#more so than chocolate mud pie

[sassysnowperson]

I love this, I love how earnestly an apparently strangely worded question was engaged with (what does "closest to me" mean? When modified by "favorite"??)

In honor of my utter delight, I pose a follow up question:

In what dessert would you be least surprised to find a rattlesnake?

What sort of desert would you think is your favorite/closest to you?

i love tiramisu

[passivenovember]

thinking about the first time Billy has cherry pie and the lengths he'll travel to have it again.

--

Fresh Cherries (part one)

--

Because it's December, Neil makes concessions.

Billy isn't allowed to do whatever he wants, never that, but his leash isn't vice-like. There's some give as he tests his boundaries when there's snow on the ground. Billy isn't sure why, but he isn't about to ruin a good thing.

But. Steve calls on a Wednesday night and says, "Come over."

Billy has to chew and swallow the automated response he's used to giving. It's a school night, Neil'd kill me, and feels like he just got dusted with sugar and put in the oven. Says, "Sure. Let me ask my dad."

"Just sneak out," Steve tells him.

Billy checks the alarm clock on his bedside table. "It's seven thirty."

"So?"

"So, it's not sneaking out hours."

"You're such a stick in the mud," Steve says.

"I'm not, I just--" don't feel like getting my teeth knocked in. Billy picks at the threads in his duvet cover. Counts to three. "I want to be a good influence on you, Harrington."

Steve squaks. Some bright, quaffed bird. "I'm a year older than you!"

"Only 'cause you got held back in the third grade," Billy says. He flops over onto his belly, bringing the phone with him as he tries not to get wrapped up in the chord when Steve laughs.

"This is what I get for telling you all my deepest darkest shit," Steve rustles on the other end of the line and Billy imagines him in bed, or laying on the couch. Maybe flat on the carpet, near the fireplace, shirtless and eating chocolate covered strawberries--

"C'mon," Steve says gently, "Be a bad influence, come hang out with me."

"My dad--"

"Just sneak out, Malibu."

Billy grunts, not wanting to tell the truth, kind of into how Steve's growing more and more whiny as the scene presses on. "I dunno."

"C'mon, it's not hard. I sneak out all the time. Out of my house and into my car and in through your window--"

"--That's different. Your parents don't give a shit where you are."

"You're right. Who cares, though? I'd still sneak out to see you even if they had a bell permanently installed around my neck."

Billy's heart feels like raw cookie dough, sticking to the ribs around him as he bakes and proves under some bright, shining, plastic feeling. "Are they home this week?"

"Nope," Steve says, and the P explodes over the phone line. Wipes out half the city in his excitement. "Mom bought a ton of shit to get me through 'till the twenty-eighth, so we can--"

"You're spending Christmas alone?"

"I always spend Christmas alone," Steve says. Quiet sits heavy, like a filed of snow, between them. Stretching out in every direction. "It's not a big deal. We celebrate Christmas in November."

"With Thanksgiving?"

"Nah, right at the start of November."

"Alongside Halloween?" Billy spats, sitting upright on the mattress. It jostles underneath him. He feels like a raft lost in some huge, freezing, disorienting sea.

He tries to get his barring's, tries to sink his heel into Steve's answering laugh but its hollow like a dead tree, "One year Santa was my dad, dressed as the Cowardly Lion." Steve says.

Billy tries to imagine it. He puts the hard, chilled seed of Steve's childhood near his molars and chews on it for a while, trying to envision the light refracted from all the ways childhood has to bend and contort to suit a kid's parents.

"I never believed in Santa," He says. An offering. Sadness for sadness, or something, like I see you.

Steve hums, and that horrible field of ice and snow between them melts, just like it always does. "Come over," He says, not as hollow as before. Blooming.

Billy puts his shoes on.

--

The Harringtons live in some demented alternate reality where Christmas in December is all for show. Their house has been decorated since the last time Billy was here in Saturday.

He knocks and stares down at Santa, the looming silver-screen image from his childhood, dressed in a floral button down, board shorts and flip flops. Somehow feels colder. When Steve opens the door, he points at it.

"My mom's theme this year is Blue Hawaii." Steve says.

Billy stumbles over the threshold, teeth chattering to shards in his skull. "That's not a Christmas Movie."

"Yeah, but it turns out, Santa can be anything. He's kinda like a chameleon."

"Santa isn't Elvis."

"He could be," Steve says.

Billy shrugs out of his jacket, handing it off, like always. Steve holds it close to his chest, watching with amusement as Billy takes in the foyer. Toes out of his snow-covered boots. "It's like a tiki bar made of pine trees instead of sweet grass."

Steve nods, still clutching the jacket.

His eyes are red.

Billy squints at him, padding closer. "Are you high?"

Steve giggles, bright like a fresh log in the fire.

Billy scrubs a hand across his face, trying to hide the way it makes him go up in Steve's flame. "You're such a dork."

"What? I thought we could--"

"I only have a few hours," Billy tells him gently, trying not to get lost in the sleepy, apple-red flush across Steve's perfect nose. "My dad'll--"

"Just tell him I'm left on my own for Christmas. Maybe he'll feel sorry for me and let you stay the night."

"How do you think I got him to agree to an 11:30 curfew?"

Steve blinks at him and then explodes into glowing, glaring joy. "Are you shitting me?"

"Nope, I'm all yours 'till 11:30."

Steve flushes again, clutching Billy's jacket closer to his chest. "But it's a school night--"

"Guess my old man took pitty on you. Such a lonely boy in his Elvis-themed mansion on the hill, it's kinda pathetic," Billy says, "In a cute way."

"It's not Elvis," Steve says, still grinning, "It's Blue Hawaii."

"Still cute," Billy shrugs, feeling hot all over. Feeling proud of himself. He nearly combusts when Steve moves into his space, eyes nearly going cross to focus on the bridge of Steve's nose.

Billy holds his breath.

He waits for Steve to say something, feeling that huge filed stretch out between them, but it's not snow-covered now.

It's thawing. It's burning up.

Steve wets his lips.

"Uh," Billy says intelligently, looking down when the sleeve of his jacket tugs at him, still viced in Steve's hold. "You can put that in the closet," Billy tells him, caught on the strech of skin over Steve's knuckles. "If you want."

"I don't," Steve tells him.

Billy looks up, eyes crossing again.

Steve winks. "You're warm," He says but Billy feels it, more than anything else.

--

The smell of marijuana and pine is overwhelming, searing through the air after the first shared joint.

Billy rolls his neck and asks if they can crack a window. Steve blinks at him, sealing the second joint with spit. "You trying to get caught, or something?"

"Caught?" Billy asks, trying to force his shoulders to relax. "But. I thought--"

"--The neighbors are nosy 'round these parts." Steve says. He tucks his rolling tray under the coffee table, and Billy watches with droopy red eyes the way his lips close around the butt of the thing.

Steve's lips are perfect.

If Billy was an artist he'd fill sketchbooks with watercolor renditions of that cupid's bow. His fingers would permanently stain with lapping waves of purple-pink, etching the warmth of breath into his nail beds so that the faucet would never run clear of this boy.

He could get lost in those lips. That hair--

Steve hands him the joint and Billy takes it, focusing on the cherry so he won't get lost in Steve's eyes, too, because he's looking. Always.

Billy tries not to drown in it and fails when Steve says, "Y'know. Your eyes are kinda like Blue Hawaii."

"Again with Elvis?" Billy rolls them, handing the joint back. "You're the one who stole his wig."

"My hair is not a wig, fuck you."

"Coulda fooled me."

Steve holds smoke in his lungs, exhaling it toward the popcorn ceiling as he says, "Your eyes are blue."

Billy snorts, laying with his back on the carpet.

"They're the bluest things I've ever seen," Steve says, ashing the joint. "And I've tried to find something bluer. Around town. I even went to the library to look for something in an atlas when Indiana disappointed me, like maybe the ocean is bluer and clearer in the Caribbean, or something, but no."

Billy's heart thumps, nailing his ribs to the floor underneath.

He counts the joints in the popcorn overhead. He feels Steve looking at him, feels himself burning from the inside.

"You're just the most detailed asshole who's ever lived," Steve says, softly.

Billy could sink into it. "Thanks."

Silence falls, again. It's comfortable. Billy stretches, a little bit, twisting until his spine cracks, until he feels like he could pass out from how relaxed he is.

Steve hands him the joint.

Billy shakes his head.

"Why not?" Steve asks.

"I'm laying down," Billy tells the ceiling, "I feel like if I smoke anymore my lungs will give out, or maybe I'll float through the ceiling and disappear."

Steve exhales more smoke. "And right before Christmas, too."

Billy sits crisscross on the carpet, watching Steve puff, inhale, puff, inhale. "You're really not stressed about being home by yourself for six days?"

Steve shakes his head.

"Why not?"

"I like having the house to myself," Steve tells him, "Besides, I feel like if I have to spend any more time with my parents this year I'm going to sink right through the floor." Teasing. An echo of Billy's childhood fear of ascending into the ozone.

Billy pokes him with his foot, flushed.

Steve finishes the joint and slides closer. Their knees touch. "What kind of Christmases did you have when you were growing up?"

Billy shrugs. "I'm sill growing up."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, just. I dunno," Billy gets lost in Steve's eyes, a little. Classic beauty. "It was the Coca-Cola Santa kind?"

Steve laughs at him, and then his palms are warm on Billy's knee caps. "The kind with Bing Crosby and miniature towns on the dining room table?"

Billy's mom loved to collect those goddamn things. Neil smashed them all when she ran away and killed herself.

He nods, relishing the weight of Steve's fingertips.

Steve fiddles with the hole in Billy's jeans. "What kind of food did you have?"

"Pizza," Billy says.

Steve blinks at him, lost. "That's not very Coca-Cola of the Hargrove's."

"My mom didn't like to cook."

"Funny," Steve says, combing through the tussle of hair on Billy's kneecap, "Mine doesn't either."

Billy aches to knit their fingers together until they meld, forming the kind of sweater you dig out from the back of your closet year after year, echoing on the stiff frigid breeze until it's tattered and falling apart.

Steve looks at him, smiling. "Do you want some pie?"

--

Steve guts and skins the freezer until it's empty. A carcass picked clean.

Mrs. Harrington must have spent her entire bonus at Melvalds on Christmas dinner, enough to feed four Steve Harrington's and all the people who are desperately in love with him.

Billy tries not to think about them and watches from the counter face, his sock feet thumping gently against the cabinet as Steve pulls dish after dish from a cloud of white exhaust, plopping containers onto the island. "Green bean casserole," Steve says, "Pumpkin pie, pecan, apple, blueberry--"

"--You're supposed to eat all of this?"

"You're gonna help me."

"I don't like green bean casserole," Billy says, yelping when Steve feigns death and collapses into the counter. "Jesus Christ--"

"I'm midwestern, that's a cardinal sin to me."

"Dope makes you dramatic, pretty boy."

"You hate midwestern people."

"Yeah," Billy says, giggling.

"You hate me."

"Shut up," Billy slips off the counter and onto his feet, examining every frozen item while Steve repacks.

"Which pie sounds good?"

"I dunno," Billy says, eyeing the blueberry with suspicion, "Don't we have to wait for them to thaw before we throw them in the oven?"

"I don't think so," Steve says, "I've already tried the cherry and that baked fine."

"I've never had it before."

Steve blinks at him, shocked. "How have you never had cherry pie?"

"My dad doesn't like cherries," Billy admits.

"Just because your dad doesn't like cherries--"

"--Look, my mom wasn't on great terms with the oven, and nobody else is going to waste time cooking shit my dad won't eat," Billy snaps. Feeling red-hot all of a sudden. Angry in a way he hasn't been in a long time for being reminded that other people's dads are shitty in the normal way.

Not like Neil.

Steve either doesn't notice or chooses not to take it personally.

He opens the refrigerator and pulls out a half-eaten cherry pie, picking at its cling-wrap until Billy can see the cherries where the glitter between layers of perfectly brown crust. Bloody little eyes staring up at him like dead fish.

"You can have the rest."

"The rest?" Billy demands, "But what if I don't like it?"

"Not possible," Steve tells him. He opens the microwave and attempts to shove the pie tray in, yelping when Billy snatches it out of thin air. "What--"

"--Aluminum will catch fire in the microwave." Billy snaps. He tries to find it annoying, but Steve just blinks those big, soft eyes at him and the anger washes away. "Get me a plate, bambi boy," He says.

Steve watches Billy plate the pie, giggling as his nose wrinkles in disgust over its dripping red innards. "This is so gross," Billy says.

"You won't think so, once you try it."

Billy walks it to the microwave, carefully pinching the edges of the plate between his palms. "I can't think of a single other instance where that has been true."

He turns the dial. Forty seconds.

Steve's watching him, face illuminated in the golden hum of the microwave.

"What?" Billy demands.

"Nothing," Steve says, leaning against the counter top, "I just can't believe I'm gonna be here when your life is changed forever."

Billy snorts, stalking to the drawer where the Harringtons keep their silver. "Still dramatic, pretty boy."

"Why do you always say that?" Steve wonders.

Billy freezes in place. Two forks in hand. He peers across the island at Steve, heart thrumming loudly. "Why do I always say what?"

"Pretty boy," Steve clarifies.

It hangs between them. The microwave hums, the longest forty seconds of Billy's life. "I," He says intelligently, "It's just. True."

"What is?"

"You're. Pretty," Billy says. And it's like having teeth pulled.

The microwave beeps.

Steve turns away, yanking the pie from its incubation, "Shit," He says, wiggling his fingers. "Plate's hot as hell."

Billy stands there watching him. Breathing. Dying.

Steve looks at him. "Well, do you wanna try it?" Billy nods. Doesn't move. Steve laughs at him. "Come here."

Billy goes easily, like a lap dog being called to perch. He and his forks stare down at the pie with caution, stomach churning at the congealed mess before him.

Steve grabs one of the forks from Billy and cuts the point off, blowing on it until its warm enough to eat. Steve pops it into his mouth, brown eyes falling closed. "Mmmm," He says, like someone would with a spooked and disgusted baby, "It's good."

Billy shakes his head.

"You're so dramatic," Steve says, cutting another huge chunk for Billy. He holds it in the air between them, eyebrows raised. "Trust me."

Billy stares at it. "Why's mine so big?"

"I want you to get the full range of flavor."

"But--"

Steve shoves the fork into Billy's mouth, swiftly depositing the little cherry eyeballs onto Billy's tongue. He coughs and sputters, lips curling around the fork as Steve yanks it away. "Chew," Steve says.

Billy does.

Like it's the first time he's ever done it, clumsy and a little rushed and very, very distracted by the way Steve's watching him.

"Swallow," Steve says softly, barely there.

Billy does. There's something on his face. On his lips.

"What do you think?" Steve asks, staring at them.

Billy resists the urge to lick it away, "Sucked," He says, expecting Steve to laugh, but.

Something rests between them, not growing or stretching or changing shape, but it's there. It suffocates.

Steve looks at him, somehow closer than he was before. "Sorry, pretty boy," He says.

Billy's heart stops. "Why would you say that?"

"It's true. You're pretty," Steve says, watching the red on Billy's lips burn brighter. "You've got a little something on your face." Billy lifts a hand, mouth falling open when Steve grabs his wrist. "Can I," Steve says, soft as summer rain, "Can I kiss you, Billy?"

Billy doesn't move as Steve licks into his mouth, Cherry washing away under the rough, sweet drag of intention.

--

THIS IS PART ONE!!!! OF A TWO-PARTER!

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I get around to part two <3

[sitp-recs]

Heyyy Liv!!! I check your blog everyday btw it's a beautiful distraction from studying. Anyway, I also read the most he's ever said and maybe not with a situationship, but do you know fics that have similar issues - them having some kind of toxic relationship, unresolved issues (that get resolved heh) or maybe miscommunication? Doesn't necessarily have to be fwb. Thank youuuuu xxxxx

Hi anon! I’m so happy to hear you enjoy the blog 💜 I’m a bit picky about toxic relationships but I think these are a good fit for your ask. Most of them are friends with benefits tbh, love that trope. Enjoy! 😊

Between Two Fires of Beltane by secretsalex (E, 5k)

As the war drags on, Draco becomes a spy for Voldemort and works his way into Harry’s good graces—and his bed. When the Order prepares to invade Malfoy Manor, Draco is forced to examine his loyalties.

Clear As Mud by scoradh (M, 10k)

Set post-war and post-Harry's-conscience...

Kissed by Pie (M, 12k)

Draco Malfoy was attacked by a rogue Dementor on the night of his Azkaban release. He self-exiled to Muggle London and opened a late-night chocolate shop called Kissed.

I'll never be your chosen one by Andithiel (E, 15k)

Draco doesn't know what exactly he’s doing with Potter, he doesn't know how their unspoken agreement even started, and doesn't know where it will end. The only thing he knows is: he's not in love.

Vanishing Cabinets by @romaine2424 (E, 18k)

Take one Wizarding Family Values politician who has a secret life, and add one Auror who detests discrimination of any type, but becomes a bit obsessed with said politician, and you have enough sparks to ignite a Beltane fire.

In His Nature by Create_Serenity (E, 20k)

Harry agreed to have sex with Draco once a month in order to keep him alive, what he didn’t agree to was Draco popping up all over the place and disrupting his life in more ways than one.

The Matchmaker's Spell by @kbrick (E, 21k)

Thanks to a spell cast over all of wizarding Britain, Draco is forced to marry Harry Potter, who still hates him. But Draco refuses to live a cold, sexless existence, choosing to fill the emptiness in his life and his bed with a parade of lovers. And while Harry may not be able to stand Draco, he despises seeing him with anyone else.

Famous by @fw00shy (E, 24k)

It's a couple of years after the war, and Harry's bored of models now, the same way he's bored of Ron's constant nagging, bored of his Weasley monogram knitwear, bored of the same fucking grin that greets him when he hands his fire-truck red Bugatti over to the valet every night. He wants to find—well, he isn't sure what he wants. Anything but models. Harry is in the mood for...messy. And Draco Malfoy's looking like a walking disaster in the making.

Stain of Silence by brummell (E, 28k)

After the war, Draco serves out his sentence in Harry Potter's house.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered (E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life. Which makes you think this story has something exciting like body-swapping, but it doesn’t. Instead it has Indian takeaway and a blue jumper and people wanting a whole lot of what they can’t have, discovering themselves as they discover each other.

Harry Potter Gives a Shit by talithan (E, 58k)

“Where are you headed?” “No place special,” Draco fumbled, and flushed further. But then: “I can change that,” said Harry Potter.

Another Mask Behind You by lettered (E, 116k)

Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him. And then there is porn, questions about identity, domestic bliss, more porn, and truth as seen through a web of lies.

[thelastspeecher]

It's been a hot minute since I've done a Foster Ford thing but here's some more! Enjoy a sort of Origins episode of the Foster Ford AU, aka the official start of the AU!

———————————————————————————————————–

              After what felt like hours, Ford finally stumbled out of the woods.  As though the forest was determined to have the last word, he tripped on an errant tree root.  At the last second, he caught himself, barely avoiding a reunion with the wet and muddy ground.  He looked around.  It seemed he had emerged near Greasy’s Diner.

              I can seek some shelter there while I pull myself together.  Pulling his trench coat close to his body, he trudged through the pouring rain.  He pulled on the door handle.  It didn’t open.  Belatedly, Ford remembered that the cook had injured himself recently, and as such, the diner’s hours were reduced.  This day will never end.  Ford turned around and stared through the sheets of rain.  I suppose I could try walking home.  But who knows how long that would take in my current state.  The bell over the diner door jingled.  Ford spun around.

              “Oh my gosh, you poor thing!” gushed the diner’s lone waitress, Susan.  Ford looked up at her.  “Come inside out of the rain.”  She put her arm around Ford’s shoulders and ushered him inside.  It was strange to see the diner completely devoid of people.  “We aren’t supposed to open for a couple hours, since Javier is still recovering from dislocating his shoulder,” Susan chattered as she led him to the counter.  “But I couldn’t let a cute little cutie like you sit out in the rain like a drowned cat!”

              “…Thank you,” Ford mumbled.  He climbed onto the stool with some difficulty.  Susan pinched his cheek.

              “I’ll get Javier to whip something up for you, sweetie pie.  How about some hot chocolate and fries?”  Ford nodded.  “Great!  I’ll be right back, honey bun.”  Susan bustled away.  Ford grabbed napkins from the closest napkin holder and dried off his glasses.  Normally, he’d use his shirt or coat, but doing so right now would just add mud without drying anything.  With his glasses clean, he lifted the metallic napkin holder and peered closely at his reflection.

              A very young child, barely out of toddler years, stared back at him.  Ford’s heart plummeted to his feet.  He knew immediately after it happened that he had been reduced in height, and Susan’s reaction to him had suggested he was more than just shorter.  But he hadn’t been expecting it to be this bad.

              Elementary school, I could manage.  But I’m too young for even that right now!  Ford set the napkin dispenser down and took a deep breath.  No.  I can handle this.  I’ve handled far worse.  Once the rain dies down, I’ll return home and regroup.  It should be simple enough to revert to my proper age.  I just have to find the creature that did this to me.  Ford furrowed his brow.  …What creature did this to me?

              The memories of the event were crisp and clear, fitting for something only a few hours old.  But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t picture the creature that had transformed him.  He only remembered kneeling at the side of a creek and picking something up from the water.  There had been a flash of light, and he awoke later in the pouring rain, now a child.  Ford strained his mind as much as he dared.  He couldn’t remember a single thing about the creature he picked up.

              Surely, after I get some rest, I will be able to recall the details.  I’m probably just tired.  And wet.  I should probably shed my coat.  It’s only making me colder.  Ford shrugged his soaked trench coat off and set it on the counter.  The one bright spot in this dark day is that my clothes shrank with me.  I may have never been able to find an exit from the woods on my own if I didn’t have the appropriate glasses.  Ford was startled from his musings on the embarrassment of a local lumberjack stumbling across him by Susan’s return.

              “Here you go, sugar cube,” Susan cooed, placing a plate of fries and mug of hot chocolate in front of him.  “Eat up.”

              “Thank you,” Ford said quietly.  Susan tousled his wet hair.

              “No problem!  I’ve got a soft spot for adorable kiddies like you!”  She disappeared into the kitchen again.  Ford began to eat the fries.  He had to force himself to eat slowly; he was starving.

              I suppose losing over twenty years and stumbling around in a forest will whet the appetite.  With the fries finished, Ford began to tackle the hot chocolate.  The whipped cream on top was already melted, but the drink truly hit the spot.  Ford could feel his body warming up.  Just as he was finishing his drink, the bell over the diner door jingled again.  Isn’t the diner closed?  Ford looked behind him.  Two of Gravity Falls’ finest stood in the diner, their clothes damp from the rain still cascading from the heavens.  Fuck.

              “Oh, good!” Susan said, poking her head out of the kitchen.  “The sweet little boy I called about is, well, he’s the only sweet little boy in the place!  Right up front!”

              “Thanks for calling us,” one of the cops said.  The two police officers walked up to Ford and sat on either side of him.  Ford quickly looked down at his nearly empty mug to avoid making eye contact.

              “Hey kid,” the second cop, a lanky dark-haired man with bags under his eyes, said.  His voice was gentle and fatherly.  If Ford was truly a child, he’d be comforted.  But the tone just made Ford clench his mug anxiously.  “Susan said you were out in the rain?”

              “Yes,” Ford squeaked.  He winced at the high pitch to his nervous voice.

              “Where are your parents?” asked the first cop, a rather average-looking mustachioed Hispanic man.  Ford shrugged.  “You can tell us.  You won’t be in trouble.”

              “Not here,” Ford managed weakly.

              “Where?” the first cop prompted.  Ford shrugged again.

              I’d lie, but I don’t know what lie to tell!  What could I possibly say that would result in them leaving me alone?  If I claim my parents will be picking me up, one of the officers will stay behind to ensure that happens.  At the very least, they’d insist on Susan verifying that an adult came to fetch me.  Ford scowled.  Even if I did know what to lie, they probably wouldn’t believe me.  Stan’s always been better than I at fibbing.

              “What’s your name?” asked the first cop.

              “Stanford Filbrick Pines,” Ford rattled off instinctively.  He winced again.  The officer, however, didn’t bat an eye.

              Odd.  I know I’ve met this man before.  Why would he not recall my name?  The officer scribbled something down on a notepad.

              “How old are you, Stan?” asked the second cop.

              “Four.”  Ford blurted out the number as though possessed.  He wasn’t sure why; until the officer had asked him his age, he’d had no idea of what it could be.  Child development wasn’t his strong suit, after all.  “And it’s not Stan.  It’s Stanford.”

              “We’ll call you Stan for short,” the second cop said.  “Makes it easier.”

              “But that’s not my-”

              “Hey, it’s okay,” the first cop said soothingly, putting his hand on Ford’s shoulder.  “He didn’t mean anything by it.”  The second cop nodded.  “Kids with long names like that usually go by a nickname is all.”

              “Well, it’s Stanford.”

              “Understood,” the first cop said, shooting a harsh look at the second cop.  Ford stifled a sigh.

              They’re going to call me Stan when I’m not around, I can just sense it.  The officers asked a few more questions, all of which Ford answered vaguely or not at all.  The only question he directly answered was where he lived.

              “Are you sure you live in Gravity Falls?” prompted the second cop.  “You’re not just visiting?”  Ford glared at him.

              “I live here,” he said firmly.

              “Back off,” the first cop hissed.  “He’s not a criminal, he’s just a kid.”  Ford felt his ears burn with shame.

              Just a kid.  He’s correct.  Right now, that’s exactly what I am.  The first cop smiled at Ford.

              “We’re gonna see if we can track down your family.”

              Good luck with that.

              “But in the meantime, you need somewhere to stay.  Sweet Susan offered for you to stay with her, but she’s not a licensed foster parent.”  Ford’s heartrate skyrocketed.  Foster parent?  Was he going to be placed in the foster system?  “In fact, the only people around here who can do that are Dan Corduroy and his wife.”  Ford felt tension leave his shoulders.

              Dan’s a good man.  He was also a believer in the supernatural.  I might be able to convince him of my true identity.  The best option was for him to go home, but he would take spending a night or two with the Corduroys while he came up with a solution for his situation.

              “They’re great people,” the second cop said.  “And they love kids.  You’re gonna have a good time with them.”  Ford nodded silently.  The officers patted Ford on the head and left.  On their way out, they told Susan that Dan would be coming to pick Ford up.  Susan swapped out Ford’s empty mug for another full of fresh hot chocolate.

              As Ford nursed his hot chocolate during his wait, he tried to reassure himself.

              No matter what, one thing’s for sure.  A week from now, my stint in foster care will be a distant memory.

[onelastfic]

Some Cindy and JJ? 👀

Cindy leaned against the counter, watching JJ as he carefully mixed the ingredients for a pie. She smiled playfully, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"You know, JJ," Cindy said, her voice taking on a teasing tone, "seeing you in the kitchen like this is really... attractive."

JJ looked up, his face turning a deep shade of red. "Uh, thanks. I just like baking."

Cindy stepped closer, her hand lightly brushing his arm. "I like watching you bake. It's kind of hot."

JJ fumbled with the mixing bowl, nearly dropping it. "Hot? Oh, um, I guess the oven is pretty warm..."

Cindy laughed, shaking her head. "I mean you, JJ. You're pretty hot."

JJ's eyes widened, and he stammered, "Oh, uh, you too! I mean, you're hot, too! Like, in a good way. Not like an oven. More like... um, a beautiful sunset?"

Cindy giggled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "You're adorable, JJ."

——

JJ stumbled into the living room, his pants covered in mud, one shoe missing, and a large wad of gum tangled in his hair. Cindy looked up from her book, her eyes widening in surprise.

"JJ! What happened to you?" Cindy asked, concerned.

"Oh, you know," JJ sighed, a sheepish smile on his face. "I tripped over a rock, stepped in a puddle of muddy water, then someone threw their gum away and it landed in my hair. Also, I lost a shoe.…So, yeah, just another typical day for me."

Cindy walked over, her heart full of affection for her hopelessly clumsy boyfriend. "You know, JJ, even covered in mud and looking like you’ve been through a war zone, you're still the cutest guy I've ever seen."

JJ blushed deeply. "You really think so?"

Cindy winked. "Absolutely. And once we get you cleaned up, you'll be simply irresistible. Come on, I'll run you a bath and see what I can do about the gum."

JJ hummed in relief, really feeling the need for a nice warm bath. "Thanks, Cin. I don't know what I'd do without you."

She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "You'd probably still be stuck in that puddle," she teased, her voice warm and playful.

——

JJ stumbled into the living room, tripping over his own feet as usual. "Cindy, I... um, made you some of your favorite chocolate chip cookies," he said, holding up a plate with a shy smile.

Cindy looked up from her sheet music, her eyes lighting up. "That's so sweet! You always know how to make me smile." She stood up and took the plate from him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

JJ blushed, scratching the back of his head, his tailing sticking straight up in happiness. "I just wanted to do something nice for you. You've been working so hard for your upcoming concert with the music department and my mom says nothing helps the creative process like sugary snacks."

Cindy smiled warmly, her heart swelling with affection. "Awwww, you always know how to make me feel appreciated, JJ. Thank you." She took a bite of a cookie and sighed in delight. "These are amazing, as always."

——

Sitting on the beach, Cindy leaned her head on JJ's shoulder, their fingers intertwined. "You know, I never feel as calm as I do when I'm with you," she said softly.

JJ looked down at her, his eyes filled with adoration. "I feel the same way. You're my anchor, Cindy."

She smiled up at him, her eyes shining. "Even when I'm a mess?"

JJ chuckled, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Especially then. I love every part of you, even the messy bits."

Cindy's heart fluttered, and she snuggled closer. "I love you too, JJ. More than words can say."

——

Cindy was pacing back and forth, frustration evident on her face. JJ watched her from the kitchen, his eyes filled with concern as he iced another batch of stress-motivated cupcakes.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked gently.

She stopped, looking at him with tears in her eyes. "Everything feels like it's falling apart, JJ. I-I don't know what to do."

JJ set down his piping bag and walked over to her, taking her hands in his. "We'll figure it out together, okay? You're not alone in this."

Cindy felt a wave of relief wash over her at his words. "How do you always know the right thing to say?"

JJ smiled softly, squeezing her hands. "Because I know you. We're a team, Cin. We'll get through anything as long as we're together."

She hugged him tightly, feeling his warmth and comfort surrounding her. "I don't deserve you," she whispered.

JJ kissed the top of her head, holding her close. "Yes, you do. You deserve all the love and happiness in the world, and I'll spend my life making sure you get it."

——

Cindy leaned against the bookshelf, watching JJ as he reached a magic book for her on the top shelf. She bit her lip, a playful glint in her eyes.

"You know, JJ," Cindy said, her voice teasing, "I love a man who can reach high places."

JJ turned to look at her, his cheeks flushing. "Uh, thanks. I guess being this tall has its perks."

Cindy sauntered over, standing close enough that was pressed up against him. "Tall, understanding, and undeniably sexy. What more could a girl want?"

JJ's eyes widened, fumbling while pulling out the book, nearly dropping it. "Oh, um, thanks! You’re, uh, really pretty too, Cindy."

Cindy chucked. "You're adorable when you're flustered, you know that?"

——————

Cindy belongs @laylaylamode

[elliepeat]

It's been an interesting week in Iron Creek

Well, it's been an interesting week in Iron Creek. The kids didn't have school because of the holidays, which meant most of us shooed them outside to play in the snow, which sadly melted a few days after Christmas, so it was more of playing in the mud than snow. I heard some complaints about having to clean up mud, but I personally found mud preferable to a 6-year-old, 8-year-old, and 9-year-old inside all day bickering over who touched who and what constituted an actual touch. Dave conveniently found reasons to be at the office, but I'm still not convinced the reasons were as necessary as he claimed. It's not like anyone has done something as stupid as Scott Brandonson and didn't fight for Lauren Somers (soon to be Brandonson, but that's another story) right away and bought her a house to make up for it.

Anyway, it's not the weather or the children at home that's made this week interesting in Iron Creek. Nope. It's the answer was finally found to a decades old question.

Oh, I forgot to add. This week's issue is brought to you by your friends in Iron Creek: Beans & Buns, stop in for the cupcakes, but stick around for the coffee; Mac's, just off Main Street, unlike Las Vegas, what happens at Mac's doesn't stay at Mac's; and finally Franklin's Five & Dime, where you can still find items for a nickel or a dime, but they are probably older than you.

And now, back to the answer to the decades old question. But before I give you the answer, I need to make a short story long.

The holidays in Iron Creek normally happen like this. One family hosts Christmas Eve for the extended family and friends and another family hosts Christmas Day. That way no one person gets stuck with all the planning, cooking, and stress. Instead, we spread it between two families. Usually organized by the women of the house, who have no guilt about using the free labor of their children while finding some chore to keep their husband's busy and out of the kitchen, unless of course, said husband is a better cook than his wife. In which case, he'll usually send his wife to the grocery store throughout the day for items he "forgot".

So, one family in particular moved into a new home in Iron Creek about 18 years ago. And by new, I mean new to them. The house had belonged to the Wheelocks,  a family whose ancestors had founded Iron Creek. But their children had grown and moved away and while their grandchildren visited fairly regularly, it was time to downsize.

The Dreyers moved in and decided they wanted to host Christmas Eve. So they made the calls and sent out the message to their close friends who they'd spent Christmas Eve with before. Lisa Dreyer did her best to keep track of who all said they were coming, but her organizational skills have always been lacking. She's the one who has to make at least three trips to a store because she forgot to add something to her list, assuming she even had a list. And that was only after she had to run back into the house no less than five times before heading to the store because she forgot something. One time, she even forgot the kids, but none of us could blame her for that. Knowing the trouble her kids could find, we'd forget them too.

Christmas Eve arrived and the house was filled to the rafters with friends and family. Including Uncle Jasper. He walked through their door right when Lisa said the evening would start with a bag of gifts for the kids, and left earlier than most because "he had a long drive home". But he did stay long enough for dessert. Lisa's famous chocolate cream pie. Trust me, that pie was worth sitting through dinner with her kids. Lisa walked him to the door, kissed his cheek, and said she hoped to see him back the following year.

At the end of the evening, Lisa asked her husband who Uncle Jasper was related to on his side. Her husband said he thought Uncle Jasper came from her side of the family. Lisa said she'd ask her mom about it later, but since she could barely remember her car keys, it wasn't surprising the question slipped her mind.

The next year, Lisa and her husband hosted Christmas Eve again. And just like the year before, Uncle Jasper arrived right on time with a bag of gifts for the kids. He also had a bottle of rye whiskey in hand because he preferred his Manhattans with rye whiskey and the Dreyers only had bourbon. And just like the year before, he told the same three stories at dinner, ate dessert, then left because "he had a long drive home". Again, Lisa walked him to the door, kissed his cheek, and told him she hoped she see him again the next year.

This went on for eighteen years. Bag of gifts, bottle of rye, same three stories, dessert, and leaving early because "he had a long drive home", Lisa walking him to the door, kissing his cheek, and telling him she hoped to see him again the next year.

Finally, this year, Lisa made it a point to find out which side of the family Uncle Jasper belonged to. As he was leaving, Lisa walked him to the door and as politely as possible brought up the subject that neither she nor her husband could remember who Uncle Jasper was related to.

Uncle Jasper let out a huge sigh of relief. It turned out that Uncle Jasper belonged to the Wheelocks, the family who owned the house before the Dreyers. He did indeed have a long drive home, living almost four towns away, and hadn't heard that the Wheelocks had moved. Uncle Jasper was related to he Wheelocks by marriage. His sister married a man who was the brother of the woman who married into the Wheelocks. He was an uncle only by tilting your head to the side and closing one eye. He had always shown up at Christmas Eve at the Wheelocks and not knowing about he move, arrived just as he had the years before.

He hadn't recognized anyone, but the Dreyers had been so welcoming that he didn't want to make a scene or embarrass anyone, so he stayed. And when Lisa invited back the following year, he couldn't disappoint her. Besides, he informed her that her chocolate cream is the highlight of his year and he wouldn't miss it for the world.

After eighteen years of not knowing why Uncle Jasper stopped showing up on Christmas Eve, the Wheelocks finally had their answer. Lisa Dreyer's chocolate cream pie.

And that's the latest news from Iron Creek.

[cripplingparanoia]

🩷About me!💕

• I'm not going to say my legal name, but you may call me Ahana or Ana, & my initials are JJSS.

•I am 🧿21🪦, and my birthday is on Oct 2nd, so I am a ⚖️Sun in Libra🛡️

•I live in the United States

•I have 2 favorite colors, green and pink

•I also like blue, purple, brown, grey, black and white a lot

•My favorite animal is Manatees

•If I could go anywhere, I would go to Japan

•My favorite place to go is the beach

•I am not married but I hope to be.

•I have a baby son. Mother of One👶🏽🍼

•I am Bisexual💜Slytherin🐍Decepticon👾

•I am monogamous with men aside from girlfriends. That is to say, I will only be in a relationship with one man at a time, but whether I am with a man or woman, I am open to more girlfriends. It's not exactly "ambiamorous", but that is the closest label I know of. I am a 💞Lover🩷🔒💘Girl💕

•I am a 🪽Female🗝️ and I identify with that, I go by 🪬She/Her🌊, but due to my ♾️ Dx AuDHD🦖&OSDD-1b👥, as well as my spiritual and personal beliefs, ✝️Religiously Christian⛪ 🕉️Spiritually Omnist🌀, ☯️Hippie☮️, Im not sure that there is a way I can explain my experience of gender that would work, so I find it easier to stick with the default, and I think identifying as cis female is an important aspect that complements the more mysterious aspects of how I experience my identity (I am a woman but in the way moss, rain, and crows are. Like I'm not nb, I'm a girl, but I'm a swamp girl, I am made of mud, but in a female way)

•I would love to publish some of my novels and poetry, and it'd be nice if I ever released any of my music

•If I did get famous for my music I'd be like female Freddie Mercury.

•If my books took off tho, I'd probably just live alone in the woods in a cabin with a lil livestock and a garden, or just wherever I live before that, & occasionally do a book signing or something lol. Accept an award then disappear again lol

•When I was 13, my dream job was to be a Forensic Anthropologist after reading Deaths Acre. Now, it might still be a nice idea, but if I had to work, I'd either be in a daycare or pet store/shelter, or a funeral home, graveyard, or morgue. Lol, yeah, I tend to be starkly contrasting like that

•Other than that, it'd be nice to own a florist/plant nursery that also sells other lil stuff like crystals and fresh raw honey and dried flower crowns etc. or a cafe that has photo booths where you can have brunch and a photo shoot with the food & props

•My hobbies include baking, reading, watching TV, playing video games, watching YouTube, going on walks or runs, being in nature, going shopping, and making art or decorating. I'm trying to get into knitting, and I know how to sew, but I don't have a machine. I want to garden, and have pets and livestock eventually. I like hiking, swimming, camping, going on picnics, exploring, and going outdoors in general. I'd like to do more adventuring. I want to do ballet and belly dancing and karate. I'd need to exercise, do yoga, meditate and just relax more overall, do some spa or self care days... Aspiring Author🖋️📔

•My favorite foods are burritos, tacos, sushi jambalaya, pizza, and any soups or stews (beef stew)

•My favorite snacks are hot cheetos, cheese it's, gold fish, iced animal crackers, bread & rolls, mozzarella sticks, and charcuterie boards

•My favorite desserts are ice cream, cheesecake, chocolate cake, cookie cake, red velvet cake (I especially like those last 2 for my birthday), macrons, churros, sour gummy worms, sour patch kids, pie, snickerdoodles, peanut butter cookies, chocolate chip cookies, and iced sugar cookies (yk the ones)

•My favorite drinks are monster, black or sweetened coffee (mocha or pumpkin spice especially!), vodka!!! (w la croix), tequila, whiskey, mountain dew, dr. pepper, smoothies, and lemonade

•My all time favorite song is Puppy Princess by Hot Freaks, and the my top 4 (of 5) is Heatwaves by Glass animals, Cry By Cigarettes after sex, Treehouse by Alex G, and the lonely by Christina Perry

•My favorite artists are XXXTENTACION, Queen, My Chemical Romance, ICP, Marina and the diamond, Melanie Martinez, Lana Del Rey, Mitsuki, Lil Tecca, Juice Wrld, Lil Peep YNW Melly, and Joji

•My favorite movies are The Breakfast Club, Pretty Woman, Harry Potter, and Star Wars.

•My favorite shows are Transformers G1, Adventure Time, Gravity Falls, Regular Show, Steven Universe, My Little Pony, South Park, and Naruto.

•My favorite books are The Furthest Away Mountain by Lynn Reid Banks, The Girl of Fire and Thorns Series by Rae Carson, A Separate Peace by John Knowles, A Long Walk To water by Linda Sue Park, and Animal Farm by George Orwell.

•My other favorite songs are anything by XXXTENTACION (especially NEVER and KING) and Queen (especially Killer Queen and Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy) and My Chemical Romance (Especially Demolition Lovers, The World is Ugly, and The Light Behind Your Eyes), Piggy Pie & Sixicde Hotline by ICP, Something in the Way Dumb, Rxpe Me, and Polly by Nirvana, Money Machine, Hand Crushed By a Mallet, Stupid Horse and Dumbest Girl Alive by 100 gecs, Heyloft and Verbatim by Mother Mother, Hold on Till May by Pierce the Veil, I'm Not a Vampire by Falling in Reverse, all I want is you by Rebzyyx, TV by Billie Eillish, Lucky by Lucky twice, Go Ghost by Karlaaa, Mary by Alex G, Nowhere to Run by Stegosaurus Rex, and No Wind Resistance by Kinneret.

[bestobakes]

Celebrating Cake Artistry: A Journey Through Besto Bakes Cakes Cafe

Nestled in the heart of Kavu Nagar, Calicut, you'll find more than just a place to eat – you'll discover an enchanting culinary adventure at Besto Bakes Cakes Cafe. This delightful café takes you on a journey through authentic flavors and a deep-rooted commitment to wholesome, delectable food. Let's delve into the heartwarming narrative behind this culinary haven and explore the enchanting world of cakes that's waiting for you.

Unveiling the Irresistible Cakes

BTS Photo Cake: Hey, K-pop enthusiasts! Imagine having your favorite group featured on a cake.

Black Forest: A timeless classic boasting layers of decadent chocolate and cherries.

Choco Layered Vanilla: Savor the best of both worlds with the perfect fusion of chocolate and vanilla.

First Tooth Cake: Mark the milestones in your little one's journey, starting with their very first tooth.

White Forest: A delightful twist on the classic Black Forest, with a lighter and creamier touch.

Caramel Cake: For the caramel aficionados – a sweet, sticky, and absolutely delicious cake.

White Flower Cake: An elegant choice for any special occasion, adorned with exquisite edible flowers.

Football Theme: Sports enthusiasts, rejoice! Celebrate your victories or birthdays in style.

Flower Chocolate Cake: This cake artfully combines the beauty of flowers with the richness of chocolate.

Christmas Cake: Immerse yourself in the festive spirit with a Christmas-themed cake that embodies the joy of the season.

Royal Cassata: Experience the regal flavors of a cassata cake, brimming with layers of delight.

Raspberry Cake: A delightful treat that marries the tangy and sweet notes of raspberries – a paradise for fruit lovers.

Dream Cake: A cake that transforms dreams into reality with its exquisite taste and stunning appearance.

For Every Occasion

Wedding Cake: At the heart of your special day, Besto Bakes offers exceptional wedding cakes that will make your celebration unforgettable.

Twin Cake: Perfect for celebrating twins or the special bonds in our lives.

Bride-to-Be Cake: Celebrate the bride's journey with a cake as beautiful as her upcoming wedding.

Mom-to-Be Cake: Welcome a new addition to the family with a cake that's sweet and heartwarming.

The Golden Slice: Experience a slice of pure luxury and indulgence – a cake that's truly golden.

Mud Pie: Dive into a world of delicious chocolate and cream with the beloved mud pie.

Opera Cake Pastry: An elegant dessert inspired by the French opera, renowned for its exquisite layers and flavors.

Lava Cheese Cake: The perfect union of rich, molten lava and creamy cheesecake.

Blueberry Cake: Delight in the freshness of blueberries combined with the goodness of cake.

Rainbow Cake: Taste the rainbow with a vibrant and visually stunning cake.

The Ultimate Black Forest: A classic revisited, promising rich flavors of dark chocolate and cherries.

These are the extraordinary cakes waiting to be uncovered at Besto Bakes Cakes Cafe. Whether it's a special celebration, a craving for something sweet, or an exploration of new flavors, Besto Bakes has a cake for every occasion and every palate.

Pay a Visit to Besto Bakes Cakes Cafe Today

Address: Kavu Nagar, Kozhikode, Kerala 673017

Contact:

Bakery: +91 9562113777

Cafe: +91 9562113666

Corporate Enquiry (Office): +91 9562113888

Mobile: +91 9656495840

Email: bestobakes@gmail.com, info@bestobakes.com

Website: BestoBakes.com

Social Media: Follow Besto Bakes Cafe on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube.

Delivery Options: For your convenience, Besto Bakes Cakes Cafe offers delivery through Swiggy, Zomato, and Potafo. So, whenever your cake cravings strike, they've got you covered.

Don't miss this opportunity to explore the world of cakes at Besto Bakes Cakes Cafe. It's more than just a cake shop; it's a passage through flavors and creativity. Experience the enchantment today.

[robertawilliams]

Mississippi Mud Pie Recipe | The Recipe Critic

Another Great #RECIPE Post from #FTHM Please Consider Sponsoring us on #Patreon http://bit.ly/FTHMuK

This website may contain affiliate links and advertising so that we can provide recipes to you. Read my privacy policy. Chocolate lovers, this Mississippi Mud Pie is for you! A silky chocolate filling topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings, all eaten on an Oreo crust. It doesn’t get much more delicious than that! I love delicious pies that I can eat all year long. If you make this pie…

[jirachis-tag]

Milo x Reader?? No need to be romantic, just being peeps is enough but i don't complain :>

(Sfw ofc)

~Platonic! Milo X Reader~

Word Count: 1458

Content: SFW

-As It Always Was-

Milo couldn't exactly figure out why some people liked winter's weather. It was inconvenient, bothersome, cold, and worst of all, he couldn't tend to his outside plants!

That time of the year was usually most boring for him, not having much to do other than drink hot beverages, loaf around, work out indoors - it felt quite trapping, especially during snow storms.

He hated when he needed to go to the store, straight into the safety hazard parkour course with all its obstacles: slippery ice, snow death pits, splashy mud, blinding fog and heavy snowfall.

He groaned once again when he looked outside the window for the tenth time in a span of an hour. He didn't have an excuse not to go and buy some vegetables for lunch now that the wind stopped aggressively blowing. He scratched the back of his head with a sigh, proceeding to comb his peach hair with his fingers, which more often than not helped him focus and think.

Then it occurred to him, the best idea of all - if he's going to torture himself in the outside weather, then might as well take somebody with him to share the pain.

"(Y/N), my pretty flower, my clover patch, I need your help really urgently!", Milo exclaimed to you over the phone.

"Yes, Agent Bushy Boy? Over", you replied with a hand over your mouth.

You two loved being silly, even when rough times hit. In those cases it was far more important to be as goofy as possible in order to elevate each other's spirits.

"You shall go with me to the shop! I desperately need company…", he trailed off, faking a sad sniffle, "I wanted to find a reason not to go, but, alas, I'm hungry."

You hummed in response, trying to contain a laugh, however at one point it proved to be too much and you gave in, amusing him with an entire giggle fit.

"And what's in it for me pumpkin pie? Do I get to have a portion of your lunch as a reward for my hard work and dedication? In case you say yes, I will gladly prove my loyalty", you snickered, hitting your chest with your fist, acting out the role of a fantasy knight, even though Milo couldn't see any of it.

"Of course you do! I'll even brew you a cup of your favorite tea, you know, as per usual."

"Nuh uh, only if it's hot chocolate!"

"Alright, it's hot chocolate then, just please hurry up or I'm going to starve. I'm a big boy, you know?"

"Large, wide, very big!", you proclaimed, choosing to use a different funny voice for every individual word, "Yeah, alright, it might take me a bit to dress up, though."

"Same over here! Layers and layers, scarves, hats, gloves, boots, gah! I wish it was warm again", he complained with a sigh, putting a finger to his forehead.

"Let's not waste time then. I'll see you in a quarter?"

"Of course."

Milo fisted the air, basking in that small, barely significant victory. He never even doubted that you'd refuse, being his best friend ever since childhood. You grew up together so close, that even now as adults, your bond had only strengthened.

You were beyond happy, but not surprised, when he became a Gym Leader. It might not be the best position for him, since he tends to hold back a lot when it comes to weaker trainers, but he enjoys it regardless, and that's the only factor that matters.

Though if you were to challenge him to a battle, he would, without a doubt, go all out because he would never in a million years call you weak or unqualified.

Milo even urged you to attempt the Gym Challenge, which you did consider, and then set it aside as a possible future endeavor. You did have your own small business to run, and oftentimes you help Milo with the crops which is usually just an excuse to hang out in the shade afterwards, eat apples and chase each other with a water hose. Nothing ever really changed when it came to spending time together, even after so many years.

He was always there to hear you out and help however he could no matter what kind of problem you seemed to have. However, what he did differently was hugs. He gave the tightest, meatiest, most loving hugs in the world and nobody could top them. Sometimes the hugs would touch your heart so much that you'd start crying into one of his large biceps, and he'd let you without bringing up any questions. No, quite the opposite - he would just smile softly in serene silence and ruffle your hair.

"(Y/N)!", Milo called out, voice muffled by the thick green scarf wrapped around his neck and lower half of his face. He brought his arm up to wave at you from a distance, the jacket making it a bit tougher to move in, but at least he seemed warm.

That was until you approached closer and saw that he was trembling slightly, his teeth clicking, tip of his nose red.

"Oh, Milo... You really don't handle this well, do you?"

"I am frozen to my roots! We should definitely hurry up, or I won't even be able to carry the bags afterwards", he huffed, rubbing his palms together, building friction through his gloves.

"Hop, hop, hop, then!", you took his hand and began dragging him through snow piles.

On the way, Milo tried to be chatty. Keyword, tried to. You could barely understand him from all the shaking and disconnected strings of sounds that were coming out of his mouth as a substitute for a desperate plea to have his summer back.

You couldn't help but laugh at him, occasionally dusting off the accumulated snowflakes from his scarf, but more of those actually stuck to his eyelashes, making them sparkle when melting, giving him some kind of princely, sovereign appearance. He was adorable.

"Alright, what do we need?", you asked when you finally entered a nearby shop.

Milo took his precious time thawing out, putting a hand up as a sign to give him a minute. You tackled him into another hug, aiming to get his blood flowing.

"(Y-Y/N)!", he giggled, pretending to keep his distance.

"Carrots? Cucumbers? Tomatoes? Do tell."

"Potatoes too! Don't forget those, they're very important!"

"Oh? We're having fries?"

"Stew! You really need to eat healthier, for Pete's sake", he shook his head while examining said potatoes at the vegetable aisle.

"Fiiine, I guess the hot chocolate will make up for it!"

"You say that like I don't make good food."

"Oh, no, your dishes are truly amazing and you know it."

Milo would always cook for the both of you, inviting you over for breakfast and lunch fairly often, especially when he had something interesting in mind. You'd insist on helping him, but he'd usually turn you down, as your job was to be the critique and nothing more. Besides, he functioned better solo in that regard.

"You'll at least let me pay, right?", you shot a question his way at the cash register.

"I'll let you donate half, if you really must", he rolled his innocent green eyes at you.

"Sheesh, you're strict. Still babying me, hm?"

"That was always my duty!"

On the way back, you started reminiscing about the past a bit more. He was always a bit protective of you. That didn't bother you much, as you felt far safer, and it never crossed any boundaries, it was just that the feeling of being a bit of a bother would arise every once in a while.

Despite that, Milo would reassure you that he loved you so much that you would never be dead weight to him. It was his way of showing affection, so you either take it or leave it.

You'd only smile and shake your head at his re-emerging stubbornness. At the end of the day, you were actually glad that this side of him at least never changed, as much as he grew and matured in the meantime.

"Hey, you know...", you broke the silence while enjoying the hot chocolate he had recently finished making for you, "No matter what coffee shop I go to, this is still the best thing that had the opportunity to bless my taste buds."

Milo blew a raspberry, then tapped your back while passing by with a plate of food for you.

"I will try my best to believe you, because that remark makes me incredibly happy", he giggled, taking a seat across from you, "Tell me about your week. We have some catching up to do."

[seaside-writings]

Hello, all you lovely, wonderful people!

As my followers that have been here the longest may know I love baking!

I think it's a lot of fun, and it's a great way to show others you care about them. Baking is one of my love languages and it mixes well with one of my other love languages gift giving!

So, because of this, I thought it would a great idea to make an entire prompt list dedicated to all kinds of sweet treats. There are many, many baked goods that are perfect for all types of occasions so in my opinion, a sweet-themed prompt list is perfect for writing!

I will warn you there will be a lot of pies, a lot of cakes, a lot of cupcakes, a little bit of ice cream, and much, much more. There are a lot of baked goods of the same type that are great for anything really.

So please enjoy these sweet prompts, and if you use them please tag/credit me so I can check it out!

I hope you all stay blessed and safe throughout your day.

Lots of Love & Wishes: Celia 💙

Prompts:

Angel Food Cake

Carrot Cake

Chocolate Cake

Vanilla Cake

Red Velvet Cake

Cheesecake

Hot Milk Cake

Lemon Cake

Marble Cake

Mooncake

Coffee Cake

Orange Creamsicle Cake

Opera Cake

Princess Cake

Pound Cake

Bunt Cake

Sponge Cake

Strawberry Cake

Strawberry Short Cake

Suncake

Teacake

Ube Cake

Wedding Cake

Birthday Cake

Zebra Cake

White Cake

Devil's Food Cake

German Chocolate Cake

Apple Cake

Avocado Cake

Brooklyn Blackout Cake

Better Than Sex Cake

Chocolate Lime Cake

Chiffon Cake

Christmas Cake

Halloween Cake

Easter Cake

Valentine's Day Cake

New Year's Cake

Coconut Cake

Upside Down Pineapple Cake

Cherry Pie

Blueberry Pie

Apple Pie

Pumpkin Pie

Key Lime Pie

Lemon Meringue Pie

Sugar Cream Pie

Rhubarb Pie

Sweet Potato Pie

Peach Pie

Coconut Cream Pie

Blackberry Pie

Strawberry Pie

French Silk Pie

Mixed Berry Pie

Mississippi Mud Pie

Chocolate Pie

Pecan Pie

Moon Pie

Indiana sugar cream pie

Boston Cream Pie

Gingerbread Cookie

Spritz Cookies

Chocolate Chip Cookie

Sugar Cookies

Butter Cookies

Peanut Butter Cookies

Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

Christmas Cookies

Snowball cookies

Shortbread Cookies

Black and White Cookies

Snickerdoodle Cookies

White Chocolate Macadamia Nut Cookies

Gingersnaps

Peanut Butter Blossoms

Macarons

Macaroons

Butter Pecan Cookies

Crinkle Cookies

Lofthouse Cookies

Icebox Cookies

Buckeyes

Biscotti

Whoopie Pies

Meringue cookies

Molasses Cookies

Fortune Cookies

Hamantaschen

Cinnamon Rolls

Swiss Rolls

Ube Ice Cream

Oreo Ice Cream

Vanilla Ice Cream

Strawberry Ice Cream

Coffee Ice Cream

Blue Moon Ice Cream

Cookie dough Ice Cream

Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream

Rocky Road

Neapolitan Ice Cream

Blueberry Muffins

Mixed Berry Muffins

Strawberry Muffins

Blackberry Muffins

Poppy Seed Muffins

Lemon Muffins

Lemon Poppy Seed Muffins

Pumpkin Muffins

Brown Butter Muffins

Pumpkin Spice Muffins

Pecan Pie Muffins

Apple Cinnamon Muffins

Banana Nut Muffins

French Toast Muffins

Pumpkin Butterscotch Muffins

Coconut Muffins

Blueberry Oatmeal Muffins

Root Beer Float

Coke Float

Red Velvet Cupcakes

Chocolate Cupcakes

Marble Cupcakes

Coffee Cupcakes

Carrot Cake Cupcakes

Maple Pumpkin Cupcakes

Blue Velvet Cupcakes

Vanilla Cupcakes

Coconut Cupcakes

Chocolate Raspberry. Cupcakes

Raspberry. Cupcakes

Banana Bread

Cinnamon Sugar Bread

Walnut Cinnamon Swirl Bread

Braided Lemon Bread

Pumpkin Dessert Bread

Cherry Cheese Sweet Bread

Bread Pudding

Lemon Pudding

Vanilla Pudding

Butterscotch Pudding

Figgy Pudding

Plum Pudding

Rice Pudding

Toffee Pudding

S’mores

Brownies

Blondies

Double Chocolate Brownies

Banana Nut Blondies

Chocolate Cherry Brownies

Chocolate Raspberry Brownies

Blackberry Brownies

Lemon Blondies

Lemon Poppy Blondies

[kiranatrix]

This is entirely self indulgent but can I ask how you think whammy’s house celebrates pi day, every year I make a ton of pies and I bet the whammy’s kids would be just as dorky. I know in my bones that Mello gets at least 2 chocolate pies a year and god help anyone who dares to steal a slice.

Oh thank you! I needed a cute ask after some heavy ones <3 (not that I mind those kind). That’s so fun that you celebrate Pi Day and I’d love to see your pies! As for how it might go down at Wammy’s House:

- The Pi Day tradition started out academically where their math professor held a contest to see who can remember the most digits of pi. Wammy’s House does love their tests and rankings, and the winner can request a pie of their choice no matter how decadent. Of course, the current record-holder is L himself who, when presented with such supreme motivation, typed out 120,00 digits with his left hand while working on solving cases with his right. It’s become a legend around Wammy’s and not all the kids believe it (mostly Beyond because he couldn’t beat him). 

-  The tradition soon shifted from the digit contest (which took too long) to a bake-off! At first Wammy and Roger figured it would give them a break in the kitchen but they didn’t anticipate the messes and kitchen disasters and fires. But it remained so popular with the kids they didn’t have the heart to stop it. There’s a ‘mystery judge’ (it’s L lol) who taste-tests each one and gives it a rating. The winner doesn’t get much more than bragging rights but everyone gets to eat a lot of pie.

- You’re absolutely right that Mello MUST have chocolate pies (Chocolate Cream!), and I think the reason he needs a minimum of two is that one is for eating and one is for throwing at Near lol. It becomes an annual cat-and-mouse game where Near tries to avoid Mello for the whole day while Mello frantically searches for him, pie in hand and ready to hurl it at any moment. That’s probably the only way he’d ‘give’ some of his pie away. “WHERE IS HE?!” is often heard ringing through the halls of Wammy’s House on that day. I headcanon him as a really good baker-- he’s trying hard to beat whatever pie Near makes. “If I can make a bomb, I can bake a pie.” *clenches fist*

- Matt never gets very far in the baking process because he eats all the ingredients, either from munchies or distraction when he gets a notification on his game. He assembles whatever’s left (apples cores and raw crust) with a shrug and calls it ‘avant garde.’ He could definitely do it but he knows Mello and Linda will make awesome ones anyway and he just doesn’t care that much. He eventually remembers Mello never shares, oops. 

- Beyond....sigh, Beyond. Is an entire pie tin filled with jam really a pie? He’s ready and willing to debate this point until detractors give up and go away. If he suspects L is really the secret taste-tester he might stuff the pie with all kinds of horrendous stuff, spiders, toenail clippings, boogers, and sneeze on it for good measure. He probably spends as much time looking over the other kids shoulders and making ‘helpful suggestions’ (spoiler: not so helpful) as he does making his own cursed pies. “This? Oh it’s a mud pie.” Except with real mud. 

- Near spends most of Pi Day hiding from Mello but arranges to use the kitchen in Roger’s cottage to bake in peace and quiet. I see him having less of a sweet tooth and putting more focus on (overly) intricate presentation. Maybe he tries to make his pie crust look like dozens of puzzle pieces, only to despair when the baking process smooshed them all back together. I think he’d end up making a Banoffee Pie (given Wammy’s is in England).

- Linda’s pies are a work of art and she pretty much always wins, having a good balance between flavors and creative presentation. Because she’s familiar with how most of the other student’s pies are going to go--hoarded/splatted/gross-- she makes a bunch and all different kinds. Her crust is the flakiest, fillings homemade and completely protected from Beyond’s ‘help.’ L is completely enthralled with her pies, to the point Wammy has to pull her aside and ask her for the recipes (he’s not thrilled about that).

- Food fight? Food fight! All those kids getting hopped up on sugar and its bound to happen! Mello gets Banoffee Pie to the face and no one has any peace

[svtskneecaps]

Number 17

Vernon Chwe x (gender netural) reader

Words: 5048

Genre: fluff, some pining (does pining count as angst?)

neighbor! childhood friend! aus

you’re feeling the summer listlessness. vernon helps you find something to do

day 35 of a tct summer collab

(holy shit guys i’ve been excited to post this since like, MAY holy shit i hope y’all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it)

(my masterlist)

You shot him a text. Very simple.

vernon i’m going crazy

He shot a text back. Very simple.

why

why do you think? you ask. i don’t know what to do

it’s summer, he says, you can do anything. for example, i’m lying in bed enjoying myself

it’s 1 pm

it’s summer

Who are you to argue with that?

i’m still going crazy. you might be able to stay in bed all day but i’m gonna go insane

so find something to do

i can’t, you say, because it’s true.

all year you were listing hundreds of things you would do when you got the time

i know, you say, i know. but it’s like, now i have the time, but i just feel paralyzed. i don’t know what to do

And you wait for a response and none comes for long enough that you worry you said something that was too weird even for him, but then your screen goes dark and your phone buzzes and his contact is on screen. You answer and his messy bedhead fills your screen.

“You want me to decide?” he asks, and his voice is rough like he just woke up.

“Sure,” you say.

“Try baking something,” he says. “Like chocolate chip cookies or a pie or something.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to eat it.”

“Absolutely,” he mumbles, face still half buried in his pillow. “I can grab a quick shower and come over just in time for the taste test.”

You snicker. “No way, you don’t have the palette for a taste test.”

“Alright, then I’ll put them in the oven and we’ll hit up a couple friends and force them to try it.”

And. . . honestly that doesn’t sound half bad. It’s been five days since you saw anyone outside your immediate family--which is suffocating in its loneliness, after the routine closeness of the year--and maybe that’ll make you feel less paralyzed.

“Okay,” you say.

True to his word, Vernon’s over within thirty minutes, leaning his bike up against yours in the garage. He handles the oven for you, although not without teasing you about the time you burned yourself on the top of the oven while taking out your grandma’s angel food cake at Christmas.

“Well at least I helped you remember how coordinates work,” you say, because you both knew that was the reason you two learned whether to move on the x or y axis so much faster than your classmates.

“At least I know how to keep my skin intact,” he shoots back.

While taking the tray out of the oven he very nearly blisters his thumb and drops the tray; after securing the tray’s safety and running cold water over the blister, once your heartbeat returns to something acceptable, you inform him that instead of cookies he’ll be eating his words, to which he responds with, “At least my words taste good,” and you snap him with the towel. He flicks water at you, and only the fear of having even more to clean up keeps you from starting all out war. You tell him to bring his swimsuit over tomorrow, though. There’s mischief in his eyes as he agrees.

You each balance a tupperware of cooled cookies on your handlebars as you coast through the neighborhood, knocking on doors and handing them out to friends and friends’ parents. Minghao takes three. Seungkwan’s mother trades you two bottles of water, fresh from the fridge, for a cookie and first dibs on the next batch. She takes another one and says it’s to give to Seungkwan when he gets home from acting camp, but winks when she says it. You snap Seungkwan the picture of his mom with the cookie, and he snaps back a picture of himself and Jun making dorky faces demanding you save a few for them because make no mistake we will be swinging by your house when we’re done for the day and we expect cookies you two!

Jeonghan and Joshua aren’t home, but you find them all hanging out in Seungcheol’s pool. Jeonghan asks why you aren’t selling your cookies. “Because this is the taste test,” Vernon says. “We’ll be getting you hooked on this batch and then start charging ten bucks on the next round.” Jeonghan praises your business sense and takes a bite out of Seungcheol’s cookie while he isn’t looking. Seungcheol tackles him into the pool and you leave before the ensuing splash fight can get the cookies wet.

True to their word, Jun pulls into the driveway with Seungkwan in the passenger’s seat and Mingyu in the backseat (they must’ve agreed to carpool with Mingyu after his cooking workshop), and you get nervous because Mingyu’s going to college for baking and everyone knows that out of the group Mingyu is the best cook, but Vernon presents him with a cookie no hesitation and Mingyu tells you they’re amazing, and Vernon gives you this smile as if to say, see, nothing to worry about.

Wednesday, Vernon comes over with his swimsuit and you make a pair of rudimentary signs for a car wash out of an old cardboard box. His is very simple, bubble letters with the address and CAR WASH in all caps. You tried to get a little creative with yours.

“I love it,” Vernon says, crouched next to you as you hover over your sign. “You can almost hear the cloud cow saying ‘graphic design is my passion’.”

You push his shoulder hard enough that he topples over, laughing. “It’s supposed to be a soapy car!”

He’s so proud of himself for that joke that he suggests you start a car wash company instead of going to college. “You can call it Clean Mooters,” he says, as you’re filling your buckets.

You blast him with the hose and he laughs so hard he snorts.

You spend the day covered in soap and water, spraying Vernon with the hose if there isn’t a car to wash and shrieking and trying to dance around behind him every time he gets the hose from you. When the cars stop coming you pack up shop, uprooting the signs and taking them inside, tossing them in the recycling bin.

Thursday it’s raining outside. Vernon comes over anyway. You call him an idiot. “Don’t you know the rain’ll rust your bike?”

He shrugs with a half smile, shrugging off a raincoat that now has a strip of mud up the back where his tires kicked up the dirty street water. “There’s only a hundred and four days of summer vacation,” he says. “I didn’t want to miss one.”

You seize his coat and toss it in the sink, bowing your head to scrub off the mud so he doesn’t see how red your cheeks have become.

You play Mario Kart on the Wii for most of the day (Vernon hits you with a red shell right before you cross the finish line; you hip check him off Rainbow Road), and even as out of practice as the both of you have become over the school year, you’re still pretty well matched. By the time you get bored with that, your mom has texted to say she’s going to need to stay at work a little longer and you might be on your own for dinner. That’s fine, you and Vernon try out a recipe for lasagna that you found on a food blog (buried under the woman’s lengthy story of the time her husband nearly got stomped by a cow. “It’s a sign,” Vernon says, “Clean Mooters is your true calling.” You’d hit him if you weren’t very carefully adding a layer of sauce).

It’s still raining when Vernon has to leave. You stand there, just outside the cover of the garage, watching Vernon shrug on his raincoat.

“You’re gonna get soaked,” he says.

“You say that like I care,” you say, rain beginning to drip down your hair.

He steps out of the garage then, too, standing next to you. You turn your face to the sky, closing your eyes against the heavy drops that splatter against your cheeks.

“You’re gonna catch your death.”

“Says the guy who’s wearing a raincoat with the hood down.” You shove his chest without looking. He catches your hands. You look down.

Your eyes meet.

Vernon drops your hands and coughs. You reach up to brush the water from your forehead, gaze on the ground as your face burns, despite the cool rainwater still sliding down your cheeks.

“I, um, I should go,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say. “See you.”

He hops on his bike and rides away. The rain falls so hard you lose sight of him before he rounds the corner.

Saturday the whole team gets together at Jeonghan’s house, because he has a firepit. Seungkwan is standing on the picnic table when you ride up, in the middle of a dramatic retelling of some odd thing that happened at acting camp. He appears to be fencing Vernon with an imaginary sword, and you can only imagine the context of that story. You don’t announce yourself, for fear of making one of them fall off, and help Wonwoo get the food from the kitchen. Mingyu is already getting set up at the grill (despite being one of the youngest, he’s the only one any parent trusts near the grill; previous block barbeques have ended in disaster that no one’s eager to repeat). Minghao is by the firepit, holding the lighter very tightly, either to keep it away from Soonyoung or to ensure he’s the one to start the fire.

Seungkwan jumps down from the table when Jihoon tells him to, although he continues telling his story in an enthusiastic yell. Vernon meets your eyes and grins, flicking his eyes at Seungkwan like you’re sharing an inside joke like normal, and you can almost forget that moment in the rain ever happened.

Nearby, Jeonghan is filling a plastic baby pool with water. You ask him what it’s for but he just grins and tells you it’s a secret. When it comes to Jeonghan that’s usually cause for concern, but also you’re itchy inside your skin and all you did Friday was pick out a couple songs on the old piano your great grandmother left your family and no matter what the adventure you’re down for it, so you leave him to it. It’s the first bonfire of the summer. You can handle anything.

They get the fire started before Mingyu finishes grilling, the smell of the meat wafting over the yard and making your stomach rumble. Unfortunately, they misjudged the wind direction and half of the chairs are directly in the path of the smoke. There’s a lot of complaining as people rush to shift their chairs out of the way. Vernon ends up next to you in the scramble. You aren’t complaining; now you get to tease him about the way he seasons his food and he’ll tease you back about your tendency to drown your burgers in ketchup.

(except you don’t; you eat quietly and neither of you bring up the other’s habits and somewhere deep down that scares you)

When the sun goes down, Jeonghan and Joshua bring out the alcohol, and everyone who’s old enough drinks.

The baby pool, Jeonghan says, is for the losers of the tournament. The tournament, he says, is simple. And for pairs.

The first challenge is a wheelbarrow race down the street. You thought you and Vernon had a pretty good chance of winning, but then, by some divine magic, Jihoon and Mingyu shoot off and cross the finish line miles before everyone else. Half the group calls bologna because come on they’ve got just about the biggest height difference between them, out of everyone, but Joshua was reffing the starting line and didn’t see any false starts; they won fair and square.

The second challenge is hula hooping. You don’t have much hope for your score, not because you’re bad at hula hooping, but because you’re bad at hula hooping when Vernon is right next to you and also hula hooping. You end up laughing so hard that you lose your hoop within three spins, but in the end it doesn’t matter, because Vernon can carry the team score to victory.

“Who needs eight years of gymnastics?” he asks, and you beam.

The third challenge is a ‘who knows their partner the best’ challenge. Jeonghan put together a list of questions, which he and Joshua list off and give time for each partner to write down both their answer and what they think their partner put. You’re a little scared; you’ve known Vernon for as long as you can remember but sometimes you wonder if you really know him like you think you do. The questions aren’t so bad, simply asking what your partner’s favorite clothing brand is, or what time they get up in the morning, or what they think of pineapple on pizza. You breeze through the questions, until the last one. Joshua lists the final question, which member of the group is their favorite?

Your answer is simple enough, but you aren’t sure of his. Sure, you partnered up, but Seungkwan had all but thrown himself directly at Wonwoo when Jeonghan sent you off to partner and you knew Vernon and Seungkwan had known each other long before you had talked to anyone in the neighborhood or gone to a barbeque or slotted yourself into the dynamic of the block, and you knew he and Joshua had a special sort of friendship because of their similar heritage and you just didn’t know for sure what he would put (especially after the strange moment in the rain; you weren’t sure what it meant and you weren’t sure you wanted to know).

Eventually you write Seungkwan’s name on the sheet and hand the paper to Jeonghan when he comes around to collect. You fidget with your fingers as they tally up the scores. Next to you, Seokmin hops up to either get into a passionate debate with Soonyoung over what his true favorite movie is or to maybe just tackle Soonyoung into the grass. Either way, Vernon slides into his empty chair.

“So what’d you put for number seven?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he means. “Clean Mooters,” you say.

He pumps his fist. “I knew you’d see the light eventually!”

“Well I did get the most tips,” you tease.

“Well of course,” he says, “you’re the best looking, it’s only natural.”

Jeonghan calls out that they’ve tallied up the scores before you can process the full implications of that sentence.

You win that round too. Joshua hands the sheets back, and you carefully fold yours and shove it in your pocket.

You play a few more rounds: the chubby bunny challenge (Mingyu crammed an ungodly amount of marshmallows in his mouth, you almost wanted to go to church after seeing that; he kept going even after he won, until he almost choked and Joshua shut him down), the perfect s’more challenge (which you suspect was just an excuse for Jeonghan to get s’mores without having to make them; Mingyu’s first marshmallow slid off his stick, and the second caught fire; Seungcheol and Chan ended up winning and Seokmin called nepotism), the long jump (Soonyoung got overexcited and misjudged his landing; he landed hard on the cement and although he was totally fine, he would ask Jeonghan at random intervals for bonus points because of his injury with a shit eating grin all the while), and finally, a game of hide and seek.

The hide and seek rules are simple; they’ve been the same since you were old enough to be outside after sunset: don’t go off the block, don’t go inside, don’t leave your partner, and don’t use a light. The tournament judges give you thirty seconds head start. You and Vernon take off down the street and the thrill of the game sings through your bloodstream.

“Think they’ll think to look for us up Mrs. Boo’s tree?” Vernon asks as you run.

“Yeah, you remember Seungcheol did that once and Jeonghan’s never forgotten it, it’s the first place he’ll look.” You pass Chan and Seungcheol as they try to conceal themselves behind the Christmas decorations that Mr. Wilkinson still hasn’t taken down. “Mrs. Kim’s porch?”

“No, she’s got her light on.”

You skid to a halt at the end of the street, chests heaving, both casting around for a hiding space. Down the street, Joshua is beginning to yell, counting down from 10. Vernon tugs your sleeve, and points.

You grin.

Moments later, you resettle the plastic lid onto the box, burying yourselves carefully under the tarp inside and setting a few bricks on your backs for good measure. Mr. Lee is upgrading his yard this summer, and one addition is planned to be a brick footpath, and thankfully he left the tote of bricks out where you could get to it. Holding the tarp firmly in place, with the bricks above you for insurance, if they open the tote and decide to slap the tarp, you would just feel like a full box of footpath bricks.

Perfect.

Of course, it’s a pretty small space and you and Vernon have to lie pretty close to one another in order to fit, and your foot presses against his shin and his elbow is in your stomach, but if you lay there and don’t breathe, you’ll have the game in the bag.

“So,” Vernon says, voice so soft it’s sometimes hardly more than a breath, “what’d you put for number seventeen?”

You think back. “Vernon there was no number seventeen.”

“No?” he asks, with a tone like he’d always known. “Guess I’ll have to make one up.”

You snort, very softly. In the distance, yelling breaks out; Soonyoung and Seokmin just got found.

“How do you feel about long distance relationships?” he asks, so softly you nearly miss it.

Your heart skips a beat. You’re pretty sure he’s implying something but you aren’t sure if it should scare you or not. “I think they’re hard,” you say carefully. “Not impossible. But it takes work from both sides. So it’s hard.”

You hear him inhale like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t, and you feel the breeze from his exhale on your face. Neither of you speak, and you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re listening hard for the seekers or because you have nothing left to say.

The lid of the tote scrapes. You stop breathing. Jeonghan says something above you, drowned out by the beating of your heart. He pulls the lid off, and the moonlight filtering through the pinholes in the tarp might as well be a searchlight after the darkness.

Vernon’s face is inches from yours.

You blink, feeling like your eyelashes will brush his face with the motion. They don’t. Jeonghan pokes the tarp, hitting one of the bricks lying on your side. Apparently satisfied, he closes the lid. His footsteps recede.

Vernon’s face is still burned into your eyes like a sunspot.

He was staring at your lips.

You end up losing hide and seek, despite your perfect spot, because Minghao and Jun somehow managed to get onto Jeonghan’s roof (nobody’s managed to guess how and the pair smugly refuse to tell). The tournament ends with only Seungkwan and Wonwoo having not won any challenges. They change into swimsuits and dunk themselves in the baby pool, and then sprint back across the lawn to their towels yelling about the cold (you put a finger in; it wasn’t nearly as bad as when Jeonghan had filled it).

Vernon stops you before you get on your bike to get home.

“I’m. . . gonna be out of town for a couple weeks,” he says, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I can still facetime, but probably only in the mornings and evenings.”

“Okay,” you say, even as your heart sinks (he’s never been away this long).

“Yeah,” he says, and you stand there beside your bikes, looking at each other, like you’re both a little lost in what to do. His eyes keep flicking to your lips.

“So what’d you put for number seventeen?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t hesitate. “I think it could work,” he says, voice as soft as it was in the tote, and you find yourself leaning in to listen. “Easily, even, if it was someone as special as--”

He goes quiet. “As?” you prompt.

He shakes his head. “Someone special,” he says.

You haven’t drank at all but something still buzzes in your veins. It’s the first Saturday bonfire of the summer, and moon floats above the horizon like a glowing balloon, and a warm breeze caresses your skin, and you don’t feel afraid of anything.

“I guess it could work easy,” you say, “if it was someone like you.”

He stares at you long enough that you think maybe you overstepped and your cheeks start to heat and you duck your head and step back with something like an apology and--

--his lips crash into yours.

You don’t know if the kiss lasts for three seconds or three hours. All you know is when you break for breath, you find yourself caught in his eyes, the same familiar deep brown as you’ve seen for years growing up through schools and summers and camps and sleepovers, lying on the floor of the living room and whispering about movies and grades like they were the most important thing in the world.

And then you blink and the world unfreezes and he mumbles something about a curfew and you mumble something about your mom and as if pulled by the same strings you mount your bikes and pedal off in opposite directions.

You lie awake for hours, thinking about his eyes.

You facetime at any and all available hours. You find yourself staying up later to be able to catch him on a lunch break. And it’s hard, but you do it. Because, look, everyone on the block has known that his parents want him to go to Korea for college, and that he wants to go to Korea for college. For years you’ve known this moment was coming. And he’s only going to be there a couple weeks for some kind of tour he landed because his grandmother knows a guy who knows a gal who’s related to a guy who used to babysit for the guy on the school board, or something, and then he’ll come back and you can spend the remainder of the summer doing whatever.

Until then, you’re content to wake up earlier just to get an hour chatting with him before he goes to sleep. You show him all the pages you’ve marked in your mom’s old recipe book and tell him when he gets back you’ll make a couple and sell them for profit. You draw an official logo for Clean Mooters, and he suggests you add a restaurant as a side business that you two could run for extra profit. “Clean Mooters and Good Burgers,” he says, and then says, “No that’s terrible. I’ll keep thinking.”

“Are you the whole Clean Mooters marketing team?” you ask.

“Of course,” he says. “We both know all the business sense went to me.” And he smiles and you forget how to breathe.

You don’t talk about the kiss.

One time, he calls you, and your eyes swoop to check the time, because you know it’s crazy late where he is. You answer.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says before you get a word out, and his voice is hoarse and it twists your stomach. “Can you-- just tell me about your new project?”

And you do; you’ve taken up crochet this week and your grandma gave you a couple pointers and you do your best calming ASMR voice as you repeat her pointers and what you plan to do to build your skill, and then end up going off on a tangent on whether Clean Mooters should have a gift shop selling cow merchandise (“It would make sense, there are a lot of cows around here.”) and when you pause to recollect your thoughts, all you hear is his quiet breathing.

The day Vernon’s set to return is a Thursday, which is perfect, because it gives him time to recollect himself before the Saturday bonfire, which will be the real welcome back party. On Thursday, you and the other kids on the block draw all over the street and then, when his flight is late and the sun goes down before he gets to the street, assemble to hold flashlights over the really good stuff. You only see his smile for a few brief seconds as the car goes past, but it’s enough to make your heart swell.

Friday you wake up to a knock on your bedroom door. “Hey, up and at ‘em, it’s noon!” Vernon calls through the door.

You groan and throw an arm over your face. “Says the guy who was still in bed at one pm that whole first week!”

“Yeah, and it was heaven. Come on, you get up fast enough and I’ll buy you a donut.”

You get dressed and meet him downstairs. “Try that again and I’ll convince my mom to rehide the spare key,” you threaten.

He just grins. “I’d be able to find it.” He picks up your bike helmet. “You want to get out of the neighborhood with me?”

You’d rob a bank if it was with him. “Absolutely.”

It’s a rush to be back on your bike, both of you pedaling faster and faster to try to be in front, weaving around the cars parked on the streetside and hopping the curb just to prove you can. Last week’s project was learning to ride a bike no handed and you show off the new skill as often as you can.

You go everywhere and nowhere. You hit up the mall and he buys you a donut and you wander the halls window shopping, and he buys a whole rainbow set of tinted glasses just because they looked cool; you break open the package the minute you own them and check out your reflection in the store window.

“We look ridiculous,” you say, adjusting the red pair so they sit better on your face.

“Speak for yourself,” Vernon says, turning to see himself from different angles. “I think purple’s exactly my color.”

You shove the blue pair on over the red, even though they barely fit on your nose, and stick your tongue out at him. “There, now we match.”

He puts on another pair of glasses and it turns into a competition of who can wear the most, and then into who can wear the most without getting a headache. That second winner was Vernon, but you won the first half.

You hit up the McDonalds in the food court and get the large cup for a dollar, and then go down the drink machine and hit it with just a quick blast of each, repeated over and over until the cup was full. It tastes like a mess of conflicting sugars and syrups. You drink the whole thing through separate straws. You can’t stop glancing at his lips. Your faces are so close.

You get ice cream and sit under the bridge over the creek to eat it, watching the sun go down somewhere downstream, listening to the cars whizzing past overhead.

“I missed you,” Vernon says.

“I missed you too,” you say, even though that doesn’t convey the half of it.

“During the school year--” He stops, and you glance over to see him staring into the sunset, his ice cream melting toward his fingers.

You take his free hand. “It’ll be hard, not being close for so long,” you say. “But-- we could do it. I’m not just going to stop talking to you because I have classes and-- you know how my sleep schedule gets during the year.”

He laughs, softly, lacing your fingers together. “I’ll be able to call and tell you to go to bed without you turning it on me.”

“Damn.” You scowl at your feet. “Didn’t think about that. You sure you can’t just go to Europe instead?”

“Nope,” he says. “You’re going to have to find a new defense.”

You sigh. “But Vernon that one’s worked since we were fourteen.”

“It never worked!”

“Yes it did because then it got you on the defensive instead!”

“But you still went to sleep when I hung up, didn’t you?”

Double damn. He’s right and you know he knows it, from the raised eyebrow look he’s giving you as he catches the ice cream that’s melting around the edges of his cone.

“. . . That’s entirely beside the point.”

He just grins. You bury your face in your ice cream cone, trying to devour the rest in a single bite to avoid the urge to pout. Of course, all that really does is get ice cream all over your face, but whatever. When you look back at him, he’s still looking at you, his eyes soft and fond and damn but you’re going to miss him like a lung when he’s gone.

“You’ve got a little something there,” he says, and you make a face at him to maybe hide how very obviously whipped you are and do your best to wipe it off with the pile of napkins you snatched.

“Better?”

“No, it’s still--” and he scoots in, and you both go really quiet as he wipes the ice cream from your cheek. His thumb traces your lip.

“You know,” you say, very softly, “if you wanted to kiss me you could’ve just asked.”

His eyes blink up to meet yours, and red tints his cheeks, but he still smiles. “Okay,” he says. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah.”

Your ice cream melts. (“It’s okay,” Vernon says, “I’ll buy you another.”)

[elles-writing]

Love Potion - Kili x fem!reader  - Day 1/13

Love potion

Pairing: Kili x reader

Warnings/triggers: Kili’s puppy eyes, mentions of Fili’s and Kili’s cooking/baking

Genre: fluff

Word: Potion - Day 1/13

Word count: 2066

A/N: First piece to 13 days of spooky writing event by @dumbassunderthemountain !! I lately felt unconfident about my writing, so I’ve decided to put on some up-beat music, different attitude and some schedule and this event came really handy! I hope this will make you feel cozy like it made me while I was writing it!

Tags: @dumbassunderthemountain @moony-artnstuff​ @artsywaterlily @trxblemaker @luna-xial

Message me if you want to be added/removed to taglist!

Celebrating Durin’s Day was always an event. Not just an event – through every celebration in Erebor was a huge thing so far – but it was the event of the year. The dwarves spended months of preparations just for this celebration, but they didn’t seemed to be too bothered by it. No. They were excited. Excited to celebrate, especially when The Lonely Mountain was reclaimed back and the Durin’s line survived the battle of five armies.

Thorin was a great king, there was no doubt about it. It was a two years of time since Erebor was reclaimed back, and even if nobody from the Company didn’t insisted you to stay, you deep down knew they did it just so you wouldn’t feel pressured and were ovejoyed when you said you’ll stay with them. Why would you say no, anyways? They became a close family to you through the quest.

After the battle, when a part of dwarves arrived, Fili and Kili got a stunning idea – that you’d meet their mother, Dis. You’ve heard about her from stories they told you and you were nervous that she won’t like you, but oh boy, you were proved wrong! You two became a good friends, you were even something like a daughter to her.

Especially when Fili or Kili (or both of them) would prank you, she was unstoppable. In those moments you realized that they didn’t lied when talked that she made sure they’d apologize. Properly.

It was a two days until Durin’s Day and you were in the kitchens. It was late afternoon and the cooks got their work quickly done, thanks to some cooks from Dale, who helped them out. Now, you were making an apple pie, chatting with Dis and wondering when will Fili and Kili show up. They didn’t got too many duties today, thanks to Thorin, who was busy by some last details about the celebration, so they were free by noon.

Soft golden light was creeping inside, and if you would look out from the windows, you’d see trees with leaves coloured in many different shades from yellow, orange and red, to brown. The whole Erebor now smelled like old leaves, warm spices, tea, apples and pears, in addition to usual smell that has been there. It created nice mix and it made you to feel warm and safe.

You huffed and placed your flour-covered hands on your hips, frowning down on the pie. Dis noticed your intense stare and followed your gaze.

„It looks very nice, dear. Don’t feel discouraged, I’m sure it will be much better than last year.“ You both giggled.

Last year was Bombur and Bilbo teaching you and the Durin’s brothers to bake pies and pasteries with apples, because there was a lot of them. Also as a punishment, when they wanted to prank Bofur and didn’t counted on Thorin and Dain walking right into it, instead of Bofur. You didn’t did it with them, of course, you just wanted to learn how to bake.

Long story short, it was the last time everyone have seen Kili and Fili to cook, as far as you knew. To bake, too. Because as much as they could fight and throw pranks, that much they couldn’t cook, and accidently, their and your pie ended up as a pile of ashes.

But now, neither of them were here.

And despite that cooking lesson, you were getting worried.

You looked at your pie again and sighed.

„Alright, I’ll let it be like this. Let’s hope it won’t end up burned.“ You both chuckled again.

Once the pie was baking, you sat down to Dis and started sipping on your cold tea. But it didn’t took too long, when you’ve heard familiar pair of steps and voices in quiet argument.

When they entered the kitchen, you’ve took a look who it was. Fili and Thorin, Thorin nodding at his sister and you and then walking away. Fili just sighed and sat down to you.

„Bilbo haven’t arrived yet and it’s making Thorin worried,“ Fili said and you nodded. You knew that Bilbo had a special place in everybody’s, especially Thorin’s heart. They usually wrote letters to each other. Bilbo has always made it in time to be there for Durin’s Day, and you didn’t doubted the halfling was alright. This year was more rainy than the year before and you truly believed he just needed more stops and wait until the rain didn’t stopped, so he could continue his path here.

You reached out and patted his shoulder.

„I believe that Bilbo is okay. He will come, I’m sure of it.“ You smiled at him and he nodded.

„You’re perhaps right, Y/N. Wait,“ He frowned and looked at you properly, from head to toe. Then, his face brightened.

„You were baking?“ You scoffed and rolled your eyes with a smile.

„Yes, I did. I’ve got a sweet tooth for something before the celebration.“ You’ve seen Fili’s eyes to sparkle in mischieve. But it wasn’t Fili who spoke up.

„Really? I believe you’re already sweeter than honey, sweetheart. Do I smell a pie?“ You turned to him and noticed his sparkling eyes. He winked at you and your cheeks reddened like autumn apples.

„And I believe I’m smelling and seeing a mud.“ Dis said, looking at her son. It was actually true – Kili’s hair was a mess, there were leaves of many different colours and twiggs in it, his clothes were wrinkled and he had dirt and mud on his clothes and in his hair, too. It was a miracle his face was almost clean.

„What you were doing, Kee?“ You asked him. He usually wasn’t this dirty. He grinned.

„I was showing some children from Dale around the fruit garden.“ Dis raised an eyebrow.

„Okay, I was playing with them here, too. But it was fun!“ You and Fili were chuckling. You knew that Kili would do it anyways – it was usually you three who would be jumping to piles of leaves, climbing up the trees and having a fight with mud, but today you spended in library and here in the kitchens.

Dis shot Kili a look and he sighed and rose his hands in defeat.

„What? It was fun! And besides,“ he grinned,

„nobody was injured.“ You all knew this counted. Before anyone could get Dis‘ reaction, a servant came in and said that Thorin sended for her. You thought that maybe Bilbo arrived.

When Dis left, you got up to check on the pie. Kili started picking leaves from his hair. Fili was looking from you to his brother, seeing how painfully obvious it was by the glances you threw each other when the other wasn’t looking, since the beginning of the quest, that you‘ve fancied each other.

For the last two years, Kili was flirting with you more and calling you only by nice and sweet nicknames, but you knew Kili was flirty like this, so it wasn’t anything too unusual. He looked like a flustrated puppy with pouting face, whenever you shook it off and wasn’t looking.

„It’s done,“ You said and took the pie out.

„It’s great you can bake,“ Fili said, looking down at the pie.

„It’s not that hard. You just need to follow the instructions.“ You three chuckled, knowing damn well that Fili and Kili and instructions or rules weren’t really too friendly.

„I’m hungry, can I take a bite, sweetie?“ Kili’s pleading chocolate eyes were set on you, looking like a puppy. Your heart melted, but you knew the pie was too hot to be eaten.

You placed your hands on your hips, looking at the brothers, mischievous smile spreading on your face.

„I’ll give you a piece, but you will have to wash yourself first.“ Kili pouted and bitten his lip slightly.

„It’s not fair that Fili will get the first one.“ You smirked.

„Who said Fili’s gonna get the first piece?“

„Hey!“ You all chuckled.

„I mean it, go wash yourself, Kee. Besides, it’s still too hot, it needs to cool down.“ Kili’s puppy eyes looked deep into your e/c  eyes again, only to realize you truly meant it. So when he stood between the doors, he winked at you.

„It’s not hot in comparison with you, my dear.“ And he left. Your yaw fell down and he let your cheeks flushed. Fili have seen the whole scene and smirked.

„It almost looks like he drank some love potion back in Bag-End and so did you, doesn’t it?“ You looked down to your feet, smiling to yourself.

„I think the red wine did it.“

„Aye, of course lass.“

When Kili came back with wet hair and clean clothes, you chuckled and pointed to his piece of pie.

„There you go,“ You said with a smirk to cover your nervousness. Fili almost rolled his eyes. Into a different dimension.

„Just say it already!“ He said, flustrated. You looked at Kili, who paled a bit, but then his face flushed.

„Oh yeah, I, uhm like you a lot, sweetheart.“ He looked like a flustrated puppy, and soft giggle escaped to your mouth. His own lips spreaded into cheeky smirk, like he usually worn.

„I-will you to court me?“ He looked at you with wide, nervous eyes. You held your breath and could not believe his words. He was asking you if you wanted to court him.

When you realized he was waiting for your response, you quickly nodded.

„Y-yes, o-of course I want to court you, Kili.“ You smiled and his eyes lighted up.

„Mahal, she said yes! Fili, did you heard that?! She said yes!“ And in a second, he was kissing your whole face. You were giggling when his hair touched your face.

„Kili, it tickles,“

„Fili, Kili, what’s all this about-“ Thorin came in. You three turned to him, seeing there was also Bilbo and rest of the Company, plus Dis. Bilbo seemed uncomfortable for a second, but then he smiled, as well as most of the Company. Dis‘ smile was the proudest, but it was hard to say. They were all happy and proud that you two stopped dancing around each other

„U-uncle,“ Kili looked at him.

„Well, I would like to announce, that me and Y/N are courting.“ He looked at you and you nodded. Dis placed her hands on her hips.

„When did you planned on telling us, you two?“ You looked at Fili and Kili.

„Well, it’s been just a while since we’re courting.“ Dis peeked to her second son, and Fili only grinned.

„Aye, but what does it matter? They’re the most perfect couple in the whole Middle-Earth!“ The rest of the dwarves cheered and Thorin’s face had warm smile, that one you’ve been seeing for past two years much more, since Erebor was reclaimed.

You noticed a tall figure and when you’ve seen a long grey robe, you were sure who it was.

„Gandalf! You arrived, too!“ He smiled at you and Kili.

„Indeed, I arrived with Bilbo. And as I can see, it was in time.“ you smiled.

„Oh yes, indeed.“ You looked at Kili. Then you rembered.

„Actually, I baked an apple pie today, can I offer you a piece?“  You offered to him and he nodded.

„It’s nice from you, miss Y/N.“

„Wait, you baked a pie, lass?“ Bofur came to take a look.

„It’s not a pile of ashes?“ Dwalin said and shot a look to Kili and Fili. You laughed.

„No, now sit down, or I’m not going to give you anything! I mean all of you!“

You didn’t noticed Bilbo was making a tea. You realized that when he handed you a cup and whispered.

„It’s called Love Potion, but it’s actually a mix of warm spices and some sweet fruits. I also know about that wine you and Kili tasted in Bag-End,“ He gave you a bit mischievous smile and shook your head.

„I believe that Fili told you, if I’m not mistaken?“

„Well, yes. He also told me to bring this mix for you as a gift for your birthday, when I was there only last year.“ he said. You smiled and looked over at Kili.

„You sure it was just a wine, Bilbo?“ He raised a brow.

„What else would it be? I’m not a wizard.“

„But surely you know one.“ He smiled.

„Fair enough.“

[screamingtime]

[13-31/10/21] [25-43 DOP]

hello :)

i kind of disappeared from this blog for almost 3 weeks haha sorry for that. my life has been kind of hectic. overall uni workload isn't THAT bad but there is always this looming thought of incoming tests that you don't really know how to prepare for (because there is simply no way that you will be able to learn everything in this field).

what i've been up to:

- making more anatomy flashcards (the neverending task lol)

- watched a few lectures that i've missed (i still have a lot more to go)

- i went out with some uni friends for pizza and a walk in the forest (we found a cemetary and it looked stunning)

- touched some human skulls (the brains were way more interesting)

- studied in the library,,, a lot

- passed my theory driving test! (my practical exam is in more than a month hah)

i want to try to post at least once a week so we'll see how it goes.

i hope you guys are having a lovely day

my answers to the #autumn studying challenge are under the cut

13th October - What is your favourite autumn movie?

definitely nightmare before christmas

14th October - What are your favourite songs to listen to in autumn?

i usually just play some random autumn playlist on spotify. jazzy and acoustic sort of thing

15th October - If you could magically get rid of anything about autumn, what would it be?

the mud! it's so freaking annoying because to get to my bus stop i walk through a field (becuase it's quicker that way) and after it rained i have to either walk around the puddles or accept that my shoes will be covered in mud haha

16th October - What is would your perfect autumn day be like?

waking up early, having some nice breakfast with a warm cup of tea, going for a walk in the park

17th October - Outside or inside?

inside!

18th October - Sunny autumn days or rainy autumn days?

if i'm going for a walk- sunny, if i'm staying at home- rainy

19th October - Pumpkin spice lattes or hot chocolate?

hot chocolate because i don't drink coffee

20th October - What is your usual autumn outfit?

big coats, big jumpers and regular trousers

21st October - Falling rain or a crackling fireplace?

why not both haha

22nd October - Pumpkin pie or apple pie?

23rd October - Walk in the woods or read a book in front of the fire?

24th October - Fluffy socks or slippers?

fluffy socks. i hate wearing slippers. i always leave them somewhere and forget where they are

25th October - Fireplace or bonfire?

bonfire

26th October - Spooky mood or cozy mood?

cozy mood

27th October - Trick or treat?

treat. i have a massive sweet tooth

28th October - Haunted house or Halloween party?

i haven't been to either of them but if i had to choose then i'd probably be the party

29th October - Buy a Halloween costume or make a Halloween costume?

make one! especially if you're using the clothes you already own. it's so much better for the environment

30th October - If you could dress up as anything for Halloween, what would it be?

i love the idea of Jimi Halloween where people dress up as people encountering every day life situations. i'd probably dress up as a person who has just realised that they got on the wrong train

31st October - Are you doing anything for Halloween?

not really. i'm staying at home and doing work for uni. i might watch something later in the evening with my sister

[robertawilliams]

Mississippi Mud Pie Recipe | The Recipe Critic

Another Great #RECIPE Post from #FTHM Please Consider Sponsoring us on #Patreon http://bit.ly/FTHMuK

This website may contain affiliate links and advertising so that we can provide recipes to you. Read my privacy policy. Chocolate lovers, this Mississippi Mud Pie is for you! A silky chocolate filling topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings, all eaten on an Oreo crust. It doesn’t get much more delicious than that! I love delicious pies that I can eat all year long. If you make this pie…