#Jelly fish pi

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Ok having a Great Time together in Christmas 🎄🥰🥰🥰

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Napoleonville [Chapter 8: The New House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, infidelity, kids, parenthood, historical topics like violence and discrimination, Cakes with Christabel, angst?? Who am I kidding. Angst!!!!!!

Word Count: 5.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @gemini-mama @daenysx @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @targaryenbarbie @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbelll @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon @wickedfrsgrl

Only 2 chapters left!!! 🥰🧁

“I have no idea what he’s thinking,” Christabel tells Alicent, a low furtive murmur around nibbles of a cinnamon French toast cupcake. They are both sitting at the kitchen counter as you scuttle around wiping down burners and handles and knobs, trying not to listen in, unable to help yourself. At the table, Amir is frosting a Lady Baltimore cake and chatting with Criston, who has eaten no less than three miniature cherry pies in the past fifteen minutes. Amir keeps casting you wide-eyed, flummoxed glances. He means: Can you believe these people? No, you can’t.

Alicent sips the glass of sweet tea you poured for her and gazes vaguely around the room. “Oh, you know how Aemond is, dear. He works so hard. He’s so consumed by the Lake Verret project.”

“But shouldn’t he talk to me?” Christabel’s large blue eyes are luminous, persistent.

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling. Of course he talks to you.”

“Sure,” Christabel says, frowning. “He talks to me about the weather and the garden and the koi in the fish pond. He asks if I listen to Dire Straights or AC/DC. Nothing of consequence, nothing revealing. And he never touches me. Alright, fine, there’s a hand on my shoulder or my waist once in a while, for a moment. There are quick, courteous kisses. But that’s all. And he’s so…so…” She struggles to decide on a word. “Formal!”

“Have you tried the cannoli cupcake yet?” Alicent asks, sliding the plate towards Christabel. “It’s just divine. I absolutely adore it.”

“When we’re apart he says he misses me, but he hardly ever calls. He tells me that he loves me, but only if I say it first.”

“He’s marrying you!” Alicent declares as she restlessly twists her assortment of glittering rings, gold and diamonds and emeralds. “What more is there to say, dear?”

“Surely there must be something,” Christabel mumbles. She obediently samples the cannoli cupcake, carving away a tiny sliver with her fork. “Oh, that is wonderful, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s my favorite one yet.”

They have twelve flavors to choose from, some familiar and some new: vanilla bean and triple chocolate of course, the classics, and then also cannoli, cinnamon French toast, carrot, red velvet, Boston cream pie, apple cobbler, peanut butter and grape jelly, Neapolitan, Louisiana crunch, and hummingbird. Christabel surveys the selection and then looks to where you are vigorously scrubbing an already clean stovetop. “Aemond mentioned something about banana bread cupcakes. Do you have one of those we could try?”

And again, you are amazed by how much he remembers: the very first cupcake from the very first night. “Um…I’m not sure, actually. Amir, didn’t we make a batch earlier this week? Are there any still on the table?”

Amir checks the cake plates, lifting glass covers, until he locates a single remaining banana bread cupcake for your customers. He ferries it to the kitchen counter with great ceremony. “Everyone raves about this flavor! And it’s so quintessentially southern. Perfect for a Louisiana wedding.” You give him a miserable, deadened stare and he offers a millisecond smirk of commiseration. What else can we do? Amir means. And you think: Nothing.

Christabel samples the cupcake, an infinitesimal morsel speared on the very tip of her fork. You recall how Aemond tasted like sugar and honey and cinnamon when he kissed you on the night you met, rough, dominating, irresistible, without the aching weight of disappointments or betrayals. If time was a cobweb you could rip and walk through, you’d be back in that May dusk in an instant, you’d live there forever and never leave.

“That’s it.” Christabel grins as she licks cream cheese frosting from her full, pink lips. “This one. I want a banana bread cake.”

“Mmm,” Alicent agrees, taking a bite. “It has so many dimensions! Sweet with just a touch of salt, light and fluffy but with a certain substantial, rustic quality, don’t you think? It’s the cinnamon, perhaps.”

You make a note on your yellow legal pad—a reminder you don’t need—so you can avoid Christabel’s benign, guileless gaze. “Is there a design you’d like for the frosting?”

“Wildflowers.”

Amir emits a startled gasp before he can swallow it back down. You look up at Christabel. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Just like the vanilla bean cake you made for the engagement party.” She draws blossoms in the air with her fingers, whimsical like a fairytale. “There was white icing and then all these gorgeous flowers in a dozen different colors. You could do that for a wedding cake, couldn’t you?”

“Of course.” And then you amend: “Well, Amir can. He’s our Picasso.”

“You’ll need something for the rehearsal dinner too, dear,” Alicent tells Christabel. Then she turns to you, tugging anxiously at one of her auburn ringlets. “You’re the expert, love. What would you recommend to impress upon our guests all the history and mystique of the Deep South?”

Your mind is blank, your thoughts gnarled up with visions of Christabel meeting Aemond at the end of an aisle. Amir sees this and he saves you.

“A Napoleon cake,” he announces with his best salesman enthusiasm, powerful enough to sweep everyone else along with him.

Alicent claps her hands, elated. “Oh, just like the town!”

“It has layers of puff pastry and rich custard cream, very French, very elegant and sophisticated, but also a nod to Napoleonville. And we can add a cherry jam to make it more romantic, if you like.”

“Doesn’t that just sound heavenly, darling?”

“Does Aemond like cherries?” Christabel asks Alicent. You know he does, but you don’t say anything.

“I think so. We’ll ask him tonight to be sure.” Alicent is opening her clutch purse to get the cash to pay you; she is eager to have this errand finished, you believe. “And can you put wildflowers on top of the Napoleon cake as well?”

“You can have the Declaration of Independence written on it if that is your heart’s desire,” Amir says, then steals a glimpse of you. You’re jotting the order down and then tracing over your own letters again and again.

“That’s the color scheme,” Christabel says a bit dreamily, forever woolgathering. “Wildflowers. And I think you suggested it at the engagement party,” she tells you, appreciative. In your recollection, it was less of a suggestion than a confession of what you once dared to hope for. “Everything has to have wildflowers. Even the dress.”

Alicent groans. “Oh, Christabel, not this again.”

“I don’t know why you’re being so resistant, those dresses were spectacular.”

“Whoever heard of a multicolored wedding dress?” Alicent asks you, Amir, Criston. “It’s absurd. The bride always wears pure white, everyone knows that. It’s tradition! It’s dignified!”

“Well now I get to solicit opinions too.” Christabel reaches into her own purse—a quilted shoulder bag, light blue with red roses and a label reading Souleiado stitched inside—and produces several polaroid photographs. She gives them to you; they are all of her posing in different wedding dresses, stylish white gowns freckled with wildflowers like splashes of paint. “All anyone can talk about is what I should wear, what the guests will expect, what they will chatter about when they gossip afterwards,” Christabel tells you. And in her vast, shimmering eyes you can detect no resentment or slyness, only quiet desperation. “But you’re a real person. So be honest with me, because there’s only one thing I really care about. Will my husband think I look ravishing in any of them?”

“These theatrics,” Alicent sighs to herself, lighting a Marlboro cigarette. Again, she is peering aimlessly around the kitchen. Amir fidgets with the dogwood flower in his hair as he watches you wearily. Criston compulsively eats another miniature cherry pie.

You study the polaroid photos. Each one feels like a split lip, a fractured rib, the shredding elephantine pressure of a contraction. You wait to speak until you’re sure your voice won’t break. “They’re all stunning. But this one…” You place one picture on top of the pile. “This dress was made for you. Just look at your face. Glowing like a lightning bug.”

“Thank you,” Christabel says, beaming, immensely grateful, and she takes the photos back. She seems pacified. “You’re married, aren’t you?”

“I was, yes. Briefly. Not very happily, I must admit. But it was worth it to get my daughter.”

She smiles. There’s no uneasiness; she doesn’t shy away from displays of human frailty. “I’d like a few daughters one day. We could all dress up together and style each other’s hair.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. If I tried that, I’d get my hands chewed off.”

Christabel laughs. She wears a casual blue t-shirt, blue gingham capri trousers, and white flat pumps. Her eyeshadow is a sparkling gold, her mascara flaking onto the apples of her cheeks. She is still marveling at you with those aquamarine eyes when Alicent pulls a list out of her clutch and grudgingly crosses off items with a black ballpoint pen.

“So we’ve got a wedding cake, a rehearsal dinner cake, a dress, a venue, flowers, photographers…I still need to call about hair and makeup…and we need to pick out candles…”

“Where are you getting married?” you ask Christabel.

“The most unique, picturesque, atmospheric place in the entire state of Louisiana, I’m sure of it.”

“We took a drive to visit that church you mentioned,” Alicent says to you. “And it was absolutely perfect. None of our guest will have ever seen anything like it. And it’s so historic! Over 150 years old! The Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens.”

Amir squeals, a distressed mewing that he stifles with a feigned cough into his elbow. You stand shellshocked for a few seconds before managing a generic encouragement: “Really! Wow! Amazing! Great!”

Now Christabel is rather melancholy again. She scrutinizes her engagement ring, a large teardrop emerald with a gold band. Her voice is low, like she’s talking to herself. “I just wish…I don’t know. That we had more time together before the wedding, I suppose. Then I think I’d feel like I had more of a handle on things. It’s all been such a whirlwind, such a shock. A good shock, but still. We hardly know each other.”

Alicent prompts her: “You care for Aemond, don’t you, dear?”

“I’m in awe of him,” Christabel replies, a little dazed, a little defenseless. “He’s so clever and gallant. He’s the most inspiring man I’ve ever known. And the scar…it gives him quite a roguish look, doesn’t it? Like a Bond villain. It’s not a detriment in the least.”

“Yes, yes,” Alicent says impatiently, like she’s waiting for the conversation to be over. “Then there’s nothing more to worry about. You care for him, he cares for you, and you’ll have the honeymoon to get better acquainted. Criston, would you go outside and start the Lexus, please?” He dutifully departs.

Honeymoon. Your stomach lurches, the sea in a storm. You can see Aemond’s hands on Christabel’s face, in her hair, skating up her bare thighs. You can hear him moaning her name.

“We’re going to Greece,” Christabel informs you, thinking she’s being polite. “Athens, Mykonos, Santorini, and Corfu. Have you ever been?”

I’ve never been anywhere. But instead you say, forcing a smile: “Not yet.”

When Christabel, Alicent, and Criston have gone, you look to Amir. Your blood has turned to cement: cold, heavy, immobile, trapped. “You realize she’s getting my wedding, right? The one I always wanted. The wildflowers. The candles. The chapel.”

“And she’ll even be taking your favorite dick home at the end of the night.”

You cover your face with both hands and shake your head, trying to clear it, to drive out mirages of someone else’s oasis. This can’t be real. I can’t handle it, I can’t survive it.

Amir pushes his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose and says, gently now: “If we’re catering dessert, we’ll have to go to the wedding. The rehearsal dinner too.”

“Why would they want that? How can they not see how insanely awkward and wrong this is?”

He shrugs. “They probably think it’s normal. Wasn’t Camilla at Charles and Diana’s wedding?”

“If one more person tries to talk to me about Camilla Parker Bowles, I’m going to feed myself to the gator.”

“You’ll have to come to terms with it or you’ll have to end it. Those are the only options.”

“Yeah.” And it’s not just about me. It’s Cadi’s life too.

Amir sits down at the kitchen table, crosses one leg over the other, kicks his foot nervously. He rests an elbow on the tabletop and his chin on the knuckles of his left hand. “I hate to give you more bad news.”

You already know what he’s going to say. You’ve been dreading it for months. “You have enough money saved for San Franscisco.”

“I do.”

You exhale, your shoulders collapsing, tapping your fingertips against the counter. The air conditioner whirrs; the cicadas shriek in the trees outside. The house is hushed and still. Cadi is away at horse camp. Each day you receive a postcard in the mail that you assume the employees forced her to write at gunpoint. “When are you leaving?”

“The end of July. I’ll wait until after the wedding, once all the dust has settled. But I can’t wait any longer than that.”

“I want you to be happy,” you say. “I really do. But I’m going to miss you so much. You’ve been my best friend for a decade. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a partner in life.”

Amir smiles faintly. “Come over here.”

When you sit beside him, he takes your hands in his; and you remember how he visited you in the hospital after Cadi was born, carrying a bouquet of wildflowers he picked himself and a Tupperware container full of crawfish pistolettes. He had been just a casual friend before you found out you were pregnant, one of a group, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t keep him at an arm’s length. Amir was different, and not in a way that you fully understood or accepted yet. But he was the only friend who had no judgment for you when you told him you were pregnant, who cared about how you felt, who wanted to be a part of whatever would happen next. He was the only one who stayed.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” Amir tells you. “I’ve never even been on a date, not once. I’ve never been in love. I’ve never had sex that wasn’t a one night stand in a New Orleans club or the back seat of my Ford Escort because those were the only places we had to go. And I’m starting to believe that people like me can’t have more than that. So I have to go someplace where I can have more, where I will have more. I don’t want love to be something that only other people get to experience. I don’t want to be afraid of leaving my house after dark or wake up every day wondering if someone has broken a window out of my car again. I have to go. There’s no future for me here. If I stay in Napoleonville, this place will kill me, one way or the other.”

Okay, you think. I can let him go. After everything he’s done for me, this is how I can be the friend that he deserves in return. “You should leave, Amir,” you say, tears stinging in your eyes. “I hear you, I understand you. I just wish I could go with you.”

“No, don’t cry, don’t cry! This isn’t the end. I’ll fly back to visit, you know that. Grandma’s still here, you and Cadi are here. And you can visit me too. Maybe you’ll even settle down on the West Coast someday. Eight more years and you’re free.”

You try to imagine your life then: Cadi headed off to college—and she will go to college, you’ve already decided that—and your tether to Willis weakened, closer to 40 years old than 30, Aemond and Christabel nearing their anniversary. How many children will they have by then? Three? Four? And the Lake Verret project will be well-established and no longer in need of so much of Aemond’s attention, and the house they call The Last Desire will sit empty on the lakeshore, warm draughts breathing through it like blood in veins. “I wouldn’t know how to exist anywhere else.”

“You’d learn,” Amir says confidently. “Now, have you ever made a Napoleon cake before?”

“I don’t think so. Not that I can remember.” You consider this. “My mom might have a recipe lying around somewhere. I’ll call and ask her.”

“Yes, do that,” Amir agrees. “If she doesn’t, I’ll try to dig one up at the library. We’ll want to have a few practice runs before the rehearsal dinner. Gotta impress the Rockefellers and their soulless millionaire ilk. Unless you were planning to have a homicidal meltdown and make the custard out of antifreeze or something.”

You chuckle. “No. Probably not.”

“It would be difficult to blame you.” And he turns on the little pink Panasonic radio: Alone by Heart.

~~~~~~~~~~

In a spacious corner booth of the Olive Garden in Gonzales, Aemond is talking about Lake Verret as you pick at your Tour of Italy and Frank Sinatra pipes through the speakers. You could swear they have the same three songs playing on a loop: Fly Me To The Moon, My Way, Luck Be A Lady, back to outer space again.

“But by total coincidence, Daeron has been researching desalination techniques for his latest article. Apparently there are ways to try to mitigate the damage and reduce the brackishness of the water, so we’re going to be—”

Abruptly, you ask: “Where does Christabel think you are right now?”

Aemond’s forehead crinkles, his fork hovers above his plate of herb-grilled salmon. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and his Marlboro jacket, jeans, Adidas sneakers. “Why do you care?”

“She’s getting the wedding I always wanted, did you even notice? She’s getting married at the Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens in Belle River. She’s getting wildflowers and flickering candles.” And she’s getting you too.

“Okay,” Aemond says slowly. “I’m not involved in any of that.”

“I think you are, actually, because you’re kind of the groom.”

“But I don’t do the wedding planning,” he insists. “I have no idea what Christabel has arranged. My job is to be there on the day in a suit and that’s just about the extent of the real estate it takes up in my brain.”

“She’s never mentioned any of that to you? Not once? You’d swear on your life?”

He sets down his fork with a clang and stares fixedly at you. Your waitress glances over from several tables away where she is refilling a couple’s sweet tea glasses. “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry you had good ideas and other people liked them. It fucking sucks that you didn’t get the wedding you wanted when you were seventeen. But that wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know you yet, and you didn’t know me. You can’t blame me for what Willis or anyone else did.”

“But it’s not fair,” you choke out, sounding weak and juvenile, and you hate it but you can’t stop. “I understand that you’re marrying her, I get that, but she can’t have everything.”

“Look…” Aemond laces his hands together on top of the table, and his voice softens. “Even if Christabel didn’t exist, even if you were from my world, even if you were a duchess or a socialite or the daughter of the president of the United States of America, I still couldn’t marry you.”

You scoff; it’s despicable. “Because of Cadi?”

“No,” Aemond says, like that’s preposterous, like he’d never consider her to be a liability. “Because I have to have heirs.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss with vitriol that stuns him. Now the waitress is gawking. “You’re going to manipulate Christabel into walking down that aisle and then immediately get her pregnant?”

“Why are you mad at me?! I’m listening to you, I’m respecting you! You don’t want to have any more children of your own, fine, completely reasonable, I would never ask you to have a baby and go through all of that again for the sake of the Targaryen dynasty, but somebody has to!”

“You really don’t understand why I would empathize with a teenage girl trying to raise a child when she’s lonely and exhausted and confused about why the man she married isn’t turning out to be who she expected?”

Aemond shakes his head like it’s not a valid comparison. “She wants this.”

“She doesn’t know what it is. She doesn’t understand what she’s signing up for.”

“Everyone from a family like mine goes through this,” Aemond says. “My grandparents did, my mum and dad did, Aegon did, even bloody Charles and Diana did, and now it’s my turn. There are growing pains, but people adjust and it all works out eventually. Christabel will learn to manage her expectations, and once the children are born she can find happiness wherever and with whoever she wants to.”

“But you’ll be with her,” you forced out, voice fracturing, and at first Aemond doesn’t grasp what you mean. “You’ll…you’ll sleep with her. You’ll touch her, you’ll kiss her, you’ll do everything with her.”

“Surely you, as someone who called up a stranger from a personal ad in the Bayou Journal, comprehends that sex can be a solely physical act under the right circumstances.”

“So what, you’ll fuck me and then go home to her? Or you’ll fuck her and come home to me? And I’m supposed to live like that?”

“Yes,” he says, like it’s simple, like it’s easy.

You gaze morosely out of the restaurant window. In the distance is a Dollar General, a Burger King, the Kmart where you had to buy your own engagement ring.

“Do you want me to tell Christabel to change the wedding?”

“No.”

“Because if I tell her to pick a new venue, new flowers, new cakes, whatever, she’ll do it.”

“No. She likes her wedding. I can’t take that away from her. She thinks I’m her friend.”

“Cupcake,” Aemond says, tenderly now. You turn back to him. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m going to be gone for a while, four or five days. I have to fly to Norway and inspect some of the offshore rigs we have up there.”

“In the North Sea?” you ask, alarmed. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I mean, it’s oil drilling. It’s one of the most deadly professions in the world. But that’s how we built our fortune, our legacy. I’ve survived before, I’m sure I will again. If you need anything while I’m gone, you can call the house. Criston knows that you’re to be taken care of.”

“No one else can go to Norway instead of you?”

“I have to go.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my responsibility.”

“Because Viserys told you to?”

“They amount to the same thing.”

“I don’t think you should listen to him.”

“I have to go,” Aemond says again. He takes out his wallet and lays $30 on the table. “But there’s something I need to show you first.”

As Aemond’s red Audi Quattro barrels down Route 70 southbound towards Napoleonville, you say very little to each other. Once you were strangers, and the words flowed easily and your bodies intertwined with effortless need, and now you have known each other for nearly two months and shared days and nights and confessions and yet every ghost filled up the space between you until it was a splinter, a gap, a gulf, a chasm. You miss the person he was when he showed up on your sloping, creaking porch steps back in May. You miss the person you were before you found out about Christabel.

A Men At Work song comes on the car radio, and it takes you a moment to figure out which one. It’s Down Under, a bewildering hit from 1981. “I never understood this song,” you say, staring through the open window as a jungle of southern live oaks, dogwoods, and cypresses rolls by. Rivulets of opaque, slow-moving bayou water snake through the wild green. Pelicans flap their wings in the pink-golden dusk sky. “What’s a head full of zombie? What’s a Vegemite sandwich?”

Aemond laughs, a smoldering Marlboro Red nestled in his left hand. You wonder if once he’s married he’ll wear a gold band on his ring finger, if he’ll take it off when he cheats with you. “Cupcake, it’s obviously about Australia.”

“What?”

“Down Under? As in, literally below the rest of us in the Southern Hemisphere? Head full of zombie means they’ve been smoking weed. Vegemite is a kind of yeast spread they put on sandwiches. I’ve had it, it’s disgusting. The whole song is in Australian slang. Everyone knows it’s about Australia.”

I didn’t. You look out your window again. Aemond takes note and swiftly backpedals.

“But I mean, I can see how an American wouldn’t know that. No big deal, okay? To anyone in the Commonwealth, Australia is like our fuckup sibling. It’s our Aegon. But you guys probably don’t really learn about Australia in school. So…yeah. It’s probably not as obvious as I assumed.”

“Maybe I missed that lesson,” you say. Maybe I missed that year.

In a brand new neighborhood just outside the town center of Napoleonville, Aemond parks in the paved driveway of a ranch house on a three or four acre lot. The yard is bordered by a white masonry fence with chicken wire around the base to keep snakes and gators out. There are a few dogwood and bay laurel trees, and one monstrous southern live oak that’s probably two hundred years old. Aemond cuts the Audi Quattro’s engine and steps out into the twilight.

“Aemond? What are we doing here?”

“Follow me.”

“Why?”

He walks around to your side of the car, opens the door, and leans down to grab your face with his right hand, his fingers hooked around the curve of your jaw. Instantly, there is a bolt down your spine: hunger, warmth, weakness, momentum that is thoughtless like falling from a great height. “Follow me,” he repeats, grinning mischievously. “Right now.”

Aemond has a key that unlocks the front door. Inside is rose pink carpeting and mauve walls, a sunken conversation pit, popcorn ceilings, mini blinds on the windows, closet doors covered with mirrors. You can see your face reflected in them, puzzled.

“This is the living room, clearly,” Aemond says as he continues briskly through the house. As an afterthought, he kicks off his Adidas sneakers so he doesn’t track any dirt inside. You do the same, sliding off your cheap flats from Kmart. He points down a hallway. “There are two guest bedrooms down there, and then a big one at the other end of the house with its own private bath. Here’s the kitchen…” He leads you through it, mint green with pristine black and white tiles on the floor. “And over there is the dining room.” It’s a kind, golden yellow like dawn or sunset.

“Aemond, what—?”

“Bedroom next,” he interrupts, hurrying you along.

At the end of the hall, he opens a door to reveal a sprawling chamber. It is blue like his bedroom in the Targaryen mansion, but not a deep, vivid sapphire color; it is a pale blue like prairie flax or a clear midday sky. The carpet is lush and soft. There are mirrors on the ceiling.

“Those are optional,” Aemond clarifies, pointing upwards. “But personally, I like them.”

“Aemond, whose house is this?”

“It’s yours,” he says.

“It’s what?!”

“Well, technically, it isn’t yours quite yet,” he admits. “I bought it in cash, it will close in a week or two. At that point I’ll sell it to you for $1—the same price as one of your cupcakes, incidentally—and then it will officially be your house. And it doesn’t even have a sinking foundation or any alligators. Imagine the possibilities.”

“But…but…”

“Cadi’s bedroom is green, like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I’ve been told the yard is big enough for one horse, or two very small horses. Ponies, I guess.”

“You cannot buy me a house,” you say, aghast.

“I think I already did.” He holds out the key to you, resting in his palm among lines of prophesy.

You are paralyzed; it takes you forever to find your words. “Aemond, I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“You don’t owe me anything. It’s a gift, not a trade,” he says, the key still lying in his outstretched hand. “Every cent I spend on you, every second I spend with you, is solely because I want to do it and for no other reason. There’s no obligation. There’s no quid pro quo. And that’s what I feel like you don’t understand. I have no logical reason to keep you in my life, absolutely none, aside from the fact that I want you to be here. And I want that with everything I’m made of. I never stop wanting it. So let me help you. Take the key. Take the house.”

His right eye is on you, imploring, commanding. At last, you lift the key from his palm. Studying it like the cryptic letter of a foreign language, you murmur: “You shouldn’t have done this.”

Aemond rakes his fingers through your hair, tilts your face up towards his, skims his lips feather-lightly from your cheekbone down to your lips—though he doesn’t kiss you, only ghosts his flesh over yours, a taste, a taunt—and then up to the curl of your ear. His whispered voice is colored with wicked scarlet desire. “You don’t tell me what to do. I tell you what to do.”

If he yanked off your t-shirt you would let him. If he unzipped your denim shorts and slipped his artful fingers inside them he would find panties soaked through for him. You would let him do anything he wanted to you, here in this glass-fragile liminality before he becomes Christabel’s in law, in body, in inked and inerasable history. But it would not be because you want to, not because you feel ready in your bones, not because you trust him again. It would only be because you could not bring yourself to resist.

Aemond reads this on your face; he stops before you have to tell him to.

~~~~~~~~~~

On July 1st, Cascade Stables is swarming with parents as they descend upon the property to collect their children and meet the horses they’ve spent the past week with. There is a stereo somewhere blaring Your Love by The Outfield; apparently, this does not disturb the horses. You find Cadi beside the stall of a very tall, willowy beast, ears upright and alert, one bulging eye onyx and the other a striking icy blue. Its coat is white with a splattering of rust-colored stains. Even its mane and tail are comprised of alternating strands, dark, light, earth, clouds, cocoa powder, granulated sugar.

“His name is Patches,” Cadi tells you proudly as she pets the leviathan’s velvety muzzle. “He has a wall eye. And he’s a real handful and usually they only allow the experienced campers to ride him, but they let me try and he listened so well I got to keep him all week!”

“Wow, that’s incredible! Good job! Did you learn a lot about how to take care of him?”

“Yeah. They taught me how to feed Patches and clean his hooves and put a saddle on him. And how to hit him with a hairbrush when he tries to bite me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Right. Okay.”

“Can we buy him? He’s for sale. Probably because of all the biting.”

“Who, Patches?” You definitely cannot afford to board a horse; and then you remember the new house. “I’ll think about it.”

Cadi peeks around you. “Daddy isn’t here too?”

“No, honey, I’m sorry. He had to work. But he really wanted to see the horses and he is looking forward to hearing all about your adventures.” This is a lie—Willis seems only dimly aware of the concept of a horse camp, and he is staunchly incurious by nature—but a compassionate one.

Cadi accepts the explanation readily enough. “Alright. Is Aemond your boyfriend yet?”

“Um.” You thread the horse’s forelock through your fingers to buy yourself time. It seems unwise to try to deceive her again; Cadi will learn about Christabel sooner or later. “No, we’re still just friends.” You pause. She watches you, knowing there’s more. “Actually, he’s getting married this month.”

“What?!” Cadi is shocked, but she’s outraged too. “To who?!”

“To a nice lady named Christabel. And I’m sure they’ll be very happy together.” Another lie. And you think for the first time: If I settle for being Aemond’s mistress, if I let it tear me to pieces…what am I teaching Cadi?

Your daughter doesn’t say anything for a long time. She pets Patches’ speckled face, her own expression tense and thoughtful, lines and worries that should be far beyond her age. At last she says quietly: “Is it because of me?”

You are mystified. “What, honey?”

“Is the reason why you and Aemond can’t get married because of me?”

There is a flash of crimson wrath in your skull—protective, animalistic, wronged on her behalf—but no one to direct it at. “No. No, absolutely not. Why would you say that?”

Cadi shrugs, and you recognize it as her self-preservation, faux-flippant shrug. “I don’t know. One time I heard Michelle’s mom talking about how no decent man wants to deal with some other guy’s kids. And that’s me when I’m at your house. Another guy’s kid.”

Oh, fuck you, Janet. “No,” you say again. “Aemond likes you a lot, Cadi. He cares about you.” He picked out a house that could accommodate a horse for you. “You’re the opposite of a problem. He actually likes me more because of you, I think.”

“Okay.” And she’s relieved, although she’s trying not to show it. “Then why is he marrying someone else?”

“Well…it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

Where the hell do I start? “Aemond and I are very different people,” you tell Cadi. “And we want different things out of life. We like to spend time together, but that doesn’t mean that we’d be able to share our whole lives…homes, careers, values, everything. His family has a lot of expectations of him that I don’t feel right supporting, but Aemond wants to respect their rules. And, you know. He’s a robber baron.”

“But he doesn’t talk about Jade Dragon Energy or oil around me. He talks about history.”

You sigh, watching dust motes swirl through the hot, sunlit stable air, listening to horses nicker and huff. “I know, honey.”

“I don’t even think he wants to be a robber baron. I think he wants to be something else.”

“Like what?” you ask, picking stray bits of yellow straw out of her short, disheveled hair. And remarkably, Cadi tolerates this.

“I don’t know, just…just…” She battles with the words, then finds one she likes. “Free, I guess. Just free.”

[crabussy]

forever and ever and ever and ever thinking about kiwi simon and betty. simon is from tamaki makaurau. that guy is an aucklander if I've ever seen one.. . . betty? definitely from ahuriri or at least lives there... they go on silly road trips together and get mince and cheese pies and listen to the beths together. betty is the biggest all blacks fan you've ever met. simon sings songs like pokarekare ana and tūtira mai ngā iwi when he's doing dishes or other chores, they stuck with him since school. I think they live in ahuriri/napier together but travel as much as possible, they have a one bedroom house and a housetruck that they use for longer road trips.. betty loves jelly tip ice cream and always always has a box of them in the freezer. they both love fish and chips and betty will DIE if she doesn't get a pineapple fritter every time. trust her.

anyway this is a pretty self indulgent AU, I'm a homesick kiwi and I want to untorment my favourite tormented characters in another universe [: if you have any questions or thoughts please share!!!

image ID in alt text [: (EDIT IT FUCKING ATE MY IMAGE DESCRIPTION!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!! give me some time to rewrite sorry!!)

[littlefaefeather]

Black Butler manga foods/drinks

I'm sure I missed some things, but it was all things that weren't really named or specified, or I couldn't tell with certainty what they were. @sebastian-ciel-mutual-bullying this is for you! feel free to take and use as you need o7 Book 1 breakfast: poached salmon and mint salad with toast, scones, and pain de campagne on the sides, ceylon tea horribly salty lemonade dinner: Japanese green tea, gyuutatakidon, Italian red wine, apricot and green tea mille-feuille dessert: orchard fruit cake with pears, plums, and blackberries dessert: deep-dish apple raisin pie milk

Book 2 assam tea afternoon tea: keemun and summer pudding of currants and other berries lunch: stuffed cabbage and minted potato salad chocolate earl grey afternoon tea: cornmeal cake of pears and blackberries salty rosehip herbal tea

Book 3 hot milk with honey or brandy peeled apple assam tea with milk oranges with shalimar tea steak and kidney pie and salmon sandwiches messy birthday cake and donburi strawberry-decorated birthday cake

Book 4 fish chai with ginger breakfast: shrimp curry and French toast with ginger mackerel with gooseberry sauce and cottage pie

Book 5 British-style Bengali chicken curry chicken curry afternoon snack: gateau au chocolat beef curry blue lobster with seven curries curry bun assam tea white darjeeling tea champagne sushi

Book 6 Christmas pudding cookies shaped like bones fish and chips, meat pies, bread

Book 7 rice porridge dinner: milk risotto with a three-mushroom medley, a pot-au-feu of pork and wine, and a warm apple compote with yogurt sauce

Book 8 oranges afternoon tea: chocolate macarons with fruits and three-berry shortcake

Book 9 custard cream puffs red wine white wine brunch: herring pie and spinach quiche dinner: curry, and chopped vegetables for an appetizer

Book 10 dinner: soybean hamburg steaks

Book 11 elevenses: darjeeling tea and petits fours tonkatsu, shougayaki, tonjiru, tonshabu, yakiton

Book 12 cake with strawberries on top

Book 13 spiny lobster saute, roast turkey, sticky toffee pudding, fairy cakes (cupcakes) warm milk with honey

Book 14 watered-down darjeeling tea darjeeling tea dinner: roast duck and gateau chocolat

Book 15 golden syrup sponge pudding tea cakes lemon myrtle souffle glace with milk tea

Book 16 lunch: beef mince pie

Book 17 dessert: strawberries, cream, and meringue (Eton mess) with a side of iced summer pudding

Book 18 chicken pie coffee and walnut cake

Book 19 ravioli (maultaschen) and wurst soup, stewed pork with herbs and spices (eisbein), and rote grutze (sour berries boiled and chilled to jelly, served with cream) evening snack: caramel macarons, coffee cream eclairs, dark chocolate florentines. black tea ceylon tea

Book 22 earl grey tea with orange almond cake and berry tarts

Book 23 smoked salmon sandesh (milk sweets)

Book 24 soft licorice candy apples

Book 25 berry-filled pudding fish and chips and steak and ale pie gulab jamun (fried balls of dough drenched in syrup)

Book 29 kidney pie, fish and chips, and ale wild-hare pie tapioca steak

Book 30 nilgiri tea breakfast: pea soup, meatballs, croissants, boiled egg, orange jelly chicken and steamed vegetable salad, oxtail stew, pain de campagne with butter oolong tea

Book 31 candy cigarettes

[gaykarstaagforever]

I just want to remind everyone that the Sargasso Sea is an ocean gyre in the Atlantic, off the coast of North America, that is a crystal-clear blue lake topped with seaweed forests. That is IN the ocean. There's no land around it. It's just a distinct giant saltwater sea in the middle of the ocean, because of the weird way ocean currents work.

And all the eels from North America and Europe leave their freshwater habitats and swim out there to breed and lay eggs and die. These weird snake fish swim a THOUSAND MILES to come here, to do this.

And the European ones rely on the gradual ocean current to slowly carry their larvae back to Europe, which takes 300 days, and their development cycle is synched to this.

And no matter where they end up, they immediately go up a fresh water source and live there. Until it's time to breed, then they just know to go a thousand miles back to this one weird patch of ocean.

This isn't made up! This isn't an Ancient Greek zoological theory! They do this! This is how they live! And our stupid river dams are blocking them from going from inland waterways in Pennsylvania and Britain, out into this one sea way off the coast of the Carolinas.

Nature is stranger than fiction.

Also like 200 years ago, these fish were so thick in the water that you could just go down on your luchbreak and grab one and cook it up on the beach. Eel was so ubiquitous that they made pies and jellies out of it.

What toxic pink slime did you pay $12 to eat for lunch today, Future Guy?

[dragonsdendoodles]

MPHFPC Incorrect Quotes: Page 2

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[juniper-c]

Folks from the US getting condescending about people not from the states has to be my least favourite genre of posts. Like, i swear every other week I see some shit written in half baked (british) english slang about baked beans or jellied eels or rotten teeth and it drives me up the wall. Just a bunch of fundamental misunderstandings about a place they've never been too with little to no curiosity about what life might actually be like there.

Im only coming at this from a UK angle so cant speak for anywhere else but a quick rundown on all this shit states side people get wrong about our food specifically because thats what winds me up the most.

Beans on toast is a cheap staple breakfast food, not the cornerstone of our cullinary tradition.

In most urban city centers you get a complex mix of diaspora informed food stuffs, primarily indian and east asian because of all that colonialism we did. Relatively large muslim populations also bring in middle eastern influences.

Even what you might think of as a classic british pub will sell you a basic curry unless you're in the arse end of nowhere. This is not niche shit. Our whole food culture is shaped by this.

What you could call 'classic' british cooking like full roast dinners with Yorkshire puddings, propery gravy, sruffung, and all the other fixings are fucking great actually. Bit of lamb with mint, bit of pork with apple sauce, cut of beef with mustard. It goes hard.

Even if you are in the arse end of nowhere stuff like pasties, proper pies, stews with dumplings, fish and chips, and other sea side holiday basics that make you think of little coves in north devon are also good, actually. Yes its not spiced to all hell and back, but they incoperate herbs and vegatables and stocks in ways that give it a unique depth of flavour distinct from cultures informed by a more spice heavy tradition.

Say what you will about our shit (complimentary) chicken shops and rubbery high street donner in years of nights out blind drunk in student bits of the city they've never once given me the gastric distress y'all describe post taco bell.

Of course our mexican food isn't particularly authentic, the countries half a planet away and we dont have a large mexican diaspora. What we do have is tuned for mass market appeal by largish chains or sold out of artisinal taco food trucks that we all find a bit wanky tbh.

Spicy food exists, and we quite like it. Yes even pasty white tony who turns the colour of jam when he eats a medium hot vindaloo. Indian food is a cornerstone of our national diet of course we know what chilli powder is.

And finally nobody eats fucking jellied eels it was a victorian era poverty food and even then only in london.

Also our chocolate is better than yours because we dont put the weird chemical in it that makes it taste like sick. Eat a kit kat and die mad about it.

[4rainynite]

EAH Dorm Rooms Headcanons pt 15

Ginger & Melody

One's a candy witch and another a pied piper DJ.

Despite their different styles Melody and Ginger get along very well.

Melody and Ginger are one of many roommates who get along. Melody didn't care if Ginger was destined to be an evil witch and Ginger supports Melody's DJ career.

I picture their room being the same size of either Lizzie & Duchess or Ramona & Justine.

Ginger's side of the dorm:

Ginger is the daughter of the Candy Witch, and like many children of villians' destiny Ginger was discriminated against because of her destiny. Despite that Ginger loves her mom who supports her despite her giving up her villainous role. Ginger hope to open a chain of bakeries, cookbooks, and treats labeled 'Ginger’s Goodies'. Ginger may not want to be evil, but she is an amazing baker who wants others to enjoy her sweets.

Due to Ginger's love of baking she is rarely in her room. She is either in the cooking class, science lab, or busy with her show 'Spells Kitchen'. Ginger spends her time in the room to relax, homework, and play with her per fish/fishes.

Jelly along with two other fish/fishes live in a tank on Ginger's desk. Due to their small size they are one of the few pets to live in the dorms.

Ginger has a Princess-Bake Oven desk next to her cookbook collection, that she's had since she was a child. She uses it to bake treats for herself and Melody.

I can see Ginger's walls being painted brown or pink since they are her main colors. Most of her decor is candy themed with a few witchy items to remind her of her heritage.

Ginger has a closet in her dorm where she keeps all her colorful clothes and chef hats.

Ginger's side of the dorm room would have a similar design to the cooking classroom (minus the oven). She also has a mini fridge stocked with snacks that are mainly candy and small pastries.

Ginger owns a cookbook collection along with cookbook magazines that she reads to try out new recipes.

The food truck was a gift from Raven that Ginger cherishes. Ginger stores it in a school shed where the other students with food trucks and stands have.

Melody's side of the dorm:

Melody is the daughter of the Pied Piper and music runs through her veins. Melody is already popular with her peers and has many fans due to her DJ career. I think Melody was in a similar situation as Ginger before her talent became recognized, which makes it easy for each girl to understand the other.

Melody keeps her flute in a case and her turntables in the dorm and she practices on them daily. When, she's not in her dorm she practices on them in the music room.

Melody's decor would have music theme to it, but it would be in a rave like design.

She would totally have a lava lamp and a floating egg chair like in the common room pic above.

 Melody may keep her pet mice/rats in the dorm due to their small size.

Melody has a huge collection of headphones, records, CDs, and etc. that she keeps in her dorm room.

Melody has some studio equipment in her dorm from headphones to microphones. She even records her own music.

Images from EAHWIKI & ROYALREBELWIKI

[ladysif8]

🍩 Sweet Heat 🍩

•Pairing: Firefighter Bucky Barnes/OFC

•Rating: General Audience

•Tags: Firefighter AU, Firemen Bucky, Curvy/Tall/Tattooed OFC, Firefighter Avengers, Flirting, Meet-Cute, Cat Rescue, Humor, Everyone Picks On Bucky

•Summary:

Fireman Bucky Barnes discovers the delicious doughnuts of Chubby Dough while at the local Farmers Market, and he is instantly smitten. When he meets Aria, the quirky doughnut goddess herself, sparks fly between them. However, fate intervenes when Bucky is called away on duty, missing the chance to get her number. Weeks later, fate as their paths cross again when Bucky receives a call about a cat stuck in a tree, which turns out to be Aria's.

The sky is a stretched canvas of endless blue, wisps of white clouds scattered like strokes of a painter’s brush sailing on a gentle breeze, casting fleeting shadows on the ground below. The air is filled with a warmth that wraps around everything, holding the promise of long, lazy days of adventures. It was a warm July Saturday in Pikesville, Indiana. Which only meant one thing… Farmer’s Markets.

The bustling energy made the air feel alive as the aroma of freshly picked fruits, fragrant herbs, and other seasonal produce mingled together—stalls overflowed with various colorful fruits and vegetables, showcasing the best summer harvest. Juicy, sweet watermelons, succulent peaches, and plump berries beckoned with their sweet smells and vibrant colors. Heirloom tomatoes, vibrant yellow, red, and green peppers, sweet candy onions, just-picked green beans, zucchini, and crisp cucumbers this morning. The local farmers proudly offered the fruits of their labor in their wide-brimmed hats and sun-kissed smiles. Baskets of sunflowers and bouquets of herbs add a rustic charm to the scene, and tables are filled with jars of freshly made jams and jellies. The air was filled with the enticing aroma of freshly baked bread, flaky pastries, and aromatic coffee contributions from the local artisans and bakers—stalls filled with handcrafted jewelry and pottery, offering unique treasures to discover. With booths from local organizations, the library is offering a free book per child, along with the local Police, Fire Department, and other various organizations. Conversation buzzed in the air as customers engaged with farmers and vendors alike.

Children scampered between aisles, clutching dripping ice cream cones, while families gathered around shaded picnic tables, enjoying farm-to-table meals prepared right there with nothing but the freshest ingredients by local food trucks. There was a wide variety of cuisine, such as a taco truck that specialized in authentic Mexican food, serving up mouth-watering tacos from traditional carne asada to vegetarian options—a burger truck offered everything from the classic cheeseburger to gourmet with a range of toppings. A BBQ truck known for its smokey and tender means, slow-cooked ribs, pulled pork sandwiches, brisket, and more. A pizza truck offers wood-fired oven pizzas on wheels, passing out freshly made slices or whole pies with a wide range of toppings. An Asian fusion truck is blending flavors and techniques from various Asian cuisines, serving up Korean tacos, Vietnamese banh mi sandwiches, and Thai-inspired noodle bowls. A seafood truck offers a taste of the ocean in the form of fish tacos, lobster rolls, shrimp po’boys, and other seafood delicacies. Several dessert trucks specializing in tasty ice creams, decadent pastries, cupcakes, cookies, and doughnuts of every flavor were waiting to offer up sweet treats to round off the savory meals consumed. Local musicians strummed guitars and played lively tunes, infusing the market with a cheerful melody. Under the warm sun, the farmer’s market buzzed as a hub of the community, where neighbors greeted each other with smiles and shared stories. It was a place where the spirit of summer thrived—a place to savor the flavors of summer.

"Thank you for your support," Sam said with a smile as a group of giggling teenagers hurried away with copies of the Pikesville Fire Department yearly calendar.

The local Fire Department had chosen the Pikesville Animal Welfare as the non-profit organization to support through their calendar fundraisers this year.

"That's another one for me," Sam declared, walking over and placing a crumpled twenty-dollar bill into the cash box. "How many have you sold, Barnes?" he asked Bucky.

Bucky rolled his eyes but checked the unofficial tally sheet. "Uh, thirty-two," he replied.

"Thirty-four," Sam countered, a smug smirk on his face.

"Come on, guys," Steve interjected, stepping between them.

"He's just jealous," Sam said, slipping his thumbs between his navy PFD t-shirt and the red suspenders from his turnout pants.

Bucky scoffed, "As if," he retorted, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. "I think the heat is getting to your brain; you do remember the signs of heat stroke, right, Wilson?"

"Guys," Steve warned, trying to diffuse the tension.

Just then, Natasha reappeared like a redheaded angel, holding a bright pink pastry box. She gracefully made her way around the two tables covered in red tablecloths adorned with a Pikesville Fire Department banner. The tables were stacked with calendars, each featuring a member of the PFD for every month alongside an adorable shelter animal. In addition to the calendars, a poster board was prominently displayed, showcasing pictures of the shelter animals and their names and information. The board served as a visual representation, capturing the attention and hearts of passersby. Each photograph conveyed the unique personality and charm of the animals, inviting potential adopters to learn more about them. The information provided on the board offered insights into their age, breed, and endearing traits, further encouraging visitors to consider opening their homes and hearts to these furry companions.

"Alright, boys, I have doughnuts," Tasha sang happily, her voice brimming with delight. With a cheerful demeanor, she carefully placed the box of doughnuts on the table, elegantly flipping back the lid, and stepped away, creating an alluring display of sweet treats for everyone to enjoy. "Thor, Scott, Clint, come on over. I've got doughnuts!" Tasha called out to the other members of their squad, who were gathered by the fire engine.

"Oooh, yes!" Scott exclaimed, jogging over and energetically shaking his shoulders as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

Clint followed suit while Thor was preoccupied with allowing a young boy to try on his helmet, drawing the attention of the boy's mother, who couldn't help but check out the tall blonde firefighter.

The aroma of freshly baked doughnuts wafted through the air. The sight of the various flavors and toppings tantalized their taste buds, drawing the guys closer to the table to choose their favorite doughnuts.

Bucky swiftly snatched a doughnut with a thick brown glaze, chopped pecans, and a drizzle of chocolate. He settled back in his chair, taking a large bite.

"Holy shit," he mumbled around his mouthful, the doughnut tasting like a decadent caramel turtle.

Sounds of approval and satisfied hums echoed throughout their tent.

“Hey Tash, where’d you get these?” Scott asked, stuffing half a doughnut into his mouth.

Steve hummed, “These are the best doughnuts I’ve ever had,” he commented, taking a much smaller bite than the man next to him.

“Chubby Dough Doughnuts,” Tasha answered, ripping a piece of the sticky fried dough. “These two girls run the truck; Yelena kept going on and on about them,” she adds before plopping the piece in her mouth.

The tent was silent as everyone chowed down, but that didn’t last long. Barton just had to open his trap.

"So, who's winning so far?" Clint asked, jelly smudges adorning his mouth.

Steve groaned, "God damn it, Clint."

"I'm glad you asked, Barton," Sam said with a smile, taking another bite of his doughnut. "It's me," he proclaimed, his voice slightly muffled by the fullness of his mouth.

"Oh man, that's gonna suck cleaning all the engines alone, Buck," Scott remarked, licking some whipped filling off the side of his hand.

Bucky grunted, unamused. "There's still plenty of time for me to wipe the floor with Sam," he retorted.

Tasha produced a napkin for Clint, who sheepishly accepted it. "No manners, the lot of you," she shook her head, playfully scolding them.

"Ha!" Sam laughed sarcastically, his tone laced with playful annoyance.

"Alright, guys, come on, do we have to do this every year?" Steve asked, looking between Bucky and Sam.

"Yes," they both answered in unison, a mischievous glint in their eyes.

Steve sighed, his exasperation evident as he dragged a hand down his face.

Fortunately, another wave of people approached the booth. Several women and a few men purchased calendars, dropping a few dollars into the jar in front of the poster board. Some of the customers requested the squad to sign their pictures, a request that the firefighters gladly obliged. With smiles on their faces, they interacted with members of the community.

A beautiful woman with raven hair approached the table, her gaze fixed on the post board displaying various animals. She reached out and picked up a calendar, flipping through its pages.

“Those animals are all just a few tents down if you’re interested in adopting any of them,” Bucky said, sauntering over to the woman with a flirtatious smirk.

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Are any of the firefighters available?” Her gaze traveled up and down Bucky’s form, and she teasingly licked her lips.

"They might be. Which month caught your eye?" he asked.

The woman pondered, twisting her lips in thought. "Well, Mister July has that All-American apple pie vibe," she remarked, stealing a glance at Steve. He was engaged in conversation with an older woman, her curly white hair framing her face. It was evident that she had taken a liking to him, her hand gently resting on his forearm and a blush coloring his cheeks.

"Is that so?" Bucky asked, his voice still carrying a flirty and playful tone.

The woman stepped closer, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "But you know, Mister October has this tall, dark, and dangerous feel to him. He's the kind of guy I'd love to bring home to meet my parents, just to see their disapproval," she admitted, biting her bottom lip playfully.

Bucky winced, realizing his reaction had been more noticeable than intended. He quickly cleared his throat. "Well, we genuinely appreciate your contributions. All proceeds will go to the Animal Shelter to provide them with new equipment, enabling them to help the animals better," he explained.

The woman's eyes widened, then narrowed as she abruptly pulled a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet and slapped it onto Bucky's chest before walking away.

A low whistle caught Bucky's attention, and he turned to see Sam approaching him.

"You alright, Buck?" Sam asked, concern evident in his gaze.

Bucky frowned, turning on his heels and starting to walk around the table. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, his tone slightly curt.

"You don't look it, man," Sam pointed out, walking alongside Bucky.

Bucky let out a sigh. "It's always the same with every woman," he muttered, crossing his arms. His navy PFD t-shirt stretched across his chest, highlighting his muscular physique. "They look at me and automatically assume... well, they think I'm some sort of—"

"Fuckboy?" Sam interjected, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky's frown deepened. "Sure, let's go with that," he said, rolling his eyes in mild exasperation.

"Listen, man," Sam sighed, his voice filled with genuine concern. "You're a good guy, Barnes. You've got a good heart, you're smart and funny, and hell, you're easy on the eyes," he chuckled softly. "You'll find the one, somebody who sees beyond the surface." Sam reached out, giving Bucky's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Thanks, Sam," Bucky replied, mustering a grateful but slightly weary smile.

Sam nodded. "No problem, man. You good?" he asked, looking for confirmation.

"Yeah, I'm good," Bucky confirmed, appreciating the support.

Sam began to walk away.

"Hey, Wilson, let's try not to go through this again, alright?" Bucky called out, slumping down into a chair. "Kinda made me feel dirty."

"Oh, fuck you, man," Sam chuckled teasingly before leaving the tent. "I'm still gonna kick your ass," Sam tossed over his shoulder with a playful grin.

Bucky chuckled and shouted, "Only in your dreams, Wilson!"

Eventually, the competition between Sam and Bucky faded into the background, but it resurfaced when Thor finally made his way over to the group.

"How goes the competition, Barnes?" Thor inquired, grabbing a doughnut from the box. "Are you kicking Wilson's ass?"

Thor's words caused Steve to almost whine in exasperation, feeling like he wanted to repeatedly bash his head against a hard surface.

"Ha! I'm at... forty-eight," Sam declared confidently.

Bucky grinned. "Fifty-two," he countered, a playful spark in his eyes.

"Ain't no way," Sam crossed his arms, showcasing his bulging biceps.

Scott leaned forward, inspecting the tally sheet. "Yeah, Barnes is right," he confirmed, his tone revealing the truth of Bucky's higher count.

The friendly rivalry between Sam and Bucky was reignited.

"Alright, knock it off, guys," Tasha interjected, her voice carrying a note of authority from her perch on the table. "You're both hot, we get it, but you're going to give our Captain an aneurysm," she playfully scolded, gesturing toward Steve.

The squad chuckled, understanding that the good-natured teasing had its limits. With a collective nod, the firefighters refocused their attention on interacting with the customers, signing calendars, and polishing off the last of the doughnuts Natasha had brought.

Taking a much-needed break from running their booth, Bucky felt a sense of relief mingled with excitement at the prospect of indulging in some delicious treats and moseying about the other stalls and booths with Steve. While he enjoyed managing their booth, he knew that a short break would do him some good. The delightful aromas from the food trucks wafted through the air, luring them closer with each step.

Steve turned to Bucky, inquiring about his lunch preference, "What are you in the mood for?"

With a smile, the brunette replied, "That BBQ smells amazing."

Steve enthusiastically agreed, "Sounds good to me, as long as we make a stop at that doughnut truck before we head back Thor said they have blueberry streusel doughnuts."

Bucky chuckled, appreciating their love for food, “I knew you were my best friend for a reason.”

“I hope that’s not the only reason,” Steve chuckled, elbowing Bucky playfully.

Fifteen short minutes later, Bucky and Steve were happily munching on a little dish of crispy golden brown tater tots topped with sweet, smokey, and tangy pulled pork drenched in BBQ sauce, a drizzle of nacho cheese, thin slices of red onion, chopped green onions, and jalapeno slices from the BBQ food truck. As they strolled through the bustling stalls, they enjoyed their lunch and chatted with old high school friends and other folks from the community. They leisurely made their way around the market, pausing at tables filled with tempting goods.

"Oh man," Steve sighed contentedly as he tossed his little paper dish into the trash. "That was delicious," he said, stretching his arms above his head.

Bucky nodded in agreement, quickly finishing his last bite before following Steve's lead and disposing of his paper dish in the trash.

"Man, I'm so full," Bucky groaned, patting his belly as he walked alongside Steve, the band playing a cover of some Charlie Daniels song.

"Too stuffed for doughnuts?" Steve quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky gave him an exaggerated hurt expression, shaking his head, “And here I thought we were friends—"

“—Best friends," Steve corrected with a grin.

" Right, right, best friends,” Bucky amended, “I'm utterly appalled you'd ever think I'm a quitter," he retorted, pretending to be outraged.

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s expression as they joined the line at Cubby Dough Doughnuts.

"Oh, my bad, I forgot Mama Barnes didn't raise a quitter,” Steve teased, playfully nudging Bucky’s arm with his elbow.

“Damn straight; now, let’s if the beautiful doughnut goddesses can entice me into taking just on—”

Bucky’s words faded away as he got entranced by the captivating woman with a dark, messy bun, a neon green sticking out the side, her smokey eye makeup, and mesmerizing hazel blue eyes—a mix of brown, green, and blue that looked like a cosmic swirl framed in with dark thick-rimmed glasses, cute little button nose, her lip was a sight to behold with the most alluring shade of pink he had ever seen, a natural cupid’s bow—a perfectly formed curve that gave her smile this irresistible charm. She had on a black t-shirt, hot pink frosting, and bright pink letters with sprinkles, proudly stating Donut Squad, and when she turned around, he noticed the back of her shirt was the name Chubb Dough. Her smile was dazzling; he watched as she tucked a whisp of hair behind her ear, the many colorful bracelets around her wrist catching the light. Bucky was intrigued.

“Buck?” Steve said, trying to contain his laughter as he lightly chuckled, attempting to get his friend’s attention.

Still entranced by the doughnut goddess, Bucky turned to Steve with a dreamy look in his eyes. “I think I might be in doughnut heaven,” Bucky mumbled to Steve.

"Holy smokes, dude," Darcy groaned, leaning her head against the compact refrigerator. "They just keep coming and coming," she mumbled, opening the door to grab a water bottle.

Aria chuckled, "Isn’t that the point?" she asked, taking another tray of doughnuts from the warmer.

"I mean, I guess; I don't know why I let you talk me into this hair-brain scheme of yours," Darcy said, taking a long drink from the bottle.

"Ha! Because really, I had to twist your arm," Aria replied dryly, carrying the tray to the work table. "You know you secretly love this doughnut-making adventure!" she teased, rolling her eyes playfully.

Darcy couldn't resist teasing her friend further. She reached over and pinched Aria's cheek, playfully saying in a baby voice, "It's so hard to say no to this cute little face," while patting Aria's cheek.

Aria playfully batted Darcy's hand away, giving her a mock glare. "Yeah, yeah, very funny," she said, trying to suppress a smile.

The dinging of a bell echoed throughout the small food truck.

"Ah, they summon me," Darcy sighed, finishing off her bottle of water. "The public awaits," she announced with a playful flourish, crushing the bottle and making her way back to the front window, ready to serve the hungry customers.

Aria playfully rolled her eyes at Darcy's dramatic announcement. She then grabbed an icing bag filled with delicious cheesecake icing, adjusting her hold on the small bag. Starting at one end of the tray, she skillfully gave each golden brown, perfectly cooked doughnut a delightful drizzle of creamy and tangy icing, followed by their rich caramel sauce and decadent chocolate ganache to the doughnuts, making sure each one was beautifully coated. She artfully sprinkled chopped pecans across the top as a finishing touch, completing the mouthwatering treat—the enticing aroma of freshly made doughnuts filled the air, enticing the eagerly waiting customers.

Cubby Dough had humble beginnings as a tiny pop-up camper that Aria and Darcy purchased from a questionable gentleman on Craigslist. They embarked on the ambitious project of gutting and remodeling the entire camper themselves, and it was no easy task. They spent countless late nights watching YouTube videos, trying to figure out how to connect the plumbing and make everything work. Thankfully, Aria's Dad came to the rescue, offering his years of experience and a helping hand with his tools. With their determination and his guidance, within six months, Chubby Dough was finally transformed into a mobile doughnut haven. That was four years ago, and since then, the little food truck has been delighting customers with its delectable treats all over the southern part of the state.

Today the food truck is built on a 22ft trailer with black sheet metal sides and roof, giving it a modern and sleek appearance. The silver servicing window is not only functional but also adds a contrasting element to the black and wooden features; it can be easily closed and locked for security when the food truck is not in operation; outside the window is a practical butcher block counter bar on the outside, where customers are greeted. The wooden trim around the windows adds a touch of warmth and rustic charm to the overall look. Inside is a compacted modern kitchen, a double fryer, a large proofer, a warmer, and all the necessities one needs to operate a food truck; a large butcher block workspace and prep tables provide ample space for food preparation and serving. The crowning glory is the light-up sign that proudly displays the truck's name, "Chubby Dough," drawing attention and helping customers easily recognize and locate the food truck.

As the morning rush settled down, Aria and Darcy decided to switch spots; Darcy had reached her limit dealing with customers at the front.

"I'm just not built to deal with people," Darcy grumbled, washing her hands in the sink.

Aria couldn't help but laugh. "You're in the wrong business, my dude," she teased, finding humor in her friend's confession.

Darcy chuckled at Aria's playful response and played along, giving Aria an exaggeratedly sad expression. "Oh, I know, right?” she said dramatically. “It's a never-ending doughnut-filled nightmare," she joked, pretending to be overwhelmed.

Aria gave her a mock sympathetic look. "Oh, poor Darcy," she said, trying to hold back a laugh. "It must be so tough," she added before bursting into laughter.

As the pace picked up once more, doughnuts were flying out of the window as fast as Aria and Darcy could make them. They were in sync, their teamwork seamless as they worked together to keep up with the demand. It was a flurry of dough, icing, and toppings, all coming together in perfect harmony. The little food truck was once again buzzing with excitement, and the smiles on their customers' faces made all the hard work worthwhile.

Aria quickly excused herself, saying, "Give me just a second," as she grabbed a fresh notepad and reached for the green pen that was stuck in her messy bun. She spoke as she turned back around; she looked up to take the next-in-line orders. “Chub…Chubby Do—” she said, stumbling over her words.

One of the men was tall, sporting short blonde hair and baby blue eyes with a subtle hint of green around the iris. He had a solid and muscular build, dressed in a navy PFD shirt that emphasized his strength.

The other man was just an inch shorter than the blonde, with curly brown hair on top and tapered sides. His mesmerizing blue eyes resembled a stormy summer evening, bringing back memories of the scent of rain-soaked earth. His handsome face was adorned with a cleft chin and a set of the prettiest pink lips. Like his companion, he also wore a navy PFD shirt that barely contained his well-defined and impressive muscles.

Aria was taken aback, almost losing her balance in the process. She managed to offer a slightly awkward smile. "Welcome to Chubby Dough... Uh, what can I get you, gentlemen?" She quickly corrected herself as she almost knotted her pen in her hair.

The tall blonde man smiled warmly, his baby blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "You were close," he said with a gentle chuckle. "I'll have two of your blueberry streusel doughnuts, please."

The man with the captivating stormy blue eyes flashed a playful grin, making Aria’s heart flutter. As he glanced at the menu, he asked in a smooth and inviting voice, “What’s your favorite?”

Aria’s nerves got the best of her, and she pointed to herself, feeling like more of an awkward mess than she already was. “M-mine?” she stammered, blushing under his gaze. The man nodded, his smile still warm and encouraging. “Oh, uh, Jesus,” she muttered, nervously licking her lips as she pushed up her glasses.

He raised a curious eyebrow, intrigued by her reaction, then looked at the menu again. “I’ll take one of those,” he said, pointing to her favorite doughnut, “and a maple bacon, please.”

Aria nodded, trying her best not to make a fool out of herself further. "Sure thing! Two blueberry streusel, one Jesus, and one maple bacon coming right up," she replied, writing down their order on the notepad, trying to hide her flustered state while secretly thrilled that he had chosen her recommendation.

As she turned to start preparing their doughnuts, Darcy peeked over her shoulder, curious about the sudden change in her friend's demeanor. Aria couldn't help but blush slightly, secretly hoping she looked presentable despite the messy bun and lime green pin.

"Hey, who are these fine-looking specimens?" Darcy whispered teasingly, earning a playful nudge from Aria.

"Just focus on your doughnut-making, will you?" Aria whispered back, glancing over her shoulder at the two men chatting outside the truck.

“You’re no fun,” Darcy grumbled, heading back toward the fryer.

Darcy's pouty face made Aria chuckle as she continued working on the doughnuts. Every morning hours before an event, Aria and Darcy would head out early, starting on their batter for the day; they would start frying until the first customer arrived. By then, the warmers were filled with tray after tray of freshly fried doughnuts, each doughnut that left through Chubby Dough's window was freshly made to order, it was a bit time-consuming, but it was worth the short wait.

Aria started with two plain golden-brown doughnuts, dipping each in a thin white glaze. She added their homemade blueberry compote and topped them with a delightful streusel. Moving on, she took two more doughnuts and dipped one in a thick maple glaze, generously adding chunks of maple bacon. The other doughnut was lightly coated in a thin glaze before being tossed in cinnamon sugar, its top dipped into a vanilla frosting and topped with a drizzle of thick gooey caramel.

As Darcy assembled a box for the four heavenly treats, she playfully pointed out, "You know that guy keeps looking in here at you."

Curious, Aria glanced over her shoulder to see the brunette with stormy blue eyes giving her a wide, flirtatious smile. A hint of a blush crept up her cheeks, but she tried to maintain her composure while finishing the doughnut orders.

Aria carefully transferred the beautifully crafted doughnuts into the bright pink box that Darcy had left on her table. She looked down at the delectable treats, feeling a sense of pride in her creations. Closing the box, she made her way to the window and set it down on the countertop outside. Turning to the tablet used for processing payments, she greeted the two men with a friendly smile.

“Alright, gentlemen, your total is $16.20 after the first responder discount,” Aria said, glancing over at the two men.

Before the blonde man could even react, the brunette quickly pulled out his wallet and handed over a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep the change,” he said with a playful wink, taking charge of the payment.

Aria felt her heart race a little faster, but she managed to nod in response, inwardly cursing her nervousness. “Th—thank you,” she stammered, trying her best to keep her cool.

“Have a good one, ma’am,” the blonde said with a warm smile as he took the box of doughnuts. He nudged the brunette, who seemed entranced by Aria, prompting him to stumble back a few steps before they both walked away.

As Aria bit her lip, trying to hide her smile, she celebrated her small victory before she noticed that the brunette was still looking back at her with a wild grin. Her face flushed with embarrassment, and she quickly ducked back inside the truck, trying to hide from his gaze. The whole encounter left her heart racing, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d see him again.

Steve's excitement was evident as he eagerly opened the lid to the bright pink box, revealing the array of sticky sweet, and fresh doughnuts inside. The delightful aroma wafted into his face, making his mouth water.

"I think I'm in love," Bucky sighed dreamily, unable to resist the temptation of the delectable treats as he snatched one of his doughnuts out of the box. He took a large bite, “Jesus,” he mumbled with his mouthful looking down at the doughnut in his hand.

Steve paused with his doughnut almost at his mouth, giving Bucky a playful look. "With the doughnut or the girl?” he asked, laughing.

“Do they have to be mutually exclusive?” Bucky asked before taking another bite.

Steve chuckled at Bucky's response, thoroughly enjoying the banter between them. "Fair enough," he said, taking a bite of his doughnut. "Guess you can have your doughnut and eat it too," he teased before devouring the rest of his treat.

Bucky grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Who says I can't have the best of both worlds?" he replied, savoring another mouthful of the delectable doughnut. They continued to enjoy their sweet indulgence on their way back to the Fire Department’s booth.

As Aria and Darcy finished packing up the food truck, they couldn't help but feel exhaustion and satisfaction from another successful day at Cubby Dough. It wasn't their first time running out of doughnuts, but they knew it meant they had served plenty of happy customers. The two friends decided to take advantage of their free afternoon and treat themselves. They locked up the truck and made their way to the farmers market, excited to explore and indulge in some of the delicious offerings from other vendors.

The farmers market was still bustling with activity, and Aria and Darcy relished in the sights and sounds around them. It was a well-deserved break for the duo, a chance to relax and enjoy the vibrant atmosphere of the local community.

“Oh hey, look who it is,” Darcy pointed toward the Pikesville Fire Department’s booth. “It’s the smokin’ hot fireman,” she says as the pair look through a display of hand-painted vases.

Darcy's playful comment about the "smokin' hot fireman" caught Aria's attention, and she followed Darcy's finger to spot the brunette at the Pikesville Fire Department's booth.

"Oh, cool, come on," Aria said, attempting to steer in the opposite direction.

Darcy was quick to intervene, snatching her friend's hand. "Ah ah ah," she chuckled, "Where do you think you're going?"

Aria blinked at her friend, puzzled by the question. "Isn't it obvious? Anywhere but near him, duh," she replied with a sheepish grin, trying to hide her mild embarrassment.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Darcy shook her head, laughing; she tugged Aria toward the booth.

When she got into this playful and determined mood, Aria knew better than to argue or stop Darcy. With a resigned sigh, she reluctantly followed her friend toward the Pikesville Fire Department's booth. Aria braced herself for whatever fun or mischief Darcy had in mind as they approached the booth.

A short blonde man greeted them warmly as they approached the table, offering them a Firemen's calendar to support the Pikesville Animal Welfare.

Darcy couldn't resist flipping through the calendar and teasingly muttered to Aria, "I'm gonna have to set my house on fire. Take a look at these guys." She tilted the calendar towards her friend, showcasing the tall blonde fireman who had come with the brunette. He was photographed wearing nothing but patriotic swim trunks and aviators, his chest glistening, and a flirty smile on his lips as he sprayed a hose; the golden retriever next to him was living her best life chomping at the water.

"Darcy," Aria said, trying to hide her amusement.

 Aria couldn't help but be drawn to the poster board displaying animals available for adoption. Among them was a black cat named Smokey, with shiny black fur and beautiful yellow eyes. She found herself contemplating the idea of adopting him.

Darcy's amused voice interrupted her thoughts, still ogling the firefighters' calendar. "I wouldn't even think about it," she advised. "Doom wouldn't even look at you for a week after you brought your goldfish home; I can't imagine how she'll react if you bring another cat home."

Aria frowned, acknowledging that Darcy had a valid point. Doom Kitty, her temperamental feline companion, was not the easiest to get along with. Despite her delicate appearance and sweet meow, she had a feisty side and often showed her claws to anyone other than Aria. Even with Aria, she sometimes seemed more tolerated than genuinely liked.

"Well, hello there, Mr. October," Darcy playfully sang out, cocking her head to the side. "Aria, you gotta see this," she said, turning the calendar toward her friend.

Aria blinked as the calendar was thrust into her face, and her eyes fell upon the stormy blue-eyed man, shirtless with red suspenders against his tanned, toned physique; his chest had a fine dusting of hair across it, dark pink nipples, the hair seem to disappear over his well defined six pack the dusting of dark hair narrowing just under his navel disappearing into the slung low waistband of his turnout pants, showing off his Adonis belt. He stood on a ladder propped against a beautiful tree with vibrant autumn leaves in reds, browns, orange, and yellow hues. Surrounding the tree were jack-o-lanterns and hay bales, adding to the seasonal charm. He firmly gripped the ladder in one hand while the other held a black cat against his naked torso. He smiled, half-smirking for the camera, his disheveled brown hair adding a hint of charm to his rugged appearance. The picture defiantly captured the essence of October and the spirit of the season.

"I can get him to sign that for you," the short blonde said with a friendly smile. He leaned over the table, propping his head on his elbows as he looked up at them.

Aria and Darcy exchanged glances, Darcy excited and mischievous, while Aria silently begged her friend not to go through with it. "Oh, that would be amazing!" Darcy exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with mischief, clearly ignoring her friend's silent plea.

Aria couldn't help but glare at Darcy, trying to convey her reluctance. "Oh, you really don't have to," she said to the friendly fireman, mustering a smile.

The short blonde nodded, his warm smile never fading. "Nonsense!" he assured them with a wave of his hand. "It's for a good cause, after all."

"Oh, I'm Darcy, by the way," she introduced herself with a smile, holding out her hand to the man.

"Clint," he replied, shaking her hand.

Darcy couldn't resist adding a playful twist to the introduction. "Oh, and this is Aria; she totally has a thing for Mr. October," Darcy grinned wickedly, teasing her friend.

Aria's face flushed with embarrassment, and she playfully nudged Darcy, trying to downplay the comment. "Ignore her, please," she said, chuckling softly. Clint chuckled, too, finding their banter amusing.

Clint playfully drummed his hand on the table. "Don't move, ladies. I'll be right back," he winked before quickly turning on his heels and jogging towards the fire engine.

Aria couldn't help but hiss at Darcy, feeling embarrassed. "I hate you," she whispered through clenched teeth.

Darcy laughed at her friend's reaction, teasingly insisting, "No, you don't. You love me," she said with a mischievous grin, knowing that Aria's frustration was all in good fun.

Clint couldn’t resist teasing his friend as he approached Bucky and Steve. “Hey Buck, got a pretty lady over here that has a thing for Mr. October,” he said with a sly grin.

Bucky’s interest was piqued, and he looked up eagerly. “Oh yeah?” he asked, licking his lips with curiosity.

Clint playfully pointed to the two women standing in front of their table, drawing Bucky’s attention to Aria and Darcy.

One of them had her hair braided in playful pigtails; she was dressed in denim capris and the same black t-shirt he had seen earlier. As Bucky’s eyes landed on the woman standing next to her friend, he couldn’t help but be captivated by her appearance all over again. Her hair was down from its messy bun, and the sunlight caught the purple hues mixed into her dark locks, adding a touch of uniqueness to her look. Now that he had the opportunity, Bucky let his eyes roam down her full body; he’d missed the purple crystal necklace hanging around her neck, resting on her full breast that stretched out the shirt. He licked his lips, admiring her soft-looking tummy, wondering how her curves would feel under his hands. God bless whoever made those denim shorts hugging her plump ass and thick thighs showing off her beautifully tattooed legs; Bucky wanted to get more aquatinted with legs.

“Oh ho ho,” Steve chuckled, playfully slapping Bucky’s shoulder. “Looks like the doughnut goddess has heard your prayers,” he teased, referring to Aria, who seemed to have captured Bucky’s attention.

Bucky laughed along, giving Steve a mock-annoyed look. “Yeah, yeah,” he replied, rolling his eyes in good humor.

As Bucky and Steve followed Clint over to where the women stood, they were introduced to the charming duo.

Clint pointed to Steve and said, “Ladies, this here is our Captain Steve Rogers, aka Mr. July.” Steve gave a friendly nod to Darcy and Aria, acknowledging the introduction.

Next, Clint gestured toward Bucky and said with a playful grin, “And this here is our Lieutenant Bucky Barnes, aka Mr. October.” He wagged his brows in Aria’s direction, adding a touch of flirtatiousness to the introduction.

Aria’s cheeks turned even redder, and she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. The playful teasing and unexpected attention made her feel flustered, and she wished she could disappear.

“Aria here has a thing for Mr. October and wants him to sign her calendar,” Clint announced with a playful smile.

Bucky raised a curious eyebrow, “Is that so?” he asked, a smirk playing on his pretty pink lips as he held his hand out for the calendar. Which Darcy quickly handed over.

Aria was beginning to wonder if one could die from embarrassment. “I like black cats,” she blurted out awkwardly. Desperately wishing for a giant hole could appear and swallow her up.

Bucky chuckled warmly and teased, “I hope that’s not all you liked,” he winked, signing his name to the corner.

Aria’s cheeks reddened further; she was going to murder Darcy.

Before anyone could speak, a series of urgent tones came through the radio attached to Steve and Bucky’s belt, and everyone around the booth stilled to listen.

“Engine two, this is Central Dispatch—code 3. We have a report of a structure fire on 708 North Maple Street. Please respond immediately,” the voice on the other end urgently relayed.

Steve wasted no time and reached up to press the button on his microphone. “Engine two, Roger, over,” he replied promptly, his voice steady and focused.

Aria and Darcy stood in awe as Steve, Bucky, and Clint sprang into action, their years of training evident in their swift movements. The fire engine stood ready, its sirens blaring as the crew readied themselves to respond to the emergency; turnout gear seemingly appeared out of thin air as they efficiently dressed.

As the engine roared to life, Bucky gave Aria a reassuring wink before climbing aboard. Steve and Clint exchanged quick glances before they joined Bucky on the engine. In a matter of seconds, they were off, racing towards the structure fire. The engine’s sirens faded into the distance.

Inside the fire engine, Bucky glanced over at Steve, a hint of regret evident on his face. “I should have gotten her number,” he admitted, speaking into the coms.

Steve chuckled, a playful tone in his voice, “You didn’t write yours down when you signed the calendar?”

Bucky’s expression turned sheepish, and he shrugged, “Guess I was too focused on not tripping over my words.”

Clint, who was listening in on the conversation, chimed in with a teasing remark, “Smooth move, Barnes.”

Bucky rolled his eyes good-naturedly, “Thanks for the support, guys.”

Just then, Sam’s voice joined the coms, adding to the banter, “Hey, Bucky, don’t worry. You’ve got the charm of a superhero. I’m sure she won’t forget you that easily.”

Thor’s booming voice followed suit, “Indeed! Fear not, my friend. Many a warrior has stumbled in the presence of a fair maiden. It happens to the best of us!”

Natasha, who had been quiet until now, couldn’t resist joining in, “Oh, come on, boys. Give him a break. We’ve all been there. It’s not easy to flirt when your heart is racing faster than Quicksilver.” She winked at him.

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at his friends’ comments. “Thanks, appreciate the pep talk.”

As the engine continued toward the scene of the fire, their camaraderie and playful banter lifted their spirits amidst the intensity of the situation.

Two weeks later….

“Doom, please come down,” Aria begged, her voice filled with concern as she looked up into the giant oak tree in her front yard. “Come on, Doom Kitty, please.”

The feline, perched high on a large branch, meowed softly, seemingly indifferent to Aria’s pleas. It stretched out leisurely, basking in the comfort of its elevated spot.

Aria’s heart sank with worry as she tried to coax the stubborn cat down. She sighed, reaching up as if she could physically coax the cat down. “I don’t know how you managed to get up there,” she said, half-amused and half-exasperated.

Doom let out another tiny meow as if acknowledging Aria but showed no intention of budging from its lofty perch.

Suddenly, Darcy appeared by Aria’s side, eating a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. “Still not budging?” she asked, looking up at the tree.

“It’s Doom Kitty; she doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to do,” Aria replied, gesturing upward with one hand while the other rested on her hip.

Darcy chuckled, observing the defiant feline. “Looks like she’s quite content up there.”

“Yeah, I think she’s just enjoying the view,” Aria said with a small smile, but her concern was still evident.

The two friends exchanged glances before Darcy suggested, “Why don’t we try shaking the treat bag? Maybe that’ll tempt her down.”

Aria nodded, liking the idea. “Good thinking. Let’s give it a shot.”

As Darcy came back with the treat bag, Aria held her breath, praying Doom would actually be tempted by the treats. The sound of the treats rattling inside seemed to pique Doom’s curiosity. The cat perked up, its ears twitching.

“Come on, Doom Kitty,” Aria called gently, shaking the bag a bit more.

The feline looked around and then down at her owner, almost glaring as she turned around.

As minutes passed, and Doom showed no signs of budging, Aria's worry escalated. "I don't know what to do," she said, her voice tinged with concern.

Darcy pulled out her phone. "I think we should call for help," she suggested. "Let's dial the fire department. They'll have the right tools to get her down safely."

“Uh, no, I don’t think were—

“Too late,” Darcy interrupted happily as she walked back towards the house to explain the situation to the operator.

Aria sighed, defeated, “This is all you’re fault,” she grumbled, scowling at the cat in the tree.

Within minutes, the sound of sirens filled the air, and the fire engine pulled up in front of Aria's house.

Aria recognized the familiar figure stepping out of the fire engine, and her heart sank. It was Bucky; she couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in his turnout gear. The jacket hung open, revealing a navy PFD shirt underneath, and his hair appeared slightly disheveled and sweaty. When their eyes met, Bucky smirked, seemingly amused by Aria’s flushed cheeks and embarrassed expression. Aria couldn’t help but feel self-consciousness under his gaze.

“Hey there, Aria,” he greeted warmly, his voice carrying a hint of playful teasing. "I hear we have a daring feline in a tree?"

“Hey, Hi, um, Bucky,” Aria managed, pushing up her glasses, feeling a mix of relief and awkwardness at the same time. "Yes, that's Doom," she said, gesturing towards the tree. “I’m sorry, Darcy called; it’s just so cliché. Cat stuck up in a tree,” she rambled.

Bucky chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling. “It’s no problem at all; it’s not every day I get to rescue a pretty girl's kitty from a tree,” he replied, his smirk never leaving his lips.

Aria giggled; she actually giggled. Now she has to move out of town, out of the state, and change her name and hair color.  Bucky winked at her before he addressed the other two firefighters with him.

Aria and Darcy watched with careful coordination as a ladder extended into the tree; Bucky climbed up it. They watched as Bucky expertly made his way up the tree, reaching out toward Doom with gentle gestures.

"Hey there, Doom Kitty," he called softly, trying to calm the agitated feline. "No need to be scared. I won't hurt you."

However, Doom was having none of it. The closer Bucky got, the more she hissed and growled, clearly not pleased with this unexpected visitor in her domain.

Bucky kept his cool, softening his voice, "It's alright, girl. I just want to help you get down safely," he said, trying to soothe her nerves.

Aria and Darcy watched with concern and amusement as Bucky engaged in a subtle "dance" with Doom Kitty, attempting to gain her trust. There were several swipes with her claws extended at Bucky’s hand; he tugged the glove off, offering the feisty feline his hand for her to sniff. Finally, after a few tense moments, Doom's agitation seemed to subside slightly. She stopped hissing and growling, allowing Bucky to move closer.

"There we go, girl," Bucky said gently, inching closer to Doom with caution. "You're doing great."

With a few more patient efforts, Bucky reached Doom and gently cradled her in his arms. He carefully made his way back down the tree, ensuring the safety of both himself and the feisty feline.

Once they were safely on the ground, Aria rushed forward to take Doom into her arms, relieved to have her furry friend back on solid ground.

“Doom Kitty,” she sighed, taking the grumpy cat from Bucky’s arms. “Thank you,” she said, biting her bottom lip and looking up at the fireman through her lashes.

Doom looked around, seemingly unimpressed by the whole situation. Her feline eyes met Aria’s, and for a moment, it almost seemed as if Doom was giving her owner a disapproving glare.

Aria couldn’t help but chuckle at the comical expression on her cat’s face. “Oh, don’t give me that look, Doom,” she teased affectionately. “You’re the one who got yourself into that mess.”

Doom flicked her tail in response as if to say, “I did it my way.”

Bucky joined in the laughter, finding Doom’s attitude amusing. “She’s got quite the personality,” Bucky remarked, reaching out to pet the cat.

Aria chuckled, feeling a bit more at ease in Bucky's presence. "That's an understatement," she said, rubbing Doom's head affectionately. “She’s a little diva.”

Doom purred contently, enjoying the attention despite her earlier defiance.

As the rest of the team finished packing their equipment, Bucky stepped closer to Aria. “You know, despite the chaos, I’m glad we got to see each other again,” he said with a hint of sincerity.

Aria blushed even more, her heart fluttering at the genuine sentiment in his words. “Yeah, me too,” she admitted, trying to gather her thoughts through her nerves.

Bucky leaned in slightly, his voice lower and filled with charm. “My shift ends in two hours; maybe we could grab a coffee or something together?” he suggested a hopeful glimmer in his eyes.

“I’d like that,” she replied, mustering a confident smile.

As the two of them exchanged numbers, Bucky promised to text her later that day to set up a time for their coffee date. Aria felt excitement and anticipation as she watched him climb back into the fire engine. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched him drive away.

Aria felt a sense of possibility in the air. There was something different about this encounter with Bucky, something that made her heart flutter with the start of something new.

As she stood there, the cool breeze gently brushing against her cheeks, Aria realized that Doom’s mischievous adventure had unexpectedly led her to a chance encounter with Bucky.

“You didn’t plan that, did you?” she asked Doom.

“Murph,” Doom Kitty replied.

Aria raised an eyebrow, “I don’t believe you,” she mumbled, walking back inside her house; Aria’s phone buzzed, and she eagerly checked her messages.

It was Bucky, just as he promised, setting up their coffee date for later that day. Her excitement grew as she replied enthusiastically, looking forward to spending more time with him. Aria couldn’t help but feel the sparks of something special in the air as she lay on the couch that afternoon. She knew that this unexpected meeting had the potential to lead to new beginnings, and she embraced the feeling with an open heart.

Little did she know that the adventurous spirit of her mischievous grumpy cat and the bravery of the firefighter who came to her rescue had set the stage for a beautiful connection that would blossom into a meaningful journey together.

Go to Sif's Masterlist

Go to Series Masterlist

[romanovsmurdermystery]

On the photographs: Kitchen wing in Alexandrovsky Palace, Tsarskoe selo.

'Kitchen Wing’ (Alexandrovsky Palace, Tsarskoye Selo)  

In the Alexandrovsky Palace, Tsarskoye Selo, the kitchen premises were located in a separate building situated near the Palace. The building was called ‘Kitchen Wing’.  The wing was connected to the Palace by a special underground tunnel, which was carefully guarded.  

On the first floor of the building, the ‘main kitchen’ was located. It consisted of 16 rooms including a pastry shop (2 rooms), where pies were baked. In these rooms, there were an ice cooler, Russian stoves and a long table for making pies. In the ‘main kitchen’ room, in addition to numerous tables (soup master, sauce maker, etc.), there was a stove. In this room, breakfasts and lunches were cooked, and served according to II, III and IV categories.  

In the preparatory department, preliminary processing of produce was carried out.

All rooms had ice coolers of various types. Especially a lot of ice coolers were in the jelly room, including a large bath tub made of red granite, filled with ice. In these coolers, cold snacks were stored. There was also a separate ice cooler for vegetables, fish, caviar, cream, butter.

There were two pantries for various produce. In a glass cabinet canned food, spices and fruits were stored.

In the meat room there was an aquarium where live trout, sturgeon and whitefish swam.

Dishes were washed in a special washing room, where hot water boilers and sinks for washing copper dishes were installed. Dishes would be dried out on wooden lattice shelves.

A separate room was allocated for the People's Kitchen of the fifth category, equipped with a Russian stove, hearth and hob. In this kitchen, food was prepared for all Palace’s servants. In the same room, there were two tables where the servants had their meals.

In a special silver pantry, the silverware was kept, and a special kettle and jugs with filters for washing the silverware.

On the second floor of the ‘kitchen wing’, there were various service and residential premises: a kitchen linen room, a copper pantry, a room for duty cooks with 6 beds in it. Separate rooms were allocated for cooks of second and first categories (2 people), and the rooms for senior cook apprentices of the first category. Three rooms were allocated for duty maître d'hôtels.

The sketch depicting the tunnel connecting the Kitchen Wing and Alexandrovsky Palace in Tsarskoe selo.

[dreaminlittlenightmares]

What's the best dish they can cook? Can you include the comic character too?

One of these days, I'll make that fabled master list, so I can find if an ask was already answered...

The Maw

Six: Grilled Fish the Janitor: Pork and Beans the Twin Chefs: One makes good Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches, and the other makes a delicious Crème Brulée the Lady: Not necessarily a dish, but a good Old Fashion drink the Granny: Pasteles the Runaway Kid: Peppermint Bark

Pale City

Mono: Spaghetti and Meatballs the Hunter: Roasted Pheasant or Cornish Hens the Teacher: Blackberry Pies the Doctor: Pişmaniye the Thin Man: Ravioli

The Nest

the Raincoat Girl: Scotch Eggs the Craftsman: Handmade Pastas the Butler: Ube Halaya the Pretender: Pancakes

Extras

the Spoon Girl: Mud Pies the Lollipop Kid: Cinnamon Rolls the Ghost Kid: Crab cakes the Toddler: Can't cook, but can pick out edible Berries

the Green Boy: Roasted Chestnuts the Refugee Boy: Rømmegrø the Refugee Boy’s Sister: Raspeball the Long Haired Girl: Spring rolls the Humpback Girl: Gyros the Mummy Kid: Naan the Tall Boy: Chicken Soup the Forked Boy: Pizza the Strong Boy: Barbecued Ribs

the Ferryman: Fish Stew the Mirror Man: Doesn't eat the North Wind: Humans... >A>;

[rosiewitchescottage]

A lot of recipes from my grandmothers generation, passed to them from their mothers, are the ways that working class women found to feed their families with the cheaper cuts of meat, cheaper fish and offal that were what they could afford.

And no. Quite a few of them aren't what you'd call appetizing.

But this was a case of beggars can't be choosers. If every penny that came in had to made to count, then being fussy about food wasn't something that could be encouraged.

Try as I might. I've never been able to get to grips with tripe.

With cow heel and barley

With Scotch Broth - Also containing barley (it's the texture...I just can't 🤢)

With 'jelly pies' - A kind of pork pie that has a lot of meat jelly in it

(Again it's the texture 🤢)

But. There are others that are cheap yet absolutely delicious.

I make Lancashire Hot Pot the way my Grandmothers and my Mum did.

Likewise with Corned Beef Hash, Pea and Ham Soup, Stewing Steak and Kidney, Liver, Onions and Bacon.

And there are Grandmother specialities

My Maternal Grandma made the best custard tarts.

My Paternal Grandma made a gorgeous Bread Pudding

[interactivemediayear1cd]

Culinary oddities

Embarking on a culinary adventure can lead you to discover a world of flavors, some familiar and comforting, while others might push the boundaries of your taste buds. In this exploration, we'll delve into the eccentric realm of weird foods from various corners of the globe, including the intriguing beer can chicken from Vietnam. Additionally, we'll step back in time to the 19th century, a period marked by both culinary innovation and peculiar choices, intertwining this journey with a touch of dark theatricality from the infamous tale of Sweeney Todd.

Weird Foods from Around the World:

1. Beer Can Chicken (Vietnam):

Originating from the vibrant streets of Vietnam, beer can chicken is a culinary spectacle that involves roasting a whole chicken with a can of beer inserted into its cavity. The beer not only imparts a unique flavor but also contributes to the chicken's succulence. This quirky method has gained popularity worldwide, showcasing the inventive and playful nature of Vietnamese cuisine.

2. Hákarl (Iceland):

Venture north to Iceland, and you'll encounter hákarl, a traditional dish featuring fermented shark meat. The preparation involves burying the shark in the ground for several weeks, allowing it to undergo a unique fermentation process. The result is an acquired taste that combines strong ammonia and fish flavors, providing a true Icelandic culinary adventure.

3. Balut (Philippines):

For the more adventurous eaters, the Philippines offers balut – a fertilized duck egg with a partially developed embryo. Often enjoyed with a sprinkle of salt and sometimes vinegar, balut is a street food delicacy that has become an emblem of Filipino gastronomy, despite its unconventional ingredients.

Weird Foods from the 19th Century:

1. Jellied Eels (United Kingdom):

In 19th-century England, jellied eels were a popular working-class dish. Eels were boiled and then set in a savory gelatin made from their own cooking juices. This peculiar concoction reflects the resourcefulness and creativity in making the most of available ingredients during a time of economic challenges.

2. Mock Turtle Soup (Europe and America):

Inspired by Lewis Carroll's "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," mock turtle soup gained popularity in the 19th century. Typically made from calf's head, this soup mimicked the flavors of traditional turtle soup, offering a ‘whimsical twist’ on the dining table.

Connecting with Sweeney Todd:

As we traverse through these culinary oddities, it's impossible not to draw a parallel with the dark and mysterious tale of Sweeney Todd. The infamous barber and his partner in crime, Mrs. Lovett, turned their customers into meat pies in 19th-century London. The macabre narrative of Sweeney Todd adds a chilling layer to our exploration, emphasizing the stark contrast between the eccentricities of the culinary world and the sinister undertones of Victorian society.

From beer can chicken in the bustling streets of Vietnam to the eerie ambiance of Sweeney Todd's barber shop, our journey through weird foods from around the world and the 19th century unveils a tapestry of flavors and stories. These culinary oddities not only reflect cultural diversity but also showcase the ingenuity and adaptability of humans when it comes to satisfying their gastronomic curiosities.

[tgadanparish1]

10 fun facts about pies

pie is an ancient dish that was invented by the romans - They gave us roads and running water and the Romans are also credited with giving us pie – the first example of a meat filling enclosed in a basic pastry made of flour and oil can be traced back to ancient Rome.

pie crust was used as Tupperware before being used for something else - The crusty top/lid of a pie actually served to preserve the food as a sort of container – in fact the shells were tough and basically inedible but they served well as a sort of utensil to eat the filling before being discarded.

The theatre of pie - Medieval chefs were often tasked with outdoing one another for their masters entertainment. Birds are said to have flown out of pies and it’s even rumoured that dwarves came out of pies at feasts.

Fruit pies and the Tudor connection - Called ‘pyes’ in medieval England and filled with meat, fruit pies first appeared in the 1500s, but British tradition says that the first cherry pie was served to Queen Elizabeth I in the late 16th century.

Mince pies were once banned - Legend has it that in the 17th century Oliver Cromwell (Lord Protector of the Commonwealth) banned eating mince pies at Christmas as he saw it as a sign of gluttony. Luckily the ban didn’t last long and we are able to enjoy the delicious pies once more.

To eat humble pie - ‘humble pie’, a pie made from the innards of deer, was said to be a dish for the lower classes as venison was reserved for the wealthy. But while it might be fun to put ‘humble’ and ‘humble’ together, there’s no real evidence to link this saying with the dish. 

The Cornish delicacy that features fish that stare at you - Stargazy pie involves baking seven types of fish, including herring and mackerel, and a filling of eggs, potatoes and thickened milk. Whole pilchards are then arranged so their heads (and sometimes tails) emerge from a shortcrust pastry topping. The pie is traditionally cooked in the fishing village of Mouse hole on 23 December to celebrate Tom Bawcock’s Eve, a day commemorating the heroic 16th-century fisherman who braved winter storms in his boat to ensure the locals didn’t go hungry over Christmas.

Jellied Eels is a popular pie accompaniment in East London - In London, pie shops often sell jellied eels –a classic Cockney dish of native British eels, boiled and then cooled – as an accompaniment to pie.

‘Death by pie’ has been cemented in literary legend - Shakespeare killed off two characters in Titus Andronicus by baking them into a pie, and Sweeney Todd, the fictional Victorian character who ran a London barber shop, disposed of his victims by baking them into pies.

Pies pop-up in many a nursery rhyme - Four and twenty blackbirds were baked in a pie in ‘Sing a Song of Sixpence’, Simple Simon met a pieman in his eponymous rhyme and even Little Jack Horner stuck his thumb into a pie. 

[thehungrykat1]

City of Dreams Manila Brings Holiday Cheer with Festive Offerings

City of Dreams Manila unwraps yuletide and seasonal offerings at its premium restaurants Crystal Dragon, Nobu Manila, Haliya and Season 88. Christmas wafts in the air at Café Society, with various holiday-themed confections transforming the cafe into a yuletide wonderland. Playful chocolate sculptures, gingerbread houses alongside a spread of confections and pastries are offered until the end of December. Christmas Chocolate Houses (P2,000), Santa Bear in milk and white chocolate in varying sizes (starts at P400 net), and other Christmas staples like Panettone (Italian Christmas bread); Stollen (cake-like bread with its origin in Germany), fruit mince pies, and yule log cakes complete Café Society’s fancy holiday spread. To heighten the holiday dining, the season’s festive drinks are also available across the property from Cafe Society, Hidemasa, Rossi Pizza, Haliya to Wave poolside restaurant and bar. 

Adding fun and excitement for families, DreamPlay holds an all-star holiday parade of well-loved characters from DreamWorks Animations at 5:30 PM, every Saturday and Sunday of December, including Christmas Day and New Year’s Day at The Shops at the Boulevard.  Characters from the films Shrek, Kung Fu Panda, Puss in Boots, Madagascar, and Trolls will be on parade to delight the kids and kids at heart. 

Setting the mood for joyful gatherings, a garden-themed Christmas tree display at the resort’s main casino entrance welcomes guests. Adorned with lush, colorful floral accents and glistening lights, the sprawling display is the resort’s centerpiece this holiday season. Christmas trees are also on display at the lobbies of Nuwa Manila, Nobu Hotel and Hyatt Regency Manila. A Christmas bazaar at The Shops at the Boulevard comprised of well-curated kiosks offering luxe jewelry, home, fashion and other trendy selections adds to the holiday shopping until December 24.

The integrated resort’s acclaimed restaurant known for its Cantonese and regional Chinese specialties, Crystal Dragon, highlights premium ala carte choices from December 18 to January 1, 2024, from lunch onwards: Braised Sea Treasure Broth with Alaskan king crab, fish maw and Chinese ham; Oven-baked Chicken filled with black truffle paste and foie gras; Wok-fried Prawns in homemade cheese sauce and crispy enoki mushrooms; Flaming Wagyu Beef – Sichuan Style with king oyster mushrooms; and Chilled Sweetened Honeydew with soymilk jelly, homemade vanilla ice cream and pearl sago.

Nobu Manila fȇtes guests with a “Nobu Experience” at its Holiday Sunday Brunch on December 24 for P4,388 net per person. Unlimited helpings of popular Nobu-style dishes laid out on the buffet and a la carte service include the Nobu Signature Sashimi Trio of Tuna Matsuhisa, Yellowtail Jalapeño and Salmon Karashi su Miso; Black Cod Butter Lettuce; Nobu Pork Sisig; and an array of maki rolls unique to Nobu, to name a few. The featured Carving of the Day – the Whole Rib Roast and Wagyu Chuck Roll served with a choice of mushroom wasabi pepper sauce or creamy wasabi -- complemented by Salmon Wellington with Nobu-style tartar sauce, different choices of kushiyaki prepared ala minute, a ramen bar and seafood bar take diners to a one-of-a-kind celebratory dining experience.

An elaborate Christmas dinner also beckons at the restaurant, where a seven-course omakase tasting menu reflecting Chef Nobu Matsuhisa’s new-style Japanese cuisine will be offered for dinner on December 24 and 25. At P5,600++ per person, the menu consists of a complimentary chef’s choice of appetizer; Crispy Whitefish with kumomo puree, jalapeño dressing, crispy quinoa, caviar; Assorted Sushi; Inaniwa Noodles with shrimp in tomato clear soup; Tuna Pastrami Salad with amazu, grapeseed oil, vegetable salad roll and crispy onions; and Chilean Seabass Inasal with sweet potato korokke and yuzu atchara caviar. The menu’s piece de resistance is the Nobu-style Wagyu Beef Wellington with roasted tomato jus, braised roots and crispy nasu, preceding a dessert of Strawberry Vanilla Bavarois with meringue and sponge cake. 

For a Filipino noche buena that evokes the flavors of the season, Haliya has customized a modern Filipino Christmas menu with ala carte choices. Available on December 24 from lunch onwards and for dinner on December 25, the special dishes are comprised of: Duck Jamonado Ensalada, a medley of mesclun greens, marble potato, baby beans, cherry tomato, green olives, pearl onion, baby beetroot, soft-boiled egg in cranberry vinegar dressing; Molo Krema, a comforting concoction of crispy molo noodles with water chestnut, celery, carrot, spring onion, corn and leek oil; Chicken Pastel with mushroom, queso de bola sarsa, asparagus, water chestnut, potato, herb jus, and black salt; and Persimmon Panna Cotta with butter cream, calamansi honey sauce, candied pinipig, chestnut crumble and a trio of macaron. 

A selection of Chinese and Korean specialties from December 15 to January 14 makes up an Asian feast shared among family and friends at Season 88. Situated at the vibrant main gaming floor, the 24-hour chic dining room and lounge offers special Chinese dishes: Hakka Braised Pork Belly with rice vinegar and peanuts and Wok-fried Butter Prawn with oats; and Korean favorites: Honghap Tang (Korean mussel soup with red and green chili, leeks and savory soy sauce) and Bossam (Korean pork belly wrap with radish kimchi). Diverse international cuisines complemented by a wide array of premium beverages and spirits are also on the menu. For inquiries and reservations, call 8800-8080 or e-mail guestservices@cod-manila.com. For more information, visit www.cityofdreamsmanila.com. 

[interactivemediaahh]

Victorian street food

lemonade, ginger beer/ale, strawberries and cream, oysters, pea soup, fried fish, pies, jelly eels, sandwich-ham, muffins, crumpet, scones, boiled eggs. needed a list one list. its quite plain compared to todays food. apart from, perhaps, the eels