#milk ruffle pie

[fullcravings]

Pumpkin Spice Ruffled Milk Pie

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine...A Rainy Day At The Bunker

Pairing: Dean x reader

_______

“Mind grabbing another beer while you’re up?” asked Dean from bed. He held up an empty and you tucked it under your arm, carrying the empty bowl of popcorn out with you as well. Most of the lights in the halls were dim, a cozy warm setting filling the space. Dean had turned up the heat about an hour ago and now the bunker was perfect to have a quiet day in. Especially considering it was pouring rain outside.

With a hum you turned the corner into the kitchen, Sam working on a pumpkin pie from the looks of it.

“Aw, look at you being a sweet little brother,” you said, putting the bowl on the counter and setting the bottle in the bin underneath.

“I have my moments. Also, it’s your turn to get the takeout tonight,” he said with a grin. 

“But we’re watching a movie and cuddling. You know how disappointed your brother gets if he doesn’t have his cuddle time,” you said. Sam gave you a bitch face and you pouted, putting on your puppy dog eyes. 

“Fine,” he said. “You’re lucky you look adorable and comfy right now.”

“I’ll take your turn next week,” you said, ruffling his hair before you took a beer out of the fridge and set about making another cup of hot chocolate for yourself. “You want one?”

“I got a cup of tea going but thanks,” he said. You hummed to yourself as you found some milk and another packet of instant mix, heating it up in the microwave while Sam worked. “It’s nice to see you guys happy again. I missed that.”

“We did too. I did some pretty messed up crap when I was a demon. It took some time to work through it.”

“Finally believe him that he was never mad?” asked Sam.

“Yeah. He wanted to help me was all, he never blamed me for what I did,” you said.

“Why would he, runt?” he teased. 

“I worry,” you said, taking your mug out. “You wanna watch with us when you’re all done?”

“Later on. Dean needs his cuddle time after all,” he chuckled.

“Love you, Sammy. Let us know when you get hungry for dinner,” you said.

“Love you too,” he said. You took your mug and Dean’s beer back to your room to find him sprawled out in bed in his pajamas.

“Hello, cutie,” you said.

“Cutie,” said Dean, smiling as you put the drinks on the nightstand. You slid into bed next to him, Dean wrapping his arm around your back and pulling the blanket over both your laps. “Ready to watch the next movie, sweetheart?”

“I’d love to, Dean.”

_____

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Toto Wolff with wife reader. Going to the food festival because she's a foodie. And their son, Jack got roped together. Toto was loving every second of it. Fluff and cute. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

Hii guys, I hope you enjoy this request :)

The crisp air of the farmer's market fills your lungs as you inhale deeply, savouring the sweet, earthy scents of fresh produce, baked goods, and flowers all around. It's a rare, precious moment—one of those idyllic weekends where everything feels just right. The gentle hum of conversations mingles with the distant laughter of children playing nearby, and you can't help but smile as you walk hand in hand with Toto and Jack.

You glance over at the apples on display, their shiny red and green skins practically glowing under the soft morning sunlight. "These look perfect for a pie," you say, your excitement bubbling over. "What do you think, should we get a few?"

Toto squeezes your hand and smiles warmly at you, his blue eyes twinkling. "Ja, mein Liebling," he agrees in his rich accent. "They look delicious. A pie sounds like a wonderful idea. And you know how much Jack loves your baking."

Jack, holding Toto’s other hand, bounces on his feet with excitement. "Yes, yes! Apple pie! And can we get some chocolate too?" He looks up at you with those big, pleading eyes, making it impossible to resist his request.

You chuckle softly, ruffling his hair. "Alright, chocolate it is," you say, watching as Jack immediately tugs Toto towards the sweets stall with all the eagerness of a child let loose in a candy store.

As you walk over to the sweets stall, Toto keeps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. "I love days like this," he murmurs softly in your ear. "Just you, me, and Jack—no racing, no stress. It's perfect."

You lean into his side, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "I love it too," you whisper back, your heart swelling with happiness. "I wish we could do this more often."

Toto kisses the top of your head gently before the two of you reach the stall. Jack is already there, eyes wide and mouth open as he gazes at the array of chocolates on display. "Look, Mama! They have chocolate with nuts, caramel, and even chili!" he exclaims, pointing excitedly.

"Alright, little man," Toto says with a laugh, kneeling down to Jack's level. "You can pick two. One for now and one to share with Mama and Papa later, okay?"

Jack nods enthusiastically and carefully selects a bar of milk chocolate with almonds and another with dark chocolate and sea salt. You can't help but grin at his thoughtful choices—just like Toto, he has an excellent palate for flavours.

With your treats in hand, you stroll through the market a bit more, enjoying the sights and sounds. The sun is getting higher now, and you notice your stomach rumbling a bit. "How about we grab some food for lunch?" you suggest. "I saw a stall over there with fresh sandwiches and salads. We could have a little picnic at one of the tables by the park."

"Sounds great, mein Schatz," Toto agrees, his eyes warm as he looks down at you. "What do you think, Jack?"

"Yes! I'm starving!" Jack exclaims, rubbing his tummy dramatically.

You laugh and lead the way over to the food stall, picking out a selection of delicious sandwiches, fresh fruit, and some sparkling lemonade. The three of you find a cozy spot at one of the picnic tables under a large oak tree. The leaves rustle gently in the breeze, casting playful shadows over the table as you unpack your lunch.

Jack digs into his sandwich, and you can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. You take a sip of lemonade, savouring its crisp, refreshing taste. "This is perfect," you say softly, looking over at Toto. "I can't remember the last time we had a day like this."

Toto reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. "I know," he says, his voice low and tender. "I’m so glad we have today. I love spending time with you and Jack like this. It reminds me of what’s really important."

Your heart swells with love as you squeeze his hand, feeling the connection between you as strong as ever. "I love you," you say softly, your eyes locked with his.

"I love you too," Toto replies, leaning in to kiss you gently on the lips.

Jack looks up from his sandwich, noticing the kiss, and giggles. "Ew, Mama, Papa, not at the picnic!" he teases, though his eyes are sparkling with happiness.

You and Toto both laugh, and you give Jack a playful nudge. "Oh, come on, you love it," you say, making him laugh even harder.

As you finish your lunch, you take out the chocolate Jack chose earlier and break it into pieces to share. The three of you enjoy the rich, sweet treat, and you can't help but feel grateful for this perfect moment with your little family.

After lunch, you decide to explore the rest of the market, hand in hand with Toto, with Jack skipping ahead excitedly. You stop to admire the handmade crafts, sample some fresh jams, and even watch a street performer juggle with flaming torches.

As the day slowly winds down, you find yourselves back at the fruit stall where it all began. The sun is starting to set, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. You look over at Toto, who has his arm wrapped around you, and smile.

"This has been such a wonderful day," you say softly, leaning into his side.

"It really has," Toto agrees, his voice filled with contentment. "I’m so glad we came here today. Just being with you and Jack… it’s everything to me."

You nod, "Me too," you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

As you gather your bags and start to head home, Jack takes both your hands and swings between you and Toto, giggling happily. You smile, knowing that today will be a memory you’ll cherish forever—a perfect day spent with the two people you love most in the world.

[monarchberrysblog]

🫧࿐ THE BREAKING POINT ࿔*:･ﾟ

⋅ᯓᡣ𐭩 introduction | my love mine all mine

🔞 Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader

tags: strangers to close friends to lovers, college au, slow burn, fluff, angst, and older brother's academic rival.

summary: when rivalries go too far, Miguel takes to another level of extreme...

content warning: fluff, no warnings

word count: 569 words (it's the intro, guys)

author’s notes: oh my god, this took a LONG time to work on. But here we are!

“What's your favorite color?” She asks in a soft tone, looking up at me in anticipation. I hum to her, soon looking down at her deep brown eyes. “My favorite color…” I mused to her, soon taking hold of her hand in a gentle grasp. My hand lightly squeezed hers, and I thought for a good moment.

I looked down at her anticipating eyes; her eyes were brown like Dana’s; however, there was something different about hers. Her eyes were brown. Brown like sweet, syrupy honey in the sunlight on a cold winter evening or being melty, like milk chocolate on a hot summer day with hints of golden specks.

Who knew that the color of cinnamon and mocha tasted so good to consume but to look at; at every given moment when she looked up at me with anticipation, brown wasn't Dana’s color. It's her. It belongs to her.

“Brown.” I shrugged before looking down at her.

"Really?" She retorts, her eyes squinting in playful disbelief. "That's such a basic answer. What type of brown are we talking about here? Bread brown or shitty brown?" She playfully punches my arm, causing a brushing sting under my skin that I can't help but rub.

I pause momentarily, gather my thoughts, and then look down at her with a small smile. "No, no," I chuckle, ruffling her hair into a muss. Her neatly painted acrylic nails reach up and fix the mess I left behind. “Think of mahogany wood.” I shrug before wrapping an arm around her. “Oh, okay!” She beams happily, resting her head on my shoulder.

It was easy to assume that the simile went over her head. Mahogany wood is one of the most durable and robust hardwoods. Strong to endure as flooring, even strong enough to build boats and yachts. Strong-headed, like her.

Mahogany. A dark amber color that you manage to light up when you get excited, especially when she sees the things she loves. Little red mushrooms with white spots, hearing that a pizza has stuffed crust, or how you discover pockets in your sundresses. Or how someone can remember something so simple about you.

I never want to forget the sparkle in your eyes.

“Your eyes,” She chimes in, cutting my train of thought.

“What about them?” I challenge her.

“They’re a russet color but a bit more red.” Her smile is so goddamn contagious, like the bubonic plague. It took everything in my system not to smile at the description. “Okay, and?”

“They’re beautiful.”

It felt like my heart skipped a palpitation from the cute, innocent compliment. I huffed, pretending to be amused by the compliment, trying to hide the crooked smile that was twitching to form. “You… Shut up.” I huff out to her, soon turning away from her, allowing her to be looking at my back instead of my crooked smile. “You’re smiling…”

“No, I’m not…” I mumbled through my palm, masking the smile.

“You’re smiling!” She repeats this but with such victory in her voice. “I want to see it!” She rushes over before me and grabs my wrist with her hand, wanting to see the shitty, crooked grin on my lips.

I shake my head, a smile playing at the corners of my lips as I press my hand against my mouth, muffling my voice. “No, you're not going to see,” I say, the words barely audible.

“Please?”

“No.”

tag list: @peachey-pie @maiyart @boringpersonality @flordelalunas @pretty-pink-princesss @ryk-mt @cl3stevu @lalalunel @resident-clown @marshhbs @slushycoookie @brokenpoetliz @ohara-whore @thedevax @kavimoo @lazyjellyfish300 @bluesidez @mybvalentine @migueloharasbbm @itsfairly @mcmiracles

[lanternlightss]

(thank you to @arson-n-quwubilder for the request <3 ! )

There is not a sight more fascinating to Venti than the image of his dear friend with his eyes sparkling, awed etched into every detail of his features, his mouth opened in a small “o,” as he takes in what lies before him—the food of the one, the only, Good Hunter!

Cecil’s fingers dig into the cuffs of his top. Points, to where Sara sets a Mint Jelly plate and an Apple Roly Poly onto the counter, turning to face Venti. He had done the same to the last few foods that have been taken away to those who had ordered them (a Satisfying Salad, Venison Steak, Moon Pie, and Crab, Ham & Veggie Bake, thus far.) He seems to be particularly intrigued about the Apple Roly Poly, now, though, asking Venti, “What is that?”

His eyes pull up, delighted to share—the food his children think of and create are extraordinary! “An Apple Roly Poly! It is made with apples, of course, and eggs, butter, flour, all coiled into one. A delicacy, for sure.”

“And—the green?”

“Mint Jelly,” and how, briefly, he wishes that those in Old Mondstadt could have eaten jelly, he thinks that Amos would have liked it. “it is made with those mints you keep seeing, and sugar. A very squishy, sweet food!”

“Squishy ….”

Cecil falls into a contemplative silence. Frets with Venti’s ruffles, and the buttons on his sleeve, his expression becoming something akin to a stilted wariness, determination the longer he thinks on his words. Venti, deliberately, pretends not to notice, casually humming a short tune to himself in the wait, and lightly tapping his foot against the legs of the wooden chair he sits on.

“Are there any other foods made of apples?”

Venti grins. “My friend, there are many. Northern Apple Stew, Apple Fritters, ehe, it is not a food, but Apple Ciders, and Candy Apples, Apple Cake, Apple Pie—”

“Apple Pie!?”

“Apple Pie!!!!!!”

“How is it made?”

“Oh, apples, sugar, flour, cinnamon, mmm.. butter too, and—” and they … they have everything they need to make it … right here, oh goodness, Venti from three days past thank you for not spending a drop of your mora! He stands from his chair (Cecil jumping, hand darting from his sleeve), it scraping across the stones, tittering just that slightest bit at the end. “One moment, beloved!”

“What—” He, too, stands, one knee placed onto the seat, his head swiveling to follow after Venti bursting into a run to the general goods shop, “What are you—??”

“One moment, cherished, one moment!!”

He is certain there are teal feathers and puffs of Anemo trailing after him in his sprint, hoping those are overlooked by the Vision hung at his belt, too caught in his excitement to get the ingredients needed to tweak that little quirk. It is normal to have feathers. Glowing feathers. Very normal, everyday thing that people have and do. Pay no mind to the fact that his Vision is not also glowing as brightly as the feathers are, it happens, you see.

Sliding up to the counter, bracing his hands on it, he pants: “Miss Blanche! Miss Blanche, good lady, do you happen to have flour, milk, eggs and cinnamon?”

Blanche, the lovely shopkeeper she is, is holding a hand to her mouth, attempting to hide a laugh. Venti considers this a success.

“Of—snrk—Of course.” She pivots on her heel, rummaging through the shelves positioned around her, meticulously and gingerly adding each item grabbed to the crook of her elbow. She sets them down just as gently. “That’ll be two hundred and forty mora!”

Venti has already brought out and dug through his pouch of the currency. Pokes at the pile, as he counts it in his head, and puts the needed amount into her outstretched palm, scooping the ingredients into his arms with his other hand (and, for fun, tips his hat very gentlemanly at her in a swish of Anemo—fun party trick, he should add, being able to concentrate it to a single point as so.)

“Thank you, Miss Blanche! Good day!”

“Good day to you, too!”

He waves to her, walking backwards, as he hurries to where an awfully confused Cecil continues to half-stand, half-sit. That confusion is merely amplified by Venti arranging the flour, milk, eggs and cinnamon on the table, tapping at the cork of the cinnamon when it is to his liking. Skips over to Good Hunter immediately after, his dearest spluttering, looking between the objects and him, scrutinizing both in a manner similar to that of when he is solving a problem.

“Miss Sara—”

“Let me guess: butter and sugar?”

“Heehee, caught! Yes, ma’am, if I could have those, pretty please!!”

She smiles at him, eyes softening. Ducks down to the cabinets, opening them, the hinges creaking softly. He thumps his fingers on the counter (in a pattern he remembers from the “drumming contest” that Bennett and Amber had him supervise), listening to the clink of the bottles.

“Here you are,” she sets them beside his hand. “Six-hundred-forty five mora!”

“Ooohhhh..” He tries his best not to visibly show his surprise, the pouch being rifled through again. “Six-hundred-forty five… ?”

“Six-hundred-forty five!”

That certainly is an amount for this all…

He hands over what is needed, snatching the butter and sugar, and shoving the marginally lighter feeling pouch into the hole of his shorts, for the meanwhile. He waves bye to Sara, as well, skipping over to Cecil—who is looming above the previous ingredients, hands to the sides of them, his face drawn into a slanted frown—and proudly presenting what he has. Cecil blinks at him, his expression transforming to a wide-eyed one, then scrunches his brows into a furrow, his lips thinning.

“Venti,” flops onto the seat, “my little song, my darling, my angel. Why did you gather this? Are we, by chance...?”

He shakes the sugar, the tiny specks bobbing in the bottle, swaying back and forth while he does. “Mhm! We can make Apple Pie!!”

That has Cecil shift to bewilderment, rising from the chair, swinging his gaze back to the table. “And everything is this… leisurely, to gather? All of it, in the market—“ he falters, going over each item once more, finding one, strangely, missing, “—all… well, almost everything.”

An eyebrow is cocked at Venti, Cecil placing his hands on his (also cocked to the side) hips, trying for a “disappointed” stance. A stance that is betrayed by the mirth in his eyes, simply bemused wondering behind it. “Are we to make Apple Pie without the Apples?”

Venti giggles.

“Do not fret, they are taken care of!!” His cape makes a satisfying swoosh sound, as he bounds toward his precious, clutching his butter and sugar close (it will not be spilling on his watch!) “And I know a spot where we will be able to put everything together, just the two of us”—he winks, braids and eyes flickering in their glowing—“if you could, the other..?”

Cecil moves a hand closer to the ingredients. “On it.”

First, the milk is placed under his right arm. Then, the eggs are gathered next to it, followed by balancing the flour and cinnamon on them. He continues to maneuver them, walking up to Venti, his arms crossed tightly, a part of his cloak draping over his left bicep.

Hooking a hand on that bicep, Venti urges Cecil to one of the alleyways. And, once it seems that no one is giving them attention, allows the swirling of Anemo to swathe them; looping strings of teal round and round, pressing into the skin and leaving them with fleeting prickles of buzzing. His braids lift into the air, the wind zipping past, accelerating, and he clings to Cecil as it all brings itself into, well, itself. Raising them and streaming them through the many, many winds of Mondstadt.

They whip by buildings and fields, fields and buildings. Ending pushed inside a door to a nice, little area in between, the enticing smell of the latest batch of pastries wafting throughout the room.

Cecil stumbles, slightly, knocking one foot into the other, when the Anemo dissipates. Venti keeps his grip on his bicep, stepping back the moment his friend is steady, and spins to walk by, carrying his items at an arm’s length while he proceeds towards the kitchen island, located dab in the middle of the room.

Footsteps edge closer to the archway of the kitchen, where it splits into two hallways—ones that Venti merely glances towards, noting Cecil with his hand braced on that archway, as he leans out to look down the corridors. He directs his attention to the items, then the drawers of the countertops, and the cabinets. The pie plate and bowls should be in the bottom ones, the measuring spoons should be in the far left drawer, and the measuring cups should be above them… hm…..

With a snap of his fingers, the cabinets and drawers are pulled open in a tug of Anemo. Meticulously, he grabs each one needed (medium sized bowl, colored blue, same with the measuring spoons, and the glass plate and cups—and, for extra, a rolling pin.) He sets these next to the butter and sugar, hands on his hips as he inspects everything.

A soft, frilly fabric is pressed to his cheek. He turns to see Cecil offering him a green, pinstripe cooking apron (a white bow wrapped at the middle), oh!! In a swift whoosh, both his corset and cape vanish, as he takes the apron into his hands and sets to tying it around his waist, exclaiming: “You found them!”—Cecil snorting at his eagerness, placing the ingredients he had held in his arm next to Venti’s, and undoing his belt, then vest, and snapping open the clasp of his cloak, to put on his matching blue, pinstripe apron as well.

“Alright!” Venti says, clapping his hands, “Let us get to work, yes?”

Cecil, eyeing the bowl, hums. “The Apples?”

“Of course, of course,” Giggling, he reaches to his beret, and, with a flutter of his hand, taps at the very top of it (the Cecilia and leaves bouncing.) His fingers dig under it, and flings it to the side; falling into a bow to catch it, thus revealing the six red apples that laid underneath it.

There is a pause. The Apples are plucked from his hair, being replaced by a hand, of which ruffles there til it is a disheveled jumble of strands—Venti leaning into each pat that passes with a grin.

“I should have known,” Cecil huffs, amusement laced in his voice. Venti is sure that when his beloved steps around him to get to the sink, his expression can best be summarized as “cat that caught the canary,” just about as pleased as punch at this outcome. Another “party trick” of his, one that never gets old in seeing everyone’s reaction to it!

A bit aways from him, water rushes from the faucet, spilling over the apples held under it.

Busying himself whilst Cecil does that, he arranges each ingredient from largest to smallest, and once that is done, picks up the bottle of sugar to regard how much is inside. From what he recalls of the recipe for this, it should be.. half cup sugar, two tablespoons flour, one teaspoon cinnamon, one egg, and all of the apples are accounted for already…. hm, hm, hm!

The apples are gently rolled into the flour bag, Cecil stopping them from going further with a gentle touch to their stems. Bumps his hip againsts Venti’s, passing by, to settle beside the right of him.

One hand going behind his back, the other gesturing towards what sits in front of them both, Cecil clears his throat, lowering his voice to a comical degree, “Shall we?”

Barking a laugh into his fist, Venti stands straight, rolling his shoulders back, clasping his hands at the waist. Lowering his voice, too, and nodding hard enough that it has his braids flailing into the air, “We shall.” (He will say, though, that they lasted a solid minute without breaking their characters—only breaking when Cecil had looked to Venti, whom was deepening his frown, and burst into cackles.)

And so they do. And so it becomes a mess halfway in (he is mildly surprised it had not when he had swirled the bowl of sugar, flour, and butter with Anemo, and had it spring out everywhere at the end—he had sighed when making the whipped cream, too, as Kaeya would have been a fantastic helper), when Venti, after rolling the dough, tucking it into the pie plate, and having wiped a quick streak of the apple juices on his hands across Cecil’s nose. Which had lead to Cecil mock gasping, running his hands through the leftovers of the ingredients and cupping Venti’s cheeks with them, which then to Venti dusting the bottoms of Cecil’s braids with sugar, which then lead to Cecil packing up flour into a shape of a ball and mushing it against him, and—

The kitchen will need … cleaning, most certainly. As will they, the two of them sat on the floor, snickering and chortling, nearly covered head to toe in contents and components.

Despite this, the pie tastes delicious, Venti thinks to himself, offering another piece of the pie pierced through a fork to Cecil, for him to bite and eat.

[pupswithchopsticks]

Black Sesame Chocolate Ruffled Milk Pie https://pupswithchopsticks.com/black-sesame-chocolate-ruffled-milk-pie/?feed_id=8891&_unique_id=664e703b4ced2

[lemonflavouredchaos]

Cherry Pie

You're lonely while baby-sitting your brothers' kids and call your best friend for some backup... of course, things go a little sideways when the kids go to sleep.

AKA I'm now on an Eddie kick and no one can stop me; some needy, cunt drunk, gentle switch Eddie for you guys.

If there's one thing you know about Eddie Munson, it's that he's great with kids. Calling him in to make baby sitting duties easier wasn't quite what you had in mind this Saturday, but any time with him is time well spent. He comes into the house like a hurricane and within five minutes he's embroiled in some complex game which seems to revolve around him chasing Piper and David while they compete to see who can scream the loudest.

The neighbours will be pissed, but at least you finally have time to make the mac and cheese they've been begging for all afternoon. As you drop a handful of sharp cheddar into the pot, Eddie skids into the kitchen, red-faced and panting,

"We need juice," he says, and you laugh,

"Fridge, Eds, they're not allowed coke or cream soda before dinner, give them orange juice or water... or milk. Whatever they want," you say, "and there's beer for you, too."

"Well alright," he says with a grin, but you feel him turn as he passes you and when you look over your shoulder he's standing by the refrigerator with a strange smile on his face,

"What?" You frown,

"Nothin' Princess," he says, but there's a flush on his cheeks still, "don't see you wearing a dress that often is all. Looks good, it new?" His eyes flick down and you feel a flash of heat go through you. You turn to the steaming pot and start to stir again - damn him, why is he so... delicious?

"No, well, kinda," you say, "I bought it a while ago but it's the first time I've worn it. It was so hot out today." It's true, and a total lie; you were wearing an older, less flattering dress before you called him. You changed into this, not sure why you were doing it, after Piper spilt paint on you.

It's so not you; light and fluffy and skimming the middle of your thighs. Buttery yellow with spaghetti straps. You're starting to realize you wore it for him, and that's a mortifying thought you can't settle with. He's not interested Y/N, if he was, he would have said something by now. Get a grip, girl.

A cold, condensation-beaded bottle of beer thumps onto the counter beside you and his broad hand rests next to it. You can feel the heat of his body behind you, hear him take a swig, smell the sharp aftershave and chemical soap and cheap shampoo he uses,

"Seems a little... fancy for babysitting," he says, voice low and heavy,

"I was... wearing an older one," you say, "Piper spilt paint on me."

"Shame," he says, "but this is a nice dress. You should wear it more."

"I might," you say and your voice is a low, shivering whisper. Piper runs into the room,

"Come play Eddie," she stamps her tiny feet,

"On my way," he says and hands her a cup, "here's your juice." For a second you'd love to throttle her. Jealous of a six-year-old, fuck I'm pathetic.

"Mac and cheese in ten," you call after them and he turns to look at you, his eyes dropping to your chest for a second, then he blushes and nods,

"Ten minutes, yes ma'am," he repeats with a mock salute and disappears. The screaming starts again; all you can do is pray you don't hear a crash any time soon.

      They eat like they've never been fed before; all elbows and lowered heads, and Eddie widens his eyes at you, smirking before he takes a bite and theatrically rolls his eyes,

"You're right David," he says, "Auntie Y/N makes the best mac and cheese. What's in this?"

"Oh, you know," you say, "cheese, milk, butter," you shoot the kids a glance and mouth, "mustard." He raises his brows,

"Really?"

"Mmmhm," you say and he winks, reaching over to ruffle David's hair. The gesture almost makes you melt. Is it bad, you find yourself wondering, to picture him as a father? It seems weird; neither of you is twenty yet, and he's still trying to get out of high school... but he would be a great dad. You can feel it. Hell, you can see it.

And that makes you... well, feel things.

They protest being sent to bed and wheedle an extra long bath to compensate for going to bed at the same time they do every night. You can't say no, though; they're too cute, and when you come back out into the living room he's lounging on the sofa watching TV,

"All sleeping?" He asks with a smile,

"I think so," you sigh and flop down next to him, smoothing your dress self-consciously, "thank you, Eds, they were too much for me today."

"Hey it's all good," he says, "they're good kids. "

"They are," you sigh and press your head to his shoulder, felling him stiffen a little, "tell me you brought weed?"

"Of course," he snorts, "outside?"

"Yeah."

      It's not hot anymore; it's not even warm. The cold night air kisses your bare legs and makes you shiver as you take a drag, and he drapes his heavy jacket over your shoulders,

"Thanks," it's hard to think of anything else to say; the smell of him on the fabric is dizzying,

"You're welcome, Princess," he sighs and leans back against the wall. "So I take it they're staying here tonight?"

"Yeah, Mom and Stan are in Portland for their honeymoon, Jade and Chris have gone down to Ohio for a wedding. They're here till Monday." You shudder. "It's gonna be a long weekend."

"You want me to head off and let you sleep?" He takes the joint from you and draws in smoke,

"No!" You say it a little too loudly maybe because he narrows one eye and smirks at you, "no, Eds, please I haven't talked to anyone over the age of six since Friday morning." He snorts and nods,

"Ok, well, I have time," he holds out his hand, letting you take the joint carefully, "I can come back over tomorrow and help if you want?" You nod,

"That would be great, as long as you don't mind?"

"Sounds like a good day to me," he says, "we can hop in the van and go out to the lake if you want?" And just like that it feels a little too intimate. Like they're your kids. Like they're his. You shake your head and then shrug,

"Uh, maybe, let's see how the weather is, radio says it might rain." The sudden cold in the night backs that up; it's like you can feel the thunderclouds rolling in as he takes the mostly gone joint from you from you and stares up at the sky,

"Halfsies?" He nods to it and you smile,

"Sure," you say, but he doesn't move,

"You look really good in that dress," he says suddenly, and there's no hint of teasing in his eyes now.

"Thank you," hot, blushing, unable to raise your voice, you almost whisper those words, feeling tiny and strangely exposed in his oversized jacket,

“I mean it,” he shifts so he’s facing you, “shame you don’t wear it more often.” Then he narrows his eyes and raises his hand to his face, hesitating as your eyes fix on his thick fingers and the chunky rings that they always hold, “sure you only wore it because of a wardrobe malfunction?” He asks suddenly, and though his voice is steady there’s a hint of anxiety on his face, take the plunge. This is it. 

“No,” you say, “I wore it because I wanted you to see it.” He nods and looks down, then draws the last of the smoke into his lungs, before reaching out to pull you forward. Inches from your face, he blows the smoke gently into your mouth, and the rush you get breathing it in has little to do with the weed. 

     He takes a low, slow breath when you break apart, rubbing his nose against yours before he grins and whispers, 

His hand slips under the heavy jacket, slides across the fine material of your dress, and pulls you against him just before your lips touch. Just like that, he’s not your best friend anymore... or at least he’s not just your best friend. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so fuckin’ long,”

“Why’d you wait till now?” You whisper back, 

“I would have waited longer...” he said, “but I nearly had a nosebleed when I saw that dress.” You snigger and shake your head, try to step back, but he drags you forward again and buries his face in your neck, “I swear to God, Y/N, you better wear this again... not... for other guys though.”

“No?” You ask, and there’s a giddy smile spreading across your face, 

“Absolutely not,” he almost growls, 

“So when can I who should I wear it for then?” You ask though you know what he’s going to say, 

“Me,” he murmurs, and drags your hips closer, stealing any reply you might have had when he presses himself against you and it becomes clear just how interested he is. Maybe it's the giddy exhilaration, maybe it’s the weed... or maybe it's just him, but you know you’re about to make a bad decision when you take his hand and drag him inside, pulling him to your brothers' bedroom, hushing him as you close the door. 

All that bravado, all that presence melts away when you push him back onto the bed; he just stares up at you with those big doe eyes and lets you climb onto his lap. He’s so passive, so still that you feel a moment of panic, 

“You... do you want to...?” You ask, blood chilling until he nods eagerly and he tugs your hips, 

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie mutters, but he still doesn’t take over. Not like the other guys, well the other guy, you dated; he pushed and tugged and manhandled you... and it was fine. But the way Eddie lies back and stares at you as if waiting to be told what to do... it makes you feel itchy and needy and hot. 

“Take your shirt off?” You ask tentatively and he almost tangles himself up in the material in his eagerness to comply, leaving you giggling, God he’s so perfect, as you trace the lines of his tattoos with shaking fingers, “you’re so beautiful,” you whisper and he blushes. 

“That’s my line, Princess,” he mutters, pushing his hands up your thighs, all the way under your dress to toy with the lace of your panties. There’s something new about him, something vulnerable and tender and so achingly soft that it almost makes you want to cry... but there’s something else under that feeling. You want to sink your teeth into him, just devour him. He strokes your legs, shifts his hips, but doesn’t try for anything else, even when you kiss him. Even when the kiss goes on and on and on until your head is light and he’s whimpering and gasping,

“Shh,” you murmur and cover his mouth; his eyes flutter shut and suddenly you get it. “You gonna be a good boy for me Eds, hm?”  He nods. “You gonna be quiet while I ride you.” He whimpers into your hand but nods nonetheless, so you lean down and take your hand away. “If you make a sound,” you whisper, watching emotions flit across those big, dark eyes, “I’ll stop, and you’ll have to wait until next weekend to get what you want, ok?”

“Y-yeah,” he whispers back and you can feel him shaking under you, big bad Eddie, shaking like a puppy... why does this feel so right?

“You sure you want this?” The question is genuine, but he gives you a look of such stupified contempt that you have to stifle a giggle. 

“Then shut up and stop squirming,” you murmur, running your tongue across the shell of his ear, “keep your hands to yourself, and do as you’re told, ok?”

“No,” he draws it out rolling his eyes, “I’m terrified, all five-foot jack shit of you is so much that I couldn’t leave if I wanted to - ofcourseifuckingwantthis.” He whispers the last part so urgently that it almost sounds like a shout. 

“You’re a little freak,” he whispers, but he’s grinning, 

“You know where the door is Munson.”

“Wild horses couldn’t get me out of here,” he lies back and lets his arms fall back beside his head, “not a peep.”

“We’ll see.”

The heavy belt buckle takes a little more work than you had thought, but his jeans slide down easily once it's undone. He’s hard, almost painfully so, and there’s a wet patch on the front of his boxers; you raise your eyebrows at him, and he flushes, looking away. There’s a shiver of apprehension; he’s big, maybe not huge, but bigger than your one and only boyfriend... and when you pull down his boxers his cock twitches. His eyes are closed, breaths coming in slow, measured waves until you run your tongue across the velvety skin at his hip. 

The little hitch is like music; you chase it, nipping and sucking the skin on his belly and hips until he’s twitching and letting out soft, desperate huffs. When you run your tongue along his length he makes a stifled, strangled grunting sound, but stays still, just like he promised. 

His cock twitches in your hand as you line him up with your entrance, and when you sink onto him, taking every inch so slowly that it makes you dizzy, his eyes roll back and his mouth moves. 

“Please, please, please,” he’s whispering over and over again like a prayer, but when you shush him he clamps his mouth shut, 

“Good boy,” you murmur and run your hand down his chest to the start of the fine, dark hair between his legs, feeling him twitch in you when you utter those two simple words. “Look how good you look in me,” you whisper, not quite believing that the filth is coming from your mouth; when his eyes open they’re hazy; he’s wrecked, holding on by a thread, and the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you almost destroys him; Eddie jams one knuckle into his mouth and bites, a strange, growling sound exiting his throat. Still, he does exactly what you told him, and the feeling of power mixed with the desperate need that’s been building in your belly becomes so heady you think you might break too. 

And that’s how it goes; slow, almost silent, both of you trying to make no sound until you’re shaking and you slump over him. It’s only then that he takes over, rolling the two of you, pulling you down onto the floor on the side of the bed farthest from the door, tugging the neck of your dress down as he murmurs nonsense words and phrases that jumble together in the hot, slick spaces between you, 

“so fucking wet for me - should’ve done this months ago- fuck, that’s my girl, -”

Eddie goes on and on and on until you can barely think, and then it’s his turn to cover your mouth, growling in your ear as he rolls into your, slow and hard, the sheer weight and bulk of him making your hips ache and your body shake while he worms one hand between you to toy with your aching clit. When you cum it rolls over you like a thunderstorm, muted by the way you focus on keeping silent, wrapping your legs tight around him, so tight that he has to force them open to pull away before he fills you. Then it’s just the silence of the house, the muted sound of the TV still playing in the living room, dogs barking in the distance. 

“Fuck me,” he pants, half whispering, “where the fuck did that come from, Princess?”

“I dunno,” the words are dreamy and soft; he kisses your forehead and helps you up, putting you back together before you step out into the hallway, quietly makes his way to the living room before you peek into Piper and David’s room on the other side of the bathroom. They’re sleeping peacefully. 

Everything is exactly as it should be... except he has to go. That’s the part that sticks in your throat, even though he peppers you with kisses and soft words and promises; it feels wrong for him to go, now. 

But he’ll be back tomorrow.

[focsle]

“I wish you a Merry Christmass at Home” 2nd mate of the whaleship Arnolda Benjamin Boodry wrote in the margins for his entry on this day in 1852. He consoled himself with his lot with a refrain he wrote often over the years: “But it is not for life if it is for 4 years”. On Christmas eve, he shared where his subconscious was spending its time:

“A pleasant dream about home and loved ones I wish I was there to night I think I should call on some of my friends if it was not to late But there is many a calm, squall, and gale to pass over my devoted head before that day comes.”

Holidays tended to bring out the sentimentality in many whalers who were so long and far from what they felt was home. Here are a handful:

Allen Newman, Edward, 1848

“I wish all my friends A merey Christmus which is more than I anticipate for myself.”

Mary Lawrence, Addison, 1858 

“Christmas Day reminds us of home and friends. Minnie wished to hang up her stocking as usual, and as I had a tin of candies which her grandpa put up for her, “Santa Claus” managed to fill it very well. We sat down to a Christmas dinner of two roast turkeys, sweet and Irish potatoes, boiled onions, stewed pumpkin and cranberries, pickles, and a nice indian pudding made of milk and eggs. Had a goat killed for the benefit of those living in the forecastle, to which, I should think, they did ample justice as there are but two legs remaining.”

Joseph Dias, Ocmulgee, 1847

“Comes with strong breezes from the westward and overcast weather, steering S.E. with all sail set. This day I am 25 years old 25 what and not married yet are like to be shocking. But this is not all I am disapointed in. For I have been keeping Marys cake to celebrate my birth day with and this morning I took it out for the pourpus of eating but when I come to cut it I found it was spoiled a sad disappointment. But what grieves me most is to think I let it spoil after Mary took so much panes with it Oh dear Mary I hope you will not spoil so soon for the want of some one to take care of you.”

John Winslow, Wave, 1852

“Comes with a strong gale of wind from the E.ward this day My Wife is 26 years old if she is living and has got a poor sailor for a husband but it is not the worst for her for that May she live to enjoy many more years of Life and may they prove to be far happier than those that are past”

[Dec 26th]

“O if I could make 250 dollars this voyage I would not go to sea any more for it is a dogs life and sometimes when I think of the comforts of my home with my Wife and children I almost resolve never to go to sea again let me get a home of my own and I will stay by it.”

J.T. Langdon, St Peter, 1849

“The first part calm not a breath of air ruffled the face of the stormy deep. But with an ever rolling motion rocks our old ship like a vast cradle and the surface of the deep is like a vast mirror reflecting objects on its surface The first part ends Christmas and how many melancholy reflections come around unbidden and unasked for One year ago I was at home enjoying every pleasure that heart could wish friends to cheer and schoolmates to greet with a merry Christmas but now I am far away on the stormy ocean Many thousand miles intervene between this and my once happy Home”

John Martin, Lucy Ann, 1841

“As fine a day as we have had since we left the Capes of Delaware. The Watch on deck was employed in breaking out from the hold, bread, water, vinegar & other stores. We had Turtle Sea Pie for dinner. Take it altogether we spent a merry Christmas & more to my satisfaction than many a one I spent on shore.”

Benjamin Bourne, Annawann II, 1859

“[in the margins, alongside a stamp of a whale’s flukes] This Whale aught to have been saved - stove the boat Wish All a Mary Christmas Begins with a strong wind Bark steering S at 3 pm wind shifted to the Estrd a heavey rain squall took in sail to a close reef Main Topsail & staysails luffed to the wind heading SSE. Lat part at 9am saw a large sperm whale going slow into the SW so ends this day. [With an addendum on Jan 29th, 1899] I thought I was having a hard time 40 years ago but it was the best of my life.

Silliman Ives, Sunbeam, 1868

“The wheels of time have made another revolution and Christmas “Merry Christmas” is with us once again, although I can’t complain of being particularly merry, on the contrary I am rather inclined to feel somewhat sad. O Fate! Inexorable fate! that compels me to spend this holiday miles away from home and kindred, far out upon the surging billows of the Atlantic. Little did I think while enjoying the pleasures and amenities of this festival season one year ago among relatives and friends, that to day would find me here. But it is not given us to know the future, and it is a wise providence that withholds  from us such knowledge, for had I known this was to be my destiny, any joy would have been sadly marred during that happy period. I wonder if the dear ones at home as they greet each other this morning, and exchange those endearing mementos common to this day, have a thought for their wild and reckless though still loving son, and brother, and cousin, who to day is separated from their hearths and homes by leagues and leagues of blue water. As the incense arises from off the family altar on this Christmas morning, is there a prayer breathed for the wanderer? I believe there is. Love conquers distance and in their hearts and their prayers he has his accustomed place.”

[dyxtd21]

Apple Aura Quartz aesthetic moodboard!!

Apple Aura Quartz:

Appearance: Apple Aura Quartz is an anthropomorphic skunk with a striking and vibrant coloration. Her entire body, including her fur, eyes, and attire, is a vivid lime green with rainbow iridescences that shimmer in the light, creating a mesmerizing, kaleidoscopic effect. Her gemstone, an eight-cut jewel, is embedded on her left forearm and glows softly, enhancing her radiant appearance.

Features:

Fur: Her fur is a lush, lime green with streaks of iridescent rainbow colors that change and shift as she moves. The fur is sleek and well-maintained, adding to her overall chic look.

Eyes: Her eyes are a deep, sparkling green with hints of iridescent colors, reflecting her vibrant personality.

Tail: She has a large, bushy skunk tail that matches her fur coloration, with the same lime green base and iridescent highlights. The tail is a prominent feature, adding to her unique and charming appearance.

Gemstone: The eight-cut gemstone on her left forearm glows with a soft, ethereal light, its facets catching and reflecting the surrounding colors beautifully.

Outfit: Apple Aura Quartz wears a stylish, summery two-piece outfit that perfectly complements her vibrant coloration.

Top: A crop top with thin spaghetti straps and a front tie detail, creating a bow at the center. The top is both casual and chic, ideal for warm weather and casual outings.

Skirt: A high-waisted mini skirt with a ruffled hem, adding a playful and feminine touch to her look. The skirt is designed to move gracefully with her, emphasizing her lively personality.

Coloration: The outfit shares her overall coloration of lime green with rainbow iridescences, creating a cohesive and eye-catching ensemble.

Personality: Apple Aura Quartz is bubbly and energetic, with a zest for life that is infectious to those around her. She has a particular obsession with anything apple-related, especially green apples, which she collects and enjoys in various forms. Despite her lively exterior, she can be quite sensitive, and her skunk smell changes with her emotions—pleasant and sweet when she is happy, and more pungent when she is upset or scared.

The list of her skunk scent based on her emotions:

Happiness: Sweet and fruity, reminiscent of fresh green apples.

Excitement: Zesty citrus with a hint of floral undertones.

Calm/Relaxed: Mild vanilla with a subtle hint of lavenders.

Love/Affection: Soft, romantic rose petals mixed with honey.

Sadness: Slightly earthy, like damp leaves and rains.

Fear: Sharp and pungent, similar to strong pepper or wasabi.

Anger: Bitter and acrid, resembling burnt wood or singed fabric.

Embarrassment: Lightly sour, like green apples that are just slightly under ripe.

Confusion: Mixed, shifting scents that are hard to pinpoint, creating a sense of unease.

Jealousy: Tart and biting, akin to unripe lemons.

Surprise: Crisp mint with a hint of eucalyptus.

Disgust: Harsh, repelling odor similar to spoiled milk.

Contentment: Warm, comforting aroma of baked apple pie.

Boredom: Dull, faint smell of dry paper or parchment.

Nervousness: Faintly metallic, with a slight tang of ozone.

[yell0wsalt]

“Alright team, do we have our plan of attack?” shoulders back and hands behind his back, Iroh marched in a steady pace back and forth ahead of his children lined shoulder to shoulder in their kitchen.

An enthusiastic salute from his youngest son Kiko. “Aye aye, Captain!”

Iroh paused his pacing. On the balls of his feet, he sharply pivoted to face his youngest, brows knit and expression rigid. 

Not a moment later, a slow smile grew that betrayed the stern demeanor. “It’s General, soldier but I appreciate the sentiment and energy.” A wink and a smile before ruffling his son’s hair.

Kiko faltered in his stature as a rosy blush grew on his cheeks. He laughed wholeheartedly in Iroh’s affection.

“At ease, soldier,” Iroh commanded, letting his son resume position. Kiko furiously attempted to fix the flyaways. 

“What about you two?” Eyes darting between Jin and their eldest Hana.

“Aye aye, General!” Kiko’s twin, the younger of the two, Jin declared.

A curt nod to his other son.

“Dad…” Hana groaned. “What are you doing, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Hana. You’re fourteen. Under this house, under these rules." Iroh was unmoving.

Lips curved in a half smile, not without a small roll of the eyes her father did not miss, however. “Aye aye, General.”

“Good. Hana, state the list of ingredients we need to get from the store.”

“Pumpkin, graham cracker, sugar, eggs, and milk, sir!”

“Perfect. Are you boys ready to take on our latest mission?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” They chimed synchronously.

Operation pumpkin pie is a go.

[inviba]

The Willow Tree - Part 1

Peeta Mellark x EverdeenSister!Fem!OC

Masterlist

warnings: general hunger games stuff

I hear rustling next to me before a hand lightly slaps my arm.

"Where's Prim?" My sister asks me.

"With mom." I whisper before turning over and close my eyes again.

"Of course she is." She sighs.

We sit in silence for a moment.

Today is the reaping.

I hear more rustling. Katniss is probably looking over at the other bed to confirm what I told her. Primrose is cuddling into our mother. At the foot of mom's bed is our cat. No, it's Prim's cat. Katniss and I don't get any attention from Buttercup, and neither does mom. Just Prim.

I feel a triple tap on my shoulder. I know what that means. I slip carefully out of bed, the floor creaking underneath my feet, and I follow Katniss into the kitchen.

"Milk and oats?" She asks me.

She starts pulling the oats down before I answer. She knows me all too well. It's my favorite breakfast meal.

"I'll do it. You need to go hunting."

I take over what she was doing while she slips her boots on.

"Are you okay?" She questions.

Am I? This'll be the fourth year my name is in the reaping bowl, and the first year Prim's is. She's 12 now. We can't put it off any longer.

"Yeah. I'm just nervous."

"I won't let anything happen to you. Or Prim." She comes up behind me.

"It's not Prim I'm worried about, Katniss." I look her in the eye, and I know she knows.

Our mother doesn't handle the reaping very well. It's been over 30 years since her name first went in, and she's never been called. She wasn't scared then, not until she had Katniss. Then me. Then Prim. With each of us she became more fearful.

"You know, I'm not that hungry. I'm gonna stop by the bakery on my walk."

"Alright. I'll be out with Gale."

Gale. I would never tell my sister how I feel about him being around her. I know he has a thing for her, and maybe she has a thing for him. I just want her to be happy, but I don't want her making the same mistake mom did.

She kisses my cheek, muttering a love you under her breath.

I slip my shoes on underneath my skirt, which goes down to my ankles. I tuck my sweater into its top band.

—

"Just a loaf of white like usual?" The woman at the front counter asks me with a smile.

"Yeah. I'll take a pecan pie, too." I hand over the money.

The lady sets the wrapped bread loaf on the counter and slips into the back to grab a pie. I catch the eyes of the boy who works in the back of the bakery. I smile at him, but he looks away in response. I know him. I think his name first went in about 6 years ago. Two years later, mine did the same.

"Here you go, hun. Have a nice day."

I smile and grab the stuff, looking at the boy one more time before leaving the shop and heading home.

—

"Hey, you're back early." Mom says to Katniss as she walks in the door.

"Willow bought us pecan pie!" Prim laughs.

"My favorite. Thanks." She ruffles my hair before sitting down at the table.

I cut her a piece and hand it to her on a plate.

"We have to leave in 15 minutes." Mom says before leaving and going into the bedroom.

"Is mom okay?" Primrose asks.

"She's fine, Primmy." I say before giving my older sister a look.

"She's fine." Katniss echoes.

—

Katniss is an archer. She's the best in District 12, and everyone knows that. She gets the animal in the eye every time. Fish, too, surprisingly. She often sells to the butcher down the street for a pretty penny. It's not much, but it's what we need to stay alive.

I have a lot of talents, but I'm not nearly as good as my sister. I can hide without anyone hearing or finding me for weeks, maybe months, if I tried. I know how to skin and gut most animals including fish, and I'm very good with a knife. My most useless skill is that I'm a talented chef.

So, Katniss hunts the food, I gut and cook it.

But Prim? She doesn't have much. No offense to her. She's just a kid. She doesn't have much in the survival sense. She's artistic and funny and can brighten up any room easily. But if she was stuck in that arena? She'd be dead in a minute.

Both of my sisters are beautiful. Me, not so much, but I guess I'm decent-looking. My hair isn't as long and gorgeous as Prim's, and Katniss has eyes that shine in the sun. They both have wonderfully beautiful smiles. I guess I just got the bad genes.

The nervousness in my chest bubbles up. I feel an itchiness in my throat. Every year, I get this way. The way they have us lined up into rows and columns makes it feel like we're about to witness an execution. We kind of are, in a sense. Two people, a man and a woman, get picked to be put into The Hunger Games. It basically is a death sentence. Except for one person, one lucky person, that survives. Not wins. Survives.

No one wins The Hunger Games. No one.

They just survive.

My sister's and I wear what everyone else is wearing, more or less. Prim is in a beige dress, and her hair is half braided and half down. I wear my usual long skirt in beige, with a white top. My hair flows down over my shoulders. Katniss wears off-white pants and a beige top, her hair in one long braid going down the middle of her back.

This year, Katniss and I put our name in a few extra times. It's called tesserae. We do this every year, now. And for every year that we add more, we get more rations for our family. Sadly, it's what we must do.

Katniss is twenty years old. She has put her name in the one time that is required and an extra two times for rations every year since she was twelve. I have, too, since I became twelve. But, they add up over time. This year, her name will be in there twenty-seven times. Mine, fifteen times. Prim's, only once. We would never tell her how we get that food, or she would insist she did it, too. We only get four extra rations for the 4 extra times we added this year. Katniss had insisted that she do it by herself, but if she had, she would've had her name in the bowl forty-five times this year. I wasn't going to let my sister do that alone.

Gale, sadly, is twenty-two, and he has his mother and 3 siblings to care about, so he puts his name in many times a year. I don't even know how many times his name will be in this year. More than Katniss and I put together.

I stand near the other 16 year olds. The youngest are put in the front, the oldest in the back. So, I'm somewhere in the middle. Katniss isn't far behind me, and I'm not far behind Prim. However, not being with my sisters in this moment makes it even more nerve-wracking.

I look to my left and slightly back to see the bakery boy again. I raise my hand up slightly to wave. He smiles for a second before looking away, and I do the same.

My brain doesn't register the boring story of Panem we must listen to every year. I could recite if I wanted to. North America, long ago, became Panem. Everything is amazing, blah blah blah.

Then, he lists the two mighty victors from District 12 in the past 74 years. Only one is still alive. Haymitch Abernathy, who sits drunkenly in a chair on stage.

I'm pulled from my annoyed trance when a woman, the Effie Trinket, begins her loud speech.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I look back at Katniss and roll my eyes jokingly, and she holds back a laugh.

"Ladies first!" The bubbly woman says as she walks to one side of the stage.

She sticks her hand into the bowl and moves it around for a minute before pulling a slip out. She walks back to the microphone.

I feel the urge to throw up all of a sudden.

"The female tribute for District 12 is..."

I take a deep breath. In and out.

"Katniss Everdeen!"

[the-epic-hiram-lows]

Riverdale characters as novelty milk shakes

I love you, anon.

Archie: vanilla ice cream topped with a jumbo slice of vanilla buttercream cake, a twinkie, whipped cream, and red/white/blue sprinkles. served in a souvenir plastic glass modelled after the classic milkshake glasses. for an extra dollar you can keep it, and the money partially goes to charity.

Jughead: caramel and chocolate ice cream, blended with peanut butter cups, topped with marshmallow creme, peanut butter, candied bacon (vegetarian substitute is chocolate-dipped pretzel rod) and caramel popcorn. glass is rimmed with vanilla buttercream, then covered with ruffle potato chips.

Betty: strawberry ice cream, topped with whipped cream and a jumbo slice of strawberry cheesecake, with a chocolate drizzle. glass is rimmed with cream cheese frosting.

Veronica: coffee ice cream blended with brownies, topped with thick fudge sauce, vanilla-infused whipped cream, a mini salted flourless chocolate cake, and candied nuts. drizzled with toffee syrup and a dash of sea salt.

Cheryl: obviously i have to go with a cherry theme, so i'd say madagascar vanilla and cream cheese ice cream with an entire slice of cherry pie blended in, topped with whipped cream, graham cracker crust, a cherry cake pop, and a gold flake-covered Yamagata Prefecture (a type of Japanese cherry that costs up to $7 each)

[kalofagas-ca]

Galatopita, A Ruffled Milk Pie | Kalofagas.ca

[nycfoodieblog]

Shrimp N Lobster Baked Mac N Cheese

INGREDIENTS

3/4 pound of any spiral pasta, such as rotini or fusilli

2 cups 2% milk

4 tbsp unsalted butter, divided

1/4 cup all-purpose flour

6 ounces Gruyere cheese, grated

4 ounces Killaree cheddar, grated, or any white cheddar

1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper

1 tsp salt

1 pound cooked lobster meat, chopped in 1-inch pieces

1/2 pound cooked shrimp, chopped in half

1/2 cup Italian breadcrumbs

INSTRUCTIONS

In a large pot, bring water to a boil and add pasta, cooking according to the directions on the box. Drain well.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

In the meantime, heat milk in a small saucepan (do NOT boil). In a large skillet, melt 2 tbsp. of butter and add the flour. Cook over low heat for 2 minutes, stirring with a whisk. While you’re still whisking, add the hot milk and cook for a minute or two more, until thickened and smooth. Remove from heat and add the Gruyere, cheddar, salt, and pepper. Add the cooked pasta, lobster meat, and shrimp. Stir well to coat everything with the cheese mixture.

Place the entire mixture into a large pie dish or casserole dish. I used a 9″ ruffled pie dish.

Melt the remaining 2 tbsp. of butter with 1/2 cup of breadcrumbs. Sprinkle on the top of the mac n cheese and bake for 30-35 minutes until mixture is bubbly and the breadcrumbs are brown on top.

Serve warm and store leftovers in an airtight container for up to 5 days.

[david-from-travelodium]

Best Places to Eat in Aegina, Greece

The island is busier than Mykonos or Santorini but remains tolerable. It’s still easy to escape the crowds even during high season and enjoy everything from beautiful beaches to a wonderful church. If you are a fan of goat’s milk, don’t miss out on visiting the dairy in picturesque Sfentouri or try their delicious risogalo (rice pudding sprinkled with cinnamon). They also make fantastic products from sheep and cow’s milk.

Karnagio Beach

Aegina Island is among the best cruise islands near Athens to relax on a sandy beach and enjoy some of Greece's finest seafood at tavernas. You can also sample a variety of cocktails at the island's quality beach bars. If you want a modern gourmet experience, Kappos Etsi is one of the top restaurants in Aegina. Located behind the port in a stone building with a wine-coloured courtyard, chef Dimitris spins Greek classics into out of this world dishes like baked octopus and his signature kappos etsi pie stacked with feta, mince and parsley. For authentic meze, try Nontas tavern in Perdika or Kriton Gefseis for musical meze and raki. Or enjoy a cocktail at Inn on the Beach, a perky seafront favourite close to Aegina Town, and feel the gentle spray of the setting sun ruffle your bare ankles. Afterwards, take in the spectacular Temple of Apollo, a knockout from 480 BC and part of the Sacred Triangle with the Parthenon in Athens.

Souvala Beach

There’s no shortage of beach-themed activities on Aegina, with the most frantic waterside action taking place on the east coast at the island’s major package holiday resort, Agia Marina. Here, you can take a banana ride or enjoy barbecued octopus in a waterfront taverna. If you prefer to keep your feet dry, head a little farther south for Vagia’s exquisite sandy beach and secluded coves. Or, for a more laidback day, head to Marathon Beach, just a 10-minute drive from town, for umbrellas and sunbeds on an organized beach — though it doesn’t typically get very busy. The island’s pristine Moni Beach is a short boat trip from Perdika, an idyllic village that captured the imagination of Kazantzakis. Arrive at sunset to watch the magical light bathe the harbor and the small church tucked away in its recesses. And don’t leave without sampling a plate of local cheese and pistachios. The latter are a speciality here (try the fresh, unsalted variety with whole pistachios)..

Agios Nektorios Church

Saint Nectarios of Aegina is one of the most famous Greek saints and has been known for working many miracles. He is a great spiritual counselor and confessor to many Greeks and many people from other countries have found healing through his prayers. As a Metropolitan, Nectarios was loved and admired by the people for his purity of life, humility and service to others. His devotion to God and the church compelled him to become more active with his work. Unfortunately, this caused envy among other priests and they made false accusations that led to him being removed from his position. This is when he started searching for a place to live in peace and quiet with no distractions. He ended up on the island of Aegina where he built a beautiful monastery and church. He is celebrated as a saint in the Orthodox Church and his feast day is November 9. Many of the pilgrims that visit Aegina around this time are here to celebrate.

Monastery of Agia Triada

Worlds away from the hedonistic whirl of Athens, Aegina retains its old school charm in its covered fish market and backstreet ouzeri (bars). Stop by Eakion to sample the local speciality – smoked pistachios – ahead of the island’s annual festival in September. For a more upscale snack or drink, head to Posto, where you’ll be treated to generous servings of handmade pasta and Mediterranean cuisine. The restaurant is set in a hidden garden and also hosts art exhibitions from time to time. In general, be respectful of the monks’ customs and etiquette when visiting any monastery. Greeting them and engaging in brief pleasant conversation is fine, but avoid distractions or disturbing them in their religious practices. And do not enter restricted areas like the monks’ quarters. Observing these simple rules will enhance your experience while showing respect to the monks and their church. Aegina Island is a beautiful cruise destination and these top places to eat and drink will make your stay here unforgettable. Read the full article

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