#I have so many feelings about rectangle pizza

[fattributes]

The salad bar, fresh fruit, and drinks are available to everyone regardless of what they're having for lunch. :)

If you’re bringing a lunch from home, please tell me about it in the tags!

[ghost-pals-dsaf-au]

“Suits and Scuttlers”

Keys walks out towards the second room down the hallway, curious about the suits she assumed were in there.

How desolate…

She looks up at the photo on the wall. The purple figure seemed familiar to her but she couldn’t place where she knew him from. Keys noticed the green bird looking thing on the floor, she picked it up.

“I’ve got to wear this beaten up thing….?”

It appears to be just a parrot onesie that was rather beaten up. She shrugged and decided to put it on.

It smelt like dust and mildew almost unbearably so.

Keys walks out towards the dinning room, it still seems empty and barren. A plain pizza is sitting on one of the table booths, seems someone ordered it and left as it still looked warm. A familiar shriek comes from nearby, she looks down towards the noise.

Large bugs seem to be swarming Mr Cawthon.

“PLEASE HELP ME!”

Keys steps back and towards the pizza, not really wanting to fight these swarming insects. She reached for the pizza before noticing two of the bugs attempting to take the pizza from her.

Keys sighs and takes off the hood of the costume and squares up.

“My fuckin pizza..”

The bugs seem to scatter, taking the pizza with them much to the annoyance of Keys. Mr Cawthon stands up slowly seeming rather shaken from the experience.

“s-so so many bugs… th-they chased me from the-the arcade, they j-just kept coming…”

Mr Cawthon keeps fiddling with his hands as he keeps muttering about the amount of bugs. After a moment he calms down a bit, he reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out some small plastic coins and a blue paper rectangle.

“Th-thank you for helping though! Here h-have some faz t-tokens!”

He hands her the Faz-tokens happily.

Keys looks down at the tokens in her hand rather confused on how she was meant to react, she didn’t really want them but put them into the pocket of the costume.

“Uhh cool.”

He looks around scanning the dinning room.

"Have y-you seen Luke any-anywhere around here? He's m-meant to be wearing th-the yellow suit i-in the back. He's a-about your height with shoulder l-length bl-blonde hair."

“Nope haven’t seen anyone here but you, does this place ever have any customers?”

"S-Strange, this place i-is supposed to be b-busy at this hour. Luke hasn't c-come in for thr-three days now then..."

He seems concerned and looks towards the direction of the kids cove before quickly whipping back to Keys.

"Well I-I have a feeling th-that it'll be o-ok to close early and-and let you go h-home. Please m-make sure to n-not take the costume with you, e-employees aren't allowed to br-bring company property home."

Mr Cawthon waves to Keys as she begins to walk back to the saferoom to return the suit.

She places it back on the ground the same way she found it. Keys notices a sticky note taped to the other suit but shrugs it off, it wasn’t her business to read. She walks out back to the dining room and out the door. Mr Cawthon waved again from inside the doors.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Keys!”

Keys sighs and looks around at the empty parking lot, only half an hour had passed. Hopefully there’d be customers next time. She begins her walk home.

Tomorrow is another day

[burade]

So for this recipe, we are just slicing the cold butter into thin slivers and mixing it right in to the dough. After it’s been chilled and folded, you’ll still have all those beautifully flaky layers, but it really cuts down on the prep!

Start by mixing the flour, sugar, yeast, and salt together in a big bowl. Then toss in thin slices of cold unsalted butter. Make sure every piece of butter is coated in the flour mixture, then stir in the milk.

Keep in mind that the amount of milk listed is meant to be a guideline- you may need slightly more or less to get the right consistency. But it shouldn’t be a wet dough. It’s quite stiff. Take a look at the video in the recipe card below to see how the dough should look.

Fold everything together until the dough forms a ball. (It should pull cleanly away from the sides of the bowl.)

Chill this dough for 1 hour, and then you can start rolling and folding! You can see how this process looks when you watch the video in the recipe card at the bottom of this post.

Many recipes are super specific about how many times croissant dough should be folded, but I find that to be overly fussy. It stresses me out when I read a recipe like that! So much so, that it often will intimidate me right out of trying.

I think it’s totally ok to let this process be a little more intuitive. If you understand what a croissant is meant to be, then you know there are countless of flaky layers of pastry. So just know that the more you fold it, the more layers there will be.

Now it’s good to have lots and lots of layers, but at a certain point the layers can become so thin they’re kinda non-existent.

So as you’re rolling along, notice the feel of the pastry- has the butter flattened out into many thin sheets within the dough? Or is it lumpy and bumpy?

You’re shooting for lots of thin, even layers. You should be able to see large streaks of butter running throughout, but the dough should lie flat and smooth, and not have a lot of rough bumps.

For me this is usually achieved after around 4 to 6 folds, depending on how thinly the butter was sliced at the beginning.

Divide the dough in half so it’s a little easier to work with, then roll it out to a big, long rectangle.

It’s not necessary to get too hung up on measurements, but ideally you’re looking for a little more than 10-inches wide, 22-inches long, and about 1/8-inch thick.

With a sharp knife or pizza cutter, trim the edges away and cut the dough into long, skinny triangles. Aim for a width of about 5 inches.

Next, cut a little notch in the wide end- this will help the croissant to bend more easily and keep it’s curved shape.

[whyisi]

Valentine Fiasco - Sun/Moon x GN!Reader

Summary: Valentine’s Day garners many different reactions. Some good, some bad, some indifferent. This year you’re ready to take the reigns and give a Valentine of your own! The only problem is... other’s are trying to take it!

Warnings: None, pure fluff!

Word Count: 1,946

A/N: I’m still working on Warm Hands, Cold Chassis Pt3, but I really want to keep up with my post schedule (every Mon and Thurs). This is super quick and to the point, so it might be a little rougher than my normal stuff. Oh well, I hope you like it anyway!

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Valentine’s day. It’s Valentine’s Day. A time of confessed feelings and sweet treats. For you however, it was just another day.

Well, except for this year. Yes. This year was going to be a bit different.

Maybe it was just the thought of it. Gorging yourself on chocolate and watching re-runs of stupid TV shows was usually how you spent Valentine’s Day. Knowing you had something actually planned sat heavy on your mind all morning. Was it wrong to feel sick? Your stomach was twisting with pent up admiration and frustration. You knew you couldn’t back out now! You’d already ordered the surprise and had it scheduled for delivery. All you could do was get ready for the day and hope they liked it.

Work was a riotous mess. Lines and lines of fans dot the main atrium. They were waiting for a chance to give their favorite animatronic a Valentine. Kids and adults alike were practically clawing over each other to see the main gang. The normally pungent pizza scent of the Plex was now overbearingly sweet. Chocolate, caramel, and vanilla was all you could smell. You were working your ass off in the main lobby to deter customers from gouging the staff bot’s eyes out. Nothing seemed to calm the bustle today. The only thing that kept you going was the thought of Sun and Moon in the back of your mind.  

This was your first year working here, so this experience was a shock. How could people act like this and not feel shame? Whatever the case, the day dragged on. Every glance to the clock gave you more and more anxiety. Had they gotten the gift yet? You knew if they had they would have messaged you about it by now. Nervous thoughts race through your mind as you attempt to pull a child off of another in line. It WAS a busy day. The company could have gotten mixed up, or even forgotten your order. The prospect of that happening was equal parts relieving and terrifying.

The floor under your feet starts to become crunchy with stray candy hearts. While you were in the middle of soothing a very snotty child who had lost their Chica Valentine, you see it. A man stands on the precipice of the lobby. His attire is stark white and his stance is entirely formal. He’s holding a large bouquet in his hands, frantically looking this way and that. As he twists you notice a rectangle of plastic glinting on his breast. You think your day couldn’t have gotten worse. The surprise is here… but he’s surrounded by greedy guests!

Steeling yourself, you quickly write the child a free voucher for a new Chica Valentine. They smile, rushing back into the crowd to get a new one. As you turn to get the delivery man’s attention, your blood runs cold. About a dozen customers have swooped in to circle him. They’re reaching out for the bouquet with hungry glints in their eyes. He’s obviously shouting your name, holding the bouquet as high as he can above his head. This is literally the worst timing possible. Rolling your sleeves up, you shove yourself towards the man as quickly as you can. A few people let you pass, but some need a good push or shout to finally clear a path. When you’re within earshot of the man, you yelp out your name to him with a nod. The gathering crowd doesn’t disperse, merely jumping for the bouquet in his hands.

At last you stand between him and the gathering. Thankful for the Fazbear “disciplinary whistle” around your neck, you blow it as hard as you can to dissuade them. They scowl, puffing on about how it’s not fair for you, a worker, to overshadow their own gifts. The man breathes out a breath he had been holding, shaking in the knees. You’re so glad he was tall, or else this may have ended differently. You show him your ID and he happily passes off the bouquet to you. In a flash he’s back out the doors and into the safety of the chilled afternoon. Now was the worst part. You had to somehow get to the Daycare without anyone else trying to pilfer your goods. Even taking a step in that direction has at least a dozen more eyes on you. They give you the same look as before; they REALLY want your flowers. You honestly couldn’t blame them, and maybe they saw them in your hands and decided they were free for the taking. Either way, you needed to make a run for it. Now.

One step, good. Two steps, good. Three steps? Not so good. Already a few of the onlookers are making their way towards you. Some of them seem to have a question on their lips, whereas others have an answer in their eyes. Sometimes you wished you worked backstage. Somewhere behind the scenes where you had access to a quick getaway. You square your shoulders, wrap your arms protectively around the flowers, and book it. As you shove, wrench, and squirm your way through the crowd, a visage of a thousand clawed fingers comes into view. Everyone seems to be trying to swipe the bouquet out of your hands. When you get halfway to the Daycare, someone inevitably ends up tearing a flower from the bouquet. You scream at the person, but the hand is already lost in the sea of bodies. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes. If you kept going, you were sure to lose every single flower; bouquet plucked up and torn to shreds by these crazy Valentine-obsessed people.

A hissing growl emanates from your left. You’re sure it’s a flower-crazed customer getting ready to grab a fistful of your bouquet. Instead, someone grabs a fistful of the back of your shirt. You squeak, shutting your eyes to quell the sight before you. You’re SURE this is it. Someone has had enough and is now about to steal the whole thing from you. Instead, they yank you up high into the air. Before you know it you’ve settled on top of something. Cracking an eye open, you gasp to see Monty has you sitting on his shoulders. Up here, the thieves can’t even begin to try anything. Monty growls again, flashing his immaculate teeth. Some people swoon, while others get the hint. No one attempts to touch you, let alone look at you anymore. Monty keeps you safe and sound as he guides himself straight towards the Daycare.

When you arrive, he refuses to put you down until you’re right in front of the slide. When he does set you on your feet, you can’t help but give him a big hug. He pretends to scoff but reciprocates your embrace. With one final pat on the shoulder, he turns and heads back towards his room. You spin and plant yourself straight into the slide. With a good push you slide all the way down, bouncing lightly as you hit the ball pit. 

Sun is across the room with a handful of kids around a table. He sees you, standing in shock at your arrival. You watch him whisper something to the kids. They all nod, turning their attention back to their crafts. As you scramble to get out of the ball pit, he bounds over to help you. Your hands shake as you shove the flowers into his chest.

“These are for you Sun and Moon… I’m sorry they might be a little messed up. A ton of guests tried to take them from me. I’m sure you’ve gotten better Valentine’s Day presents, but…” You try to hold in the tears, but they get the best of you. This was definitely not how you saw this day going. At best you were hoping to leave the flowers on the security desk before you left. Somehow running away before Sun and Moon could ask you about them. Instead, here you were! Forced to confront them and see their reaction to your Valentine. Sun makes a strange noise. It sounds like he tried to speak but got choked up. You stare at the ground, tears rolling off of your cheeks to stain the tiles below. Sun seems to regain speech after a moment, hooking a finger under your chin. He tilts your head up so you’re forced to look at him. He looks from you to the flowers a few times, trying to decide what to admire first. His gaze settles on the flowers, a dreamy lilt encases the words he speaks.

“Please don’t cry Sunbeam! Oh my… T-these… these are… SO PRETTY!!! You got these just for US?! Wowie…”

The bouquet is gorgeous. A motley crew of deep blue tulips, bright yellow meadow lilies, and plump roses make up the center of the piece. Wrapped delicately around the whole bouquet is a string of blue baby’s breath and yellow buttercups. It was the perfect blend of yellow and blue, just like Sun and Moon. Moon grunts out a wow within their head. It’s literally all he can think to say. The smell of it wafts up into their sensors. It’s one of the best things they’d ever smelled.

Sun shifts his gaze back to you, swiping his thumb over your cheek. You can’t help but crack a smile, pulling away to wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. Sun giggles, squeezing the bouquet a little too tight.

“Moon says WOW! I agree with him, this is lovely Sunbeam! It’s uh…” He stutters, shifting on his tippy toes. Your eyebrows raise. What was he about to say? Were they not as nice as other presents he’s gotten today?

“You see… this is actually the first Valentine we’ve… w-we’ve EVER gotten!” He makes a gulping noise, scratching the back of the ray atop his head. Your mouth hangs open in shock.

“WHAT?! Sunny, that’s totally not true! How is that even possible? You’re the sweetest, and so cute, and literally the best.” You clap your hand over your mouth, eyes wide in shock. Oops. That was also not on your itinerary for the day. Confessing your feelings? Nuh uh! This was NOT happening.

Sun trembles, squealing excitedly. He can’t help but scoop you up into his arms, jumping for joy. The kids across the room watch him freak out, laughing at his antics. When he sees them staring he clears his throat, carrying you to the table where they’re working. He plops you down in his lap as he sits, laying the flowers gently in front of him. The kids point and gape at the flowers, telling you how pretty they were. You relax against Sun as he rocks you side to side, nuzzling into your shoulder. The movement calms your racing heart. Sun can’t seem to stop giggling and his body feels like it’s on fire. You honestly can’t find it in you to tell him to stop. The kids finally settle down and continue their project. You realize they’re making Valentines for each other, and it makes your heart soar. One of the kids looks at you, then to Sun.

“Are you and Sunny going to go on a date? My Dad said I wasn’t supposed to tell my Mom that he’s going to take her on a date tonight. He got her flowers too!”

Sun stiffens behind you, hiding his face in your neck. His voice is but a whisper in your ear.

“Would you like that Sunbeam? Moon and I still have to give you your Valentine!”

Maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t so bad after all.

[the-record]

The City of Romance (Part 4)

Summary: On Spencer’s mandatory leave, he plans a trip to Paris, France where he meets an unforgettable face.

Part 4 summary: It’s Christmas!

Italics: Translation French to English. Bold: Song lyrics

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Non-BAU!Fem!Reader

A/N: Ahh yes the beloved fluff. There will be angst (as there is in any relationship) and some other things but we all know how much I love love. Like it’s sickening. 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Check out my masterlist here!

“Spence! You ready?” 

At 6 months, Spencer asked you to move in with him. You spent a lot of time at his place already so you of course said yes. His place already kind of felt like yours so you had a natural routine down. Today was different. To most it was you average Friday. Last day of the week before the notorious and anticipated winter break. For you? For you, it was the day your class was going to meet Spencer. They had been begging you after seeing a polaroid of the two of you in your phone case. So, you asked him to come in and read to the class. 

“Yeah, one second!” You were putting on your coat and boots when Spencer came out. He was wearing the usual white button up and cardigan with dress pants and converse. The best part of that day’s outfit, was his tie. It was white with navy blue, to match the cardigan, silhouettes of dinosaurs on it. They were something your kids had an infatuation with. You giggled softly when you saw it.

“Nice tie. Boy genius is starting to seem like fitting nickname.” You winked at him before throwing his coat at him. He miraculously managed to catch it from across the room.

“Shut up. You’re literally wearing a 1950′s style Christmas dress with mistletoe in your ponytail.” You gaped at him and scoffed.

“It’s for teaching!” He raised his eyebrows. “The kids love history and I thought this would be perfect. My lesson plan has us teaching them about Christmas throughout the decades.” You took out the small plant from your hair and held it over the both of your heads. “And this... This is for you.” You leaned into him, on your tiptoes, placing a kiss on his lips before pulling away and putting the branch into your hair again. You gripped his hand in yours. “Now, come one before I am late.”

He followed your lead, walking behind you out of the apartment before heading to school on the metro. School was never kind to him, but if you were there everything would be okay. You were practically buzzing from excitement. Like his team was his family, these kids started to feel like yours. You couldn’t tell them things that you could tell adults, but they were the most understanding people in the world and you would do absolutely anything for them. When you arrived outside the school, hand in hand with Spencer, her thought you might just run all the way down and speed up time so the children got there quicker. If you could do that, you would’ve. Instead you walked with Spencer and prepped the room for teaching. You set out cards for every kid and set up the party later today. You printed and got worksheets prepared while Spencer chose what he was going to read. Finally the day was set and ready and the kids were set to arrive soon. Spencer sat in the back reading so he didn’t disturb the usual morning routine.

Kids began to line up at the door where you stood. “Good morning class! I know we are so excited about our guest and the party today but we still have lots of learning to do!” You called out, standing in front of the line. “At each of your spots is your morning work along with a coloring page for when you finish. Hang up your coats and bag and do those while we wait for all of our friends to arrive!” You walked inside the classroom with little boys and girls following you in. You sat in the front, correcting if a child ran or didn’t put away their stuff the right way. Spencer watched in awe as you interacted with every single human in the room. He watched as you helped kids with the math or reading they had been assigned.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” You looked up from the paper you were looking at to the voice you heard. It was a little girl named Charlotte. 

“Yes Charlotte?” You made eye contact with the small girl, something you had established was good for making conversations.

“Is that your prince in the back of the room?” Your face flushed as a smile made it’s way on your face. The same giggle from this morning erupted from your lips.

“Yes sweetheart. That is my prince.” You winked at Spencer from the front of the room. “Okay kiddos, today is very exciting. Last day of school before winter break and a party! However, we have lots of learning to do. That starts with fixing our calendar!” 

The day went smoothly and everything was fun and exciting for the kids. You were so grateful for Spencer being there because if it wasn’t for him, you would have never even made it to lunch time. 

“Alright, when the kids get back we have social studies, then story time, and wrap up the day with the party. You my good prince, are going to be helping Ms. Y/L/N the rest of the day.” You told him. He and you had stayed in the classroom to eat pizza the secretary had ordered for all teachers.

“Okay, I have to ask. Why am I the prince?” You smiled and covered your full mouth with your hand before telling him the story.

“The girl ran down the stairs, leaving only a glass slipper. She had to get out before the clock struck midnight.” Your phone buzzed in your jean pocket. It was Spencer. He never called you in the day and he was supposed to be on a case right now. You sat the book down making sure not to lose the page. “Sorry kiddos. Everyone stay here and chat while I take this.” You left the gabbing children to answer the call in the hallway. “Spencer? Are you ok?”

“Hey, yeah I’m okay. We got the unsub and I’m heading home early...” He trailed off. 

“What’re you not telling me?”

“It’s nothing, it’s just- I wanted to check on you. Something really big happened today and I can’t explain it but I just needed to know you were okay.” You smiled.

“I’m okay.” You peered back into your classroom. “School is almost done, I have to get back but I’ll see you when you at home, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go teach some kids for me. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You hung up the phone and walked back in, still checking your phone.

“Ms. Y/L/N? Who is that in the picture with you on your phone?” You scrunched your eyebrows together, flipping the rectangle in your hand to look at the back. Your face relaxed when you saw the picture of you and him. Penelope had taken it when you were dancing with him to You Belong with Me in David’s backyard.

“That’s... That’s my bestfriend.” You spoke in a hushed tone.

“Is he your prince?” You let out a laugh through your nose.

“Yes. Yes, he is my prince.”

“Wow. That is adorable and now I have a favorite kid.” You smiled and looked at the time. The kids would be getting back in a minute so the both of you quickly cleaned up. You sat for a moment, nursing a Dr. Pepper while you waited for the sound of tiny feet rushing to the door. When you did you quickly stood up to open the door. The people outside the door quickly filled the room as you got ready to teach. 

“Was your guys’ lunch good?” There were yeses around the room. “Well that is absolutely magnificent.” You turned to the front of the room to start teaching. “Should we get started on social studies now?”

“Alrighty ighty, that is all we have left today. Who knows what time it is?” Every kid from every table raised their hand in excitement. “Dominic.”

“Story time!” You smiled.

“That’s right! Now i want everyone to welcome our guest!” You grabbed Spencer’s hand and pulled him to the front of the classroom. He sat down in the chair you had pulled up. “This is my very good friend Mr. Reid. And Mr. Reid does really good story time voices so I need you all to listen,” You pointed to your ears with both hands. “Watch,” Your fingers moved to point at your eyes. “And think,” You moved your hands one last time to point at your head. “About the the story!” You winked at Spencer, signaling for him to get started.

“Hey kids!” There was an abundance of hellos and heys from around the room. “My name is Mr. Reid but you can call me Spencer. Today we are reading one of my all time favorite books!” He pulled out a book from behind his back. It was one that your father gave you many many years ago. “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” He opened the book and began to read. “Every Who down in Who-Ville like Christmas a lot. But the Grinch who lived just north of Who-Ville did not!” Each voice differed from the other. His Grinch voice was hearty and deep making the children giggle, while his Who voice was higher and peppy. You sat next to the children, watching in awe just as they did. You didn’t look away not for a second. You didn’t have to. They were all entranced by his magical voices. No one talked and no one dared to move. The story was too compelling.

“And the minute his heart didn’t feel quite so tight, he whizzed with his load through the bright morning light, and brought back the toys! And the food for the feast! And he... He himself! The Grinch carved the roast beef.” He closed the book, soaking in the claps and whoops from the children. From you... 

“Well Spencer that was absolutely fantastic! Do you guys agree?” Claps and screams floated around the room, bouncing off the walls to his ears. “Alright settle down, settle down. I know we are all very excited about the amazing story we just heard but we must get ready for our party!” You walked to front of the room and flicked on the lights that were off. “Okie dokie. I need everyone, when I say go, to walk to their cubbies and grab their coats and bags. Then I want everyone to walk back to their seats and place their belongings on the back of their chair before walking to get in line. I want no talking until we get in line so we can hurry and get down to the gym for the party! Ça sonne bien?” “Sound good?”

“Sounds good!” They all announced loudly.

“Alrighty, go!” They all rushed to stand up but walked careful around, packing up their bags and coats. “Your voices really are fantastic Mr. Reid. I think I might need you to come and read more often.” He blushed at your words.

“Well thank you Ms. Y/L/N. If we weren’t standing in a room filled with kindergarteners right now, I would totally kiss you.” You giggled and look down at your hands trying to hide the blush rising to your cheeks. “They really adore you ya’ know.”

“Not as much as they adore you Spence. I’ve never seen them so interested in a book before.” You looked around to see the little humans were all in line staring at you in silence. “Well...” You cleared your throat. “I heard that moms and dads are setting up right now, so I want everyone to be quiet and walk down the hallway single file. Can you do that for me?” They all nodded and you started walking down with them behind you to the gym. “Everyone go in and listen to Mrs. Jenkins so she can tell you what to do! I’ll be down to take outside for dismissal in a little! Be good for Mrs. Jenkins!” They all walked in their quickly leaving you and Spencer in the hallway. You grabbed his hand and pulled him back to your classroom. “Come on, I have something I want to show you.” You and him ran down the hallway to your room where you shut the door and walked to your desk. You pulled out a box wrapped in brown wrapping paper. You held it out. “Open it.”

He took the box carefully and slowly undid it. He opened the large purple box under the wrapping to the reveal a picture frame. It had a picture of you and him. It was from one of the dinners you went to. You had asked the waitress to take a photo while he wasn’t looking. You and him were laughing about something. 

“Turn it over.” He did just that to see a note from you and the lyrics to You Belong with Me.  As he read it you saw his eyes fill with tears. He set it down gently, careful not to break it before pulling you into a sweet kiss. 

“Thank you Y/N/N. I love it, so so much.” You smiled. “I love you, so so much.”

“I love you too.” Your arms fell around your torso and his around your shoulders in a hug. He kissed your head before resting his chin on the same spot. You could stay this way for the rest of your life.

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You were woken up by the sun peeking through the blinds. You were cuddled up next to Spencer’s half clothed body. He was combing through your hair with his fingers. 

“Mmm, good morning prince.” Your voice was thick with sleep.

“Good morning princess. Merry Christmas eve.” You smiled realizing what day it was.

“Merry Christmas eve.” You pulled yourself closer to him. “When did you get back last night?”

“Very late. I didn’t wanna wake you so I just got in bed and you cuddled close to me. I figured that would do until I saw you in the morning.” You chuckled lowly on his chest.

“I’m glad you’re back. I was nervous you would miss Christmas.” He placed a kiss on your head.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world sweet girl. I wouldn’t even dream of it.” You pulled the sheets higher up to keep warm. “You excited for dinner tonight?” Your heart dropped when you remembered. You didn’t answer. Instead, you looked at your hands which were drawing shapes on Spencer’s stomach. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

“My dad. It’s my second Christmas without him. These dinner’s were his idea.” A  lone tear rolled down your cheek and onto Spencer.

“Oh baby. I’m sorry. I know this may not be what you want to hear, but it gets better. I mean I speak from experience. I know our situations are a little different, but my dad may as well be dead. We don’t have to go if you don’t want either. I can only imagine how hard this all is for you.” You shook your head.

“I have to go. It’s to honor him really. Thank you.” He nodded and pressed another kiss on your head before getting up. “Prince, what are you doing?” He grabbed your hands and pulled you up.

“I am taking my amazing, beautiful, sweet, kind, fantastic girlfriend to our kitchen to make her coffee and breakfast.” You smiled and leaned into him.

“You might have to carry me.” So he did just that. He picked you up and carried you to the kitchen, placing you on the cold counter tops. “Jesus christ!” He looked at you with concern in his eyes.

“What?”

“I’m in a shirt and my underwear. This counter is fucking freezing.” He smiled and shook his head.

“Just sit still and look pretty while I make you coffee.” You rolled your eyes and put your hands under your thighs to try and keep them off the cold slab of rock. Not much later Spencer handed you a sweet cup of coffee. You had grown to like his overly sweetened coffee and now requested it. You sipped on the mug as Spencer rubbed his hands over your legs. They inched closer and closer to the inside of your thighs. You set down the mug and took his hands in yours.

“Baby.” He whined at your actions and snuck his hands out from yours, getting back to what he was doing. “I’m gonna be late to set up if you don’t quit it.” He smiled even more.

“You better call Rossi, and don’t even think about making a noise.”

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“I am going to kill you Spencer Reid! We are so late right now!” You ran around the bathroom putting in jewelry. 

“That’s not what you said earlier!” You reminded you.

“Well earlier I was happy and now I am stressed because we are going to be late! Are you ready?” You looked from the bathroom doorway to see him sitting on the bed, completely ready.

“Waiting on you princess.”

“Save it.” You grabbed the presents from beside your bed. “Let’s go.” 

The door opened to a very cheery Penelope. “Y/N! Oh my goodness you look absolutely gorgeous! Wow, you are just-”

“Penelope, let them in it’s cold outside.” You silently thanked JJ.

“Yes, sorry.” She opened the door to let the both of you inside. He took your coat to hang up while you went in to see your friends.

“JJ!” The girl pulled you into a hug. “I missed you.” She pulled away.

“I missed you too. I think your uncle did too.” 

“Oh shit.” Your hand quickly covered your gaping mouth. “Something... let’s just go with something came up.” You felt an arm around your waist. 

“Something most definitely came up.” You rolled your eyes.

“Hey pretty boy finally decided to show up. Y/N, how are you?” 

“Very tired and ready to go to sleep. How are you D?”

“I could say the same. However none of us will ever say no to a meal from Rossi.”

“You can say that again!” You turned to see Penelope now in the living room reaching out a glass of wine to you. You graciously accepted.

“Thanks Pen. Speaking of, where is David?” You looked around the room and didn’t see him. “And Aaron?”

“I don’t actually know. Now, come on we have been waiting on your both to start eating and I am sure the boys are getting antsy.” You held Spencer’s hand as you walked into the dining room. 

“Y/N!” You looked to see both little boys running at you. You didn’t even have a chance to know what was happening before they pummeled into you. You ended up falling backwards right onto your ass thanks to your decision to wear heels. 

“Boys!” JJ quickly came and swept them up. “Y/N I am so sorry about that. Are you ok?” She reached out a hand to help you up while Spencer gripped your arm for extra support. They both helped you up and back to your feet.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You smoothed out your dress. “I’m going to go get David and Aaron. I can only assume they are in his office talking about work.”

“Wait!” You turned to see Spencer grabbing your wrist. “I got it, go sit down.”

“Spence, I got it.”

“No, Y/N really. Let me.” He bit the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit.

“What is going on, why are you being so weird?” You folded your arms in front of your chest.

“Baby it’s nothing, just let me. Please.”

“Fine. Whatever, I’m gonna go sit then I guess.” You walked away without another word. The team could read you like a book. You were annoyed. Bothered. Upset. Confused even. 

“Pretty girl, you ok?” You didn’t even look up to talk to Derek while you sat down.

“Fine.” You took a sip of your wine. “Why is Spencer being so weird? Like why couldn’t I just go get them? I mean David is my uncle not his. What is up with him? Was it me? Did I do something wrong?” You dropped your head into your hands. “Does he really just want to get away from me for a moment? Am I just overbearing?”

“Y/N.” You looked up at Emily. “He’s fine. Just... just trust us okay?” She could see you were still concerned but you agreed.

“Yeah. yeah, okay.” You took a large swig of wine and quickly refilled the glass. 

You were awkward and cautious the rest of the night. You made sure not to be touchy, not to bring much up, not to talk to much really. You just tried to be in the background. This didn’t go unnoticed. Everyone noted how you would almost touch Spencer but pull yourself back. Or how you would open your mouth but close just as quickly as you opened it. They all noticed how closed off you became. Especially Spencer. He knew why but he wasn’t ready just yet. He had to go get the present from Rossi who had ordered it for him because he wasn’t very tech savvy. 

“Present time!” Garcia announced. They had thought about just doing secret Santa, but you and Penelope had insisted on buying everyone gifts so you all had decided to just do presents. You all passed them around. JJ and her family were the first to open. Then Penelope, Derek, Emily, Rossi, Hotch and Jack, Spencer, and finally it was your turn.

The Jareau-LaMontagne’s had gotten you a blanket and spa day kit. They knew how kids were, having one, and thought that you might need something about having to be around them for hours 5 days a week. Penelope got you stuff for teaching. Derek got you a gift card for your favorite store. Emily got a necklace you had told her about months before. David got you lots of candles and your favorite snacks. Aaron got you and Spencer some useful household things. Spencer got you a cardigan to match one of your favorites of his.

“Thank you guys, I really loved it all.” You smiled at all of your friends.

“Actually, I have one more thing for you.” You turned to look at Spencer with scrunched eyebrows. He pulled out a small black box and you thought you might throw up. “Don’t worry. It’s not what you think, I’m not proposing.” You let out a breath of relief. He opened the small box to reveal 2 rings. One was a thicker ring with the cut out of a dinosaur and the other, a dainty ring with the dinosaur cut out attached. Your eyes welled up with tears. 

“Baby...” He the smaller one out and placed it on your left ring finger.

“It’s a promise ring. A promise of my love for you.” You pulled him in for a kiss not even caring for the audience around you. When you pulled away you buried  your face in his neck and hugged him as he pulled you into his lap. “I love you sweet girl. Don’t forget it.” All of your worries floated away as he said those words. He loved you and that is all you ever needed.

[mrgan]

Buttermilk Biscuits

Everyone loves biscuits! And if you look up how to make them, basically every recipe is about the same. Mine isn't anything earth-shattering, but it does have one unusual step. Scroll on down to find out what it is! (The secret is folding more than you think you should—ed.)

Neven's Buttermilk Biscuits

Servings: 6-9 biscuits Time: 15 minute mix + 15 minute fold + 30 minute bake

INGREDIENTS:

280 g all-purpose flour

80 g high-gluten flour (or more APF)

25 g sugar

10 g salt

4 teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

165 g (1.5 sticks) unsalted butter, very cold

1 ¼ cup buttermilk, cold

DIRECTIONS:

First, the most important thing: keep everything as cold as you can. Place a large bowl in the fridge if you can; pop the whole butter sticks into the freezer as you prep.

Put a sheet of parchment paper on a half-sheet pan (18″ × 13″) as your final landing area for the cut biscuits. Pre-heat your oven to 400ºF with a rack in the top third of the oven.

In the cold bowl, whisk together your flour(s), sugar, salt, baking powder, and baking soda. Grab your whole sticks of cold butter and grate them (using the side with the large, pizza-cheese holes) into the bowl with the flour. Using a spatula, fold gently to combine, but without mushing up the butter shreds.

Pour in the buttermilk and fold again with that spatula. You're trying to kind of sort of get it uniform, but it'll still look like an awful mess. Your goal is just to integrate the big pool of dry flour from the bottom of the bowl into a shaggy mass in the middle.

Dust with flour a surface as big as you can afford: a workbench, a clean counter, a large cutting board. Gently flip your "dough" (lol) onto it and shake out any remaining flour from the bowl. It will look like an intimidating, dry mound; that's to be expected.

Grab a bench scraper or another thin, flat-sided tool. (A small, flexible cutting board works.) Now press gently from the sides and the top of your pile to form a sort of tight box. Don't squeeze it like Play-Doh™, but do try to pack it.

Using your scraper tool, go under the sides of the dough and make sure it's not stuck to the work surface. Still using the scraper to help you, flip one third from any side over the middle; then flip the remaining third to make a thicker shape with 2 folds in it, like a letter (you know how we all fold letters all the time these days?) Press down to get the whole thing to the original, starting height again. This is your basic biscuit-folding move; this is what builds those flaky layers, butter being laminated between strata of flour.

Here comes the unusual part of my recipe: where most write-ups will tell you to repeat this two or three times, I'm going to suggest that you do so a dozen times. That's right, get a solid 36 folds in there (each step creates 3 "folds"). The thing is, I don't "mix" my dough much in the previous steps, so this folding is how we'll get the whole thing together and develop lots of layers. If it sounds like a lot of work, don't worry; once you figure out the folding move (which you have to do either way), it only gets easier as you repeat it.

The dough should keep getting more flexible and easier to work with as the flour is integrated into it. If you start to feel some sticking, add a bit of flour to the sticky spots, but don't go wild with it. If the whole thing sticks to the work surface, use that scraper and move along and under the sides again to free it, and maybe add a bit of flour there.

Toward the last 3-4 folds, you can start using a rolling pin to ensure an even height to your dough. The end result should be a rectangle 1.5" thick and maybe 9" × 13" in size, fairly smooth and without any huge spots of butter or flour in it. Press in the sides to ensure a square-ish appearance to the thing, but don't expect perfection.

Once you're satisfied with the final folded dough, cut off those raggedy sides; they'd impede a clean vertical rise of your biscuits. Use your scraper tool—or a big knife—to cut about ½" off each side so the remaining rectangle is super sharp and even. Cut straight down with no sawing motion; just slam straight down confidently. I believe in you.

Using the same BAM! cutting motion, divide your dough rectangle into 6-9 biscuits; how many is up to you and your idea of what looks good and what's possible with the dough. Move the cut biscuits gently—separating from the work surface with that scraper tool if nedded—to the prepared sheet pan with the parchment paper on it. Keep a 1-2" space between your biscuits as they will expand some during the bake.

Discard the cut-off dough… I'm just kidding, come on. Take those end scraps and press them together from their sides to make a sort of rectangle with them. Letter-fold the rectangle again as best as you can, press down to make it neat, and cut however many biscuits it will produce (2? 3?) Cut off the sides again and press them into one wacky biscuit that'll rise unevenly but still be delicious. This should be your only un-square biscuit. Move all the new biscuits to the prepared sheet pan.

Grab another ¼ cup buttermilk and brush the tops of your biscuits with it; just enough to cover them, without getting goopy. Pop the whole thing into the oven and set a timer for 20 minutes. Rotate halfway through that time if you're around.

Check your biscuits' appearance: golden, with some dark areas along the top? Are the bottoms also developing a nice crust? You might not be done after 20 minutes, so feel free to set a timer for another 3-12 minutes, as needed.

When your biscuits look so good you want to build an ethical photo-sharing platform just to show them to the world, remove them from the oven. Feel free to brush them with butter. (Just running that remaining half a stick of butter over them like lip gloss will do.) Let them cool for at least 10 minutes before eating them.

PRO TIPS:

Try to find full-fat buttermilk. Sometimes it's called "Bulgarian style" or another exotic name that means it's flavorful and good.

You can freeze unbaked biscuits. Once your biscuits are cut and on the sheet pan, place the whole sheet pan in the freezer for 2 hours, uncovered. When the biscuits are rock-hard, move them to a freezer bag, fold to get all the air out of the bag, close, and store in the freezer for, like, 3 months or so. Bake from frozen (DO NOT THAW) and add 5-15 minutes to the bake time, until they look delectable.

Do you think grating butter is weird? Are you weirded out by it? You can also cut it to a fine dice and then press it into flat discs in the flour using your hands. It's a free country.

Leftover biscuits should be stored in a closed container once they're fully cooled off. You can keep them around on the counter for 2-3 days, and reheat in a low oven, either whole or split.

I'm gonna hide a Mega Pro Tip here where no one will read it: buttermilk is incredibly delicious and you should just drink it out of a glass.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.89

Keith loathed shopping. He loathed the crowds. The prices. The noise. The children that sounded like store alarms when they screamed. He felt like something was missing in him when surrounded by all these people going about their normal day. And he felt like a dick... though he wasn’t completely sure what he’d done wrong to upset Lance. All he’d wanted was to get this all out of the way, then the next thing he knew his boyfriend was buying an obscene amount of pizza while he was still recovering from the adult store. He was a pervert. Lance had to think so. He didn’t mean to be, but he’d been the one to buy things with his boyfriend in mind. Lance had him to help him through his heats, but he couldn’t be there all of the time... and he’d been trying to think of how to make Lance’s urges feel better for his boyfriend. So yeah... he’d over shopped, then spent the car ride nervous about showing Lance.

Walking beside his boyfriend, Keith was messaging Shiro. Curtis had said Lance seemed pretty upset, but his boyfriend hadn’t said anything to him... He hadn’t said much of anything. The awkwardness bled over into super awkwardness as his thoughts drifted to Krolia, proving he was a total pervert for both thinking about his mother and his sex life at the same time. He already had a window open in his phone on pocket pussies... and how to use a cocking properly. He didn’t want to hurt Lance, but there was something hot about wondering how Lance would react to wearing one... they both came pretty quick, not like in porn, and Keith kind of wondered if it was normal. He liked their sex lift. He liked when Lance would get right into it and ride him. His boyfriend would make the hottest expressions. He loved the feel of Lance’s slender hips in his hands. He loved when his boyfriend was spent he’d curl into him for cuddles and kisses. He loved the nights they didn’t have sex, simply sharing a few kisses before spooning up together. He loved the way Lance laughed when he tickled him...

But.

His head was being annoying about his mother. Krolia apologised. Krolia told him he wasn’t a disappointment. Krolia told him she loved him. Krolia liked Lance. Krolia got on with Miriam. Lance and Miriam managed to get on with Krolia. He didn’t know how she made him feel. He was angry that she’d come out and said all... of that... so why did he wonder what she was doing after she’d dropped them back? Then he started wondering if his mother liked pizza. Was she lactose intolerant like he was? Why didn’t he know about his grandparents? Were they alive? Would they like pizza? Lance wasn’t asking about Krolia and Lance always asked about these things. Was he trying to give him time to think? But if he was, why was he upset?

Lost in his thoughts, he thought Lance was still beside him. Shiro’s last message was that he and Curtis said thanks for the pizza and that he wasn’t getting back into the apartment without talking to Lance first... Keith trying to come up with a witty reply, but lacking because his mind was elsewhere. Now he’d lost Lance. Lance wouldn’t leave him behind. So why had he wandered off? Turning on the spot, he couldn’t see his boyfriend. The swarms of people mixed and mingled as they moved past or around each other, and Keith had no idea where to begin hunting Lance down. Looking back at his phone, his thumb hovered over the screen. A normal person would call their boyfriend... but that little voice in the back of his head made him question if Lance would answer.

“Keith?”

Keith nearly screamed as he jumped. Spinning back around, he found Lance right in front of him

“Where the hell did you go?”

Lance scratched the back of his head, gazed on his feet. Keith supposed his tone was harsher than he’d want it to be

“I thought you were beside me. I went to talk to you and realised you weren’t”

Oh...

“I was talking to Shiro. He says thanks for the pizza”

Lance nodded, Keith kind of kicking himself as his boyfriend still wasn’t looking at him

“That’s good. I got two each so there’d be left overs”

That explained why there so many... he hadn’t thought about left overs

“Right. That makes sense”

Why was he being so awkward? Had he made this awkwardness being stuck in his head? Why wasn’t Lance reaching out and pulling him close?

“The store’s this way. It’s not that far”

“Okay...”

He knew the words. He needed to apologise. But between his brain and his mouth there was some kind of blockage, things weren’t coming out how they should have

“We should go”

Right. Moving. They were holding up traffic. Lance moved his hand like he was going to take Keith’s, before stopping and letting his hand drop. Great. Now he knew for sure he’d hurt Lance’s feelings somehow.

*

Lance was trying. He thought he was trying. He’d nearly had a panic attack when he found Keith wasn’t by his side. Crowds would do that. Part of him always expected Nyma and Rolo to step out. He worked better when he knew the lay of the land. The shopping centre had changed a lot since he’d been there last. The bright lights assaulted his eyes, the crowds made him wonder how many vampires were walking past him. Was his scent strong? Did normal people smell something wrong with him? We’re vampires eyeing off him, knowing what he was? Did Keith feel safe shopping with him? Or was his boyfriend on guard? He couldn’t believe he’d wandered off and left Keith behind. What if someone had hurt Keith because he wasn’t paying attention to him?

Careful to keep Keith in the corner of his vision, Lance tested the waters between them, leading Keith past the camera store. Keith’s eyes widened for a moment, then the look was gone

“Do you want to go in?”

“We don’t have time”

Oooookay. They did. Platt stores weren’t like Garrison where they only closed late on Thursdays

“It couldn’t hurt to take a look. This place doesn’t close until 6...”

“Maybe another day”

Lance didn’t see why they wouldn’t head in. Keith clearly wanted to... Why weren’t they... why was it so weird between them? Did Keith think Lance wouldn’t understand?

“Okay then. Sure. The store map said it’s this way”

Lance hadn’t thought much about high end motor cycle gear. He acknowledged Keith’s bike hadn’t been cheap, and he knew cheap helmets were sometimes as bad as wearing nothing, but high grade clothing wasn’t really on his radar as it wasn’t his look. Stepping into the store, the guy behind the counter was impressively tall. Gone were the days when a full tattoo sleeve meant you were a badarse, almost all hipster baristas these days had sleeves and big arse beards to match as they sold their overly complicated coffees to the masses. This guy looked like a teddy bear. Round... kind of Hunk huggable like... a little bit of a goatie. He could definitely crush Lance like a bug if Lance said any of this out loud

“Hey, fellas. Let me know if you’re looking for anything in particular”

Keith gave the man a nod, Lance smiling because that was the adult thing to do

“We’re browsing, we’ll let you know if we need any help. Thanks”

“Don’t be afraid to ask”

Lance wondered if the poor dude was secretly a misunderstood gentle giant, then he looked at the man’s hands. “GetFucked” tattooed across his fingers... so maybe not. Darting over towards the clothing racks, he hoped he hadn’t offended the guy behind the counter... but there was only so much bravery he had in front of a dude so big. Following him over, Keith actually seemed interested when he started looking at the leather jackets

“Are there any rules I should think about?”

“Not really. Pick something you like and is practical”

“That’s no help”

Lance forced a laugh. Wincing at the sound

“Okay. Yeah. Usually gaudy is like the go to or slutty. But I don’t care. If anyone says anything, they know they’re asking for a fight. Personally I’d prefer something that covers you up”

Keith nodded, moving past the jackets to the pants, then moving back. Lance didn’t know what to think. Everything was black. Black and silver. Or more black. He kind of wondered if bikers were cranky because they got so hot wearing all black? Maybe they were cranky because their balls wear sweaty? But that didn’t work for lady bikers... It had to be the sun. Not wanting to seem disinterested, Lance slipped past Keith to look at pants, finding a pair he liked immediately. They’d look good on Keith. Keith had great legs. Though all of Keith was pretty great. Sure, Lance was twiggy with long lean muscles and a small 4 pack... a six pack on a good day before his body started changing and now he had this little smoodge of fat on his belly... but Keith... God. He was biased... but if this was an anime he’d be spurting blood out his nose each time Keith stripped his shirt off. Muscles from hours or training, tempered with hours of fighting. Definitely he’d kill for, with the softest hands that’d never physically hurt him. Finding Keith’s size, Lance ignored the price tag, carrying them over as Keith pulled down a hooded leather jacket with a two layer look

“That one?”

“I don’t know. Do you think it’d look alright?”

It’d look better on the bedroom floor. Lance blushing at his own stupid thoughts

“I think so. What do you think of these?”

The pants weren’t overly complicated. Three shirt diagonal leather straps buckled near the inner thigh. The buckles neat silver rectangles. The cut was skinny leg, which Keith could totally pull off

“They’re alright”

“So yes to the pants and the jacket... you should get boots too. Something you can wear outside of... you know”

“I don’t want to spend too much”

“We’re not paying”

“Fair point”

The boots they pretty much just went for simple. A tiny heal, mid-calf, with a brown sole and a zip on the side. Carrying the lot to the counter, their new friend smiled

“Got everything?”

“For now”

The man nodded, starting to ring up the sale, Lance placed his credit card down on the counter. Lance’s attention drifting to the Lester globes in the cabinet beneath the counter. He’d noticed Keith wore gloves during missions, then fingerless leather gloves when he rode. His boyfriend would have to have his birthday eventually, maybe a pair of gloves would be a nice gesture?

“What kind of bike do you have?”

Keith launched into explanation. If Lance had been asked he would have said a “death trap on wheels”. Maybe he should borrow some of Hunk’s engineering books, so he could keep up? He might have the memory, but having the memory didn’t always mean he could do the doing. Plus he’d learned his lesson that one time he tried to help Hunk and dropped a spanner on his head because he’d managed to use too much strength and strip the bolt... Hunk laughed it off, but Lance never tried to help again.

With Keith talking bike specs, Lance decided to wait outside for him. He didn’t want to be the uncool boyfriend that knew nothing. He’d had more than enough of that feeling. Wrapping his arms around himself, he found himself watching the crowd again. Coran told him to avoid crowded places... Maybe it was time to pester him over this medication he was supposed to develop. Thinking about it made him feel like he’d been reckless with Keith��s life. He wanted to be able to do normal boyfriend things. He wanted to take Keith places and not have this fear creeping in. He knew Keith had skills, but he also knew some vampires wouldn’t care for them. Then there was Matt and Rieva to consider now he was back home again. He wanted them to live comfortably. Yeah. He really needed that chat with Coran and a good talk with Allura... Today preferably when they dropped Keith’s clothes in to be altered.

Coming out the store Keith finally seemed in a better mood. Lance forcing himself to seem relaxed as he shot his boyfriend a shaky smile

“All good?”

“I couldn’t remember your pin so I paid, and before you ask, I got a receipt”

“I forgot about that bit”

“It’s fine. Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah. Just tired”

Keith didn’t believe him, Lance adding

“All these noises and people. You know how it is”

Ah. There was a spark of belief now

“I’m pretty peopled out too. That guy talked a lot”

“Don’t be like that, I know you liked bragging about your bike”

“Maybe a little. Do you really think this’ll pass?”

“Yeah. I decided I’m definitely going to talk to Allura about what to wear before we go”

“She’s probably got more idea than I do. Are we going home now?”

“Nah, I’ll drop you off then head over to see Coran about getting more blood bags”

“You sure? You did buy a mountain of pizza”

Keith was now worried about the pizza? Not him? No “I thought you were staying the night?”. Keith probably needed Shiro time, so he’d head home

“That you guys will finish off perfectly fine”

“Maybe... Should we go?”

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here”

*

Keith fiddled with the radio as Lance drove. Dropping his boyfriend off, it was kind of awkward when Lance went to kiss his cheek and ended up kissing Keith. It was pretty much their worst kiss to date. Both of them felt it. Driving over to VOLTRON, Lance parked at the front of Castle Altea, figuring he wouldn’t be long. Gathering up Keith’s clothes and boots, he headed inside, trying to not keep thinking about his boyfriend.

Taking the elevator down, Krolia was waiting with Coran, answering the question of where she’d gotten to

“Are those your clothes?”

“Keith’s, for the mission. I haven’t picked anything yet”

Handing the bundle over, Coran picked up his mood

“Thanks for that. Have you got a little time to spare?”

“Yeah. I wanted to ask about some more blood bags seeing mine are off”

“Sure thing, my boy. Come on through to my office”

Krolia gave them both a wave as the pair moved towards Coran’s office.

Sitting himself on the examination bed, Coran closed the door behind them before turning to Lance

“That’s not the face of a happy man. Did something happen?”

“Kind of... call it a brainwave if you want, but I realised Keith could have been in danger today”

“Ah...”

Coran got what he meant

“I know you’re busy, but have you had anytime to come up with something?”

“Lance...”

That was a no. He really did get that he wasn’t priority. Keith, however, was his number one priority

“I was thinking about it today. We’ve been super lucky nothing’s happened when I’ve been out with Keith. There were so many people today... and I lost sight of him. It was only for a few minutes, but those few minutes... anything could have happened”

Sitting himself down at his desk, Coran clicked his mouse a couple of times, Lance could see the man had opened his file up

“I did want to wait longer given your hormone levels”

“I get that, but right now, I feel like I don’t have an option. I want Keith to be safe”

“We want that for all those we care about. Did you boys perhaps have a fight?”

“Not really. I upset him and I don’t know how. I told him I want to work on myself, but I don’t know if I can until this heat thing is sorted. I don’t want to get heats anymore. I don’t want to be different anymore”

Lance’s voice shook. Why’d he have to be so different?

“Lance... Keith cares about you. He doesn’t mind your heats”

He already knew that. But what happened if he went into heat when Keith needed his help or he was on a mission?!

“I mind! I don’t want to be spilling pheromones everywhere! I want to be able to date my boyfriend without having to worry someone is going to kill him!”

Coran took a long moment, before replying

“I understand this is hard for you. I have had the labs trying to synthesise something to help, though for the most part your body would burn through anything we designed rather quickly. We’ve been trying to adapt werewolf DNA, but without trial and error, it could take more time than I initially thought”

“Can’t you do something? You stopped Matt”

“I manipulated his quintessence”

And changed him back to human

“Can’t you do that for me?”

“I’m sorry, my boy. No. Your body is still learning how to live with these changes”

He was sick of these changes

“Then give me something. I’ll have my heats if I have to, but I need my scent dulled or Keith won’t be safe. I was scared today. He was there and then he wasn’t. He was in his own head... and he was mad at me...”

“Your hormone levels are returning to normal... disrupting them can bring about side effects”

“Most things have side effects... you said we have to test things don’t we? Why can’t I try the same thing as a werewolf?”

“Because your reproductive system isn’t the same, nor is your diet...”

So Coran didn’t have a clue to help him? Burying his face in his hands, he didn’t know what he’d expected

“I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to be scared of my body betraying me... I don’t want to cheat on Keith’s because my body does something stupid. He’s so good to me... I want to be a good boyfriend for him. I don’t want to feel the same way I did over the condom breaking”

Coran sighed softly

“I know this isn’t easy. You need to understand the risks. Haemorrhage. Blood clots. Depression. Hair loss. Loss of appetite. Fits of anger. Ego inflation. Mood swings. Cramping. Nausea. Vomiting. Night terrors. Hallucinations. All of these could be possible”

Coran counted off his list on his fingers, missing the most important fact

“None of that is as bad as losing Keith... Even if it’s just a trial run, and it doesn’t work out, we can try? I can call you everyday... stop if I’m sick?”

“Lance, I think you should talk to Keith. We’ve talked about emergency contraceptives before, but long term damage can occur”

“I hate this...”

“I know you do, my boy. I know. I refuse to trial anything that could risk your life”

“Then... Then... give me something now? Whatever you think might work. I’ll stay a few hours and you can monitor me...”

Coran wheeled himself over, taking Lance’s hands in his

“You have always been special to me. I would find a way faster if I could”

Lance sniffled, tears rolling down his cheeks as he thought of losing Keith

“Do you need samples? Would that help?”

“I already have samples. It’s all about finding what’s best for you and your body. You have a wonderful and loving boyfriend. Talk to Keith. Whatever you decide may affect you both”

“Why can’t I take something like the pill with blood?”

“Your body metabolises most things too fast. You burn through things like werewolves do. You need constant and sustained releases in your system”

“Like a coated pill? We’re it erodes with time? Something you could implant?”

Coran raised an eyebrow

“I didn’t think of that...”

Lance knew “smart dumb” happened all the time. Sometimes the simplest ideas where missed by the minds need to over complicate things. It’s happened to poor Pidge far too many times

“But now you are, you have some idea?”

“Not fully. Let me see what those egg heads in research say. I’ll put a rush on it”

Lance could have kissed hi

“Thank you... No one tells you falling in love is so confusing and scary”

Coran smiled at his softly, squeezing Lance’s hands as he did

“And it’s wonderful and amazing. I’ll ask Allura to pick up those blood bags. Would you like a bite to eat while we wait?”

“Yeah... I probably should”

[schoolnutritioneducator]

Seminole County Bites Above the Rest

<a href=”http://www.cdc.gov/obesity/childhood?s_cid=healthyweight-007-bb” title=”September is National Childhood Obesity Awareness Month. 12.5 million U.S. children are obese. Join the conversation. Spread the word. Take action.”><img src=””http://www.cdc.gov/images/campaigns/dnpao/hw/hw-ncoam01-180×150.jpg” style=”width:180px; height:150px; border:0px;” alt=”Help your children play! Celebrate Worldwide Day of Play.” /></a>

Imagine, if you can. The year is 1989. You are in elementary school waiting in line for lunch. You grab your chocolate milk. Put it on your green tray and grab a fruit cup. The lunch lady puts a scoop of canned corn and a slab of rectangle pizza on your tray. Those were the days, right? School lunch has come such a long way since I was a kid, eating in my school cafeteria. I am here to tell you it’s not what it used to be and that is a good thing! The 3 reasons you should consider leaving your child’s lunch box at home are that eating at school can help to fight childhood chronic diseases, it is free for everyone right now and we service delicious and nutritious meals every day, here in Seminole county.

In the United States children and adolescents overall are not meeting the current nutrition guidelines. We are fighting an epidemic of obesity in adolescents in this country. The percentage of adolescents that are considered to be obese has nearly doubled over the last 20 years. Chronic diseases like type 2 diabetes, high blood lipids and hypertension are being seen in children younger and younger all the time. Eating meals at school guarantees a child has access to healthy balanced meals, twice a day. This sets them up to be on track to meet the nutrition guidelines, that so many adolescents are not meeting.

As a nation we are also battling food insecurity. In 2017, 11.9% of Seminole county was considered to be food insecure. Food insecurity is having limited or questionable availability of a person or family’s food supply. If one person in the family misses out on a meal through the day, because of availability of food, that is considered food insecurity. Food insecurity is a problem at every level, city, county, state, nation and the world. Which, has only elevated overall food insecurity worldwide.

So, what causes food insecurity? One of the biggest causes is poverty. Families living below the poverty line are at much higher risk to be food insecure. There are local, national and worldwide organizations, such as food banks that are there to help families in need of food. This year especially has put a strain on our government, communities and food banks. Causing many throughout our communities to stand up and help by donating food, time and money to organizations willing to help feed fellow citizens.

Some of our high schools have also partnered with a local charity to provide our school leftovers to those in need of food. This not only allows us to give back as a district, but lowers our food waste as well. Hopefully we can get more schools working to help more people truly in need. So, when you are supporting Seminole County Public School’s breakfast and lunch program, you are supporting people locally who are in need.

In Seminole county alone, 47% of our students are eligible for free or reduced lunch, regularly. Eligibility is based on the poverty level. Children in families with income at 130% below the poverty level are eligible for free meals. Those with incomes between 130 and 185% are eligible for reduced lunch, which is $0.40 for lunch and $0.30 for breakfast. So, for example a family with 4 members and with an income of $31,005 would be eligible for free meals and up to $44,123 would be eligible for reduced meals.

There are schools in the district that do offer school wide free breakfast. So, look into your specific school for details on your school’s eligibility. The application for eligibility is fast and easy. If you need assistance filling it out the school staff is happy to help you fill out the application. It is something that needs to be done each year. So, be sure to visit the cafeteria during your schools open house.

One thing the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) has done recently to help out families through COVID-19, is they have made school breakfast and lunch free for all children. School Nutrition professionals have worked tirelessly through the pandemic to provide nutritious meals for breakfast and lunch 5 days a week. They have made many adjustments in order to serve as many families as they can. Being flexible and understanding every step of the way.

Allowing your students to eat at school will lessen your burden, as parents. Lowering the cost of providing nutritious fresh meals for 10 out of 21 meals each child eats every week. While students or parents do not have to worry about planning and packing a lunch box every day. Saving them money, time and aggravation.

In order for our meals to qualify for reimbursement through the NSLP, they must meet certain USDA regulations when it comes to nutrition. A district is required to increase the availability of fruits, vegetables, whole grains, fat free and low-fat milk. They are also required to lower sodium and reduce saturated fats. The lunch menu must contain 1/3 the Dietary Reference Intake (DRI) for calories, protein, calcium, iron, vitamin A and vitamin C for recommended age of the students.

The School Breakfast Program has its own guidelines, too. These meals must provide a quarter of the DRI for protein, calcium, iron, vitamin A, vitamin C and calories. This program is offered at all schools within the Seminole county district. We offer a hot meal option, cereal or a breakfast bar in middle school and high school. Students can always have milk, juice or a fruit with their breakfast.

In Seminole county, we go above the minimum requirements. Setting the standard high for the quality of food we serve. We have many fresh fruits and vegetables daily. Many that are “Fresh from Florida.” We do like to let our guests know what foods we get that are local to our area. We use whole wheat pizza crust, using a recipe made specifically for our district. We use real tomato sauce and shred our own cheese. Our meats we choose are 100% antibiotic free and are a high-quality product.

Fresh from Florida is a state agency that was started in 1990. They provide up to date in season produce for the state of Florida. They offer recipes ideas using Fresh from Florida items. They also provide gardening tips for plants by Florida zones. In our service lines we like to show what we are offering each day that is “Fresh from Florida.”

There is a government program “Farm to School,” that help local schools access to fresh, local foods. They also help with educating kids by funding school gardens, teaching kids how to cook and farm field trips. Teaching kids about how food is produced and grows sets each student up for making healthy life choices. Utilizing this program helps us get a wide variety of local foods and support local companies.

In Seminole county we do not limit the number of fruits or vegetables a guest takes. We encourage the goal of 5 servings of fruits and vegetables a day. Our nutrition team works very hard to provide balanced, nutritious and delicious meals for our students, teachers, staff and guests. We have Registered Dietitians, a chef and a full department working together to perfect our menu.

An example of a breakfast would be a chicken biscuit with a serving of fresh fruit of their choice, and a fat-free milk. For lunch middle and high schoolers can enjoy a burrito bowl. Which is Brown rice, their choice of beef crumbles or grilled chicken, freshly made pico de gallo, corn salsa, sautéed sweet peppers, and black beans. Along with a milk, and a fresh fruit or vegetable of their liking. We also offer a side salad as an option with any meal. We do offer a chicken sandwich and pizza daily in our middle schools and high schools and the kids take a fruit or vegetable to go with it. All schools enjoy our baked pasta. Made with real tomato sauce and our own shredded mozzarella cheese.

I love how ahead of the game our district is when it comes to feeding our children. It truly is a team effort to nourish our kids. With all the programs available to assist schools I would like to see more education brought into the breakfast and lunch process. School nutrition has a very unique opportunity because there are so many children eating in schools every day. If you feed them nutritious meals and teach them important life lessons on how to make healthy choices, you help them make these choices throughout their entire life.

We need to teach our children what healthy foods are and how to grow them. Incorporate basic nutrition education such as, food groups, RDA’s and how to cook and prepare these foods. Adding gardens to our schools and having the kids help maintain them, is a great way to add more educational opportunities. The state of Florida also offers grants and assistance setting them up. Creating cooking clubs and labs would be a fun way to get them involved.

So, as you can see, school lunch is not what you remember from when you were in school. Especially, here in Seminole county where our mission is to nourish and enrich the lives of our guests through an exceptional dining experience. We are not just any district when it comes to education and it is no different for what we feed our kids. We want you to feel confident in sending your children to eat because we know school meals can help fight chronic diseases in children, continue to be free through September and our meals are nutritious and delicious.

Submitted by: Jessica Tillmann, Food and Nutrition Student

Total word count:1621

[iihappydaysii]

title: eudaimonia 

rated: e

pairing: john/jamie

summary: To protect baby William, Jamie and Lord John run away with the child to raise him—in the year 2020. The more time they spend together in this new and unusual world, the harder it is for both of them to ignore their growing and changing feelings for one another.

read on ao3

. . .

The day passed slowly, like sap rolling down the trunk of a tree. Jamie dressed in the strange clothes Zoe gave him. A pair of “boxer-briefs” she said, then “jeans-and-a-t-shirt”. Zoe had said that phrase like that, as if it was all one thing, though he imagined it was not. Jamie asked her where the rest of it was. She laughed and said, “Stop worrying about your modesty, Princess. This is how everyone dresses.”  She’d purchased Grey something similar, though the “jeans��� were black and the t-shirt grey instead of white. It was simple, minimal, worlds away from the extravagance of the red coat dress he usually wore. Somehow the image evoked good garden soil, the kind that reaped autumn crops. Jamie pushed the thought away furiously.

Ever since Jamie had left Helwater the previous night, he’d been acting on instinct—the way one does in battle. It had been instinct that led Jamie to Grey’s quarters, redcoats not far behind. Maybe a touch of insanity was to blame, as he did not know what he expected Grey to do. But Jamie had found himself pounding like a madman on Grey’s door, in the middle of the night, before he even understood that he was doing it at all.

Jamie explained the situation to the major as quickly and thoroughly as possible, feeling more and more foolish as the story went on. Grey said nothing, which only increased the withering feeling between his ribs. When the redcoats first arrived to apprehend him, Grey had let them into his room. Jamie thought Grey had meant to turn him over, leaving Jamie sorting through ways to kill him and the other soldiers, with a baby in his arms, when one of the soldiers rushed towards Jamie and found himself with Lord John Grey’s pistol to his head.

Had John made that decision as he had made the one to go to him for help? With instinct and a touch of insanity?

“I ordered a pizza,” Zoe said, drawing Jamie from his thoughts. “It’ll be here in thirty minutes or less,” she put the telephone—Claire had explained that one to him— away. “We could watch something.”

Watch? Jamie thought. Watch what? He said nothing though. Second by second, he gained a greater appreciation for what Claire must’ve endured when she first landed in the past. And, unlike him, she was entirely alone.

Jamie followed Zoe out of her frankly wondrous kitchen into the room with the front door, the one they’d first arrived in.

Grey was there by the window, hands around a glass of water, looking outside. “What are those? The machines that keep passing by so quickly?”

“Cars,” Zoe replied. “They’re how we get around here for the most part, instead of horses and carriages.”

With a blink, Grey’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “How do they work?”

“Hell if I know. I just drive ‘em and don’t ask questions. I could google it.”

“Google?”

Zoe shook her head. “No, never mind. Google is too much for today. We should start with television.” She grabbed a long black rectangle from one of the small tables and pointed it at the flat black something against the wall.

The black transformed to a vibrant array of colors, organized into moving images that emitted sound.

“Dear God in heaven,” Grey said.

Jamie was speechless, simply staring, brow furrowed at the pictures.

“Pretty wild, huh?”

“How does this work?” Grey asked as he had earlier.

“Ask me again when I think you’re ready for Google.”

Jamie found himself desperately wanting to know what or who Google was and why Zoe presumed they would not be “ready for it”, when she’d assumed, wrongly Jamie might add, that they were prepared for this thing called a television.

“Deciding someone’s first television show is far too much responsibility,” Zoe said.

Pointing that rectangle at the pictures, she kept pressing her thumb down and the images would shift, showing one impossible thing after another. Then, suddenly, she stopped and announced that she had an idea. “Netflix.”

Jamie had no idea what Netflix meant, and he was wondering if he’d ever get used to all the new words and concepts this time would hold.

“What would you like to see? Forests, seas, caves, deserts?”

Grey looked over at Jamie, which made Jamie realize he’d been looking over at him already. Neither one of them seemed to know how to answer that question. Did Grey feel as small and ignorant as he did?

“Let’s go with forests,” she eventually said when they did not answer. “That will at least be somewhat familiar.”

The television changed once again, opening up to a vibrant world of deep greens and blues and shocks of violent red. The gentle voice of an unseen man spoke as Jamie felt he were sweeping over the world on the back of an eagle. He stood witness to sight after magnificent sight, each one he’d never even dreamt of seeing.

Again, he was speechless; Grey was not, however. “How do they… how is it possible…” he turned toward Zoe, then answered his own question. “You don’t know.”

It could be magic, Jamie thought, but it seemed this had gone far beyond the realm of magic and had landed among the world of miracles. Would William grow up, as Zoe had done, believing all of this to be so commonplace that he wouldn’t even think to ask how it all worked? Would, could even he himself grow to find this simply usual? No, Jamie found that impossible to fathom.

In silence, they all moved to sit, Grey to a chair by the window and Zoe and Jamie on the sofa. They watched, attention rapt, until a ring sounded throughout the house.

“Pizza’s here.” Zoe jumped up from beside Jamie and went to the door. She opened it and a man in a red shirt was stood on the doorstep. He held a large, flat brown parcel and one of those strange sacks that Zoe had brought home William’s bottles and such in. She thanked the man and took the parcel and the bag, closing the door behind her with her foot. “God, if I’m this hungry, you both must be starving.”

Jamie wouldn’t argue with Zoe. His stomach was empty, but he’d been far hungrier many times in his life and, despite his position, it was almost certain that Grey had felt the same way. Still, the food smelled unusual, but delicious, and when Zoe opened the box, the food was unrecognizable.

She looked over at John, who had just walked in behind them. “Ask me how this is made, I actually know the answer to that.”

He leaned over the top of the box to look down at the “pizza”. “Maybe just explain what it is.”

“Bread, tomato sauce, cheese and meat.”

“Tomatoes are poisonous,” Grey said.

Zoe laughed. “No, they’re acidic. Lead is poisonous and your plates had lead in the them. The acid in the tomatoes makes the lead leach out of the plates.”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly,” Zoe said, pulling one of the pieces from the large circle. She took a bite. “Super delicious and not gonna kill you.” She pulled three plates down from her cabinet and gestured to them. “Have at it, guys. There’s buffalo wings and brownies too.”

“Buffalo don’t have wings,” Jamie said.

“They’re chicken wings. Buffalo is the name of the sauce. It’s named for the town in New York where they were invented.”

“Should I ask about brownies?” Grey said with a small smile.

“Like a dense chocolate cake.”

As they were filling up their plates, Zoe opened up what she’d earlier referred to as a refrigerator and asked, “You guys want something to drink? Uh, looks like I’ve got Sam Adams and some expired almond milk?”

“Who’s Sam Adams?” Grey inquired, looking over at Zoe with his plate balanced in his left hand.

Her eyes darted towards Jamie and she grimaced. “Not sure I should tell him.”

Grey’s brow furrowed.

She pulled two brown bottles out and placed them on the counter. “It’s beer. Named after a revolutionary, fighting for uh the independence of the American colonies from England.” She grabbed a metal instrument out of her drawer and used it to remove the lids on each bottle.

“Like a Jacobite?” Grey said, taking a seat at Zoe’s table.

“Sort of. Except they kick your ass.”

A ruddy flush bloomed across Grey’s cheek and he stiffened. Zoe looked over at Jamie. “Told you I shouldn’t tell him.”

“How?” he asked, blinking.

“The indomitable spirit of the American people. That and intervention from Spain, France and the Netherlands.”

“Claire…” Jamie managed, as he still often struggled to say her name aloud. “She also said something about… it was a strange word… guerrilla tactics.” He sat at the table too, taking an offered bottle of the beer from Zoe.

“There was that too. They learned it from conflicts with the Native Americans.”

Grey hesitated, but he took one of the bottles of beer from Zoe. “This is cold…?”

“One thing at a time,” Zoe replied.

“What are guerrilla tactics?”

“If he ever goes back to his own time, we’re fucked.” Still standing, Zoe took a bite of her own pizza. “It’s basically small groups of soldiers carrying out ambushes, sabotage, hit-and-run maneuvers. It can be pretty effective when you’re up against a larger, less-mobile traditional army. God, I suddenly feel like a traitor.”

“That’s not unlike what you and the Jacobites did the night we met,” Grey said to Jamie.

“How did you two meet?”

“He tried to kill me,” Jamie replied.

Zoe gave Grey a look.

“I did not succeed.” Grey hesitated, but picked up the slice of pizza with his hands as Zoe had done. He took a bite of the pizza and chewed it slowly, brow knitting. “That’s… unusual but quite delicious.”

“It’s all the fat and sodium,” Zoe replied, her mouth full, as she joined them at the table.

Jamie did his best not to judge. He knew Zoe was whip-smart, kind-hearted and an incredibly powerful sorceress, but her lack of manners would sometimes unsettle him. When they’d met in those years after Culloden, when he was Red Jamie and hiding in the woods, she’d saved his life more than once. He respected her even if he never understood the rules she used to govern her life. He would have to meet more people from this time to know if these behaviors were particular to Zoe or if they were widespread. Grey, on the other hand, was almost painfully neat. He carried himself with the rigid posture of an English soldier, his body reaching the floor at controlled yet elegant angles. Jamie had seen him eat before, of course. Each bite he took was always precise, like a reasoned decision.

Jamie returned his attention to his own meal and ate some himself. The texture of the bread and melted cheese slid over his tongue, the flavor enhanced. Everything in this time seemed to be. Louder, more vibrant, desperate for attention.

They’d only finished a portion of their meal ,and Grey was asking Zoe more questions about the man on their bottles of beer, when a loud cry sounded from down the hall where Jamie had laid William down to sleep.

He stood up from the table and walked towards the sound, pushing open the door to the small bedroom. William was a small-bundled freckle in a sea of egg blue linen. Jamie lifted his son—his son—from the bed and stared down at the bairn’s soft pink face.

With a hush, he bounced William in his arms, smiling down at him. The bairn’s face scrunched up and moments later, the putrid stench of shit filled the room. He hurried back to Grey and Zoe in the kitchen. Jamie held the baby out to Zoe.

“The bairn has soiled himself.”

Zoe cringed. “Gross. Change him.”

“Change him?”

“Yeah, I bought diapers.”

“What are diapers?”

With a sigh, Zoe stood up from her chair and walked over to the kitchen counter where the bags from earlier that day still remained. She pulled out a blue box and tore into it. “I’ll tell you how, but you’re doing it.”

It wasn’t that Jamie was particularly disgusted at the thought or that he found himself above it. No, he simply felt inadequate. Men rarely looked after bairns in his time, at least the roles for how they were to look after bairns were more clearly defined. There were the things women were better suited to doing, and the things men were better suited to doing. Though, at the thought, he could almost hear Claire’s judgement. She was far better physician than any man he’d known and that was an occupation supposedly better suited to his sex.

“Come with me,” Zoe said, gesturing with the diaper towards the main room. “You too, John. You’re going to need to know how to do this too.”

Jamie expected Grey to protest or stay seated, but he wiped his mouth with a napkin, then stood to follow them. When he’d come to Grey for help, he hadn’t expected to reach out to Zoe too, for the three of them to end up here. He certainly hadn’t expected that Lord John Grey would be a willing participant in any of this. Maybe, Jamie figured, he should just stop assuming anything of the man. He had not the talent for it.

Zoe laid a plush blanket on the floor, then knelt down beside it. “Lay Will down here. Gently.”

The reminder was unnecessary, but Jamie understood the instinct to protect this fragile creature, so he said nothing, just did as he was told.

Zoe talked Jamie through the steps, as Grey stood behind them with a studious look on his face. She told him about wiping the bairn clean with the disposable wet wipes and about making sure to cover him in a way so he couldn’t piss all over you while you were changing him. And finally, she talked Jamie through attaching the diaper, as she called it, which was constructed of some kind of thick parchment-like material that stuck to itself.

“Who’s that?” Grey asked.

“Who do you mean?”

“The image on the front there.”

Zoe laughed. “That is the most recognizable image in the world. More recognizable than our Lord Jesus Christ. Mickey Mouse.”

“You cannot be serious,” Grey replied.

Zoe stood from where she was crouched and patted Grey’s shoulder as she passed by him. “Welcome to the 21st century.”

A few moments later, Zoe returned with a grey spotted outfit for the bairn. She helped Jamie slip his arms and legs into it, then taught him about zippers before helping him close it up.

“Such a bonnie bairn,” Jamie said, scooping his son up into his arms. He caught a soft look on Grey’s face, a gentleness in his eyes that had this way of setting him at ease, even when Jamie knew he should remain on guard. Grey had not made any advances on him since that day at Ardsmuir. The trouble was that Jamie did not know if Grey’s behavior came from the threat Jamie had made or from a genuine respect for his person. He guessed Grey could’ve taken him when he was tied up on the way to Helwater and there wouldn’t have been much Jamie could’ve done. Grey didn’t however, and Jamie really didn’t believe Grey would do such a thing to anyone who did not want it. Not after what he’d come to know of the man. Even if his... lusts still made Jamie wholly uncomfortable.

They returned to finish their food, Jamie eating one handed.

“Do you think William should visit a physician soon?” Grey asked Zoe.

“Definitely. I’ll need to figure some stuff out first though. In this time you need documents for everything.”

“How do you go about procuring documents? As, of course, we cannot confess where we are truly from.”

“No, we won’t be able to get real documents, but fortunately this won’t be the first time I’ve, um, played a little fast and loose with the law. I know people.”

“People who can forge these documents?” Jamie asked.

“Yeah, hopefully. I’ll need a picture of you guys though.” Zoe reached into her pocket and removed a shiny small device. She cradled it in her hand, sliding her finger across it, then held it up towards Grey. “Smile,” she told him. He just furrowed his brow. “Actually, never mind. They don’t let you smile anymore.”

“What is she doing?” Grey spoke from the side of his mouth.

Jamie shook his head, as Zoe pivoted the strange thing towards him and said “Your turn.”

When she finished doing whatever she was doing, she turned the thing towards Grey.

“It’s like looking in a mirror,” he said, turning his head back and forth. “But it’s not following me. That’s unsettling.”

Zoe turned the item towards Jamie, showing him a frozen image of himself, and as much as it pained him, he had to agree with Grey. It was very unsettling.

Once they finished up dinner, Jamie offered to help clean the dishes but Zoe told him there was no need. She opened up the metal box near the sink and just dropped their plates inside. Its insides were already filled with cups, mugs, cutlery and others dishes. She grabbed a small bluish rectangle from her cupboard and dropped it in a compartment.

Zoe shut the door and pressed her finger against the front of the metal box. A tiny green light illuminated on it, followed by the sound of churning water, like a river pounding over rocks.

“Dishwasher,” she said. “Explanation’s in the name.” Zoe paused again, before looking over at Grey, who was disguising a yawn behind his broad hand. “You guys must be totally beat. Willie’s asleep. Though he’ll probably wake up in a few hours for a bottle and for a diaper change, you should sleep too. Say goodbye to your full eight hours though.” Zoe laughed, then frowned. “Shit, I’ve only got the one guest bedroom. The bed’s probably big enough to share though, if you want. It’ll be cozy tonight with Will though. We can go out tomorrow and get a crib.”

Jamie’s mouth was dry as he tried to parse through Zoe’s barrage of words. One guest room. One bed. Sharing. With Grey. His heart was thudding like a rabbit’s foot in his chest. They’d been close, last night in the leaves, but this was different. This was a room with a closed door and a bed. Jamie didn’t want Grey to ever get the wrong idea again, not like he had that night in Ardsmuir. He’d yet to make himself clear again, after coming to Grey for help with Willie. Was it possible that Grey had come here under the impression Jamie would exchange his body as some kind of payment?

“One of you can also sleep on the couch, but you’ll have to argue that out.” Zoe’s words were drawn out, her eyes narrowed.

“I’ll take the couch,” Grey replied, before Jamie had the chance to say anything himself. “I don’t mind.”

The rabbit between Jamie’s ribs settled down at the major’s offer. It seemed he could put the question of John Grey’s intentions away, for tonight at least.

[ctl-yuejie]

..... u cant just wave those in our faces and not reveal the recipe, dont do me like that 😂

ahahaha, so sorry, most of the time i’m just flinging these things in the void not anticipating the impact :”””D (also for @weilongfu , @florbexter and @sluttynewwiee if they want to try these)

here you go!

for around 24 kardemummabullar (that’s how many I usually make) you need:

ingredients 

dough

250 ml warm milk 

4 tbsp honey 

2 packets of dry yeast = 14g

780g bread flour (normal all purpose flour works also okay)

64 g powdered milk 

2 tsp salt

2 tsp ground cinnamon 

4 eggs , room temperature

150g butter, cubed and at room temperature

filling

150 g butter, room temperature

160g brown sugar 

4 tsp ground cardamom

extras

egg wash (2 egg + 2 splashes of milk)

instructions

dough

warm up the milk (between 30 C° and 43 C°, don’t let it get hotter or the yeast dies, if you test with a finger: 30 C° feel not as warm as you think!), mix in the honey. sprinkle in the dry yeast and mix. leave for up to 10 minutes so the yeast activates (bubbles and foam forming on top of the milk).

          (use a separate plastic or ceramic bowl if you use a metal mixing bowl for          your dough making, because the metal might cool down the mixture too          much.)

put all the dry dough ingredients into a standing mixer bowl (with the dough hook on) and add the milk mixture and the eggs while mixing. let the dough mix for 10 minutes (this is a lot of dough, if your mixer is on the smaller side maybe do only make half the amount on a first try). 

add the butter cube by cube while mixing and knead for another 10 minutes (your dough will be super wet and not form a ball that holds form)

grease up a bowl with butter, tip in the dough and cover with either a clean kitchen towel or cling film and leave it in a warm place and wait until it doubles in size (takes about 30 minutes to 1 hour)

filling

let the butter soften and mix with the sugar and the cardamom (with a spoon/fork or a standing mixer) until the mixture is very soft and spreadable

making the kardemummabullar

flour an even surface, punch down the dough in the bowl (it should now be springy and not as wet anymore, don’t worry if the bottom sticks a bit to the bowl). lightly press it into a rectangle shape and roll it out.

try to get it as even as possible and don’t roll it too thin.

spread the filling on top. use a knife or your hands to do so (it’s messy but hands work great because the warmth melts the sugar/butter mixture and makes it easy to spread without putting holes into the dough)

in your head divide the dough in three even parts (you can also makes small dents with the finger to help you visually). fold the left 1/3 towards the right side and then the right 1/3 on top of the other two layers.

rotate everything carefully by 90° (use more flour underneath if the dough is sticking to the surface) and roll once more into the same rectangle shape. be careful not to roll it so thin that the filling is spilling out.

use a pizza cutter or knife and cut the dough into 24 even strips (use a ruler to make your life easier). aim for about 3 to 3.5 cm in width. 

now cut each strip into two, but leave a bit uncut at the top, so both sides are still connected.

take one of the strips at the connected end and twist the two strands into one strand.

now wrap the strand two times around the fingers that hold onto the connected end, then run the twisted strand form the top over the two wrapped layers underneath and tuck in the end either on top or on bottom depending on how much length you’ve got left. this sounds more complicated than it is, you basically try to form a ball with each twisted strand and get them as even in size as you can. 

place them on a baking try with baking sheet with ample space between them and let them rest for another 20 minutes at room temperature (if the air is very dry use the towel or cling film to cover them again. the should puff up a bit.

preheat the oven to 175 °C (upper and lower heat setting)

mix the eggs with the milk in a bowl and brush the kardemummabullar with the mixture. you can also additionally sprinkle some coarse sugar on top.

put the baking tray in the oven and bake for 25 minutes until golden. the first batch might need up to 30 minutes depending on your oven so keep an eye on them.  

remove the kardemummabullar from the oven, be careful when eating straight from the oven: they are super hot!!

they are perfect with tea or coffee and pretty sweet. they should have a crips outer layer but be super fluffy and not dry inside.

they keep in a closed plastic container for around 3 days but you can also freeze them in a ziplock and let them defrost at room temperature when you want to eat one (idk how long they keep in the freezer i usually eat mine within a week or so)

you can warm them up again using the microwave but try to only heat them up for 10 seconds a time on a low setting as to not burn the middle.

i hope they turn out well!!!

edit: if you don’t like cardamom just go all cinnamon on these bastards

[dashielldeveron]

Viper V: de Futuro.

Warnings: violence, swears, the law.

Summary: the famous sewer scene, like they have in every rom-com.

Day five of the bomb threat. It was confined to Manhattan now, although no one could be certain. Bomb threats tended not to last so long, but this one had reason to extend: all of the sewers in lower Manhattan were backed up, and so far, no one could locate the cause. Authorities had the inkling that the bomber—Isadora’s kidnapper, your identity thief, twice—had blocked the sewers off somewhere downtown, maybe linked with the subway.

Which meant NYC was in uproar, mostly for transportation issues. The streets never cleared, and all attempted to avoid being outside for long due to the rank smell—but when one lives in an overpopulated, urban area, that tended to be difficult to evade.

All applause for your identity thief. He’d turned the city upside down with a few, simple actions. If he weren’t directly aiming and igniting this in your direction, you’d be impressed.

Too bad Tom was being a little prick. Wanting to be thorough in initiating you to be consigliere, he wasn’t letting you have a spare moment to yourself, and when you collapsed on your bed at home each night, your brain transformed into mush.

“Who should I give this job to?” Tom tossed you three profiles across his desk and kept striding towards his liquor cabinet.

“Sydney,” you said, picking out his file and setting it in front of his chair, “He’s got the subtlety that Moss and Murtagh don’t. Also, Bauman called; he wants to hire you to plan an operation for him across the Hudson, and Judge Le sent you this package in the mail.” You pulled a slender rectangle out of your blazer pocket and threw it his way. “It’s weighted like a fountain pen, probably in thanks for your help last week.”

Tom caught the package without looking away from his liquor cabinet and unwrapped it as he chose his bottle. “Excellent. I want you to look at Bauman’s initial operation to see what your instincts are. If you can’t figure anything out, give it to me. Text Sydney that he’s going to Harlem for the next five days. Tell him to leave his rings at home.” He dug his fingernails into the crack where the tape didn’t cover the cardboard and forced it open, and he tapped the opening into his palm. “You’re right,” he said, holding up the fountain pen, “Engraved. Put it with the rest.” He threw it back to you.

Catching it with both hands, you slid it into the pen cup. “Also, Holland, we should get the New Jersey representatives on the payroll soon. They’re trying to introduce a local law that’d let them gerrymander more often, and we want them in our pocket, if they have that power.”

“Get on it, then,” said Tom, and he poured an unhealthy amount of whisky into a tumbler. He held up a hand. “Wait. I don’t want them if they haven’t passed that law. Get them in our good graces but don’t commit to anything serious.”

You jotted that on your legal pad. “Got it. Are Z and Haz still going to the Heights today?”

“If the streets are manageable.” Tom took a deep drink and winced. “Fuckin’. Fuckin’ bomber.”

“Are we doing anything about that?”

Tom drained his glass. “You bet your arse we are.”

***

“You’re the worst,” you said, attempting to rest your weight by the pads of your index and middle fingers on the grimy wall of the sewer so that the pressure was removed from your heels for even a moment. “I’m not doing this again.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Tom muttered, waving the flashlight in your direction.

“I could be touching the Gawain diamond right now. Maybe. It’s unclear when it’s coming in.” You pushed off of the wall and rubbed the grit between your fingers. “Instead, I’m living like a goddamn ninja turtle.”

“If you want pizza after this, just say the word,” said Tom, “but stop fuckin’ complaining. Come on. I’m hearing voices in the distance.”

“You could have sent some lame-o soldier to do this.” You leapt over a sopping puddle underneath a grate but managed to land in a deceptively squishy moss.

(Harrison had also voiced this sentiment. Why would the don and his consigliere go perform a humiliating task? “I want her eyes on everything they can be when it comes to this case,” Tom had said as if you hadn’t been present, and he loosened his tie enough to slip it off but keep the knot. “And I’m not letting her out of my sight.”)

“Yet I want you.” Tom peered around a bend, holding out his arm to keep you back.

“Yeah, well,” you said, “You may need my brain, but if it’s scrambled from not relaxing, it may not be on its best behaviour.”

“We’ll see about that,” Tom said under his breath, and he stood upright, dropped his arm, and beckoned for you to follow him farther. Before he could take could take more than three steps, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ, Viper, if you wanted time off, all you have to ask. Not—not now, of course. Gotta get situated. But once things calm down, you can…” Tom turned towards you, and in his face was an exasperation you hadn’t seen since you missed your mother’s birthday: weak, raised eyebrows with a mouth open simply because it didn’t take any muscles for it to drop and eyes with the suggestion of watering.

You shook your head. “I don’t want any time off.”

Tom shook his head in tandem, biting his lower lip and furrowing his brow. “Then what do you want?”

A series of shouts came from down the sewer, and Tom’s hand shot to his gun over the clatter of running footsteps from the other direction. You hissed at him that he couldn’t shoot in the sewer; he’d ruin their ears. Tom reluctantly withdrew and trudged forth.

You came upon a capacious, underground crossroads with tunnels going in six directions. Tom began to speak, but your hand on his shoulder silenced him as you listened.

“The police,” said Tom, “are down that one.” He gestured towards the one towards your left.

“Agreed,” you said, placing your chin on the back of your hand; Tom took a deep breath. “But listen: what’s the tinny sound? I’d say it’s chains dragging on the floor, but it’s not sixteenth century Spain.”

“There are so many things I want to say to you right now, but none of them are appropriate for this situation.”

“Tell me later,” you said, “Someone’s gotten to the blockage before we did.” You approached the tunnel, Tom close behind. “Ffffffuck. We won’t see raw evidence.”

Another shout and water rushing—holy shit, more like a fuckin’ deluge—surging your way.

“Oh, my God,” you said, and you grabbed Tom’s hand and ran—which tunnel did you come in? That one, sure. You chose that one.

Tom ran past you, but he came to a halt when you couldn’t keep up. You made the grossest decision of your life to take off your heels and run in the sewers in your bare feet. (“I’m gonna get the plague, and it’s gonna be your fault. I’m gonna get the plague, and hepatitis, and all my organs are gonna fail.”)

Shouts and watery footsteps from behind. An instruction to split up. A gunshot reverberated down your tunnel, the bullet skimming the wall, and you stuck a finger in your ear and twisted to pop it.

You came to a fork in the tunnel and bolted down the left path (“That’s how you get out of a maze,” you said, “you just keep your hand on the left wall.”), and Tom glanced back when you yelped at having stepped in a wet moss. A low pipe struck the back of Tom’s head, and his knees buckled, his hands flying to his scalp.

“No, no, no, it’s okay,” you said, peeking back down the sewer, “Come on. Stand up. We’ll be out soon. Arm around my shoulder. Let’s go.”

Tom put his arm around your waist, and his palm tightened around the spot where it curved into your stomach. Wrenching him upright, you urged him to put as much of his weight as he needed on you, mostly because you were a masochist who wanted to drop dead right there, and if this is the closest to romantic contact you’ll get, you’ll take it.

You came into another open crossroads and let him lean against the sewer wall while you stretched, water trickling in after you, not yet covering your feet but rising.

“Firehoses,” Tom said, his hand flat against the sewer (that had better not be the one he touches you with), “The chain dragging noise. Firehoses. They must be trying to blast out the blockage with water pressure.”

Nodding, you rolled your shoulders backwards. “If you say so. Which is—”

“Don’t say anything,” said Tom, “I hear someone coming.”

From another tunnel approached the manic splash of a runner—panting. Heavy panting. When he entered the crossroad, he doubled over and tried to breathe. Dressed in black. Hiding his face. Gotcha.

His head snapped towards you when you moved towards Tom, who snaked his arm around your waist again for support. He whipped out a gun, and though it’s too dark to make out what type it is, you get the feeling it wasn’t the one fired earlier.

“The fuck are you?” he barks, and it’s natural; it’s not the same person as before, who was very careful to conceal his identity. His gun shook for a second before steadying.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You spoke for him. “You don’t know me?”

“You’re not with the police?”

“Are you with the bomber?”

You heard a click. “What’s it to you?”

“Personal interest.”

“A chick with personal interest. Not police.” He cleared his throat. “What up, Viper?”

You reached towards Tom’s holster and aimed his gun at the grunt before he could protest, but Tom did let out a choked sound: the barrel had grazed the outline of his cock—and you cocked his gun, hand never trembling. “Tell me about my identity thief.”

“You already know everything,” said the grunt, edging backwards and stumbling on sewage, “Precision like Mozart and justice like it’s judgment day. And if I can shoot you now, then the first part of my boss’s justice will be served pretty hot.”

“Justice,” you said, staring for a moment at the sludge between your toes, and you flexed them. “Then you know it’s not justice for me to shoot my hostage right here and now.” You pulled Tom into a chokehold and dug the barrel into his forehead. “You wanna get out of here, huh? Go on, then, before I blast this concussed fireman’s brains out.”

Tom’s hands gripped at your forearm, initially trying to pry you off but falling still. The grunt was hesitating, but his gun was lowering.

“C’mon. Don’t make me come over there.”

He bolted. Your grip on Tom’s neck loosened, and your arms fell to your side. Panting, Tom ran his fingers through his hair, only a suggestion of gel left. He shook his head at you, his eyes wide and jaw dropped.

“You are,” he said between breaths, “the craziest woman I’ve ever come across. And that’s why this is working—mmf!”

He inhaled sharply at your return of his gun to his holster, and you, grinning with a glint of wickedness in your eyes, glanced at his belt, jerked the holster back to its place at his side, and lingered with your fingers in his belt loops (the leather kept his pants fabric a little tighter to his skin than necessary, and you bet if you cared to, you could easily feel around for the v of his hipbones).

You were close, so close, and he couldn’t make himself look anywhere besides into your eyes. “Who’s talking here, Viper or the adrenaline?” he asked under his breath.

You yanked his belt loops to your hips. “Are you saying this doesn’t turn you on?”

“Is scared to death in the realm of turned on?”

“Sometimes,” you said, stepping away. It was the adrenaline talking. You had no idea how your aim was; you don’t shoot the guns, and Tom had been helpless in your arms. Pure luck had never felt so sexy. You shifted your foot on the edge to examine the underside, and grimacing, you said, “We’re getting out of here before I obtain several parasites. How’s your concussion?”

“Unsure if it is,” said Tom, his hand flying to the back of his head, “I wish I could see the bruise when it appears. Still not the best on my feet at the moment.”

“Well, lean on me, then, if you need to.”

***

Warm water bubbled up to your ankles. The foot soaker thing had been commandeered from a secretary in the business side of Osseous, and you were going to stay in it until you burned and scrubbed away the first five layers of skin.

Tom clutched an ice pack to the back of his head, and he hunched over to scroll through his phone on his lap. “I can still order that pizza, you know.”

“Let me have some semblance of professionalism around you, Holland,” you said, writing down the sewer events on your legal pad, “Besides, I have leftover hibachi at home.”

“Please order the pizza; I’m starving,” said Haz, untying his boots and removing them.

“Put a vegetable on it, for the love of God,” Zendaya said without looking up from her phone, “How you eat is abominable.”

“I eat vegetables.”

“Potatoes are a starch,” said Zendaya, “Have you guys been on twitter today?”

“What’s going on?” Tom popped his back and folded both his arms behind his head.

She flicked down her phone with her index finger. “A twitter account for Epiales, that political writer, was created this morning.”

“It’s fake,” you said on reflex.

“How do you know? It’s verified.”

“It can’t be.” You began to stand but sat again. “I’m not getting out of the foot bath. Come over here,” you said, frowning.

Z obliged, and she scrolled through the tweets for you. Shaking your head, you said, “It’s bogus. Total bullshit.”

“How would you know?” Haz asked from the liquor cabinet.

Oh. Um. “Look at how the sentences are structured. Epiales has flawless grammar. I don’t even have to go through all of them; there’s a comma splice in this tweet. Rookie mistake. That’s not something you do once you know it’s wrong. Plus, didn’t Epiales say on his website that anything not on the website, in that law journal, or in the Times wasn’t him?”

“Yeah, he did,” said Tom.

Zendaya pursed her lips. “So, who’s this fuck?”

***

When you got home that evening, you smushed your face in Trout’s belly for as long as she would let you. Simple and soft. She wiggled loose and trotted off to your bed before you felt okay again.

After reheating the hibachi, you settled into bed to write down that day’s plant records so that you could watch Netflix. Trout reacquainted herself with your freshly scalded feet.

Normal stuff. A couple of names you missed—you added those to your notes. A standard run-through, except for the conversation that occurred soon after you left.

You trudged through your own conversations; did your voice really sound like that? Z had departed for the day; you listened to her goodbyes, but Harrison and Tom loitered in his office.

“Something’s gotta be up,” came Harrison’s voice, distant but distinguishable, “Viper’s a little too smart for her own good.”

“She already has Dr. Prine,” said Tom, his voice muffled, like he was pinching his lower lip, “Who’s to say she doesn’t have other connections in high places?”

“What if she’s behind the bombs and kidnapping?”

“No. She wouldn’t want herself out in the public eye.”

Harrison sighed. “But how’s she know where everything is? No one’s that clever.”

“She is.” Tom paused. “The latest Epiales article—the one on the website. It did mention something about the mob.”

Shit. Shit! That had been the one you’d written in Tom’s childhood bedroom, the one where you were desperate to finish and needed something. You’d slipped.

“You think she knows Epiales?”

“I’m thinking the interview wasn’t a coincidence and that there wasn’t a burner phone. She’s got to have a way to contact him.”

“What if she’s feeding him information about us?”

“Epiales hasn’t done much with the information so far, if that’s true,” said Tom.

“Tom,” said Harrison, “She knew that the twitter was fake. Completely convinced. She knows exactly what to say to everyone and can act like a chameleon in any situation, seems like. I like the girl, but how do we find out if she’s a snake in the grass?”

“Well, Haz, you know what you do with snakes,” came Tom’s voice after a beat, “Charm them.”

***

de Futuro: concerning the future; at a future date.

***

taglist: @hollandroos @starksparker @pparkerwrites @qxeen-of-hearts @stealth-spiderr @presidentbttrflyfreak @parsleysbaby @madmadmilk @paradoxparker @gryfinpuffs @bi-writes @astronomyparkers @wheremyotpat @infamous-webhead @laurfangirl424 @softspideys @gendryia @plethoraofpuppies @laucontrerasv @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @spiderboytotherescue

[prorevenge]

Online fraud revenge

This story is about 15 years old, so some of the details may have gotten lost, but it's a good, real pro revenge story. Hope you like it.

​

Back in the day, there was a certain online retailer notorious for allowing, by default, differing shipping and billing addresses. They would also ship merchandise to one address then send the bill to the (different) billing address, no questions asked. Very unethical, but they collected enough from their victims to continue operating, I guess.

One day I find in the mail one of these bills sent to me by my name at my address, for several hundred dollars of exercise equipment of which I had zero previous knowledge. Part of my job at the time was to persuade folks in person or over the phone to give me information and I was reasonably good at it.

It took me three calls to the nefarious retailer before I managed a rapport with one of their employees. I sensed the connection and let myself speak freely and eventually this woman's conscience got the better of her and she conceded that the retailer was knowingly perpetrating these frauds on a massive scale in concert with many scammers who knew the vendor had no qualms about it's evil business practices. She gave me the purchaser's phone number.

I still remember the scumbag's name but won't use it here. I placed my call posing as an employee of the vendor trying to clear up a mixup that was delaying delivery of the items to the purchaser. In an unbelievably fortunate event, buyer's daughter answered the phone. Sounded about 10 -12. Nice kid.

"Sweetie, blah blah blah.....we would love for you to get your shipment but we are having some issues with your shipping address. We are so sorry for the delay....blah blah blah. Can I speak to your daddy?"

Dad isn't home.

"Well, I'd hate for him not to get his stuff. Can you help me out?"

The kid is eating out of my hand by then. I feel a bit bad about deceiving her, but you can't keep your filthy deeds from involving your family, ever, so here we go. I get the name and the address. Google maps (or some other mapping service, as I'm not even sure it was Google maps at that time) shows a pizza joint around the corner, and I stare balefully at the rectangle representing the house.

"One more thing, sweetie. You've been a big help to your Dad. Can you give him a message for me? Tell him it was a nice try. He'll understand. Thank you. Bye."

Place another call to the retailer armed with the order #. Since they don't care about any of this, and the shipping and billing addresses now match, they change the billing name and address just like that. I grill the operator about the changed info and am assured that they will now bill the shippee.

I still have no idea how someone completely unknown to me in upstate New York, got my address on the opposite end of the country. Still, smug for months.

(source) story by (/u/Ddddkkkkllll)

[jojo-at-his-computer]

Of course. I gotta say, this kinda makes me think of the song Pity Party, so I love it.

Josuke X Reader: Happy Birthday To You

It was a lovely morning in Morioh when you woke up, the smell of chocolate chip pancakes and bacon greeting you. You got up, washed your face, put on your favorite outfit, brushed your hair and went downstairs. Your dad was reading the newspaper while your Mom set your place at the table with your special breakfast.

"Happy birthday!" shouted Mom and Dad. You smiled. It was your 16th.

"Thank you guys!" you said sitting down to your meal, instantly drowning your pancakes in syrup and devouring them.

"Imagine that." said Dad in surprise "16! Almost a grown-up." He and Mom smiled proudly.

"Hurry up and eat, then we'll get the decorations put up." You beemed and you finished your breakfast, appetite invigorated.

As you went around the house putting up balloons and streamers in your favorite colors, your mind wandered. Your family had only moved to Morioh a few months ago. You ended up starting highschool in town as a first year, one of many new kids, and you ended up making a few new friends there. Your best friend was Josuke Higashikata, a classmate of yours. He was a pretty nice guy, though if someone were to make fun of his hair, he'd kick their ass. He had a unique pompadour haircut, and while you were a bit nervous to say so, you thought it was cute. You thought HE was cute. Okay just admit it, you were totally crushing on him, hard! You liked everything about him, his hair, his sapphire blue eyes, his smile, and on your first day of school, he saved you from a group of bullies that were trying to shove you into a locker. You've been wanting to confess your feelings to him, but you've been so nervous. You shook your head. Today's not the day to think about mushy stuff like that. Nope! Today's the day for celebration! It's your party and your day to shine!

After putting up the decorations, Mom told you to go ahead and relax in the living room for a few hours until the time that guests would arrive. You played some Mario for a bit, but after falling down and dying for the umpteenth time, you decided it'd be better to watch a few anime videotapes for the time being. But as you went to plug in the VCR, you heard Mom slam the phone in frustration.

"Just great!" shouted Mom. She shook her head and calmed her voice down to not upset you as much. "I'm sorry sweetie, but Grandpa is sick and can't make it, and I just got off the phone with your Aunt. She had an emergency meeting that's running late and had to cancel."

"Oh!" you said a bit surprised. "I'm sorry. That really sucks! I hope Grandpa gets better." You felt bad, but you also knew that your parents would try to get them together again and you all would get to do something special altogether, like a movie or dinner at a restaurant.

"I'll tell Grandpa you said that." said Mom. "It's about time for your friends to start arriving, why not wait in the sunroom to greet them." You glanced at the clock, about 5 til 4 pm, realizing she was right.

"Okay" you answered. You grabbed a copy of Shonen Jump to read as you awaited your friends arrival. 10 minutes, no one yet. That's okay, it's only 5 after 4. 30 minutes went by. Huh that's weird, but they must be running late. 45 minutes now. You start getting a little worried. An hour. You ended up finishing your Shonen Jump magazine. Out of fear and anger, you start pacing the floor in front of the door. Tears start to well up under your eyes. It's 5:15, more than an hour and no one shown up! Without giving it a 2nd thought, you cross to the phone in the kitchen. Mom asked you a question, but you ignored her, all you could think about was knowing why the hell you got stood up at your own party.

You dial Josuke's number at rapid fire speed, hearing the dial tone indicating the phone was ringing. You heard the gentle click as Josuke answered on the other end.

"Moshi moshi, this is Higashikata!" answered Josuke. You couldn't help but feel an odd sense of joy hearing his gentle voice, followed by anger and hurt that he wasn't at your party.

"Where were you!" you said suddenly shouting. Josuke was taken aback.

"(Name) is that you?" asked Josuke. "Where we supposed to hang out or something today? What's wrong?" All of the sudden you couldn't take it anymore and tears burst from you, not being able to hold it in anymore.

"I can't believe you didn't show up for my party!" you shouted "Nobody shown up, the party has been going on since four, and nobody came! Not even Grandpa or my aunt could make it!" you were heaving in-between sobs, shaking before you realized you heard Josuke ask something. You calmed down a bit before you asked him to repeat what he just said.

"Today's your birthday?" he asked.

"Yes of course it's my birthday! I sent you the -" you cut off when it clicked in your brain. You realized what might have happened, why nobody had shown up.

"You didn't get an invitation, did you?" you asked Josuke.

"I don't think so!" answered Josuke, "I wouldn't forget your party if I did."

"Oh my God!" you said feeling weak. "Of course! Something must have happened with the invitations! I'm so sorry. I should have known you'd make it. Well now the party is ruined and it's all my fault."

"Not yet!" answered Josuke. "Don't cancel the party yet. Give me about an hour, I promise."

"Okay." you answered, taking a deep breath. "I believe you, just get here as soon as you can." You hear the dial tone that the line is now dead. You breathed a sigh as you sat on the floor waiting. It was now 5:25. You waited some more. It was 5:55. You called Josuke's house again, but his mom picked up. However she did confirm that Josuke left awhile ago. You said thank you and hung up. At this point Mom looked in the front room where you were waiting.

"I'm sorry honey." she said hugging you. "It's been a couple hours, why don't you join us and we'll cut the cake."

"No mom, I know Josuke for sure is coming." You explained how you found out there was an apparent mailing mishap that prevented the invitations from reaching your friends. Mom shrugged.

"Okay." she said. "But if he doesn't show up before 7, we're cutting the cake without him."

"Deal" you said. You looked at the clock, it was now 6:15, nearly an hour since you spoke to him. Where could he be? Of course! He must be going to get me a present, you reasoned. No sooner you finished your thought, there's a knock at the door.

"Hello", you say as you answered the door. You opened it to find not only Josuke had arrived like he said he would, but he brought some friends with him too. There was Okuyasu and Koichi, two of your friends from school, and two people you didn't recognize, an old man with a white beard and glasses, and a man in his late 20's wearing a white hat that had "JO" on it. Everyone's arms were loaded with giftbags.

"Oh my gosh!" you gushed, "You guys made it! Josuke thank you for bringing everyone here." you said giving him a hug. "C'mon in guys." you motioned for everyone to come inside.

"Sorry we're late," said Josuke, "I called Koichi and Okuyasu, along with my, er, relatives, this is Joseph Joestar and Jotaro Kujo by the way." he said motioning to the old man and the man in white respectively. You remembered Josuke saying he had family members in town recently.

"Hello there," said Mr. Joestar.

"Hello," said Jotaro with a small smile.

"Nice to meet you. Thank you both for coming." you replied.

"We realized that we didn't have any presents." said Koichi.

"And we weren't sure what to get you." admitted Okuyasu.

"Yeah," said Josuke a bit embarrassed. "We kinda panicked and went to different stores. Sorry we didn't have time to wrap anything."

"That's okay!" you laughed. "You didn't have to get me all these presents. I'm happy to have you guys present! (God that's such a terrible pun lol) I'm so glad everyone's here." You led everyone to the kitchen, having the guests put their gifts on one of the tables. There was a whole table with pizzas and potato chips and soda pops, you told the guests to help themselves. You made conversation with your friends and Josuke's relatives as you enjoyed your pizza. Jotaro talked about his marine biology work he's been doing in town. Later you opened presents from your friends. After that, your parents brought out the cake, frosted with pastel buttercream and had 16 candles all aglow. Everyone sang Happy Birthday as you blew the candles, making your wish.

Shortly after the cake and ice cream, the guests started to leave. You said goodbye and thanked everyone for coming. Josuke decided to hang around a little bit before going home. The sun had set and it was nighttime. You and Josuke decided to sit in the backyard and look at the stars.

"I'm so sorry I yelled at you earlier," you said a bit embarrassed.

"Hey, don't worry about it." said Josuke. "I'm sorry I forgot your birthday. I probably should have called earlier, but I forgot, I've just had a lot on my mind lately." You nodded understandably. You couldn't exactly put your finger on it, but a lot of weird stuff was happening lately in town.

"Anyways," said Josuke, pulling out something from his jacket pocket, "I kinda lied. I had something special I've been wanting to give you. I got this awhile ago." It was a small rectangle shaped box. You opened it and inside was a gold medallion necklace with two gold charms, a heart and a peace sign, just like the gold pins he wears on his uniform.

"Oh my, this is beautiful!" you exclaimed. "I love it. Thank you!"

"I'm glad you love it!" said Josuke blushing a little. You sighed. Guess the time is now to tell him.

"So, I've been wanting to tell you for awhile. I've had a crush on you since I started school here. I think you're cute, I love your hair, and I ended up making friends here thanks to you, and I want to be more than friends, but I was so nervous to tell you because I'm afraid you wouldn't like me that way and then things would be awkward and - "

You were interrupted when Josuke suddenly gave you a quick kiss. Both of you blushed a bright red.

"I'm sorry." said Josuke blushing a bit. "I've been wanting to tell you too. That's why I got you the medallion."

"Thank you so much." you say happily. "Now that we're together, you want to see a movie or something this weekend?"

"That sounds great!" says Josuke. You put on the madallion necklace, smiling at Josuke.

"You look beautiful!" said Josuke smiling. You happened to look at your watch, it was about a quarter to 10.

"Oh crap! It's late! You got to get home!" you said in surprise.

"Oh God you're right!" said Josuke looking at the time. "Meet you at the movies this weekend?"

"Of course." you answered. You gave him a kiss goodbye and walked him to the front door. You waved goodbye as he left, then went to help Mom clean up and put away the party decorations. While it had a rocky start, it turned out to be an amazing party. You thought about the wish you made when you blew out the candles, it had come true. You wished to kiss Josuke.

[shayanyaan]

Two Eleven Super

“London is very human-scale,” I am quick to pitch for one of my favorite cities in the world. 

Her eyes widen and her face lights up. She nods her head vigorously and points her finger at me, in complete agreement. This is the moment in a conversation when one person articulates perfectly what the other person was thinking but couldn’t quite put into words. B and I have been explaining to each other how both of us are more comfortable living in cities where we can walk or take public transport.

“Oh gosh London, yes! Seeing a London trip on my schedule always fills me with immense warmth. Imagine being able to walk around a city slowly absorbing all that it has to offer, the sights, the sounds, the traditions.”

They say never meet your celebrity heroes because you’ll inevitably find something disappointing. I think the same applies to some of the great cities of the world. But both of us conclude hands down that London does not fall in this category. 

“Actually London is not even a celebrity. London is a reliable old friend. A friend that has not lost their sense of culture and tradition. The monuments, the churches ...”

“.....and the bridges across the Thames - each one steeped in history.” We are finishing each other's sentences now. “The railway stations. The tube - a subterranean metropolis beneath a metropolis. The Mind the Gap jokes.” 

“And what about the black cabs and then … and then the red double decker buses. Oh the red buses - what an icon! They say tourists take the tube but real Londoners take the bus.”

“Aha! You’re probably right. Flocks of pigeons on Trafalgar square, the shops on Oxford Street.”

“And you can’t forget the ever present murky skies, steady rain, rippled puddles, umbrella bearing pedestrians.”

“Of course you just had to mention the Great British weather!” A disapproving look is thrown. The entire body of humor surrounding the British weather is a road we agree not to go down. 

---

I continue to quiz B on some of the other cities that she thought would fit the human-scale bill. New York inevitably comes up as a place she has not only travelled to but lived in. I am glad she brought up New York. Now New York is not an old friend. New York is a person you know you shouldn’t fall for, but you do anyway. There is something about the pace and the madness that sets New York apart from the rest of the US. Something about the people, coming from all corners of the world. To make a living, or even half a living. American dream and all that. 

In New York you are acutely aware of the class divide that exists in society. New York is dirty. The subway is full of creaking old trains. New York has JFK and LaGuardia both of which are dismal at best and soul destroying at worst. Oh and Penn Station. Never has there been a more classic case of the mighty having fallen. A complete and utter hell hole out of some post apocalyptic world. 

But somehow it all works. Barely. And that is where New York absolutely has you. As you walk around the city, you peel back the layers and beneath all the flaws and scars, you will find a genuinely captivating person. A person that knows how to push your buttons and make you forget the pandemonium, if only for a split second. Through the dollar pizzas on the street corners. Through the sheer magic of Central Park and the museums. Through the Manhattan skyline; hands down the best skyline in the world. Standing next to the Hudson, under the Brooklyn Bridge, with Lady Liberty keeping a quiet watch from a distance, you will be powerless as New York sucks you in. One glittering high rise at a time. Dreamy eyed, you cannot help but stare in wonderment. Hundreds of floors, thousands of windows. What goes on inside? And the lights! Yes so many lights. What could be a better tribute to Tesla, Faraday and the like?

“In general, the east coast of the United States is on a much more human-scale. Relatively small states with trains taking you across borders within a couple of hours at the most.”

“Going west of maybe Illinois, they started drawing great big rectangles for states.”

“And then there’s Texas. Vast open skies in an almost revolting shade of blue. Just as vast are the expanses of highway, further than the eye could see, or care to see. Wide, long and monotonous. Not a single human-scale building in sight”

“And who the hell builds highways passing through the center of a city!? Makes going to get some milk feel like a great expedition to the other side of the world.”

More chuckles. 

Then a brief silence, during which I am suddenly reminded of where I am - in a lounge on the upper deck of an A380. A massive ship hurtling through the ether, pushing the speed of sound. A big TV screen near where I am standing silently glares back at me indicating that -50 degrees is but a mere 10 meters from where I am standing. Yet here we are, B and I, chatting like two friends catching up over coffee. 

But of course, we are not friends. Not even acquaintances. She is on the Emirates cabin crew. And I am just a passenger. 

---

Back at my seat, halfway through an episode of Chernobyl, I pause to stare out of the window. Beyond the wing, which seems to stretch out to eternity, a smudge of orange is forcing its way through the royal blue of the sky. I can hear the muffled yet reassuring boom from the four Rolls Royce engines. It is then that I realize that there is nothing about the A380 that is human-scale. There is nothing about the skies which she inhabits that is human-scale. I've travelled on the beloved Super dozens of times. Yet I continue to be amazed at the size and scale with which she operates. Devouring continents and swallowing oceans. Bringing the other side of the world just a little closer to home. 

A friend of mine often describes journeys on the A380 as the closest we can get to the long sea voyages on gigantic ocean liners in the 1930s. And he is right. Two decks with so much space to stretch out. Bars, lounges, showers - no expense spared in ensuring luxury. Imagine peering out of the window from your first class cabin on the Queen Mary and seeing nothing but vast open sea. Right now I am doing exactly the same. Only from 36000 feet above the Earth, and all I can see is the vast open sky. Far below, Moscow and St Petersburg slip behind us. Scandinavia and the Atlantic Ocean lie ahead. As we burn more fuel, over North America, we will eventually settle in the exclusive airspace of flight level 410. 

The Boeing 747 is a work of art. Sheer poetry. The Airbus A380 however, is a lesson in outsmarting the laws of Physics. It is an absolute whale of a plane that looks like it should never leave the surface of the Earth in the first place. But somehow it does, through the most languid and sluggish of take offs.  Once up at cruising altitude though, it is steady ship all the way to your destination. The ability to punch through the sky without even the faintest of trembles is simply unmatched. I continue to stare wistfully out of the window, thinking about how much I’ll miss the A380 when she’s gone. She’s right up there with the Concorde in that nothing like this will ever be built in my lifetime.  

---

Resting my head on one of the fluffiest pillows ever to have taken flight, I gaze at the roof of the cabin - tiny twinkling stars gently coaxing me to drift off into a deep sleep. And frankly, it is not hard to. The bed is completely flat and the mattress is more comfortable than the one I have at home. The blanket is ever so soft. The fake gold and wood around the windows is not something I’d furnish my home with, yet up here in the sky, it somehow adds to the coziness. From my own little cocoon, I can see neither the aisle nor other TV screens. Not a single window shade in the cabin is raised. I don’t remember the last time I fell asleep on a plane without an eye mask.  All I can hear are the engines whirling away, and the hushed sound of the air beating against the fuselage - no more than a relaxing white noise. 

In the moments between lying down and falling asleep, I am thinking about the countless journeys I’ve made with Emirates over the last two decades. Leaving home as often as I’ve had to, I’ve come to really treasure the sense of familiarity that an Emirates flight brings to me. I’ve never stopped to think about it before but there is a certain warmth and tenderness you feel when you have an old faithful travel companion to share your journeys with. And Emirates has been that companion for me, helping me wipe away the homesickness. Slowly at first, then all at once. The boarding music that says “Hello Tomorrow”. The inflight announcements that say “Tayaran Al Emarat”. The reassuring voice of Sir Tim Clark answering questions on the default podcast channel. The wavy curves on the cabin wallpaper. The cabin crew with their brown blazers and their red hats.  When choosing an airline to fly, it is hard to look past this comfort of familiarity resulting from a bond first formed unwittingly, many years ago. And strengthened over numerous journeys from one side of the planet to the other, including this one. Before I can process any more thoughts, I slip into a happy and peaceful sleep. We are probably somewhere over the North Atlantic. But in this moment, it hardly matters. 

---

Six hours have passed. B is on hand to wake me for dinner. It seems the crew has saved the best meal till the very end. Three courses this evening, starting with a chick-pea salad that doesn’t make you hate your life with its dreariness. I politely refuse the alcohol but ask for a piece of garlic bread on the side. Which is brought to me, warm, from a basket lined with cloth. The main course is served with the Jeera rice cooked in just the right amount of butter. The ratio of jeera to rice - perfect. The Rajma has the power to rival any dhaba in North India and along with it is a second curry made with melt-in-your-mouth soft paneer. Actual phulkas to go on the side, instead of pita. 

And if you're going to go full North Indian with your meal, you need some achaar. Which obviously is on my tray as well. Emirates just knows how to serve Indian food. If I had any doubts about this, they are well and truly shattered when B brings the dessert. Four of the finest pieces of Rasgulla. Sometimes you have a meal so sublime that you are moved to shedding a tear or two. This AVML has been one such. 

I call B over one last time to thank her for everything. She passes me a brownie, one very similar to those I’d been wolfing down earlier while talking to her in the lounge. This of course, brings the widest of smiles to my face. Not because I like brownies. But most certainly because of the fact that she had noticed. And remembered. The crew has been absolutely stellar on this flight. 

---

Business class. A crew that knows how to pronounce your ridiculously long last name. A crew that has time to engage in conversations with you. Meals served on crisp white table cloths. Meals that come in courses. Flat beds to stretch your legs. Flat beds to rest your weary soul. On a grueling ultra long haul flight across 10 time zones, almost anything that seeks to make you feel more earthly is highly appreciated. 

This has been Emirates Two Eleven Super - Dubai to Houston in just under seventeen hours, albeit the best seventeen hours of my life. 

[overanalyzingelswordiswhatido]

A Terrible Babysitter Chapter 6

“Elesis, what are you doing?” Add asked. He set down the grocery bag with the replacement energy drinks and another bag of chocolate on the table. He crossed the room to stand next to her, Elsword and Ara.

Elesis beamed up at him, “I’m teaching Ara how to punch people!”

“Properly!” Elsword added excitedly.

Add stared at them blankly for a moment. Finally he just sighed, “Just… No.”

“Just know? What am I supposed to just know?” Elesis cocked her head to the side in bewilderment.

Add rubbed his temples. He shook his head, “Whatever. Have fun. Don’t kill anyone.” Before he took a single step a clang rang through the house. Screams erupted from the kitchen followed almost immediately by the smoke alarms’ incessant screeching. When he arrived at the archway into the kitchen, he saw Rena extinguishing a fire. Lu cackled nearby while Chung and Ciel both watched Rena with wide anxious eyes.

“What happened?!” Add demanded. The oven door hung open and a scorched husk was stuck to a cookie sheet lying on the floor.

“We tried to heat up the pizza but it caught fire instead,” Chung explained quietly.

Add pulled up a screen and used Dynamo to shut off the smoke alarms. He stalked into the kitchen and closed the oven door. The oven was set to 450 degrees when he turned it off.

“We put it out…” Rena pointed out anxiously.

“Why couldn’t you just eat the pizza cold?” Add demanded. He picked up the cookie sheet, ignoring the burning sensation that ripped through his hand to the best of his ability, and tossed it onto the back of the stove. A black rectangle shaped scorch mark marred the linoleum floor.

“It’s pizza,” Rena commented neutrally. “It’s not supposed to be cold.”

“It’s a fucking lunchable,” Add countered. “Those don’t go in the oven, certainly not at 450 degrees.” He shook out his hand and noted to himself he needed to deal with that later.

“But the cheese won’t be melted,” Lu argued.

“Melted cheese doesn’t make it pizza,” Add snapped. “Just eat it cold next time.”

“Sorry,” Chung looked down, clearly ashamed.

Rena and Ciel nodded and Rena repeated Chung’s apology. “The big pizzas in the freezer cook at 450 so we just thought it would work for the little ones too…” the elf explained.

Well now there’s a scorch mark on the floor. Add pressed his lips together. Lu still glared at him defiantly and he didn’t feel like arguing with her. He sighed and tried to sound calm, “Eat it cold next time. It’s not the end of the world.”

It didn’t take long for Add to notice that after everything with the oven all of the kids were oddly quiet and well behaved. Ara sat at the table, using the book she bought the day before to try and fold something other than a paper crane. Over time the others joined her, asking about it.

“I can teach you!” Ara offered excitedly, “And we can all learn to fold stuff together!”

“Ooo okay!” Lu grinned.

Eve looked at Add, “We don’t have enough spare paper for that.”

Add reluctantly got up, “I can go get some then.”

“Can I come?!” Ciel asked. He leaped to his feet, “I promise I’ll be good!”

Add hesitated, waiting for the others to demand to go. Surprisingly, only Chung voiced as much. With a sigh, Add agreed, “Fine. You two can come along.”

“You guys should get cookies!” Lu suggested immediately.

“And juice!” Rena added.

“Paper, juice, and cookies.” Add ran his hands down his face, trying to ignore the exhaustion dragging at his limbs.

“And food for Snowball and Sunshine,” Rose added. “We’re running low on tuna since the, uh… science experiment. That you got mad at us for.”

Add frowned. Of course he got mad at them for that. Mixing every food in the house wasn’t a science experiment. It was just a waste of food. He didn’t have enough energy to get worked up over that again though. “Right. Tuna, paper, cookies, juice.” With a glance at Chung and Ciel to make sure they were ready to go he walked out to the store.

Chung hurried after Add and grabbed his hand while Ciel half skipped on his other side.

“Why kind of juice should we get?” Chung asked.

“We probably should’ve asked before we left…” Ciel pointed out.

“Well we’ve already left so we’ll just have to figure it out,” Add reasoned. He was not going back to the house only to have to deal with them fighting over which juice they wanted.

“Oh no. We don’t know what kind of cookies to get either!”

“We’ll just get one container of each kind of cookie and call it a good day,” Add assured Chung. If there weren’t so many different kinds of juice they could do the same with that. He sighed, “What’s your guys’ favorite juices?”

“I like apple juice a lot,” Chung answered almost immediately.

Ciel took a moment to think before he gave his answer, “I like fruit punch.”

“And orange juice!” Chung added.

Ciel nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah! Orange juice!”

“So… we’ll just get orange juice, apple juice, and fruit punch,” Add decided. If any of the others didn’t like it they would have to deal. They didn’t come along with him to the store, so they didn’t get to choose. He grabbed an energy drink as they were finishing up.

“Can I carry the paper?” Ciel asked.

“Sure,” Add answered. He held the bag out to the half demon, “It’s kinda heavy.”

“I’ll carry the tuna!” Chung offered. He grabbed the bag holding the cans and held on to it with both hands.

Add glanced at him. He shrugged, “If those get to heavy for either of you, you can put it on Dynamo.” He put the other bags on Dynamo but carried his drink so he could pop it open the moment they left they store.

When they got back, Elesis, Raven, Rose and Elsword were in the process of moving the furniture around to make room for them to all sit in a circle in the middle of the room. Ara stood beaming in the corner with her origami book held close to her chest. Aisha stood next to her, nose deep in her own book. Lu sat on Eve’s shoulders while the nasod split the snacks that were still in the house evenly so Ain and Rena could set them up in a circle.

“You’re back!” Lu noticed them first.

“Bring the cookies here,” Eve ordered.

Ciel set the paper down where he stood to grab the cookies. He hurried across the room and set them down in front of her.

“Give me the tuna and take Eve the juice,” Add told Chung, holding out his hand.

Chung grunted as he lifted the bag full of cans up to Add’s hand. Once he was free of them he took the juice to Eve, mimicking Ciel’s enthusiasm.

Add took the tuna into the kitchen and set the bag on the counter. At the sound, Snowball, the more social of the two cats, sprinted into the kitchen and leaped to the counter. She skidded along it, straight into the sink. Her back paws landed in a bowl half full of water and she leaped back on the counter, shaking out her wet paws in disgust.

Add chuckled and petted her before grabbing a plate for her to eat off of. That was when Sunshine, a golden cat with sleek short fur, trotted calmly into the kitchen. She leaped onto the counter and sat on the edge, much more dignified than the other cat. He grabbed her a plate as well and served the cats their dinner. After feeding them, he sat down at the table and stared into space, trying hard not to doze off.

“It’s dinnertime now!” Elesis’s voice jerked him out of his thoughts.

Add jumped and looked at her. He sighed, “Okay, so get something to eat. There’s plenty of stuff.”

“You aren’t gonna make something?!” Elesis whined.

Add shook his head, “No.”

“Not even something simple?”

“No.”

“But I want to help you make dinner!”

“You always want to help make dinner but I’m not cooking.” Add motioned to the kitchen, “There’s lunchables and cereal and other simple stuff like that you can get yourselves.”

Elesis was undoubtedly upset with him again. She kept shooting glares and muttering mutinous comments. Halfway through finishing her dinner, she spoke loudly enough he could hear, “Lunchables don’t count as dinner.”

Add shrugged, “They do in this house.”

“They aren’t even real food,” Rena complained.

Add looked at her silently for a moment. He waved his hand dismissively, “There should be carrots or something in the fridge if you would prefer.”

“Ew,” Rena shook her head adamantly, “Carrots are disgusting!”

Add almost laughed. Who knew Rena didn’t like carrots? As an adult she seemed fond enough of using them as ingredients. “Then stop complaining and eat your lunchable.”

After dinner Add stared at the sink full of dishes. He glanced at the dishwasher and debated leaving the dishes for another day. Then again, just earlier that day, he caught Snowball drinking week old water from one of the bowls in the sink instead of her perfectly clean water bowl. He really needed to clean the dishes before the dumbass cat managed to poison herself. Grumbling and complaining under his breath, he opened the dishwasher. He glanced around the kitchen. His eyes narrowed and he muttered, “I don’t even know where anything fucking goes in this stupid place.” With a shrug he reasoned he could just estimate and Rena or Ciel would fix it when they got back to normal.

When Add was done he sat on the couch and pulled one of his knees up to his chest. He watched the kids fight with the paper shapes they were trying to make until his exhaustion overtook him and everything faded away.

[yesicanbakethat-blog]

A journey of many bakes begins with one cell

Yeast. 

We all have baking fears, right? I seem to recall my mother warning me off souffle at a very young age, but I imagine that it’s a special kind of baking wimp who fears yeast. Yet here I am, tears welling up in my eyes at the thought of how many of these unicellular organisms I have sacrificed to the baking gods over the years. I just can’t seem to get it right. 

This brings me to the cookbook which must not be named, which I have decided I will bake my way through in its entirety, in order, and chronicle for posterity on this blog. 

Did I mention that the aforementioned book begins with 18 yeast bread recipes? Well, it does. 

Let’s get to it, then, shall we? 

Recipe 1: White Sandwich Bread a la 1984

This is not the true title of the recipe, but it should be. And this recipe, which has only 6 ingredients and is a mere DEFCON 6 on the “Cleanup Effort Scale” was a good jumping off point for yeast-phobic me! For starters, I did not feel that I needed two loaves of white bread at one time, so I cut the recipe. *Cue extra agonizing about yeast/sugar/water proportions. 

As I painstakingly measured out those several thousand sweet, innocent cells, who wanted nothing more than to excrete a little CO2 and some alcohol byproducts, I threw up some extra hopeful vibes in the direction of my baking Patron Saint... and guess what, guys? I didn’t kill the yeast! 

(This is the part where I threw up my vibes...)

Oh. My. Gosh. Guys. Something is happening. Is that- dare I suggest it- the condensation from the warm, sweet exhalations of my little yeast pals? Drunk on white sugar slurry, they sigh, ahhhhh. 

Oh shit. This is one loaf? 

OK. I guess this could be one loaf. It seemed almost a sin to deflate it after using all those vibes getting it to rise in the first place, but who am I to argue with instructions from the Cookbook that must not be Named? 

I continue to panic during the second rise. Did I squish the yeast too hard during the part where I pushed the dough into a rectangle? Would the little dudes and dudettes have preferred if I used a rolling pin instead? Did I mess up the seam at the bottom? (Natch, of course I screwed that up, because as anyone who has ever tried to reattach pizza dough to itself can tell you, it ain’t happening.) But I digress. Let the second rise continue...

Oh my gosh, guys! It’s happening again! And here is my little friend in the oven, since I got so excited that I forgot to take a picture after the second hour of rising: 

40 minutes later (recipe said 35 minutes and then stick the bottom with a thermometer to check if it’s 200 degrees internally, but forget that! Is this a thing we do? Either poke a ghastly hole in the top of your perfect loaf, or what- take it out of the loaf pan and poke the bottom- and then what?! If it says 180, put it back into the pan?! No, gracias)... 

Yes, I can bake that.