And one on his cheek. And one on his brow. And one on his chin. And one on his infuriatingly perfectly chiselled jaw line. And you didn’t stop until all of his face had been covered in kisses and the last of the flour had definitely been eliminated.

You would have topped it off with a kiss to the crown of his head if his curls hadn’t been so thoroughly bathed in flour.   

Since you still felt a little bad for what happened, you tried to de-flour his hair by giving him an intense but gentle scalp massage. His head lolled towards you within seconds and as his face found its place in the crook of your neck, he began to make the most satisfied of purring noises. As you let your nails scratch carefully over his scalp, his purring turned into soft moans. Until you accidentally brushed over that one spot at the nape of his neck making him squeak and do a little hop.

“I am sorry, sweetie!” you chuckled. “Sometimes I forget how ticklish you are.”

“What are you talking about, I am not ticklish,” he mumbled while nuzzling his face into your shoulder again.

“I am sorry what now?”

“I. Am. Not. Ticklish.”

Raising both eyebrows at him, you said, “Wanna prove that to me?”

“I don’t have to prove any… no no no…”

As you let your fingers ghost over the same spot ever so lightly again, he jumped backwards, trying to shield his neck from your hands. This of course left his arm pits completely unguarded, inviting you to launch a full blown tickle attack on him. Vacillating between squealing and laughing and begging for mercy, he kept trying to fight you off as you worked your path along all of his most ticklish spots.

His shirt became more untucked with every attempt at defending himself against your skilful wiggly fingers until his tummy basically begged for your undivided attention. As you redirected all your forces towards this beautifully naked patch of skin, Poe didn’t last another moment before you both tumbled to the floor with him landing on his back and you coming to sit on top of him.

“So…” you said as you were both fighting to catch your breath. “You are not ticklish?”

“Definitely not,” he panted as a smile spread across his face.

“Right…”

Wiggling your fingers, you went in for another round of tickles. But this time he caught your hands easily and held them tight as he slowly pulled you down towards him until your face was level with his.

With his smile growing even wider, he rubbed his nose gently against yours a few times before cooing, “I am sorry, bups!”

Furrowing your brow with suspicion you asked, “For what?”

“First of all, I didn’t know you had a headache.”

“Hmmm.”

“Anything I can do to make it better?” he asked softly.

“You mean like kneading me through?”

Poe gasped, “Was that another pun?”

“No.”

“Actually, I was more thinking along the lines of easing your pain with rhythmic movements of my fingers…”

“Pohoeeee…” Your groans of leftover irritation turned into groans of heavenly relief as Poe began to massage the sore muscles in your neck.

As he worked his way down your back while leaving soft kisses on your temple, you could feel yourself melting into him and his warmth and his softness until you began to wonder whether you had actually turned into a pancake.

Mumbling into the fabric of his shirt, you asked, “What’s second?”

“Second? Oh, second, you’ve got some chocolate on your face.”

Raising your head, you chuckled, ”You mean the one you left there earlier?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“What I do know,” he continued, “is that you have to let me kiss it away or there’ll be rain and nothing but grey skies for the next two weeks. I am sorry, bups, I don’t make the rules.”

As he began to kiss away the chocolate on the corner of your mouth, you could feel him smiling against your skin. His smile grew even wider as he continued his kisses on your cheek and along your jaw line and down your neck and your shoulder and…

“I’m sure there wasn’t any chocolate down there.”

His breathy laugh tickled pleasantly on your skin. “Sorry, bups, it’s just a little hard to tell where the chocolate ends and your sweetness begins. Hold on, let me try again.”

Retracing his earlier kissing path, he worked his way back to your mouth, with every single brush of his lips against your skin sending another shiver down your spine.

You sighed, “Did you find the spot this time?”

“I think I may need another sample for a proper statistical analysis. You know…”

“…for science?” you chuckled.

“Exactly.”

“Are you ever gonna stop prokrastibaking and let me finish making that cake?” you asked not in the least motivated to get up again.

“You are aware that you are the one pinning me to the ground right now, right, bups?”

“If you put it like that…”

“Also… shouldn’t you give it some rest so that it can rise before going in?”

You turned your head back down to look at him properly. At the way he bit his lips, trying to suppress a smile until the effort made him scrunch up his nose in the cutest way, as if the sparkle in his gorgeous crinkle-framed eyes didn’t say it all. Maker, you loved this dork.

“It’s supposed to become a cake, sweetie, not a bun,” you finally tried to explain.

“Right,” he nodded, “because we still have to work on that one.”

“Nooooo, because it only rises in heat. Which, in your case, would basically be all the time. “

“I can certainly confirm that something else is rising, Lieutenant.”  

As the cheekiness and soft adoration in his eyes were joined by longing and something way, way darker, you decided that the cake batter might as well wait a little longer. After all, you had all the cake you needed right here underneath you.

“In that case…” you smiled. “I really think it’s time we got started on that bun.”

Thank you for reading 💜

[bomberqueen17]

farm life

Am at the farm. Just gonna witter on uninterestingly about that behind the cut because I"m too tired to be interesting.

Initially we were going to make chicken sausage this week but BIL decided not to, but then when I said I was coming anyway, he decided to cut up some chickens.

In past years they've always sold out of chicken parts way before they've sold out of whole chickens. But a couple of years ago a chef friend told him there was nothing really wrong with thawing a chicken, cutting it up, and refreezing the parts, and initially we were just thawing whole chickens to cut up to grind into sausage, but we did some tests and determined that actually, no, there's really no discernible loss of quality in the parts. So now we don't sell out of chicken breasts in December anymore, but can keep bringing them to market all winter.

So this year we took the whole chickens out of the store, stopped bringing them to market, and are *only* selling the parts, and are saving the whole chickens to thaw and cut up and refreeze as parts. It's working great. It's more work, but it's more profit, and also more sales. People just don't buy whole chickens that much.

So anyway we cut up 88 chickens, and saved like 60 of the carcasses into a pair of huge stock pots. Packaged all the parts up, labeled and weighed them, then put the stock pots on to boil. Today we packaged 89 quarts of chicken stock. I was going to deep-clean the commercial kitchen, but it's not ready for the full spring treatment: we're still washing eggs in there, which means baskets full of chicken-shitty eggs are coming in and getting set on the floor. So I just cleaned and sanitized the heck out of the stuff we were using, and also the floor drain, but have held off. In April when the temps don't go below freezing at night anymore, when the vegetable washing station can move out of the eviscerating room so the egg washing can move back in there, *then* I will haul all the big equipment out and wash the whole room from the ceiling to the walls to the floors to the back of the grinder, under the mixer, under the fridge, under the freezer, all of it is getting powerwashed within an inch of its life.

But not this trip.

Next week we're making pork sausage.

I have been taking my dose of adderall at 8am immediately before I go out to work. It's hard to judge the efficacy, actually, because I'm so busy and so rarely totally self-directed. The real test would be to have me have a day of idleness and half a dozen things I need to accomplish. But I can concretely observe that I don't get a sort of dizzy head rush when it kicks in anymore, and I don't crash around 3 or 4 pm anymore. No, instead I'm just physically exhausted at that time, but it's understandable that I would be, because despite my best efforts to work out all winter, I am in no way prepared for the amounts of heavy lifting, repetitive movements, and sheer mileage you have to walk around here.

Today I finished cleaning the kitchen and then spent a couple of hours with my trusty old pruners, helping Farmsister and Veg Man harvest pussy willows to sell at market in decorative bundles. They just chainsawed the trees off a couple inches above the ground, and then we went at them with pruners and only took the nice branches, and the rest are going through the woodchipper to be mulch. VegMan pointed out the line they'd cut back to last year: this is how you coppice willows, and you can harvest them like this every year. They were fifteen feet tall, all new growth.

Soon we'll have daffodils. Mom had too many at her house, and a couple years ago she and Dad dug up buckets and buckets of them and brought them over and we dug a trench in the hillside and tipped them in. And now they're about ready to be divided again, LOL.

We have pullet eggs too. The chickens are laying pretty well, manageable amounts. We've started packing the eggs by weight, which is a little time-consuming.

OK that's enough wittering. Have I got any photos? Hmm.

the view from the little creek down into the Quackenkill, alongside the back of the old granary. Morning, sun coming through the trees and lighting up the red-stained old siding, the neighbor's house visible at the other end of the cut.

2. A pig friend, muddy snoot questing toward the camera in the sunshine of the winter livestock barn, which has a plastic south-facing roof to let in all the light it can.

3. Farmsister, in her chainsaw chaps and safety gear, chainsawing down the pussy willows in front of the solar panels. (They measured, before they planted the little trees; they'd have to be 40 feet tall to block the light on the solar panels in any season, which I don't think a pussy willow would do, but it's still important to prune them back whether we harvest them for the catkins or not.)

That's all, happy spring. I'm so tired.

[kaaaaaaarf]

midweek snippit / last line

I was tagged by both the lovely @spindrifters and @lynxindisguise for two different snippit tag games, so here is a bit of a longer snippit from my Museum fic:

Sirius sits down on the blanket next to Remus, who starts digging around in the picnic basket and pulling out packages of varying sizes wrapped in tea-towels and twine. “I wasn’t sure what you like so I got an assortment. We have some smoked gouda, brie, goats cheese — in case you’re lactose intolerant — gluten free crackers — in case you’re a celiac — grapes, apple slices, some apricot preserves, sliced salami, prosciutto, and this really nice vegan sausage in case you’re a vegetarian.” By the end he sounds out of breath and is nervously picking at his nail beds, sweat beading at his temples. “Remus, this is all incredibly sweet and very thoughtful, but I promise you I’m not a secret celiac. And for the record I’m not lactose intolerant or a vegetarian either, but this all looks amazing.” “Okay, I might have gone a bit overboard. I just really want you to have a nice time.” “I think that goes without saying. I’m here with you—and the dinosaurs.” “Well we’re all honoured to have your company. Would you like a glass of wine? I brought a Cabernet Sauvignon and a Sauvignon Blanc.” “Oh, actually I don’t drink.” “Fuck, I knew I would balls this up somehow! I’m so sorry, I— wait. You’re laughing. Why are you laughing?” “Has anyone ever told you that you’re extremely easy to fuck with? I’m sorry, I drink and would love some red. I was just messing with you.” “Oh god, I’m sweating! You’re mean. So, so mean. I’d be lying though, if I said that it wasn’t strangely hot.”

tagging: @kaleidoscopexsighs, @crushofdoves, @pinklume, @fruity-individual and whoever else would like to share!

[therealvinelle]

Skoleboller, would you recommend it to foreigners yes or no?

Fun fact, it's actually called skolebrød, but the language seems to be shifting towards skoleboller (as they are boller, not brød).

I would recommend foreigners boller, to do with as they please, skolebrød being a very interesting option.

Boller:

900 g flour

5 dl milk (make it fermented milk for extra juicy result) (doesn't have to be tempered, you can take it right out of the fridge)

1 egg

25 g/half a package yeast

150 g sugar

1 tsp cardemum

1/2 tsp salt (optional)

150 g butter (diced and tempered)

1 egg (for painting the buns. I do not know how to say this in English. Get a brush and paint, they will look good and their crust will be better)

(This is Trine Mikkelsen's recipe, an equally good one that I've had as much luck with and that is perhaps more beginner friendly is Det Søte Liv's recipe, it just takes more time as you have to wait for the milk to cool.)

A cooking machine is recommended but you can absolutely get this done manually, you'll just have to knead a lot.

Mix the ingredients, except for the butter and the last egg. If you're using fresh yeast, mix it out in the milk and if you're using dry yeast mix it out in a small portion of the flour before adding to the rest. You want the dough to release the edges of the bowl, your fingers if you're using your hands to knead, and be elastic, so add flour or milk if it's too wet or dry. After a few minutes of kneading you add the butter, knead for another five minutes until the dough feels right. Place it under a cover and leave to swell, I tend to go with an hour.

You now have a dough base, and can do a great many wonderful things with it, including just working it into little balls, leaving to swell for however long you wish, and then sticking them into the oven at 225 degrees celsius for 10-15 minutes and you will cheer at your homemade boller.

You can also:

The recipe above gives relatively few boller, you should double it

Make cinnamon buns (use a rolling pan to make a rectangle, as thin and straight edged as you can make it. Spread butter on it, then scatter sugar and cinnamon across it. Roll into a sausage, and cut it into rolls. Alternatively, you do not cut it, but either cut as is or use a scissor to cut a nice pattern into the sausage and present your cinnamon kringle to guests.)

Make apple cinnamon kringle (same as the above, you roll a rectangle, add... whatever eplemos is in English... you dice apples into tiny pieces, boil with vanilla, sugar, and water. Delicious, and then you put it on a bun dough alongside cinnamon. Roll up, and enjoy your fantastic kringle.)

Cinnamon knots (bit tough to explain, but: you have your rectangle, now you put butter, sugar, and cinnamon on one half of it. Fold the rectangle, and cut the dough into streams. Wind these streams into fancy knots, and you now have a very fancy-looking cinnamon bun)

Make raisin buns (you add raisins to the dough.)

Make skolebrød (you make indentations in the buns, NOT holes. Just a little indentation in the middle, and fill it with vanilla cream. Place in oven. When they're cool, you have two bowls before you, one is filled with frosting from powdered sugar and water (this is your glue) and the other with coconut flakes. Dip the buns into the frosting and then the flakes, and serve to awed guests. If you wish to freeze this, it is best to freeze them without the flakes.)

Make lemon curd skolebrød (lemon curd instead of vanilla cream)

Literally anything, the sky's the limit

Tips and troubleshooting:

If you use expired dry yeast, add more. You can also add water to it beforehand to rehydrate it, I haven't tried it myself but it has helped people I know.

Better to have the dough too sticky than too dry. The former will still taste good, and a too elastic dough can paradoxically be difficult to work with (in my experience).

If you're making raisin buns, the raisins should be in a cup of lukewarm water for about an hour before adding them to the dough. They'll taste better

If you're making raisin buns, do your utmost to stuff the raisins inside the buns. A raisin that stuck out of the bun and cooked for 10 minutes at 225 degrees will not taste great.

If you make a kringle, the cooking time will increase. Watch closely as you may need to place a sheet of oven paper over it to keep from being burnt.

[quotidian-oblivion]

Got tagged by the lovely @uncertainwallflower Thank you! Rules: Tag 10 people you want to get to know better.

Relationship Status: The heck does this mean? Uh, I'm a daughter and a sister and a friend and that's all I am atm and am happy with it.

Favourite Color: Sometimes, the ghost of Stephanie Brown possesses me and compells me to say: purple

Stuck in My Head: I have so much and at the same time no work to do. My mind has been in the mode of "work" and "wait, there is no work" for the past week. Hopefully, it solves itself by the time I finish my Math test on Thursday

Last Song You Listened To: Waves by Dean Lewis. I've been tryna learn the lyrics so I can record it and package it to this thingy I do with a friend, so that's the only song I've listened to for the past three days. And I love it.

Three Favourite Foods: I had pizza today so pizza. I also had sausage in bread today so that too. And as always, Biryani.

Last Thing I Googled: Word for word: "hkjbvf". I'm collecting points to get a free $5 gift voucher.

Dream Trip: Saudi Arabia/Dubai. So I can have halal junk food. Especially Al Baik. And also, 'Murica. So I can give some friends a hug.

TAGGINGGGG: (If I tagged you and you weren't aware that I existed or i had never tagged you before, it's because I've read ur fanfics and loved them or i just met you and would love to get to know you, but no pressure) @mispeltnostalgia @tristicorde @wakkoroni @cygnusdoesthings @sardonic-sprite @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego @motleyfam @birdybat @ah0yh0y @spiiderpunk

[moominofthevalley]

Made with Love

Trystan follows up on his promise, much to Emily’s dismay.

trystan x emily

teen | wc: 1.5k | early book 1

Ink spots of rain trickled onto the industrial windows of Trystan’s penthouse. Groaning, Emily scanned the living room. Stacks of papers were scattered about the coffee table ahead of her, and the mysterious three-headed statue peered into her eyes as it stood on last night’s notes. She glared back at the eerie trinket, finishing off her old stale cup of coffee. 

“Morning partner,” Trystan smirked, his body leaning against the kitchen counter. Crossing her arms, Emily shook her head and begrudgingly smiled.

“You know, I’m not a big fan of that word, ‘partner.’ You’re more like…a little dog. Nothing more than that. Just a tiny little dog that follows me around all day,” Emily teased, “Are you ready?”

“It’s six in the morning. We have two hours to spare! We can do whatever we want!”

She scoffed, “Well, I would really want to head in early. I couldn’t find much on-”

“Hang on a second! Don’t you remember the little raincheck we made a while back?” Emily shook her head. “We have time. Let me make you some dazzling traditional Drakovian breakfast. You’ll love it.”

“Fine,” Emily pouted, “But I also want a new cup of coffee.”

“Of course,” Trystan said, “How’d your research go last night?”

“It was shit,” she scoffed, “Couldn’t find anything on that statue.” Emily shook her head, moving to sit at the kitchen bar. 

“You’ll find something eventually.”

A package of sausages, an egg carton, a loaf of bread, a bowl of fresh strawberries, and a dark chocolate bar were placed on the counter. The scent of bitter, brewing coffee filled the room. Emily quietly mumbled as her eyes fixated on Trystan’s hands, slowly peeling the sausages out of their package. 

“I take it you don’t normally make yourself breakfast?” Trystan asked, grabbing a cutting board and a knife. Emily shrugged, impatiently waiting for her promised cup of coffee.

“No. Usually don’t have the time.”

“Well then, I think you’ll love this.”

“Oh yeah? Do you cook for every woman who spends the night in your penthouse?”

“Of course I do,” he winked, “But you are the first American to try my deliciously amazing Drakovian breakfast!”

“How lucky I am,” she deadpanned, “The ‘first American!’”

Trystan grinned, setting a cast-iron skillet and a saucepan on the stove. The detective observed him, thrilled at how tenderly Trystan handled the ingredients. His veiny hands chopped the chocolate to bits, the aroma swirling around the kitchen. There was something so divine about it all – so much care and gentleness, so purely intimate; and only for the sullen detective to see. Her heart bubbled inside of her, eyes fondly locked on his hands. 

Trystan cleared his throat, glancing at his partner, “What’s gotten you so distracted?” 

“What? Nothing! Fuck off!” Emily retorted, her eyes now on the coffee machine. “I’m distracted because I don’t have my coffee yet.”

“For a detective, you make a horrible liar.”

“Shut up.”

The two laughed, their eyes catching each other’s for a brief second. Trystan put the dark chocolate bits into a ramekin. 

“Do you cook a lot?” Emily asked as the coffee machine came to a finish. Trystan took a well-loved mug from the cupboard and poured her a fresh cup of coffee. 

“Oh, yes, I am an amazing chef. Just you wait!” Trystan moved over to the strawberries; chopping them up and placing the fruit in a separate ramekin. Bits of strawberries clustered around his hands, splotches of bright red painting his fingers. 

“Oh really? You’re a bit…messy.” 

“Don’t you know? All magnificent cooks are messy sometimes!”

“My bullshit meter is going off the charts,” Emily said, taking a sip of the coffee. “You got fuckin’ strawberry bits all over you! Put on an apron.”

Trystan shook his head, pointing to a nearby coat hanger holding some aprons. “If you’re so bothered by the mess, Detective, put the apron on me yourself. My hands are a bit busy at the moment.” 

Rolling her eyes, Emily took an apron and stood behind him, closely watching his movements. He continued dicing the strawberries as Emily tied the apron around his neck, her eyes locked on the prickles of hair on his shoulder. Gently placing her hands around his waist, her cheeks rose in heat, finally tying the last knot. A wistful sigh escaped her, the heat of her breath tickling Trystan’s neck. She sat back down, quietly admiring the view of her partner – her little dog – cooking her a quaint breakfast. 

“Better?” Trystan asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Much. Now hurry up, I do plan on coming in early.” 

“Of course.” 

A satisfying hum escaped from the skillet as Trystan dumped the package of sausages. Reaching the cupboards, he grabbed a heap of seasonings – salt and pepper, paprika, basil, and thyme – and sprinkled them over the meat. Minutes of more crackles passed, and soon, everything was quite perfect. He placed the fresh boar sausages on two separate plates; one for the disgraced detective, and another for the disgraced royal.

“Smells amazing,” Emily said. 

“That is the beauty of cooking, isn’t it? How it makes your whole house smell so heavenly!” Trystan smiled, dumping the dark chocolate into a saucepan. Stirring the gooey chocolate with a whisk, his heart danced at the loving act: cooking a meal for a dear friend. Turning off the stove, he placed the saucepan on a counter, waiting for the glaze to chill. 

“Want a taste?” He asked, pointing a ladle towards the detective. Holding the spoon for her, Emily took a long sip, her eyes never leaving his. Trystan lowered the ladle, slightly tilting his head. The taste was wondrous, and she hummed as the savory notes pranced around her mouth. She was, in secret, delighted. 

“Mm, not bitter enough,” Emily joked, eyes still on Trystan. Chuckling, he grabbed the egg carton and another skillet. 

“Are scrambled eggs okay?” She nodded, taking another sip of her coffee as she sat back down.

“Is it…almost done?”

“Tsktsk, always so impatient, aren’t you? Breakfast — Drakovian breakfast — thrives on complexity, Rose. It’ll take a bit longer than making bacon and eggs.”

Trystan easily cracked two eggs with a single hand, whisking them in a bowl before dropping both of them on the pan. He dusted the eggs with a handful of salt and pepper, sprinkles of paprika, and garnished with basil and thyme. 

The first to go on the plates were buttery, silken pieces of milk bread. Adorning the bread carefully, he scooped up the scrambled eggs and set one on each plate. Steam flew into the air, the complementary scents melding each other. He dunked the strawberry chunks on top, the crimson red fading into the eggs and bread. Trystan set plump boar sausages on both of their plates. 

“And now, partner, for the finishing touches…” 

Trystan spilled the dark chocolate glaze across the strawberry-egg toast combo. On instinct, Emily’s stomach rumbled loudly. The sausages were perfectly round and cooked, not a speckle of char in sight. The bread was soft and stout, now blanketed with the dark chocolate glaze. 

“Go on, try it.” Trystan handed her a fork and a napkin.

Emily took a bite of the sausage, the heat burning her tongue. The taste was simply exquisite; the seasonings were perfectly blended, and the subtle yet rich nuttiness from the boar sausage made her mouth water. Finishing the last bite, Emily glanced at Trystan, a grateful gleam in her eye. 

“How is it?”

Before answering, Emily took a large bite out of the toast. An ear-to-ear grin escaped her lips, her mouth still full of strawberries and eggs.

“I lhuhve it, fkanksh.”

“Your manners are atrocious.”

“Your faesh is atroshush.”

Trystan gazed into her earthy eyes, astonished at how such a snarky detective could sway his heart. Stealing a glance at her lips, Trystan answered her with another ear-to-ear grin. 

“So, this is what it takes to get a real smile from you? Making you breakfast?”

Emily shrugged and swallowed the rest of the breakfast, trying to keep a straight face. Despite how madly infuriating the disgraced royal behaved, how obnoxious and overly flirtatious he was; a part of her gut refused to ignore the alarms ringing in her head. Just this once, in this rainy and misty morning, the grumpy detective smiled at her partner. 

“Trystan…” She mumbled, her hand sliding over his. The two of them, opposites of each other, leaned closer. Trystan’s free hand cradled her jaw, the heat of his body soothing her. Their lips seconds from embracing…

“Right, well we should-”

“Warm in here-”

“Stuffy! Um, I'll just-”

“Yeah.”

Emily and Trystan stared at each other for a brief second, dumbfounded. She shook it off, slightly disappointed. The charged moment passed as all moments tend to do.

Interrupting the silence, Trystan’s eyes flitted back to Emily, removing his hand from hers.

“One of these days, we’ll go to Drakkos together and I’ll cook you a whole three-course meal of traditional Drakovian food.”

“I’ll hold you to that, your highness. Now, get your ass up. I would appreciate not being late to work today.”

* * * * A/N: my first crimes fic!! crimes of passion is my special interest & it just means so much to me! i absolutely cannot wait for the third book!! :) in the meantime, i'll be writing plenty more trystan x emily drabbles!! thanks for reading & i hope you enjoyed it.

click here for a masterlist of all my written works!