#like I said: I don’t know coffee

[roosterbox]

October Almost-Drabbles 10/23: Frost and Spice

Pairing: Cherik

Word Count: 619

Additional tags: coffee shop setting, only very mildly fluffy, Emma Frost is the queen of sass

Side note: this one’s alright. Not fully satisfied again, but not bad. I’m playing fast and loose with the ‘Frost’ prompt, lmao. But this is my project, so… my rules. Also, I don’t know anything about coffee or common coffee orders. Never drink the stuff myself. Not even a pumpkin spice.

———

“I still can’t believe you’re actually gonna get that,” Emma said, rolling her eyes.

Charles looked at her, away from the advert announcing the “Long Awaited Return of Our Pumpkin Spice Latte (Only $3.99 with a Membership Card)!” and smiled.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”

She shook her head. “Never took you for such a basic bitch, that’s all.”

“If actually experiencing joy in my life makes me basic,” he shrugged. “Even trade, I suppose.”

“Who’s basic?” Erik had sidled up beside them in line and put his arm around Charles.

“Me, apparently.” Charles leaned into his boyfriend, rising up a little to kiss him. Once they got started, they almost didn’t want to stop, but-

“Ugh, someone call the PDA police.”

Erik pulled back, and turned his head. “And hello to you too, Frost. You the one throwing the word ‘basic’ around?”

“You know me, Lehnsherr - I speak nothing but the truth.”

The line moved forward a couple steps. Still a fair bit to go before they got to the counter.

“Personally,” Charles piped up, “I don’t think a person’s character or personality can be even slightly predicated on their coffee orders.”

“I agree,” Erik said.

“You would.” Emma glanced down at their hands, twined together. “And you’re wrong. It works every time, I promise you.” At Erik’s scoff of disbelief, she narrowed her eyes at him. “… black. With maybe one sugar if you’re feeling especially decadent.”

She felt a certain sense of satisfaction at the surprise he tried to hide.

“Well? Did I get it right?” Erik’s scowl was answer enough. The line moved again.

“Don’t mind her, babe. I like how simple your order is. Easy to remember.” Charles tapped the side of his head. “Neither of you have ever had to get coffee for Raven before.”

Emma looked thoughtful. “Hmm. Now that one sounds like more of a challenge…” The three of them chuckled at that. “One thing’s for sure - I sincerely doubt her standard is anything even slightly basic.”

Charles groaned. “Again with the basic stuff.”

The line shuffled forward.

“Just accept it, Charles. Anyone ordering that pumpkin spice monstrosity is basic as hell.”

Half the line turned towards Emma. They looked annoyed. Some seemed as if they expected her to be embarrassed at the attention, or maybe for her to apologize sheepishly. Unfortunately for them, there was nothing bashful, apologetic or sheepish about Emma Frost.

“What? Can I help you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. Daring them to actually say anything.

They didn’t, of course. Not to her face at least. Some muttered to themselves or their companions. A few cut out of the line and left. Everyone else moved forward again.

“Seriously, I don’t get it.” Charles said quietly. “What’s even ‘basic’ about it? It’s just a drink.”

“And that, dear Charles, is why you’re such an old man. Aside from your fashion sense, of course.” She plucked at a stray thread on his cardigan.

Now it was his turn to scowl. “Says you. Am I an old man, Erik?”

Erik wisely refused to answer. Which, in itself, was answer enough.

“Told you.” Emma smirked, and moved forward with the line.

“Hello! What can I get started for you today?” The barista smiled, but it was obviously purely perfunctory. With how busy the place was, nobody begrudged her for it.

“A macchiato, please. Double espresso.” Emma stepped aside. She was already mouthing ‘black coffee, one sugar’ to herself as Erik took her place.

“And for you?”

“Two pumpkin spice lattes.”

“What!?” She spun around, not even bothering to hide her shock. Charles, equally surprised, looked on with a smile.

Erik shrugged. “We can be old men together this time.”

[crossbackpoke-check]

Looks like that video is about a month & a half after The Trade and trevors broken ankle 😣

re: this video… anon 😭 i had suspicions but it is so much worse to have them confirmed that really was like. trevor’s first Public Appearance without jamie AND post-broken ankle which is traumatic in and of itself no wonder every beat reporter was like ‘oh yeah trevor’s just devastated’

wouldn’t you be miserable too if your best friend just got traded and your body betrayed you and what if it was maybe all your fault!!!

[yeeclaw]

As much as I enjoyed seeing Laura in Deadpool & Wolverine, one thing has been bothering me since opening night, and I can’t shake it:

Why did Marvel design her a shirt that says “Savage”?

It’s a fictional band t-shirt. I spent hours reverse image searching and browsing album covers and tour posters of bands with related names, album titles, and song titles, and while it’s clearly inspired by real rock bands and tours, it was nevertheless made up. They actively chose to make up a shirt with a derogatory racial term for a group Laura and the actress who plays her is not a part of for her to wear. Someone was paid by Marvel to design it. Why?

Now companies are selling copies of the shirt, so more people will be out in the world wearing a shirt with a term that, whether you want to call it a slur or just a “derogatory racial term,” has a dark, violent history and makes many Native Americans uncomfortable. It is a word that was used to justify cultural genocide within my parent’s lifetime, that has been used as a justification for racist discrimination and hatred within our lifetimes, not just Logan’s lifetime.

Logan had band logos, too. They used Awaken the Dreamers by All Shall Perish. The title track is about fighting for human rights and ending oppression, the design features the Statue of Liberty holding a gun, not a torch, surrounded by the silhouettes of swarming military planes. Now in Deadpool & Wolverine, we’re casually using the word savage, sticking it on a “feral” character with a reputation for violence. It could be powerful if Laura were Native. She escaped from a government run institution systematically abusing and dehumanizing children based on their heritage. Logan cast primarily people of color to play the X23 children. Gabriela Lopez died at the Liberty Motel and Logan died at what was described at “the last stop on the mutant underground to Canada”. They utilized the mutant metaphor very deliberately, and I feel that Deadpool & Wolverine’s choice of costuming for Laura did that a disservice.

(Yes, I’m aware of Savage Wolverine. Its potential as an Easter egg for a racist comic book title doesn’t make it not racist)

[icterid-rubus]

Is it just a common occurrence to accidentally make people think you’re on a date when you agree to coffee. What am I doing wrong.

[osamusriceballs]

Is it a date if someone invites you over to cook something and watch movies?

[gregmarriage]

really think i need to make more irl friends, but it feels so impossible. like most of the ppl my age seem to only hang out in bars, and it’s like sorry, i’m uncool and can’t drink, bc i’m on medication. and making friends via dating apps or something similar is abysmal. so, i’m kinda stuck imaooooo

[cyb3r-mutt]

Have to go see my father again this morning I really really really don’t want to

[pinkfey]

i hate that poll that’s like do you say y’all the southern way or the gay way :) what is the gay way lmao

[gatorinator]

No i don’t know why it’s Pinocchio.

And the follow up:

[queenangella]

.

[knee-stockings]

😔👉👈 …so does it count as a mistake if you literally did not know it was wrong…

[chaos-mybeloved]

Just casually made plans to hang out with someone I barely spoke to in high school because they posted a pic of their new tattoo and I commented saying it was cool. Not to sound depressing but I literally haven’t had friends or anyone to really hang out with in like close to 3-4 years now and I am freaking out??? How do you friend??? I haven’t had to friend in so long I forgot how to do it?????? What if I friend badly??? I’m gonna throw up

[dayas]

Sideways by Carly Rae Jepsen is also Brucas to me

[boggyboats]

What’s y’all’s autistic superpower? Mines not picking up on sarcasm and having a near meltdown if I don’t wake up hearing my dad playing music and making coffee

[elprupneerg]

1% milk is stupid. Doesn’t have the fats in 2% (or higher) that make baking work out well. Doesn’t have the no-fat qualities that make whatever weirdos who drink skim happy. Genuinely a confusing beverage/baking ingredient/coffee additive to sell because it’s bad at all of those

[dear-ao3]

so. as you may know it’s christmas eve. as you probably don’t know i am eastern european. and probably the only real tradition anyone holds onto is christmas eve. normally my great aunt does all the food and very begrudgingly sometimes lets everyone help make like. one thing.

well.

this year. the year of our lord two thousand and twenty four. she decided she was done cooking and it was up to everyone else.

so i got a phone call from my mom a few weeks ago being like hey so. you’re making the cake. got it? good.

the cake in question is a walnut cake. i was entrusted with my great aunts recipe about seven years ago. i’ve made it twice. the first time i fucked up the frosting quantity. the second time i fucked up the eggs. both times were passable at best and notably! my great aunt did not taste either of them.

and i have to make this cake. on christmas eve. it is dessert. for everyone. my extended family will all be eating the cake. the walnut cake. on christmas eve. even my great aunt.

so yesterday, december 23 if you are counting, i went on the annual Last Minute Christmas Food Shopping Trip with my father, watched him climb into the case to get his half and half like he does every year, and stressed about my cake as i made sure i had all of the ingredients.

then. we went to my great aunts house. where i was met with Trial Number 1: The Cognac

this cake has cognac in the frosting. not a big deal really. except for the fact that my mom hates that there is cognac in the frosting. (my mom is hell bent on making christmas eve dinner vaguely healthier. no one else agrees.) and i was to be making the cake in my moms house.

also important to note: we (as in my parents) do not own cognac. mostly because none of us drink.

so my great aunt is like oh i have to give you the cognac. cause she knows. i am baking the cake. the walnut cake. (my dad told her. he is a traitor). and i say okay. sure. this won’t be a problem at all.

so she gives me. a shot of cognac. and when i say a shot. i mean an Entirely Full Shot Glass of Three Hundred Dollar Cognac. in a jar. for the cake. the walnut cake. that i have to make.

upon bringing the cognac home my mom says no we’re not putting that in. the cognac sits on the counter in its jar. no one touches it.

then i was met with Trial Number 2: The Frosting.

this recipe requires a pound of chopped walnuts. first. i couldn’t even find the walnuts. my sister and i searched high and low and in every cabinet we could find but no nuts. i called my mom. and said mom where are the walnuts? and she said. “they’re in the nut bag behind the basement door.”

oh of course. how could i have missed the nut bag? a holiday bag full of bags of nuts that was half hidden by wrapping paper and also behind a door?

in any case. could i have used a food processor? absolutely. did i? no. half because i forgot and half because i didn’t want to accidentally grind the walnuts into a paste. so i enlisted the help of my younger sister to chop the walnuts By Hand while i embarked on the real devil: the frosting.

which remember. is supposed to have cognac.

so i cream my butter. i add my sugar. i’m careful not to over sugar. i taste it a million times. i add my coffee and my vanilla extract (instead of cognac. which is still sitting on the counter) and it was all going so well until. the butter rebelled.

now remember. one time when i made this. seven years ago. i made too little frosting. so i made more this time. and i thought i had all my conversions right but evidently i did not because suddenly there was too much liquid in my frosting and it split.

the frosting for the walnut cake that everyone was going to eat. on christmas eve. the very next day.

i felt like a contestant on great british bake-off getting smited by the tent.

so i did the logical thing and shoved the whole mess into the fridge hoping that it would sort itself out overnight.

then it was time to face Trial Number Three: The Cake Itself.

as i have said this cake is a walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake that has been at christmas eve longer than i have been alive. and it requires no less than ten egg whites. which i whipped and i added to my walnuts and shoved the whole thing into the oven in my two baking dishes.

only to discover no less than 40 minutes later that the batter in the pans was Not Even (despite my best efforts). so i cooked one longer than the other and hoped that i hadn’t monumentally fucked up the walnut cake. like i had the frosting. which was in the fridge. and i was ignoring.

which leads to Trial Number Four: The Egg Yolk Cake

see i had ten egg yolks. i didn’t know what to do with them. my mom said flush them. my dad said make a custard. i proposed making egg nog. my mom said she didn’t want it in the house cause it was too fattening (a blatantly incorrect statement. please, if you are reading this, go drink a glass of eggnog. or some other fun festive drink. food is for the soul.) so i produced a recipe for an egg yolk pound cake. i made it. i still don’t know if it came out good cause i haven’t tasted it. i hope it did. but that was not the point. the point is the walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake.

and the following morning i was met with Trial Number Five: The Frosting Part 2

first i threw my failed frosting back in the mixer and it immediately secreted a brackish combination of vanilla extract and coffee so i did the only thing i could. facetimed my dad and said “father there are problems abound.” and he gave me the fatherly advice of “make it again.”

and so i did.

with more correct measurements. still scared it would split at any second.

though it didn’t.

and i didn’t add the cognac.

maybe no one will be able to tell???

my mom said that if anyone asks the first batch of frosting failed and i had to toss it. this is technically true.

but i had frosting. i had two uneven cakes. and it was time for Trial Number Six: Decorating

decorating cakes is easily in my top ten least favorite activities. decorating the christmas eve walnut cake is easily in my top three least favorite activities. because i am terrible at decorating cakes. and also because it has a filling.

the filling is jam. and i once again made the wrong choice because i put the jam on first before the frosting. which to be fair is what the directions say. but as everyone knows, the directions in recipes you get from your eastern european great aunt are not the real directions. so now i had to smear butter cream. on top of jam. for the filling of the walnut cake. for christmas eve. that we would be eating in a few hours.

and we didn’t have a cake plate. we had a large dish.

i had to use my fingers. i had to use three spatulas. i got jam everywhere. but i did it. and as soon as i set the top cake on top of the filling i realized my monumental mistake: i was supposed to trim down the cakes.

so now they were uneven. and lopsided. and there was nothing i, a mere mortal tasked with the impossible task of making christmas eve walnut cake, could do about it.

so i continued to spread my frosting. which i had enough of. and tried and failed to not get jam everywhere.

in the end it was almost presentable. not great. slightly lopsided. and definitely not as nice as any of my great aunts cakes.

which left me with Trial Number 7: Chilling It

our fridge was being taken up by other important christmas eve things (though not as important as my cake. the walnut cake) so i had to put it in the car. which was fine because there is snow on the ground.

i covered my cake. the walnut cake. in tin foil and hoped i wouldn’t accidentally squish it. and then i went outside. i tried to steal my moms shoes to walk outside. she was not impressed.

“you know, saph,” she said. “some of the time you’re pretty great. the other half of the time you’re really weird.”

i could not agree more.

i put my cake on the trunk. prayed to the cake gods and went inside.

on the one hand if the cake is good, i will be stuck making walnut cake for christmas eve for the rest of my life. on the other hand, if it sucks i will never have to make another one.

Trial Number Eight: The Tasting still waits.