#drinking wine and eating homemade bread

[pisces-sunset]

for someone who does not believe in the divinity of christ, it sure is sus that I stayed up until 3am praying the rosary and thinking about jesus.

[aloysiavirgata]

Unremarkable house, Brother Bill, rooster

Mulder is in the big hammock out back, sprawled like a Roman Emperor. The chickens are out, pecking for bugs among the goat droppings. He has a lemon shandy in a frosty glass. He has a tomato sandwich with tomatoes from their garden and homemade bread. He has Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell next to him.

He has misgivings.

Scully enters his field of view, stage left, “Mulder, you’d better put those damn chickens away before he gets here, especially Francisco. That rooster is a complete menace.”

She glares at the enormous bird. They’ve had a few scuffles, she and Francisco. There have been Band-Aids and three stitches.

He slurps at his drink. “You don’t think your brother wants to see my big cock?”

She is silent for a long moment. Then, “I swear to God I will literally kill you, Mulder. I will shoot you and I will bury you out here and I will put a big gazebo over your grave and every time I sit in it I will think about how much you had it coming.”

She stalks back to the house.

“Jesus,” Mulder says to the chickens. “Someone is in a mood.”

***

It’s an awkward greeting, but not as awkward as he’d imagined. He and Bill have always hated each other, which makes it easy to pick up where they’d left off, like two enemy pirate captains running into one another at a bar in Tortuga.

Bill, per usual, looks like he was waiting for the Dulcolax to kick in. Douchebag plaid shorts that Rob Petrie wouldn’t have touched with a ten foot golf club.

He sweeps his sister up in a massive hug and she got rather teary and Bill, to his credit, looks a bit pink around the eyes and nose as well. He puts his sister down after a moment, smoothing her hair.

Bill and Mulder then acknowledge one another’s undeniable existence on the material plane. Shake hands like sulky but well-mannered children after a baseball game.

***

Now they’re on the deck while Mulder tends the grill, three gorgeous steaks from a neighbor’s cow before him.

“It’s beautiful out here, Dana,” Bill says.

“Mostly Mulder’s doing,” Scully replies, sipping at the wine her brother had brought. “He’s honestly a wizard with this property.” She glances at him when she says it and he smiles back.

“Really?” Bill says. “Well, color me impressed. Mulder, I had no idea you were such an adept little homemaker.”

Mulder moves the steaks to a serving platter. “Oh, sure. Dana just uses me for cooking, yardwork, and sex.”

Bill chokes on his beer and Scully closes her eyes for a beat the way Anne Boleyn must have when they led her from the Tower.

Mulder sets the platter on the table, uncovers the potato salad and the asparagus. Sourdough rolls and goat-milk butter.

“Now Bill,” he says, “you tell me if that steak is too rare and I’ll pop it right in the microwave for you. Let me know if you need anything else, some A-1 or ketchup or anything at all. I want you to feel at home.”

Absolute daggers in Scully’s eyes.

Bill coughs lightly. “Everything looks fantastic, thank you both.”

“It was good of you to make the drive, Bill,” Scully says, loading up plates with food. “I know it’s a bit of a haul.”

Bill smiles indulgently. “Couldn’t be this close to my kid sister after so long and not swing by!”

“Though we would have understood,” Mulder says, warmly. He butters a roll and passes it to his brother in law. “Never feel obligated.”

Bill narrows his eyes as he accepts the bread. “Thank you.”

“I’m going to need some new pictures of the kids,” Scully says brightly. “Matthew must have grown six inches since that school photo you sent, Bill! And Mom says Claire has lost two teeth.”

“I’ll tell Tara to send some,” Bill says, puffing up.

They eat in silence for a time. Knives cutting through the tender steaks and stabbing into waxy potatoes and young asparagus. Butter dripping down chins.

“It’s a shame William isn’t growing up here,” Bill says, wiping his plate with another roll. “Dana, how could-“

Her fork clatters to her plate and he shuts up.

A roaring silence like an event horizon.

“Bill,” Scully says, sweetly. “We have the most beautiful rooster to show you.”

[lostloveletters]

Something Borrowed (Michael Corleone x Reader)

Summary: Michael Corleone is the last person you expect to see at your best friend Connie’s wedding, and the last thing you expect to happen upon seeing him again after so many years is spending the night together. Maybe, it'll turn into something more.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. No hate to Kay, she’s my girl, but wedding scene Michael drives me crazy🤭 She’s off living her best life elsewhere in this. Also, it was a lot of fun writing pre-everything Michael. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content involving unprotected sex. Light play fighting.

Champagne and giggles overflowed at Connie Corleone’s wedding to Carlo Rizzi. Plenty of red wine was passed around in pitchers for the old guard, of course. For you and the other women conscious of not staining the rainbow of cocktail dresses and flowing gowns that dotted the backyard, you opted for lighter fare in tall flutes that sparkled in the early autumn sun. 

Perhaps you were a bit too enthusiastic about the drink offerings, having already exchanged three empty champagne glasses for ones filled to the brim with glittering gold when the bride engulfed you in a hug. With a delighted laugh, you returned the gesture, kissing her cheek.

“I wanted to say thank you one more time for coming!” Connie exclaimed, her cheeks flushed pink from the excitement of the day. “God, it breaks my heart we couldn’t have gotten you a bridesmaid dress in time, but you look gorgeous.”

“Me? Connie, you look like a princess.”

“I feel like one,” she giggled.

“When you see your gift from me—I’m sorry it’s not more, I haven’t—”

“Stop it!” she scolded. “You came all the way from Europe just to be at my wedding. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

You didn’t bother correcting her. Her version of events sounded much nicer than you just got lucky with when the Red Cross put you on a boat home. “Anything for you.”

“I won’t keep you. This is probably the first time you’re eating real food in years. Mama, Sandra, and Theresa made most of it.”

Connie was right. You tried to savor your plate, packed with pasta drowned in homemade sauce, antipasto and crusty bread, and sandwiches that towered with fresh cold cuts. The Corleones knew a thing or two about good food, and had the means to pull the strings for the unfathomable ration books such a feast required.

A familiar yet unexpected voice startled you when your fork pierced a piece of mozzarella. “Is this seat taken?”

“Michael,” you practically gasped, taken aback by his even attending the wedding in the first place, but also how good he looked in his uniform. Cap tucked under his arm, medals and decorations on his chest, the photos you’d seen in the magazine didn’t do him justice. Finding yourself again, you gestured to the empty seat across from you. “Go ahead.”

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you, but you look great,” he said, his gaze fixed on you as he set his plate and glass down. He took you in, the girl he’d grown up seeing around the house and at school, now, without a doubt, a woman.

“You too, Captain,” you said, nodding toward the double bars on his uniform.

He snickered at your little joke, making you feel a bit more at ease in his presence. “I’m surprised you aren’t in the wedding party.”

“Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I was going to make it until a few days ago. I only just got back to New York on Thursday,” you said.

“You volunteered with the Red Cross, didn’t you?”

You nodded. “I was in England, and then France after the liberation.”

“Clubmobile, right?”

“Did Connie tell you?”

He shook his head, smiling the slightest bit. “All the pretty girls worked the Clubmobile.”

A mortifyingly girlish giggle escaped your lips. You quickly brought your glass to your mouth, though the champagne in it was likely the culprit of your embarrassing reaction to Michael’s compliment. Averting your eyes to the dancing guests, you tried to ignore the warmth that spread across your face.

You allowed yourself to look at him again a few moments later, relieved to find he was still sitting in front of you, amused, maybe even endeared, by you.

“You’re such a jerk, Michael,” you mumbled, only because he was your friend’s older brother, and when you were younger and starry-eyed and figuring out what it meant when your heart wouldn’t quite beat right around a boy, it was him who those tender emotions were kindled in secret toward—until you had your first real boyfriend.

He grinned at your remark, and the two of you ate and caught up in between his various family members stopping by the table to say hello. You weren’t sure what to make of his seeing you before any of them—flattered, a bit confused as well, but he laughed at your jokes and moved his seat closer to yours, so you must have been doing something right when he finally asked, “Do you want to dance?”

“I’d love to,” you said.

The chaos from Johnny Fontaine’s unexpected arrival and impromptu performance subsided when Michael led you out to dance. He held you close, the way soldiers had at the dances the Red Cross put on for servicemen, all to boost morale, or, as the war went on, to offer a break from reality. Among the many rules meant to be followed—and typically broken in one way or another in the haze of war—was to keep some emotional distance from the enlisted men, for your sake and their own, but with bodies so close together, tender touches and soft whispers over songs of twilight and moonbeams, it was tough not to be caught up in romance’s alluring snare.

Even then, with the war behind both of you, something about being in Michael’s arms made you truly understand why some girls risked their assignments for a man. There was something in how he looked at you, different from your childhood together, even from a few minutes prior. You felt breathless despite the slow song you swayed along to.

“Did you like Paris?” he asked quietly, throwing you for a loop.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Paris?”

“You were in France, weren’t you?”

“Not Paris.”

“Where in France were you slinging doughnuts, then?”

“Little villages a few miles out from the front, mostly. More cows than people, but nice enough once the fighting stopped, and it was finally quiet—as quiet as it could get, anyway,” you said. “When Connie wrote you’d been wounded, I couldn’t help but think the worst. Plenty of guys out there—well, that article sure put me at ease. All the girls were jealous when I said I knew you.” You smiled. “I’m glad you’re alright, Michael.”

He glanced at your lips, and for an aching moment you were sure he was going to kiss you, but instead he gave you a smile, one that was real and made your heart flutter nevertheless, but left you disappointed.

“Where are you staying since you’ve been back?” he asked.

He seemed familiar with the hotel you were staying in when you mentioned it, offering to drive you back after the reception ended, and Connie and Carlo left for their honeymoon. 

“It’s only until I can find a boarding hotel that has space,” you said. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be the Barbizon, but I’m not moving back in with my parents.”

“Here’s to that.”

The rest of the day and into the evening, Michael hung around you, unless he was pulled away by members of his family, each instance an annoyance to him. You knew they weren’t exactly supportive of his enlisting, but the situation couldn’t have been that bad, not since he was home, safe and sound at his sister’s wedding.

The Corleones, though endlessly kind to you, always been an odd family, and you learned through your friendship with Connie not to ask too many questions.

But Genco Abbandando was dying, and Vito insisted Michael go with the rest of the Corleone men to pay his respects to the elder. When you offered to take a cab back to your hotel, Michael promised the visit wouldn’t be long, suggesting you wait at the house with his mother until he returned to drive you into the city.

Your foolish desire to spend more time with him led to your waiting in the Corleones’ kitchen for a little over an hour, when you likely would’ve been showered and in bed in your hotel room by the time he arrived back for you, in one hell of a hurry to get you into his car and presumably get away from his family.

“Do you ever think about leaving New York?” he asked when the house was out of view.

You laughed. “Michael, I only just got back.”

“That’s not what I mean. The war—it wasn’t going to be forever, but it let you see what life could be like away from all of this, didn’t it?”

“Of course it did. I’m honestly not sure what I’m going to do with myself now,” you said. “How about you? Are you going back to school? Dartmouth, I mean.”

He nodded. “I start again the spring semester.” At a red light, he glanced over at you. “New England’s nice. Better than French cow country.”

“And do you suppose I could study in the department of pouring coffee and serving doughnuts?”

“You’re smart. I think you have a real future,” he said, the sincerity in his voice startling you. “All of that back there, that’s not for us. It never has been.”

You were silent for a few moments. “I guess you’re right.”

The city lights twinkling in the distance took the place of the stars they blocked out from the sky, growing larger as Michael crossed the bridge into Manhattan, the center of the universe. You’d never tell a soul how you cried just a few days prior upon seeing it again for the first time in years.

Besides his talk of the future, Michael kept the conversation light, and you could’ve sworn he was flirting with you. Working the Clubmobile, you learned quickly how to pick up on it, some men laying it on thick while others were irresistibly smooth. Michael could’ve easily just been teasing you, the way a friend’s older brother would, but when he pulled up to your hotel, either your ego or curiosity prompted you to invite him up for a drink.

You sobered up on the drive into the city, enough to remember you didn’t have any drinks in your room. The two of you would have to go to the hotel bar for that, but then you and Michael wouldn’t be alone, not how you wanted, anyway.

To your relief, he agreed.

With Michael in uniform, few questions would be asked by hotel staff as to why you suddenly had a man with you when you checked in on your own. It would have been easy to lie, claim he was your fiance who had only just gotten back Stateside. But you supposed you and Michael already looked the part, walking arm-in-arm through the lobby without an issue.

Your confidence soared on the elevator ride up to your modest room, which you let Michael into, knowing he wouldn’t judge the state of your accommodations.

“Mind if I make myself comfortable?” You didn’t wait for his answer, pulling your blouse from where it’d been tucked in your skirt. Slipping out of your heels, you sighed softly in relief.

“It’s your place,” he said, setting his coat over the chair in the corner and loosening his tie.

You grabbed his cap from where he set it down and placed it on your head, tilting the brim over your face a bit and posing in front of him with a hand on your hip. “How do I look?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, giving you a once over, “I swear I saw you pinned up in some guy’s tent looking just like that.”

You laughed, taking the cap off and flinging it aside. “Oh, I don’t even know why I invited you up here!” Your laughter faded as something in your stomach turned sour, the situation feeling achingly too good to be true. Alone in a hotel room with Michael, the two of you entirely capable of making your own mistakes on the off chance he wanted you too. “Or why you even agreed to come up.”

“I didn’t come up here to drink.”

“No, you did it to be nice, because we’ve known each other for so long…” You sighed, sitting next to him. “I always figured you thought of me as your kid sister’s annoying little friend or something.”

He shook his head, saying your name softly in either protest or reassurance. His hand cupped your face as he turned it toward him, his thumb rubbing soft circles in your cheek. “Not for a long time. Especially not tonight.”

You kissed him, hands gripping his shoulders, closing your eyes as you melted in his embrace. Your skin feverish at his touch, you shuddered when his hand slipped up your untucked blouse until his fingertips reached your bra.

To say you hadn’t fantasized about Michael would have been an unconvincing lie to anyone who dared ask, but even in your wildest dreams, it was never quite like this, so bold and irreverent in the face of the tradition the two of you had just spent the day celebrating.

“I came up here because you’re beautiful,” he confessed against your lips, “because you’re the only familiar face I saw at my sister’s wedding that didn’t make me wish I were somewhere else.”

Silencing him with another kiss, your fingers raked through his soft black hair as your body pressed flush against his, unsure if you could withstand hearing more of his tender words without falling to pieces. You couldn’t, not so early in the night, but his desire grew difficult to ignore when he pulled you onto his lap. The pressure against your pussy made you moan, and with a hasty desperation, you shimmied out of your panties as he unbuckled his belt, freeing his hard cock within a few moments.

You slipped a hand between the two of you, pumping his length, feeling the way it twitched at your touch and gasping when Michael’s hips bucked. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, a whisper of an intent to devour you.

“I need you, sweetheart,” he groaned. “Need to feel you.”

Lifting your hips, you whimpered upon feeling his head brush your clit as you positioned yourself, slowly lowering as he filled you, cock throbbing against your walls that clenched around him. He assuaged the pain of taking all of him with a gentle kiss and soft praises, urging you to take your time, that you had all night together.

All night. The promise he would stay, at least until the morning, sent a teasing wave of pleasure through you. Gripping his shoulders, you tried to keep a steady pace as you rode him, wanted to show him that staying would be worth his while. He’d been right in the car, you wouldn’t be a virginal, wedding white bride. The both of you had seen and experienced too much to be considered innocent any longer, but it was something you shared, that no one else from that day would have understood.

Your thighs ached as you neared your climax, desperately chasing it despite the exhaustion that was creeping up on you. Crying out in frustration, you buried your face in the crook of Michael’s neck.

“I’m close,” you whined. “Michael, I—”

“I’ve got you,” he assured you, his hands making their home on your hips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let him guide your body, his thrusts doing most of the work while you rocked against him, seeking the friction against your clit that would bring you to release. It caught in your throat, a broken groan from your lips to his ears as you came, clenching around him, pleasure rolling through you, rattling your body like thunder. You barely caught your breath when he came, shuddering against you, practically cradling you against him as he filled you.

With a whimper, you lifted yourself off of him and rolled back onto the bed. Placing your hand on your chest, you felt your rapidly beating heart beneath your fingertips, focusing on it as it slowed the following minute or so and ignoring the stickiness between your legs, the evidence you slept with your best friend’s older brother. 

Michael leaned over, brushing back the hair that stuck to your face. “What are your plans tomorrow?”

“Looking through the classifieds for a job,” you said honestly.

“Wanna put it off for a day?”

“With what money, Michael?”

“I’ll give you a line of credit.”

You grabbed one of the pillows from behind you, throwing it at him with a laugh. “Jerk!”

He grinned, pushing it aside to grab for one of your arms. You put up a weak fight, your breathless laughter giving away his almost certain win.

Having pinned you down beneath him, he pressed you for an answer. “So?” He kissed you. “What do you say, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “I guess I can clear my schedule for a dashing war hero like you.”

“Dashing, I like the sound of that,” he murmured, bringing his lips to yours again, softly, with a tenderness that promised more for tomorrow, and even the day after, if you’d have him. 

You smiled. “Me too.”

[sapphos-corner]

Rainy day//Sapphic Fiction reader x girlfriend one-shot ☆

Synopsis: You and your girlfriend are in your second year of college. You moved in together over the summer. It's late fall now, and you wakeup together on a rainy sunday and do your normal routine.

Contains: HEAVY fluff. Eating, hobbies, shower scene, movie night.

Notes: Both characters in this oneshot are over 18. Appearances for reader and gf aren't described so it's open to anyone 18+. There is no smut in this oneshot, just affection and quality time.

Word count: 1.4K

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I open my heavy eyes and stretch my arms above my head. I yawn and look over to my right, seeing her scrolling through her phone next to me.

"Good morning." She says, smirking and putting her phone down. She reaches over and envelops me in a hug, squeezing gently.

"Did you sleep well?" I ask, my voice muffled through her sweater.

"Of course, I always sleep so good next to you. I was about to make some coffee, do you want some?"

I smile big and nod. She kisses my head and steps out of bed. I watch her as she walks away and admire her silhouette. Her legs are toned and smooth, she's wearing one of my oversized knitted sweaters.

I roll onto her pillow and hug it towards me. Our sunday routine is one of my favorite things in the entire world. I reach over to her nightstand and grab the remote. She returns with two full mugs, she looks so cute trying to balance the cups. I reach over and she carefully hands mine over.

"Thank you so much love."

She kisses my head and slips under the covers next to me. I press play on our current show.

The morning is spent with us snuggled up in each other's sweaters, drinking coffee, and laughing at our current show. Pausing every once in a while to debrief different events and plotlines.

For lunch, we heat up the leftover beef stew and homemade french bread that I made yesterday. I can't help but smile at the way she delicately pulls her bread apart and dips it into the soup. She always smiles as she chews, too.

"Your bread is legitimately award winning, I think I could actually live off of it."

She stands up from the table, grabbing my bowl for me and gifting me a kiss and a quick thank you before she washes the dishes.

When I get up, I walk over to her at the sink. Her sleeves are pushed up but I can see one falling down. I push it back up for her and hug her from behind, resting my head on her back. I can't help but tilt my head up and plant a kiss on the nape of her neck.

I grab our sketchbooks from the shelf in our bedroom, along with her watercolor marker set and my micron pens. I set them on the coffee table on our porch. I start up the heater and head back inside. I pour us some glasses of bubbly peach wine, making sure to grab a blanket and her speaker on the way back out.

She meets me outside moments later, snuggling up next to me under the blanket. She grabs her sketchbook and markers, immediately starting to fill a page with a variety of blues and purples.

"Feeling inspired?"

She looks up and smirks. "Yeah actually, the rain is kinda like...my muse or something..." She scrunches up her face and I cringe-laugh.

"I..I hated that."

She chuckles "I know, but seriously I don't know what it is, I'm just in the right mood to make something I guess. I don't even really know what I'm wanting to do yet, I'm just CRUSHING on the blue-purple color combo recently."

I lean over and kiss her

"What was that for?"

"Just couldn't help it."

Her cheeks flush and she looks down, smiling shyly. She grabs my hand and runs her thumb over my knuckles.

"I love you so much dude."

"I love you too."

She reaches forward and grabs her speaker. She connects her phone and puts on her ambient playlist.

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"You know what sounds like heaven right now?"

"hm?"

"A shower."

I perk up and start the clean up outside. She jumps up to help

"I got this, love. I'll meet you in there."

She smiles with her eyes and blows me a kiss as she steps inside. I get everything back in its places and head to the bathroom. I can hear her humming softly under the water, steam already rising and pouring out above the curtain.

I step in and admire her back for a moment. It's impossible to not notice the glow of her skin under the warm lighting. She has a mole on her right shoulder blade. She used to reach her hand back in an attempt to cover it, and it broke my heart. It's one of my favorite parts of her body, and everytime I get to see it my heart fills with gratitude at the fact that she doesn't try to hide it anymore.

I step forward and pull her close to me. I lean against the wall as she rests her head on my chest. I reach up for the shower head, pulling it up from the hook. I turn it to the softest setting and aim it towards the back of her head. I trail downwards and rub her back as the water hits her skin.

I put the head back in place and grab the shampoo. After lathering it in my hands I run my fingers through her hair and massage her scalp. I retrieve the shower head and wash the suds out, stroking her hair in the process. She wraps her arms around my waist and kisses the center of my chest.

She pops her head up and cups my face with her hands. She gives me a quick but meaningful peck.

"Your turn."

As she finishes washing the shampoo out of my hair, she gifts me a million little kisses across my collarbones. She pulls me into her chest and bear hugs me.

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I come out of our closet to find her lighting candles and opening the blinds. She switches off the main light, and turns on the lamp on her nightstand.

We slip back under the covers and pick up our current books. We sit and read for about an hour before she puts hers down and looks over at me.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, a bit."

"How do you feel about some toasted sandwiches with that bread you made?"

"Mmmmm yes, absolutely."

She pops up and makes her way to the kitchen. I step out of bed and head out to the living room. I plop on the couch and pick a movie for us to watch while we eat.

She comes over to the couch with our plates. She runs back to the kitchen and comes back with some cups of blueberry lemonade for us.

The sandwich has pesto, tomato, spinach, salami, and melted mozzarella. The bread is toasted perfectly and she brought a family sized bag of baked cheddar & sour cream chips to pair with the sandwiches. I press play on 'our idiot brother,' the movie for tonight and we dig in.

Our idiot brother is one of my favorite movies, and she still hasn't seen it. I glance at her occasionally, watching her reaction to the 'adorkable,' heart-warming moments.

As the movie wraps up, I look over to see this absolute angel of a girl tearing up. She puffs out her bottom lip and looks over to me.

"That was so sweet I can barely even stand it."

"I can't believe you're crying. You're so baby."

She laughs through her nose but starts to cry for real, laughing out loud in between whimpers. She dives her head into my lap, her back rising and falling in unison with the sounds she makes.

I laugh alongside her and stroke her hair. I lean back and pull her up towards me by her hands. She lays on my chest while I put on the show we watched this morning.

It's hard to not be overcome with dread for the beginning of the week after a day like this one.

"I genuinely think I could spend the rest of my life right here."

"Me too."

We force ourselves up. I head to the kitchen with our plates and do the dishes while she goes to brush her teeth. After I finish up, I brush my teeth and meet her in our room.

I blow the candles out, shut the blinds and slip into bed. I inch my way over to her and lay on her chest. She reaches her hand under my shirt and rubs my back until I fall asleep.

[writtenbyshama]

Long Way Home [Part II]

[Azriel x Reader fanfic]

Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 1 here.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Part II

I started noticing that I got stared at more than usual whenever I came to visit father. Apparently, he had proudly told everyone who came to be treated that his daughter now studied in the House of the Wind and worked for the High Lord himself. I was happy to see him happy, but at the same time embarrassed when I was in the spotlight of attention. 

In my most recent visit, there were only a few patients to take care of, and none to stay the night in the infirmary room. Father cooked a deliciously smelling vegetable soup with mouth watering garlic bread for dinner. We carried the food along with a bottle of homemade wine to the terrace of our building. We did this often, sitting under the magnificent sky of the City of Starlight. It kind of became our ritual after mother died, where after all the eating and drinking, I'd lie down with my head on father's lap like I used to do as a small child, and he narrated stories of her. 

Our family history was a bit strange. My father was a proud, handsome descendant of the Illyrians, but my mother had been a high fae from the Summer Court. I've heard that most of my ancestors' pairing is similar to that. 

Your mother, she had this alluring green eyes, the colour which you see in the depths of a still pond, never letting go once you are pulled into. I can still see how the soft wind caressed her pinkish hair against her skin. He loved to describe her, and repeated over and over again the story of how they met. 

The story of how she died was only told once, and he never repeated it again. When I had been two years old, mother was pregnant with my sister. There was an internal bleeding which didn't stop, and sadly, both mother and child succumbed to it.

According to one of my neighbours, father was completely devastated after her death. He even stopped selling his services for a while. He didn't talk to anyone and sulked alone, which was completely opposite to his usual extrovert nature. I don't remember any of this, though. Even with sadness in his heart, he never forgot that he had a living daughter and my childhood was full of happy memories. 

Well, mostly. 

That night, he was telling me the story of how he used to paint my mother's toenails with colour when she was pregnant and couldn't do it herself—his personal favourite which I listened to every time like I was hearing it for the first time—when a shadow flew across the starry sky and landed in front of us. 

It was Azriel. 

I pushed myself into a sitting position, squinting at the cloth wrapped parcel which he held in both hands. When my father stood up to greet him, he extended it forward. 

"Greetings, sir. The High Lord and Lady send their compliments," he then turned to me. "Hello, y/n."

I nodded while father conveyed his thanks and accepted the parcel. Azriel was about to leave right then, but father insisted on him having dinner before he did so. He hesitated, his gaze dropping at our empty dining plates and wine bottle, but eventually agreed. They went down the stairs into the warmth of the kitchen and I followed. 

Father was already making cheery conversation, and Azriel joined after a while. They knew some mutual fae and some members of the Illyrian clan, and began having an earnest discussion. 

Azriel was ushered to sit while I set the table and father heated up the food. He always made extra portions because someone could unexpectedly stopped by for a chat and had to be welcomed with delicious food every time. While Azriel ate and they talked, I silently listened from a chair nearby. I felt the familiar squeezing ache in my chest as I watched them, because I could tell that Azriel was not humouring my father out of mere politeness and genuinely wanted to converse. He was never like that with me in the few months I've spent in the House. 

I felt prickling behind my eyes, and I excused myself to my room before it turned into tears. Once underneath my warm covers, I let the tears fall and fell into a tired slumber. 

I was jerked back into consciousness when I heard the sound of my bedroom door being opened. My eyes were swollen shut from all the crying and I had to fight to open them a bit and see who came in. 

It was father. He sat on the side of my bed and gently caressed my hair, noticing that I was awake. 

"Azriel left just now. We talked for a long time."

I closed my eyes and sighed, trying very hard not to cry again. "Hmm."

"Has he hurt you?" He asked, his voice low.

I blinked open my eyes in confusion. "Who?"

"Azriel."

I scoffed and shook my head. "I don't even know him that well to be hurt, papa."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's why you cried yourself to sleep, huh?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, not answering. He knew everything anyway.

He stood up and fetched a cold compress for my eyes. I felt fresh tears threatening to spill, and pushed the compress deeper onto my eyelids. 

"Does he have a mate already?"

"No. It doesn't matter. They'll feel the bond towards each other soon, anyway. The High Lady's sister might be the one."

"I see."

He was silent for a while. The swelling eased down and I could open my eyes wider. When the compress wasn't so cold anymore, I put it on the nightstand and wriggled back to a comfortable position. Father gently patted my head in a rhythm to help me sleep. 

"You'll find a deserving mate too, don't worry," he whispered. "A heart has to eventually find its home."

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 3 here.

This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home

Happy reading! <3

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (27) Jealousy

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter27)

Summary: Rosie and Timothy travel the Greek islands. An intriguing experience on Santorini, puzzles and irks Rosie immensely. When Timothy doesn't react to her liking, there's only one option on how to move forward.

Twenty-Seven Years Old

To celebrate my birthday and my new fulltime job as a political risk analyst, Timothy and I went island-hopping in Greece. Liwia and her girlfriend had done it last year, and it appealed to us both. Having nothing but the flights planned, made me feel a bit reckless but it was quite freeing as well.

The only thing we’d decided on was to stick to the Cyclades and we started our journey by taking a ferry to the small island Antiparos. Several people who let out rooms stood waiting on the quay as we disembarked. An elderly and friendly looking man caught our attention, and the room he had to offer was more than sufficient.

Our first breakfast is one I’ll remember forever. The small restaurant was situated by the seafront where the fishing boats came in with their catch. Faded coloured fishing nets hung to dry in the sun, the scent of salt weaving its way to our nostrils.

Freshly pressed orange juice and the fluffiest omelette I’d ever come across, ensured the perfect start of our day.

We hired a moped to explore a little. The trip took us through a landscape of olive trees and flowers we didn’t have in the UK. Our destination was the famous cave with stalagmites and stalactites. The stalagmite at the entrance is apparently 45 million years old, the oldest in Europe. 

We were warm and a bit sweaty after standing out in the sun, while we waited for our guide. The air inside was pleasantly chill and got even colder as we descended the 411 steps to the heart of the cave. It was a mesmerising sight, and knowing that this was the nature’s own doing, left me amazed and humble.

At a cosy taverna we ate the best Greek salad to date. The ripe tomatoes paired with the salty feta cheese, olives, onions, the rich olive oil and the homemade bread, almost made me religious for a moment.

The beach close to our quarters, was small, secluded and blessedly free of crowds. We had taken a boat to a famous beach the day before, but we’d barely found a free space to lay down our blankets, so this felt like paradise in comparison. 

Another short boat ride away was the bigger island Paros. We took the bus to the other side of the island. I don’t remember anything else from that trip than the hours we spent in Naoussa. Several boats painted in bright colours lay bobbing in the water close to the restaurants that encircled the bay. It may sound simple, but it was the most beautiful view, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. We sat there for hours, eating seafood and drinking Greek white wine. 

***

So far, it had been a “normal” vacation, or tedious as Papa would’ve called it. That all ended when we sat foot on Santorini. Getting a room was easy enough, and relieved of our heavy rucksacks we went for a stroll in the main street of Fira. Every other shop was a jewellery shop, and the necklaces displayed bore the resemblance to what pharaohs and Cleopatra wore. Heavy, massive and ridiculously expensive. For each shop they seemed to grow bigger and uglier. We had quite a laugh at that.

The most peculiar thing happened at the restaurant we had lunch. It was a terrace with a breathtaking view over the Aegean Sea. We’d decided to stay for a while and ordered more iced tea, making ourselves comfortable under the big parasol. We had both brought a book, and for a while we read in silence. A repetitive sound of paper being ripped, caught my attention.

An elderly woman had taken up residence at the table next to ours. She had short frizzy hair, more grey than brown now, her glasses were round with a white frame. The summer dress she wore had big patterns in green, red, white, and orange. On her feet were white flip-flops. 

“Stop staring,” Timothy whispered.

He startled me and I looked annoyed at him, but averted my eyes and took a sip of my drink. The moment the sound of ripped paper reached my ears again, my eyes were drawn to the spectacle at the other table.

The woman read a book too. A paperback. The curious thing I almost couldn’t fathom, was that whenever she finished a page, she ripped it out and placed it in a pile under her plate. Why would anyone want to do such a thing? What if you needed to go back some pages to look up something you’ve missed. It could never be read by another person, since she apparently left pages wherever she sat down to read. It bore no logic, and it irked me.

“Aren’t you curious about why she does it?” I whispered to Timothy.

“Not particularly. My book is far too interesting, and you won’t get an answer unless you ask her, and I guess you aren’t inclined to do that,” was his phlegmatic answer.

Timothy’s ability to turn off the world and disappear into his reading or writing, was admirable, but now it almost made me jealous of his book. I wanted to speculate with someone, solve this odd conundrum. There would be no more reading on my part after this, so I took out my phone instead.

Want to solve a mystery for me?

Pray tell! I’m bored to death and about to shoot the wall. P

Also available on AO3

Friendly warning: after 25 years the mystery is still unsolved. Don’t be shy about suggesting what the meaning of this appalling behaviour could be 🤭

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at

More tags in the replies

[night-market-if]

Hello hope you’re having a good day !

I would like to ask what would be the Ros’ favorite food/drink

Bella: MC

Gabriel: Loves a good ghost wine and any food as long as he can find the time to eat.

Hazel: She loves soups. Especially homemade soups with fresh baked bread. And she loves her tea. Sweet tea on those really hot days.

Milo: Street food. He is constantly looking for some sort of new cuisine that is sold in the little carts and vendors. And he's a whisky kind of guy.

Malcolm: He's up for trying anything. Loves his tea like his sister. But does like fish a lot.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Seven (Part 3)

The sun has already begun its descent behind the horizon when we all sit down to eat at three o’clock. These later December days are so short that sometimes I wonder why the sun bothers to show up at all, and why not just give up its teasing and go away altogether until it’s ready to stay and commit to a decent amount of daylight. 

The candles in the centre of the table flicker and dance in the fading light and the lights on the christmas tree twinkle, and the sight is so cosy and festive that I suppose I don’t really mind all that much about the dusk. Uncle Sean sails out of the kitchen carrying the huge roasted turkey fit for ten, and everyone applauds with delight as he smiles as though he’s the one who slaved over it all morning. He places it right in the middle of the table surrounded by the roasted carrot batons and the crispy roast potatoes, parsnips, mash, brussels sprouts, homemade yorkshire puddings, ham studded with cloves, gallons of gravy and bread sauce, so much food that one might think it’ll last for days, but it will be gone in an hour.

Granny makes us say a prayer in thanks for the food, and the minute we’ve finished Conor and Decky start lunging for it, taking heaping spoonfuls of mashed potatoes, great big hacks of meat and drowning it all in gravy while Aunty Catriona stares at them like they’re wild animals at the zoo. 

“Leave some for the rest of us, please.” she says to them and Uncle Sean laughs. “Sure they’re growing boys, Cat, leave them at it.”

“They’re gone past growing, sure they’re twenty six and twenty three.”

“G’way, Catriona.” Says Conor with a mouthful of honey roasted ham. “There’s plenty for us all.”

Sean turns to Fabiana next to him as the food makes the rounds of the table. “Bread sauce, love?” He says, holding up the jug, and she pulls a disgusted face and shakes her head, and as he passes it over her to granny, Fabiana looks over at me with a little, secretive smile. I grin back, pleased that she’s chosen me as an ally among the chaos of this family dinner. 

Somebody opens a bottle of red wine and she reaches for it and then bends over the table and starts pouring it into my crystal glass, the ones that only come out of the cabinet on Christmas day. I feel my mam’s eyes on me as I have a drink from it. 

It’s a while before anyone tries to speak, our mouths all full of food as we ravage what’s on the table. I’m so hungry now that I can’t think of anything else, the food tasting a thousand times more delicious because of how long I’ve waited for it. 

“So Michael, how’s the new job going?” Catriona says to my dad eventually, once her plate is about three quarters of the way finished. “I know you were let go from your previous one recently.”

“Going grand.” He says, patting the corners of his mouth with a cloth napkin, his movement a little bit slow and sloppy. “I work nights now in the factory, worse conditions, I suppose, but better money. No big change from the last place to be honest… we make catheters now.”

“Ah, I suppose you’ll take what you can get. That’s how the economy is these days.”

A pause. “And how’s the love life, Cat?”

“Well actually I amn’t seeing anyone at the moment.”

“Oh right. What happened to yer man?”

“Who?” Says Sean, and my dad waves his fork around at aunty Catriona, searching for the right name. 

“The fella from accounting at her work.” He settles on eventually, and she rolls her eyes and goes back to her food. 

“Not seeing anyone.” She repeats. I take a large glug of the red wine. 

“That’s a pity, sure we were all hoping for some news about more grandkids.” My mam elbows him in the arm, and he looks at her in surprise. “What?” 

“Dad and Fabiana are already having another baby, did you not know that?” Says Decky. “She’s seven months pregnant, like.” 

“Ah yeah but sure like…” He trails off, and I feel hot with embarrassment of him already, as clearly he’s already had a few drinks too many. His eyes are watery and heavy. I drain the end of my wine glass and Fabiana immediately fills it again. 

“Anyone tried the brussels sprouts?” Says granny. “They’re especially delicious this year.” 

“No, brussels sprouts are sick.” Says Conor. 

“They’re very healthy for you.” Attempts Fabiana and he immediately rolls his eyes at her. 

“Yeah, alright. Can we talk about something else?” I stiffen and look from Conor to Decky, Fabiola to Sean. Clearly something is not right in their family this Christmas, and I wonder how the boys really feel about their father dating a woman young enough to be their sister. I watch her face fall and the way that she goes back to picking at her food with a bent head. 

“Tell your granny about school.” Sean says to his youngest son then, and Conor regards him with total incredulity.

“I’m graduated, dad.” 

“Are you? Weren’t we at that yoke in your university only last month?”

“Yeah. My graduation ceremony.”

“Oh right, yeah.” 

“I’m working with the county council now.”

“Forgot about that.”

The only sounds at the table are the scraping of silverware against the plates. I take another long drink from my glass and instantly Fabiana is wielding the bottle again. I have a feeling she’s going to have me drink the whole thing, wishing it could be her instead. 

“Fabiana.” I say softly. “You’ve got to slow down. I have a hard time saying no to people.” 

“Just a bit.” She says, and then to my horror, all eyes are on me as my mam starts a fresh tirade. 

“Since when do you drink?” She says accusingly into the silence. 

“Um. I don’t know.” I say feebly, feeling like a child caught rotten doing something against the rules. 

“She’s drank for years.” Decky pipes up unhelpfully. “Remember I saw you drinking cans of cider outside Kennedy’s pub in town after you and your friends weren’t allowed in. What age were you then? Must have been fifteen.” He’s laughing because he thinks he’s told a funny anecdote, but he has no idea how tone deaf it is. I stare at him in disbelief. What is going on at this dinner table? How did he think that was an okay thing to say? My mother’s eyes narrow at me. 

“I’m eighteen.” I squeak. “I can drink if I want to.”

“Is this what you’re doing up there in Dublin?” She demands. “Up in those pubs drinking away all of your money?”

“No, mam. I’m not like that.”

“I’m disappointed.” She says, and then looks from me to my father with a resigned look on her face, and I know what she’s thinking. That I’m going to end up just like him, stuck to the bar in some pub all weekend until I get carried out by the bouncers and tossed into a taxi only to crash into the house at two in the morning and fall asleep on the couch until noon. Going from work to the drink and then back again in this endless, drunken spiral. 

“There’s something about women who drink.” She announces to the table. “I think there’s nothing worse, nothing less attractive than that. You know, when you see a man, messy drunk, stumbling on the streets, it’s bad enough, but when it’s a woman it’s a hundred times worse.”

“That’s sexist.” I say to her. 

“It isn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it isn’t the same, and I don’t appreciate this new bolshy attitude you have. Where are you picking up all these notions?”

“You can’t just say ‘it isn’t’ and then not have any reason why. That’s the definition of a double standard.”

“Well it’s my opinion. What do you lads think when you see drunk women out on the street on a Saturday night?” She closes in on my cousins who look at each other and shrug, mumbling incoherencies. 

“You wouldn’t go out with someone who did that, would you?” 

“Uh I dunno.” Decky says. “Depends.” 

I feel a horrible lump in my throat and my chest hurts. I hurt. I take a steadying breath before I speak in case I cry. “Are you saying that’s the reason you think that I…” I trail off, too humiliated to finish my sentence. 

She looks into my face then, wavering slightly but not backing down. “Boys don’t like girls who drink.”

I look at my father, drunk at three in the afternoon, lazily eating his dinner without bothering to close his mouth all the way. “So they like girls who enable their drinking instead, right?” I say and when her face falls I realise it’s too late to take the words back. They’re out there, filling the room with this dreadful, grim weight, but I continue anyway, throwing my hand up in the direction of my dad. “Is this what you want for me?” I ask her. There isn’t a sound from anyone at the table, not even a clink of glass against the delft, and my mother just opens her mouth and closes it again. I get up from the table in a hurry, the chair scraping against the floor. I throw my napkin onto my plate and rush out of the room and up the stairs towards the bedroom that granny has made up for me. 

“Does anyone want the Christmas pudding?” I hear her murmur to the table, before I shut the door behind me. 

Prev // Next

[imlivinginyourtrashcan]

Hi hello im a dirty American heres some friendsgiving headcannons for the sp character

Cartman:

That man aint bringing shit

Only there for the food

The type of mf to steal ingrediants while youre cooking something

Dives RIGHT for the pumpkin pie

Nobody is happy

He denies it but its do obvious hes stealing shit 🤬

Does not wait for a toast

Bro just dives in

Getting seconds, thirds, fourths

When hes done theres no left overs

If he were to bring something id be pie

His moms recipe

BUT THIS LITTLE FUCK EATS IT IN THE CAR

Kyle:

Sometimes hosts the friendsgiving at his house

Brings the sparkling grape juice/apple juice

And also the Kosher things

Only has one helping, tries to get leftovers for the family or for kenny

Helps his mom cook when hes hosting

Setting the table always

Tries to toast but ends up yelling at Cartman for eating before hes done

Helps Ike pack for those little kindergarten thanksgivings?

Yknow when you dressed as a pilgrim and ate food?

Was I the only one who did that??

Stan:

He panicks and brings what he can find

"Hey dude! What you bring?"

"Uhhh... leftover mash potatos?"

Hes TRYING

Downing the sparkling juices like no tomorrow

The eggnog too

Cartman encourages it

"CHUG CHUG CHUG"

Watching the football game

RESTRAINS himself when it comes to food

Like, he wants it but knows Kyles gonna be pissed

Plays catch with everyone else

Or pingpong

Doesnt give a fuck about the Macys parade

Kenny:

Brings canned stuff he got from the food drive

Like cranberry sauce

Sneaking leftovers for his family

Plays catch with the boys

Died from a football lodged in his eye

Oh and from the

"Macys parade"

Incident

You dont want to know

Butters:

Brings the sweet potatos

Suggest christmas music/movies be played

Cartman called him gay immediately

So that got shut down

Brings the extra pies and everything since Cartman eats his

Lover of cranberry sauce and other things most people hate on thanksgiving

"Oh that was good! Could I have more please?"

"Butters what the fuck who likes CRANBERRY SAUCE???"

"I do!"

Doer of the toast

Often gets hit in the face when they play catch and cries

Can't stay for long cuz his parents are strict but hes there on video call rest of the time

Craig:

The type of mf when you ask what he brought he says

"My presence"

MF-

No!!!

You need to bring FOOD

They have to kick him out

He comes back with bread rolls or crackers, cheese and olives

So hes aloud back in

Doesnt care abt the parades or catch or anything

Just kinda there for Tweek

If someone asks him to do sonething he'll do it though

Hes limited by meals thanks to his braces

He doesnt care

Thats future craigs problem

Flips someone off if they beat him in a sport

Or flips off the tv when someone does something stupid in football

Has restraint when it comes to food

Bro will just wait

Wait

Wait

Wait

And then devour his plate in seconds

Tweek:

Brings homemade cider or pumpkin spice

Panicked the whole time

Hiding upstairs half the time

At least until food

He looks like a sopping wet cat

Doesnt really eat that much

Convinced the food is poison

Dont try to reassure him either he doesnt trust you

Has to check a million times though

"Is this poison???"

"No???"

"GAHH!! I dont believe you!!"

Leaves after feasting

He can only handle so much

Arrives super late too which is ironic

Jimmy:

Brings the food over and makes a puns

Like puts devil horns on eggs

"Jimmy what is that?"

"D-d-d-deviled Eggs"

Bro is telling thanksgiving jokes every second

Does the toast some years

Its like a stand up comedy routine tho

He lets you eat during that

Sneaking food

Mischievous little bastard

Puts on family fued when he realizes the boys are too pissed at football

Also has brace limits

But does he follow them ever? Nope

Drinks sparkling juice from a wine glass

Able to keep the party going for a WHILE he has ENERGY

Card playing KING

Winning at Crazy 8s left and RRRRIGHTTTTTT

Clyde:

Brought mac and cheese

Either that or bread

Food sneaker

Thinks hes good at sports

Hes not

He gets hit in the face so often

And cries

Tried Tweeks coffee

Started coughing and gagging immediately

Hes a picky eater im calling it now

Like will not eat if he doesnt think he'll like it

Me too Clyde i get it

Likes the Macys parade

Fucking weirdass

Arrives a bit before Tweek but is still late

The mf to get seconds

Wont eat before the event either

Saving his stomach for yum yums

Tolkien:

Also hosts

Helps his parents with food

Makes the dinner table look like a whole buffet

When hes not hosting he brings stuffing or some expensive good food

Or like

Homemade dip?

Casserole?

Idk

Seems like itd change every year

Great at sports

Helps clean up too

Toasts sometimes

Very generic toast

Doesnt seem like someone who has much to say

[dira333]

Also!! I love how positive and kind you are, and how you're reaching out to people so they feel included in your interactions and in your ask revival!! So just as a get-to-know-you, what are some of your comfort foods and go-to drinks (coffee, tea, alcohol, homemade, whatever!)

Thank you. A few years ago when I was deep in depression, a kind friend pointed it out as my special talent and since then I try to nurture it. Even if it comes naturally to me I still need to work on it.

I love talking about food!

I bought a cookbook from a struggling single mother this year who makes content about saving (she's in a better place now but I love her TikToks) and I am currently making cheesy Ramen almost every single day. It's so good!

I am not the best cook and I often have food hyperfixations.

Other comfort foods include: sandwiches, baked pumpkin (eggs on bread before I realized I was allergic against eggs), pancakes... ugh, there are so many that I like a lot.

Drinks:

I love drinking water. I don't know why but I cannot stand the taste that lingers after eating something, and since water has no taste I grew up reaching for it. I used to be an avid coffee drinker (black, no sugar, as strong as possible), but I have stopped drinking anything with caffeine for over a year because of my anxiety disorder and I barely miss it. I do sniff like crazy when someone's making coffee though. It just smells so good.

I have plant alternative coffee (not made from coffee beans but there's some variety I am trying out) that I like to drink sometimes with milk and sugar beet juice (raffinated white sugar also bothers my body, so...) and it's so good

I like bitter herbal tea, lots of teas, actually, I am an avid tea drinker. Mostly without sugar or anything.

I don't drink alcohol often, because it makes me really sleepy, but I like a mix of everything. Gin Tonic, wine, beer, Ouzo ... I don't like sparkling things like soda or sparkling wine because I get stomach aches from the bubbles

What about you? What do you like?

[shefanispeculator]

C&I: So, in a perfect Oklahoma world, there would be no hogs, and just a day spent at home fishing and hunting. What else would be part of that perfect day? Shelton: Gwen [Stefani] would be cooking for everyone. But I eat terribly. I have to figure out how to get better. I’ll usually sit down at dinner time, and Gwen will make this big dinner, like she’ll make a piece of salmon and a salad for us. And then there are her three little boys [Kingston, Zuma, and Apollo] there, and so there’s macaroni and cheese and all those other things for them. I’ll look at her plate and she’ll have the salmon and salad, and I’ll look at my plate and it’s all the s--- she made for the boys: chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, those little pretzel bread rolls. I’ve got to get better at that one of these days.

C&I: Your music isn’t always about this country life you’ve been living. But there are a few that seem like they were pulled right from your upbringing, with gravel roads, screen doors, hollers, blue collars, homemade wine, drinking from the hose, being raised on love, and how it all makes you truly backwoods legit. There was “That’s What I Call Home” in 2001, “My Neck of the Woods” in 2003, “Boys ’Round Here” in 2013, and, more recently, “I Lived It.” Do songs like that matter more to you? Shelton: I can’t sit here and say it’s important for me to only sing songs like that about my life. But then again, isn’t it strange that I go back to that without even meaning to sometimes? I don’t go, “Oh, I have to have a song about what it’s like down home.” And yet, I gravitate toward that. Those are the songs I like right away when I hear them.

From the October 2018 issue.

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

melda tâe, pray tell: what are the ojv!style/starsev's favorite foods? <3

HELLO MELMË!!! Oooo this is such a fun ask ilysm and I love any excuse to be Incredibly Annoying abt the OrangeJuiceVerse so YEP HERE WE GO!!!

Kyle- Kyle SO has a sweet tooth!!! (I love that that’s a universal Kyle hc btw) that boy is THERE for any baked goods deadass even those shitty gas station packaged muffins (Stan is scribbling out the nutritional information (or as he calls it, Food Lore, well into their 30s)) and Kyle def consumes anything sugary. As for actual real food, he likes Italian a lot which works very well bc pasta is a general hit w everyone. Favorite fast food place is subway and he ALWAYS rearranges the sandwich components to make sure the distribution is right (he claims he doesn’t have obsessive compulsive tendencies) (he does) so this guy is THE reason the ojv is called the ojv, his favorite beverage is orange juice with seven ice cubes and a pinch of salt bc he’s picky even when he claims to not be, he’s also a red wine enjoyer

STAN!!! Oh my god he and Cartman and Kenny are bottomless pits!!! Stan is a big boi and he’s packing away everything he eats bc 1) he hates waste, and 2) he’s just hungry. BUT he’s really more of a savory guy. Veggie king, ofc, and he’s at every fast food place in town ordering any vegetarian option, ALSO!!! This man LOVES spicy food but his stomach doesn’t. He’ll get a couple crunchwraps sub refried beans and slather that shit in Diablo sauce, but there’s a pretty good chance he’s gonna be nauseous a few hours later. Also he loves Kyle’s cooking!!! Bc Ky likes to cook when he’s stressed and Stan likes Kyle, and Kyle makes this really kickass homemade bread (jalapeño cheese bread oh my god I really want some now) Stan is also SO bad at drinking water but he is in fact a soda enjoyer. Miller Lite and the cheapest vodka known to man (before he stopped drinking) are a staple, also he frequents the local smoothie king and gets a chocolate hulk. For most of their life style has been ordering an olive and pineapple pizza. Stan always dips it in extra marinara.

Tweek- he is seriously just a snacker. Like Girl Dinner has nothing on Tweek Dinner. His meals look like a Charlie Brown thanksgiving. If he even remembers food is a thing. But like Craig will come home and be like “what do u want for dinner” and Tweek’s like “oh I ate a whole jar of pickles” the amount of half eaten granola bars in that house smh. BUT he can decimate so much garlic bread. A very big lemonade fan.

Craig! He’ll eat whatever, nonchalant KING unless!!!! He’s having a bad day and is already on the cusp of a meltdown. If he’s overstimulated it’s a sprite and an uncrustable. A grape uncrustable. Also I just feel like he likes seafood? I cannot explain why, but he does. Also he’s really good about hydration, he likes routine and he has one of those bottles w the time markers lmao. And he’s weirdly pretentious abt craft beers like when he and Kyle take their lil excursions to their spot he’s drinking an ipa that’s lowkey gross but then he’s just shrugging at Kyle and being all “idk the citrus hits in the aftertaste” like an asshole.

KENNY ok Kenny is also not picky in the slightest, how could he be with how he grew up, but I feel like he’s especially fond of easy meals like casseroles, frozen pizza, that kind of stuff. When he starts actually making a stable living off his art he hits up ALL the local food trucks and small businesses and broadens his food knowledge, and he’s keeping the smaller struggling businesses going just by his support. He is another example of ojv losers not drinking enough water, thinks Mountain Dew counts, literally he would’ve developed scurvy in college if left to his own devices. SMH ily kenneth also he and Stan have both thrown up bc they tried to one up each other doing shots of hot sauce

Marj my queen! She, like Kyle, likes sugar, if the homies are going to a diner she’s getting pancakes, and she takes her coffee ALL dressed up. Also kenny is the grillmaster and Marj is making the BEST sides for the bbq!!! Omg she loves her some pasta salad and a lil shrimp shishkabab moment like put this girl on the cover of a southern living magazine with her sweet iced tea (she makes the best sweet tea) marj my goddess pls quit causing problems on the internet and just use ur hospitality degree to run a b&b and make the best biscuits and gravy ever

Cartman. Bruh. Eric Cartman. He has THE most expensive taste known to man when he’s older but until he gets into the Rich People scene he doesn’t really care about what he’s eating or if it’s of good quality. In college he dragged the m5 to some shitty steakhouse bc he heard it was a good deal, and also bc he was mad at Stan for belting As Long As You’re Mine from Wicked and he knew Stan wouldn’t have any food options there lmfao that asshole (he did have to put a dollar in the Fuckwad Jar). He will also eat the weirdest combination of things. Who is putting whipped cream and chocolate syrup on fried chicken? This man. He is a Diet Coke enjoyer lmfao also he drinks martinis with olives bc “it makes me look sexy and kewl” he doesn’t like olives btw he’s just an asshole

I HAD TOO MUCH FUN WITH THIS!!! The ask is always open for ANY of my AU’s or if ur just bored or want fic recs I’m a huge loser and my sp obsession is ever ridiculous.

[hopelesslyfallenninlove]

Larissa Weems x Reader ~ Chapter 7: Halloween Break Plans

Every night for this past week Larissa and I have fallen asleep together in her bed. The only time we have spent apart is when we are working and even then it’s a little amount of time apart. It is 1 week till halloween break and you have no plans other than staying at the school, Larissa and you haven’t talked about whether or not you’d spend the break with each other. Since it is Friday which we have designated as our date night I have decided to inquire about halloween break see if she has any plans. We switch off every Friday of who gets to plan it and it is my turn, as soon as I am done with my last class I start getting everything ready. I decided on a nice and relaxing night for a candle light dinner and I am making Lasagna with homemade garlic bread and a delicious red wine. I set everything up in Larissa’s room to make sure that the lighting is dim and everything is in place right as she is done for the day. As soon as Larissa enters the room and sees the dim lighting and the table set her eyes immediately start to water and as soon as her eyes meet mine the tears roll down her cheeks. I go up to her and pull her into my arms waiting for her to calm down. “Oh, love. What is it? Did you have a bad day?” I question wanting to know what I can do to help. Larissa shakes her head and pulls away.

“No, no, everything’s perfect. I’ve just never had someone do something like this for me before and make me feel so worthy of love and happiness. They are happy tears my dear. “ She pulls me into a passionate kiss, after a few moments we pull away.

“Come on my love, let’s eat before it gets any colder.” She lets out a small chuckle and lets me lead the way to the table where I pull her chair out and then go to my seat. We both talk about our day, the upcoming school events after halloween break and for the rest of the year seeing as Larissa likes to start planning things months in advance. When we finished our main course I went and grabbed the dessert. I made a chocolate lava cake. I take this as my time to ask about Halloween break. “So.. Do you have any plans for the break?” I immediately cringe after I ask because of the shake to my voice. Larissa smiles gently at me and reaches for my hand.

“I do, yes, and I was actually going to ask if you wanted to spend it with me. However before you say yes.. I have been invited like I am every year to the Addams family mansion for their annual Halloween party. Now, I don’t want you to feel pressured into going if you don’t want to but, this has been the only year I’ve actually wanted to go because I have you. I honestly don’t understand why Morticia still invites me as I’ve never been to a single one. But will you Y/F/N go to the party and spend the break with me?” Larissa asks with a soft smile with hope filling her eyes. Hummm a Addams family party should be interesting and considering Wednesday knows about Larissa and I, we won’t have to hide our feelings.

“Of course, I would be honored to, my love” I quickly reply.

“Perfect, I will send the RSVP first thing tomorrow morning. We will leave Friday after school, and don’t you worry I will handle everything else, you just pack a bag.” Larissa finishes the last bite of the cake. I suggest that we watch a movie and that she should get outta her work clothes and into something more comfortable while I wash up the dishes. As soon as I am done I join Larissa on the couch, she picks a romantic movie and we cuddle up on her couch. I don’t know when but we both ended up falling asleep on the couch. I got up and picked Larissa up to take her to bed, so we won’t be sore tomorrow from sleeping on the couch all night.

I wake up still in Larissa’s embrace, I sit there for a few moments before I get up to go to the bathroom. After I finish doing my morning routine brushing my hair and teeth, I decide that I want to hop down to town to get something to drink for both of us before Larissa wakes up. I get dressed and start heading to the parking lot. “Ms. Y/L/N, wait up” I hear Wednesday call out and hear her fast steps towards me. I slow my steps before stopping and turning around to face her.

“Hello, Wednesday, what can I do for you?”

“Are you heading into town?” Wednesday says as she finally catches up to me.

“Why, yes I am heading into town but only to grab some coffee at the WeatherVane, are you needing to go into town as well?” I question.

“Yes, I want to get some coffee for Enid and I. May I come with you? Are you getting Weems a hot chocolate?” Wednesday replies with a teasing tone one only someone can tell if they are closely listening.

“Yes, you may come with and I just might be why do you ask?” As I say this I turn to get into the car as Wednesday also gets in before she responds.

“Well considering you and Weems are together, and I imagine that you are a good girlfriend. I assume that you are joining Weems at my family's Halloween party. I must let you know that back when my mother and Weems went to school here they had some sort of thing briefly before my mother and father got obsessed with each other. So that being said there may be some tension and I am letting you know so you don’t get hurt. Believe it or not you are my only teacher that is tolerable and that is more than adequate in their subject.” Wednesday says as we drive to town.

“Okay, I will keep that noted and yes Larissa and I are planning on going. Also since you seem to know about us we won't have to hide either.” I respond and Wednesday just hums and for the rest of the ride we sit in a comfortable silence. Right as we park my phone starts to ring, I tell Wednesday to head inside and I will be in, in a minute. As soon as Wednesday closes the door and answers my phone. “Good Morning, my beautiful goddess. How did you sleep, my love?”

“Good Morning, Darling. I slept wonderfully but when I woke up a little sad that you were not here. Where did you go, my little dove?” Larissa sleepily rasps out over the phone.

“I am just down at the WeatherVane getting coffee for myself and hot chocolate for you. Also I am with Wednesday so I should probably go before she starts something.” I let out a chuckle, Larissa chuckled as well and we said our goodbyes and see you laters. I head into the cafe and order our drinks and wait with Wednesday by the counter. As soon as we get out drinks we head back to the school. When I get into Larissa’s room I see her on the couch talking on the phone. I walk up to her and hand her a drink and make my way to sit next to her.

“Yes Morticia, I will be attending this year and with a date, I’ve already told you that. Now stop acting like this is some sort of miracle, we will see you at the party. Goodbye.” Larissa tells the person who is now known as Morticia and hangs up. “That woman, I swear she thinks that no one is interested in me. We will show her.” Larissa lets out a sigh and looks over to me and smiles. “Thank you for the hot chocolate dear, did Wednesday cause any trouble.” Larissa places a hand on my leg.

“No, she was actually quite pleasant. Maybe that’s because I’m her favorite” I shrug and smile back. Larissa hums and we sit in a comfortable silence as we drink our drinks. We finish the weekend relaxing with each other and wishing this next week goes by fast.

So far the week has been good but why does today Thursday of all days feel like something is going to go wrong. It's the end of the school day so I’m grading last minute assignments. Well that’s when Wednesday comes rushing into my office… “Ms. Y/L/N I don’t think I can go home tomorrow” Never in my life have I seen Wednesday like this.

“What’s going on Wednesday?” I gently ask.

“Enid just got word that her parents are taking her tomorrow after school for that camp you promised that you wouldn’t let them take her. They weren’t supposed to take her till the end of the year, what are we going to do.” I see a few tears run down but I don’t acknowledge them knowing Wednesday does not like to show emotions.

“What was Enid supposed to do during break?” I ask while going through different possibilities.

“Well, she was going to stay here with Ajaxs and Yoko.” Wednesday says while looking down.

“Okay, when are you leaving tomorrow?” I already have the plan in mind.

“What? Did you just not hear what I said, I. Am. NOT. LEAVING.” Wednesday looks up and says with her voice getting louder and louder.

“Will you answer the damn question, Addams” I responded back. Wednesday seems to pull herself together before speaking again.

“I’m sorry Ms. Y/L/N. I’m leaving around noon tomorrow.” Wednesday says while looking down again.

“What time does Enid's mom going to get here tomorrow?” I question and Wednesday seems to catch on to what I’m saying.

“After school, around 3:30pm” Wednesday replies.

“Good, now is there a way I can contact your mother and father right now?” I say with determination.

“Yes, my crystal ball. It’s in my room, come on” Wednesday rushes out and I follow after. We make it to her room and I immediately see Enid on her bed in a ball.

“Enid, honey, get your bags pack you are going with Wednesday tomorrow at noon.” I calmly said and Wednesday already has her parents on the ball. “Hi, Mr and Mrs Addams-“

“Oh please call us Gomez and Morticia” Morticia says with a sly smile.

“I know that you don’t know me, but I need your help. Wednesday roommate Enid, her parents are trying to send her to conversion camp. Wednesday and I are trying to stop that from happening because those places are just horrible. So I guess I’m trying to ask if it is it okay for Enid to go by you this break, Larissa and I will be there as well so you don’t have to worry about watching her. I just don’t know what else to do to protect her this time since it was short notice.” I eventually get out and I see Gomez with a huge smile on his face when I mentioned Larissa and Morticia just twitch her eyebrow up.

“Of course she can come. Our little rain cloud can be so protective.” Gomez says with a proud smile on his face. “The car will be there around noon so she can ride with Wednesday.” He finishes.

“Thank you so much Mr and Mrs Addams. I truly appreciate it, and I know Enid does too” I say with a soft smile.

“We shall see you all tomorrow then” Morticia says then hangs up.

I turn around and look at the girls giving them a soft smile. “I don’t think your mother likes me Wednesday” I chuckle and stand “but that’s alright I suppose just as long as Enid is protected and safe. Now you both get some sleep and make sure you are gone by noon. Do you both understand?” They both nod and I head out to go inform Larissa of the plan. As soon as I enter Larissa’s room she smiles wide. “Hello, love. How was your day today?” I say as I come up to her to give her a hug.

“It was good, I can’t wait for break though, these kids might just kill me” Larissa chuckles and pulls away just enough so she can see my face. “How was your day dear?” I let out a big sigh.

“It was definitely a day, I had a little impromptu call with Mr and Mrs Addams, because Enid got word her mother was coming tomorrow to take her to the camp so Wednesday and I came up with the plan that Enid will be spending the break there and will leave tomorrow before her mother gets here.” I pause to take a breath before continuing “oh and I’m pretty sure Morticia does not like me but Gomez seemed to be happy, anyways don’t you worry about Enid’s mother I will take care of her tomorrow you just get everything ready for our break.” I cup Larissa’s cheek and lean in to give her a soft kiss.

“I think Morticia is just upset that she was wrong in thinking that no one could want me. Quick thinking if Enid stays with Wednesday, I know she won’t let anyone hurt her, she is just as overprotective as Gomez.” Larissa kisses the top of my head. “Now how about you take a bath and relax before your fight with Enid’s mom tomorrow.” I nod and go into the bathroom getting the tub ready.

“Larissa?” I call out to her.

“Yes, dear?” Larissa responds while coming to the bathroom door. I open it and see her holding 2 wine glasses.

“Can- will you join me?” I say softly.

“Of course dear. Here you go.” Larissa hands me one of the wine glasses and gets into the bathroom and removes her clothing and gets in the tub first. “Come sit in front of me” I do as she says, removing the robe I had on and sit in front of Larissa, still holding my wine. Larissa snakes a hand around and holds me snug to her. We sit in there till we both are pruned then get out to get ready for bed. “Everything is gonna be okay, love. Don’t worry. I love you” Larissa says into the night before we fall asleep.

“I hope so, I love you too” I whisper out and fall fast asleep soon after.

[rabbitcruiser]

National Pasta Day

Life is too short, and I’m Italian. I’d much rather eat pasta and drink wine than be a size 0. -  Sophia Bush

Picture this….a warm steaming pile of spaghetti in a rich red sauce, littered with seasoned sausage, black olives, and mushrooms served with crusty garlic bread on the side.

Or, perhaps the idea of a rich Chicken Fettuccine in a creamy garlic white sauce is more likely to be what blows your mind.

Pasta comes in over 600 shapes known to mankind, and their names are usually Italian words that are delightfully descriptive of their shapes. Spaghetti (‘cord’), vermicelli (‘little worms’), rotini (‘spirals’), fusilli (‘spindles’), tortellini (‘little cakes’), linguini (‘little tongues’), conchiglie (‘shells’), fettuccine (‘small ribbons’), penne (‘quills’) and capellini (‘fine hairs’) are the savory little goodies that are essential to any pantry.

While Italian food made it famous, that was actually only a gateway to pasta. Chinese Chow Mein and German Spaetzle are just a couple of the ways the world has taken pasta and fallen in love with it all over again.

And World Pasta Day is the perfect time to celebrate this love!

History of World Pasta Day

World Pasta Day was brought into existence as part of the World Pasta Congress on the 25th of October in 1995. Experts from all over the world came together to discuss the glories of the noodle, with particular emphasis on the importance of spreading knowledge of the world’s panorama of pasta. This organization uses World Pasta Day to promote the eating of pasta, along with its cultural and culinary importance.

The World Pasta Congress engages in everything from encouraging consumers to try new pasta to providing important information to institutions and promotions of this increasingly popular food. Every country is encouraged to celebrate the day in its own way while sharing the logo of the official organization and participating in the global strategy of World Pasta Day.

How to Celebrate World Pasta Day

Food days are simple and easy to celebrate, but they can come with a variety of layers as well. Look to these ideas for inspiration, then create your own ways to celebrate World Pasta Day:

Eat Pasta–and Lots of It!

One of the best ways to celebrate World Pasta Day is by preparing a favorite dish and enjoying the delicious flavors and textures that come along with that noodly goodness. There’s no better way to renew a deep appreciation for it than by wolfing down this healthy and semi-nutritious food.

Most people don’t enjoy eating pasta without any sauce, but the options for what to put on it range from the simple to the complex. Try it with a little melted butter and garlic. Cheese sauce (such as alfredo), tomato sauce (bolognese or marinara), and pesto are traditional options. But some people like to get super creative with unique flavors like butternut squash carbonara, avocado and mango sauce, or herbed white wine sauce. The options are virtually endless!

Host a World Pasta Day Party

Folks who are feeling like they want to share the day can go all out and host a World Pasta day party. This is a great way for everyone to come together to share their favorite pasta dish, or exchange recipe ideas with other guests to help the love of the noodle spread. Be sure to be prepared for one momentous night of rich and creamy carbohydrate overload. It may be that naps will be mandatory, but stomachs will most definitely be full!

For the truly daring, enhance the party by having participants only bring pasta dishes that they have never tried before. Try new noodle types, or even making your own pasta. Experiment with sauces and flavors that may be outside of the normal palate.

Try Making Homemade Pasta

Some people find it a little difficult and time-consuming, but the benefits of making fresh, homemade pasta are absolutely worth it! The easiest way to make it is by using an at-home pasta maker, which can be a little bulky to store in the kitchen but turns pasta-making into a breeze.

The recipe for pasta is fairly simple, using just a few ingredients. Basic pasta will consist of semolina wheat flour, eggs, olive oil and a bit of sea salt. Some pasta recipes don’t include eggs, while others might have a more unique flavor, such as spinach, sun-dried tomato, saffron, roasted red pepper and more.

Those who don’t have a pasta maker can certainly make it by hand, as it was done for hundreds of years in every home in Italy! It takes a little more work in the rolling, but it’s a fun, adventurous project in the kitchen. A food processor and stand mixer will help this process immensely, and a pasta drying rack is also a useful tool.

Try Something New (Or Very Old) In Pasta

This is the ideal day to get creative and experiment with different flavors and dishes. For instance, many people don’t know that Spaetzle was traditionally served with a sour sauce/gravy for Sauerbraten. It’s amazing! Imagine what else could unfold into the culinary world for those who will take World Pasta Day to broaden their horizons!

Attend World Pasta Day Events

All over the world, in various communities, people are celebrating pasta on this day. Get online or check out a local announcements board to find out which events might be happening in the area. For instance, some folks might have a pasta cook-off, while others might create a pasta festival. Those who can’t find a World Pasta Day event in their local area could certainly consider creating one! After all, it’s for the love of pasta.

Source

[antebellumite]

What do the Antebellum Guys get at Starbucks? ANSWERED!

TO BE READ IN THAT ANNOYING WATCHMOJO VOICE:

Daniel Webster orders black coffee and secretly drinks alcohol instead!

Henry Clay orders caramel mocha latte with whipped cream and with ice!

John Calhoun orders water!

Robert Hayne orders a pink drink!

William Fessenden orders wine!

Benjamin Brown French buys milk! Just milk.

Charles Sumner buys food and plain coffee!

Stephen Douglas tries to order an espresso, but the employee wisely never delivers it to him!

Thomas Benton buys a manly fruit smoothie.

Nicholas Biddle buys a frappachino, but he spills it all on the floor so he has to buy another one.

Andrew Jackson just eats ground coffee beans.

James K. Polk orders black coffee!

Sarah Polk goes to church! And gets free wine!

Martin Van Buren eats whipped cream. Just whipped cream. Because Democrats are weird.

John Randolph yells at the barista because he is a horrible customer.

John Crittenden orders a latte but with a german-style mug.

Willaim Seward orders a normal coffee. With sugar.

Theodore Frelinghuysen quotes scripture and buys bread.

John Quincy Adams has wisely chosen to go drink boba instead.

John Tyler gets a restraining order on himself for flirting with the barista and making one too many sexual suggestions. This is because John Tyler is a creep.

Preston Brooks also gets a restraining order on himself.

Millard Fillmore buys a cake pop.

So does Abraham Lincoln.

Zachary Taylor orders cinnamon latte!

John C. Breckenridge is kicked out for smoking.

Franklin Pierce buys a dragon drink.

William Harrison doesn't drink anything. He's only here because it's cold outside.

William Harrison is also there to keep an eye on John Tyler.

Abraham Lincoln also has a restraining order on Andrew Jackson.

John C. Fremont and Jesse Fremont buy the entire Starbucks Industry. Thankfully, they only abuse this power to give themselves pumpkin spice lattes year round.

James Buchanan attempts to order but changes his mind over and over again.

The Eatons' don't care what they order, as long as it's aesthetic enough to post onto TikTok and they also use one straw and between the two of them. Weirdos.

Floride Calhoun and the rest of Washington City glare murderously from the outside.

Lucretia Clay forgoes Starbucks and drinks homemade tea!

Rachel Jackson drinks a latte, and watches as her rabid husband scarfs down beans. She uh, might also want to see a doctor.

Meanwhile, Sam Howe, Frederick Douglass, Oliver Wendell Holmes, and Wendell Phillips are all sitting at one table eating breakfast.

They are all glaring and being glared at by William Garrison, Theodore Parker, Oliver Wendell Holmes and Julia Howe at another table eating breakfast.

James Henry Hammond is rotting in jail.

Henry Longfellow doesn't drink anything and stays home.

THAT'S ALL FOLKS! ARE YOU SATISFIED WITH THESE RESULTS? TELL US IN THE COMMENT SECTION BELOW AND PLEASE LIKE AND SUSCRIBE!

[guardianreadersofthegalaxy]

If I were on the Off Menu podcast:

Still or sparkling water: Still, obviously. Sparkling water tastes rank. One time when I was a kid, a friend's mum gave me sparkling water that had gone flat so I couldn't tell it was sparkling. I couldn't swallow it so I just spat it out all over my pizza.

POPPADOMS OR BREAD?!?!?!?!: Usually I'd say bread - something a bit oily with olives in it and big flakes of sea salt - but I've got a big meal planned and I don't want to fill up. So i'll have a single poppadom and some mango chutney.

Your dream starter: This is kind of academic because I'm ordering small plates, but the first proper dish I want going in my mouth is boquerones en vinagre. It's fresh anchovies marinated in vinegar and oil and seasoned with garlic and parsley and the best boquerones are made in Cambio De Tercio, a tapas restaurant in South Kensington. And to accompany that, I'd like a cold glass of gazpacho (cold tomato soup). I had this a lot in Cádiz and it's the most refreshing thing.

Your dream main course: Ok, deep breath... I want the crunchy prawns we had at my wedding, the potatoes with aioli I ate in Valencia, an Insalata Caprese (tomatoes, mozarella & basil) made by my dad, deep fried courgette flowers, a small ramekin of my partner's courgette carbonara w. homemade linguini, grilled halloumi from Bar Mezze (a greek restaurant in Muswell Hill my family used to go to before it closed), taramasalata, tzatziki, baba ghanoush (cod roe dip, yoghurt/cucumber dip & smoked aubergine dip) and a big Turkish flatbread for dipping and sauce moppage.

Your dream side dish: Again, academic because of the small plates but I'll go for the broccoli w. garlic and chilli from Boulangerie Bon Matin in Finsbury park. The broccoli's nicely grilled and not too oily or salty and the chilli gives it a real zing. Also, in my fantasy, my partner's sat across from me eating the wood roasted chicken from Moro in Islington and she's giving me little forkfuls to try.

Your dream dessert: I'm not much of a dessert person but I'd never say no to a slice of my mum's chocolate birthday cake. It's nothing fancy (though the layer of grated dark chocolate over the top is a classy touch), but it's as delicious now as it was when I was a kid.

Your dream drink: So before the meal even starts I'd like a Lychee Martini at the bar. Then with my boquerones, I'd like a glass of Pegoes, a Portuguese wine we had at my wedding that has an interesting banana-y taste. When the small plates arrive, I'll move on to a 3/4 pint of Mythos, a Greek beer perfect for hot days and oily food. Then with dessert I want a little glass of Sauternes, my favourite dessert wine. Then, if it's lunchtime I'll just have a homemade filter coffee, with plenty of milk.

Your dream restaurant: I'll stick with the Mediterranean theme and imagine myself in a seaside town, where it's hot but you're cooled by the breeze and you can see the boats bobbing in the bay. Occasionally a moped revs past but otherwise all you can hear are the other diners and the waves lapping against the harbour. That, but with comfortable chairs!