#I THOUGHT THE APRICOTS AND HONEY WAS THE LOW POINT

[tobi-tobi-tobi]

-remus lupin

#thoughts had whilst drawing this #remus is such a good teacher #ALSO #Notting hill au #please #I have the soundtrack on #And omg #someone #anyone #it shall just be in my head #THE THING IS LIKE SIRIUS COMING DOWN THOSE STAIRS IN THAT CROP TOP #surreal but nice #I THOUGHT THE APRICOTS AND HONEY WAS THE LOW POINT #hhhHh #And #juSt remus owning a book shop #do yOu haVe winniE the pooH #nO it’s a trAvel book shoPw #also Hugh Grant is yes he’s great #so please if anyone fancies writing one or has read one please let me know ashfjje #love you #I shall stop rambling about this in the tags #harry potter #marauders #marauders era #tobi art #remus lupin

[vidalinav]

Letting Things Get too Far: (One-shot) *Contains ACOSF spoilers

This is not the fic I was going to post and I am on the fence now about posting “Love is Bright Red, Hope is Dark Blue.” I might still do it, but I don’t know, because I don’t want the six chapters to influence my perception, but OMG I am so mad. I have to laugh because I’ve never been this mad before. And I know eventually it will be okay with the rest of the book, but I cannot deal NOW with what we’ve got. I will not be unbiased, no reader in the world is unbiased when they love a book, but oooo this is a little too much. Like if you’re not deeply enraged are you even a fan? Lol

The only way I deal with emotions is writing because I get really obsessive and I cannot stop thinking about something until I change my mind about it, so I wrote a fic based on those chapters to change my mind. 

So Please don’t read this fic if you haven’t read the 5.5 chapters that were released (legally) to the world yesterday. I do have to say that I wrote this based on Italian translation and not of the one that was translated by someone here in English. But the general concept it the same. 

Summary: Nesta gets threatening (some time after she’s “healed”) 

~

Nesta could tell they were watching her. She supposed it must have seemed off to them that she was sitting in the dining room, reading a newspaper, a toast with jam and cup of tea to the side of her. Too casual, they must have thought. So very much unlike the Nesta they knew.

But one by one they sat—to the side of her of course since she’d chosen the head of the table. Nesta knew of only one other person who would dare sit across from her. She smirked behind the letters, the paper smelling of ink.

First Elain, sweet Elain with her soft, cautious good morning.

Then Feyre with her ruffled hair, matted and imperfect. Nothing like the High Lady she was supposed to be. How embarrassing, she thought, that Feyre had not yet learned that queens were to be perfect in every instance. Every circumstance.

Mor yawned loudly, stretching her arms above her head. The billowy blonde looked to Feyre as Nesta sipped a bit of tea. Green with a slice of lemon.

Amren was shushed as she came barreling in. Loudly and grumpy. Tired, perhaps, from her days going over the law books of Velaris code.

Rhysand kissed the apple of Feyre’s cheek, her little sister’s skin turning red. A honeyed gesture that made the rest gag mockingly for the way Rhys then bit down on the soft flesh and playfully pulled. He indeed sat where she thought he was going to—the only seat left closest to Feyre. His brows furrowed when he noticed her across from him, but Nesta didn’t give him the light of day.

The game had not begun.

Nesta waited for the missing player, ruffling the newspaper, the sound harsh in this room where all remained quiet. As if they were waiting for something.

Waiting for someone.

Azriel walked in, sitting to the side of her. He peered up at her. Wary and assessing. What are you up to?

She blinked at him surprised, not at all expecting that he’d be here for this—that he’d come down from the House of Wind to grace them with his presence. No matter. This talk wasn’t particularly for him, but she supposed he’d learn something too. As they all could.

The last one of them arrived with a flourish down the stairs. Bright and loud, stomping on the wood as if soldiers had been set loose in this house and not merely one male who made her smile sweetly despite herself.

He kissed her on the lips, a small peck. Something new for the others to witness. They looked at each other, mirth in their eyes—shock. But not from her happiness, Nesta thought, from their triumph. This broken girl who’d been mended when her heart was full.

“Sit down,” Nesta commanded softly, pointing her chin to the seat beside her—across from Azriel. She watched him look towards his brother, but Azriel merely shrugged.

“You waited for me?” Cassian laughed, the sound off even to her. His eyes squinting with concern… or was that vigilance she saw?

Oh, how dangerous he must know her to be to look at her like that.

Nesta smiled, her eyes softening. “I’d always for wait for you.”

Cassian lips set into a fine line at the sickly-sweet tone.

“In fact, I couldn’t have done this without you,” she gestured to the room, shrugging at the last moment. A strained laugh on her voice, “Or so they’ll say.”

Nesta set her newspaper down. The paper rumbling. Distantly she could hear the yells of soldiers, the clash of swords calling to her in her memory.

But none of that noise was here. No one said a gods-damned thing.

She sighed, sitting back in her chair, surveying them all. She could scent their fear, but Nesta didn’t know who it was coming from as she looked to food in the center. Vibrant jellies, eggs, and bacon. Much more food than any she’d consumed in her months away. She’d been reduced to plain porridge.

“Just say what you need to say, girl,” Amren said, gripping the table with her hands. Small and powerless.

Not as powerful as her anyway.

“You’re right of course, dear friend. I should get on with it as any other.”

Nesta lilted her head in a nod. “Consider this meeting long overdue. It was my fault really, for having been in such a low place. I suppose being constantly faced with death and brutality is a regular occurrence to the fae.”

She shrugged a nonchalant shoulder, huffing a laugh as Cassian’s gaze went to the skin of her collarbone from where her robe had slipped off from her shoulder. “Or so I’ve been endearingly reminded of for the past four months… It was my bad of course for letting things get too far.”

Nesta leaned forward, laying her head delicately on her hand. “Isn’t that what you said Feyre? I want to get the exact words right.”

But Feyre didn’t speak only stared at her with those blue eyes so much like hers but so different. They were made from different parts she supposed—different parts of their mother. Feyre got the stomach, and Nesta got her cold, melodic heart.

Queen indeed.

“Letting things get too far?” Nesta laughed, the sound loud even to her own ears. “Yes, I suppose that was true… But you know, this amazing thing happened when I was forced to follow this routine of yours. Have breakfast. Train. Have lunch. Work at the library. Have breakfast. Train. Have lunch. Work at the library. Over and over until I thought the monotony might kill me itself.”

Nesta smiled brightly to all of them, her eyes rolling over their gazes. Elain didn’t dare look at her. Nesta was not in the mood to comfort. What were older sisters for but to lead by example?

“If the magic and the trauma didn’t do it first,” she added.

 She lowered her voice as if she were about to tell a story, engaging her audience until all they could do was listen.

“And then—like a miracle—Cassian was called to Vallahan and I went with him. Screw the rules, he said…” Nesta patted him in the shoulder. A good little soldier. “So easy for you to say that when the rules were not made for you.”

“You know what I discovered?” She sang.

Nesta waited for an answer, but no one would meet her gaze.

She looked to the one who knew so much about the outside world. The one who could never leave the one inside her head. “What did I discover Mor?”

Mor took a sip of her mimosa, cringing as she swallowed. “People fear you.”

“People fear me,” Nesta said, proudly.

She laughed, shaking her head at these beings in pajamas who thought so highly of themselves.

She lifted a shoulder, “for good reason of course. I certainly convinced the council of Vallahan. I always knew I had this power, but to wield it—to not let it control me but to be controlled—Glorious.”

“And you know what I learned in those two weeks?” Nesta lowered her voice, the words slipping out of her in a sneer. “That I have more power in my little pinky then you have in your entire body. All of you.”

She flipped her hair back, where a stray piece had fallen forward, “I got your little treaty signed of course. That was simple. You’d be surprised how easy it is for people to give up their will when they are pissing their pants. But no matter, all’s fair right?”

“Why are you tell us this?” Rhys asked. “What do you want?”

Her eyes went to his, those violent storms of subdued rage.

Tell me again to sit like a dog High Lord, she whispered into his mind. Rhys sat straight up, Feyre grasping his arm.

Nesta simply picked up her newspaper once more. The image in the center showing a great depiction of Velaris’s royal family.

“You ever make a decision on my behalf again,” her voice turning to soft silk. As sweet as a poison apple, “I will burn this city to the ground.”

Nesta tilted her head up, noting the marbled leaves engrained in the ceiling. The opulence. The fraudulent comfort of a house too large for two.

“I think I’ll start with this estate.”

She tutted. “Paints are usually flammable, aren’t they Feyre?”

She watched her sister swallow, the light of Rhysand’s eyes dimming to a darkness she thought might engulf them all.

Nesta could smell his fear…

She lifted the cup to her lips, “Understood?”

“Duly noted.”

The rest mumbled their assent.

And Nesta turned to the toast at her side, already spread with apricot jam. She picked up the bread and set it on Cassian’s plate. “I quite like these jams. We should get some before we go.”

“Too much sugar,” he replied slowly, as if he was getting used to the switch from her being threatening to caring. “You eat this, and you’ll be tired within the hour.”

Nesta pouted in response, wrinkling her nose, “You know, you really need to lighten up. Maybe you’ve gotten harsher in your old age.”

Cassian gave her a hard look.

“I mean, you’re in your 500s. You can barely keep up with the times,” She teased. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t keep up… in other areas.”

Cassian scoffed, lifting his lips in an outrageous laugh.

“Wait” Feyre called, holding her hands up in surrender. Nesta turned to her, lifting a curious brow. Her little sister blinked back, unsure if Nesta still wanted to destroy their home.

She would never destroy her little sister’s home...

But then Nesta thought of her shabby apartment laying in rubbles, ready to be rebuilt.

Oh, right.

“Will you continue to be our emissary?”

That was a question Nesta was not expecting…

“Oh, I don’t know,” She flourished. “I suppose we’ll see how it goes.”

She shrugged dramatically, “You follow these rules… and after a couple of months, I’ll re-assess your behavior. We can revisit me working with you all after some time has passed.”

“I don’t see how you’re allowed to do whatever you please, just by being threatening,” Amren noted.

Nesta smiled at the hypocrisy.

“Subsection B, Line 84 says I can,” Nesta sang, “As long as were making up rules.”

~

I’m laughing as I type this. This book is about to be a cathartic experience. It actually did make me feel better to write this. 

I wish someone would release an epub already. Like fuck this shit, we’ve bought three versions, two versions, one versions, multiple versions. There’s only a week left. It hardly matters, release the PDF! The book was supposed to be out last month anyway. I’m not into self-righteousness right now, like the release of books is mostly about money. Sara has earned her part. I’m sure she’s happy. These are the people who hardly cared about promoting it at all. I think they threw this book out the window a long time ago and you know what they saved money on promotions too. They’ll be fine. 

I’m clearly displacing my anger... But I cant handle this anymore... But I cant stay away. 

#nessian #acosf spoilers #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian

[anika-ann]

For a Smile

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert               Word count: 5400

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, OC x reader (brief)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Reader, OFC, OC

Summary: You see him run past every morning. So you smile, because he looks like a nice person. How could he not be when he smiles back and the world stops for a while to pay respect to such beauty?

And sometimes… sometimes this incredibly handsome man smiles first.

Warnings: mentions and hints of (psychically) abusive relaionship, suggestive themes, swearing, all the fluff in the world

A/N: I used to pass this guy near a café playing music every morning when I went to school and at some point, our eyes kinda met and we smiled at each other; then we did that every day. I kid you not, he’s got the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. It’s not a Hollywood-star smile, no – it’s a guy-next-door smile, heart-warming, with his eyes simply shining. He’s like a kid on Christmas Day… I could ramble on. Anyway, just so you knew what brought this on.

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A smile costs less than electricity, and gives more light. (Scottish proverb)

Warm honey, sandstone and apricot orange melting into indigo, cerulean blue and stone-grey sky. Merigold playing with salmon and rose pink, teasing each other and making space to the warmer shades of orange.

You watched the beautiful colours of sunrise as you shifted your legs for a bit, causing the simple plank hanging on two tattered ropes sway, a smile tugging on your lips.

It was a little childish really, or it may appear so to anyone who would be passing by; but given what an early riser you were, just so you could watch this breath-taking game of colours, the little miracle of nature, no person could question you as you were dangling your feet off the old swing.

On your way to work, if the time allowed it, you would always make a stop on your favourite spot; a no-name park in upstate New York you were walking through every day, rather calm and drunks-free at the early hour.

Once upon a time, someone had placed a simple swing on one of the trees farther from the path. You sent a silent thank you every time you parked your behind there. You weren’t a monster; if a kid wanted to sit here, you would have gladly (...reluctantly) made space for them, but they seemed to always be more mesmerized by the playground with the actual swings, the chutes, the monkey bars and the sandpit. You couldn’t say you complained though, having the old-fashioned swing for yourself.

It was childish, perhaps; though your mother had once chosen that you should be going into accounting and so you had. Numbers and bills were things even adults hated, but that was what being old enough meant. You didn’t mind it too often, plunging into them for living, but… you needed to compensate, so you felt entitled.

Plus, the motion of the swing was soothing, as if magically transporting you back to your childhood indeed, with less worries, more ease and pure mind.

Yeah, sitting on the swing was your favouri-

Rapid staccato of feet hitting the ground in the distance, no doubt scaring off the birds chiming their morning songs, reached your ears and you had to admit you wouldn’t be completely honest with yourself if you said this was the favourite moment of your day only because of the aforementioned reasons.

There was one more.

It had strong long sweatpants-clad legs, broad shoulders in a sports t-shirt with seams crying for help, blond hair and-

Your heart melted along with your brain as your lips curled up in a genuine smile you sent in return.

-and the most beautiful smile in the whole universe.

You never spoke. Didn’t say hello. You never even nodded in mutual acknowledgement.

You just… smiled at each other.

And that was your favourite moment of the day crafted to perfection. A breath-taking sunrise, almost eclipsed by a mesmerizing display of the row of perfect white teeth framed by plush coral red lips and the twinkle in beautiful inviting eyes of a stranger.

You knew his name despite never exchanging a single word. Everyone knew his name. But Captain Rogers – Steven Grant Rogers – was a name that held no meaning. He didn’t know yours and probably never would; so strangers was who you were. A couple of strangers exchanging a smile every morning and lightening up (hopefully) each other’s day.

It always felt nice when you glanced at someone on the street, then just… somehow smiled and they smiled back, didn’t it? So what if you were an adult woman dealing with numbers for Stark Industries sitting on a swing and he was a deservedly treasured national icon?

It made no difference.

Just two people sharing a tiny piece of their day for a smile.

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“You’re insane,” your colleague stated dryly as she walked into the office at seven thirty, already finding you with an empty coffee cup, your fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Huh?” you raised your eyes from the screen on autopilot, not really paying attention.

You still noticed Harry rolling her eyes; it was just that distinctive.

“I said that you’re insane, you crazy-ass lark. My brain isn’t even awake yet. To be fair, I’m ninety percent sure I met Captain Handsome in the hall along with our boss, so it’s hard to tell if I’m dreaming or not, having a vision like that.”

“Captain Handsome?” you frowned, your mind racing, desperately trying to remember who was Harriet’s newest crush. ‘Captain Handsome’ could be literally anyone.

“Our resident Star-Spangled Man, you dummy. You’re low on caffeine. Or sleep. That’s what you get, getting up in such an ungodly hour…” she hummed, crossing her arms on her chest as she looked at you sceptically, a drop of disappointment in her eyes.

Oh. Oh! That made sense; if the man was with Tony Stark, the range of options narrowed significantly, especially since your friend had called him a captain. Except it didn’t make any sense at all.

“What was he doing here? I mean… since when is he wandering in our department? It’s all across the compound here from the training area.”

“Well, look who’s actually awake and bright-minded…” It was your turn to roll your eyes at your friend. “My point exactly. No clue, but lemme tell you – seeing that ass? Definitely made my day,” she threw over her shoulder as she stalked to the coffee machine and you couldn’t but chuckle at her bluntness.

Your stranger had an amazing smile, that was true. But your gaze did slide elsewhere on occasion too; which was why you would never try to disprove Harry’s claim.

“We might have the Ironman for a boss, but, girl… I’d like to know what Rogers’ ass is made of then,” she added and you burst into another fit of giggles, your face feeling hot all of sudden when your mind unhelpfully supplied with ‘vibranium’.

What would it feel like?

Yeah, you definitely needed to go back to your numbers before your impure thoughts got the best of you.

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The first time you two met outside the park, you were in a bar.

You hadn’t seen him for almost a month, assuming he went on a long-drawn mission; one that had ended well, clearly, since he was out drinking. Just eyeing his companions and instantly noting his body language, you could tell he was suffering. Like, not literally suffering, but it was very much obvious he was not feeling comfortable.

His eyes were drifting all over the place, as Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes laughed loudly, patting his shoulders while a hint or red dusted his cheeks, and then they fell on you.

His face was screaming ‘save me!’; yet, his smile was still as warm and kind as ever, an impossible spark within his irises, visible even from the distance. That twinkle was always the biggest mystery to you, because logically, no person could have eyes so bright, but here he was, proving your claim wrong.

Your lips spread in a smile automatically and encouraged by your second drink, you considered adding a small silly wave.

Before you could execute the decision, the result of your two last braincells arguing whether it would be more silly or sweet, an arm sneaked around your shoulders and your smile widened on instinct at the sensation. You turned your head to Cade and met his lips halfway to yours.

You had been dating for almost a month now and this inconspicuous guy from logistic of a giant company that was surprisingly not Stark Industries was a dream coming true. He was showering you with so much attention you weren’t sure he was real. Late-night conversations via phonecalls or texts, good morning, good night, kisses that lasted long enough for you to forget that you in fact needed oxygen, touches that set you on fire. He was easy to fall in love with.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout that got you smilin’ so wide, babe?” he whispered to your ear, grazing your earlobe with his teeth.

Gosh, you wanted him. The first sex hadn’t been so great, Cade chasing his own release, but hey, first times were always hard in a new relationship. The more were you excited about your second time and you were confident the second time would happen tonight.

“Nah, just smiling at strangers. You know that feeling, so nice, when you just toss a smile and they smile back?” your eyes found his, only to see him frown.

“I like it better when you smile for me, babe. What did some stranger do for you to deserve that?” he hummed discontentedly, pouting adorably as his hand slid lower to squeeze your hip possessively. It sent a spark through your body, a lightning striking right into your core.

“Just teasing you, Cade. I was thinking about how I lucked out,” you batted your eyelashes and a slow delicious smirk played with the corner of his mouth all of sudden, intensifying the heat inside of you.

“Wanna get out of here, pretty thing? Lemme show you how lucky you are?” he whispered, the pad of his thumb grazing your lower lip, pulling it down a fraction. “Or maybe… show me how much you think you lucked out, huh? How much you appreciate being mine?”

God, yes.

Judging by the glint in his eyes and the hungry kiss that lasted too short – but too long for such a public place – he didn’t need a verbal confirmation. He swung by the bar to pay for your drink and practically dragged you out of the rather crowded space. Your head was spinning a bit and you couldn’t tell whether it was excitement or alcohol. Either way, you really, really liked it.

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“You know that Cade was a dick right?” Harry noted nonchalantly while she handed you a cup of coffee and assessed (correctly) that you were sulking again, thinking back to that one particular night when you had noticed the first sign – or you would have if you hadn’t been such a goddamn idiotic goose of a woman, drunk on top of that.

You sighed and sipped your punishingly bitter dose of caffeine.

You were positively brooding and you didn’t care if it affected anyone else. The world apparently hated you and you couldn’t quite blame it.

Not even your precious strangers-exchanging-smile moments felt the same anymore. First, your stranger had started smiling less brightly after your encounter at the bar and then, even if it had changed, you wouldn’t be able to tell, because you were too wrapped in your own misery. Even the curve of his lips looked sad, which was a stupid thing to say, because he had no way of knowing about either Cade turning out to be an abuser-in-making or about you breaking things off with him and cracking your fragile heart in the process, while yelling at yourself mentally every morning and still longing for Cade’s arms around you since it always felt oh, oh so good to be held…

You recognized the signs early, but not soon enough. You let it escalate into him trying to control when you went out and with whom, him lashing out when you wouldn’t respond to his text in longer than five-minutes time, letting him yell at you when you missed his call… he loved you, after all, he just missed you and was afraid you were with someone else, and oh babe, come here, you can make it up to me…

Your sister had gone through something similar, for god��s sake. You should have noticed sooner. You should have known better. But no, you had allowed your body, your twat to be precise, to rule your brain and that had been stupid.

Cade had tried to get in touch several times after your break-up, even waiting in front of your apartment until you would go out once; you might have threatened him with a restraining order after that particular day and he had stopped quickly after that, only two of three attempts with a new e-mail address and number to get pass you blocking his previous ones.

Still. It made you miserable. And perhaps a bit self-hateful.

You deserved every bitter drop of Harry’s horrible coffee and more.

“I was being blind and stupid,” you opposed and returned to your figures, deciding your exchange was over. Figures were clear enough; they were easy to read and didn’t make your brain drunk on endorphins and other very specific hormones allowing you to act like a teenage girl, excited at her first boyfriend groping her. “Thanks for the coffee.”

A huff sounded above your head and suddenly your swivel chair was being yanked back and turned around, a pair of strict chocolate eyes boring into your soul with startling clarity. Harry’s fingers were wrapped around the armrests as she was leaning into your space.

You backed into your chair instinctively. She looked menacing.

“He was a charming bastard from what I heard and his type always knows how to manipulate people, letting them see what he wants them to see. It’s not your fault. You’re one badass of a woman, smart as hell for noticing before it escalated. You’re my hero. Mine and every other person’s who has ever been in or even heard of an abusive relationship. You can do better than him. It’s a funny coincidence they spelled his name wrong anyway.”

You blinked away your sudden tears, immensely grateful for her words that somehow wormed their way inside your very core (you blamed the intense stare that reminded of your mother’s when she was giving you the kind of talk that was too serious for you to handle) and yet you tilted your head in confusion, not understanding the meaning of her last statement.

“Huh? His… his name?” you stuttered, baffled.

Harry positioned your chair back to its place with a grin and went back to her own business.

“Clearly, they added an ‘E’ at the end. What a stupid typo…” she threw over her shoulder cheekily and when you caught up, understanding her point, you released the first honest laughter in what felt like a year.

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Your life had been set off to better course after that short conversation. You felt like you were healing every day, finding yourself lighter. Happier. Freer of the baggage Cade had tried to left you with. The sensation was indescribable and it radiated from you; some days more noticeably than others.

You found yourself indulging the blond stranger’s smiles once more, finally seeing the spark in his eyes again, the genuine curve of his lips warming your heart and starting off your day in the best way imaginable.

Naturally, life had a reliable means of showing you it could suck.

Right when you thought that you were fine, it delivered another blow; your favourite place in the world… ceased to exist.

Someone put the swing in the park down.

They just… erased it from existence.

Maybe they considered it dangerous. Maybe they were being dicks. Maybe they thought it was old and ugly. It didn’t quite matter.

You could weep, mourning your intimate inanimate friend.

You didn’t cry. But it was a damn close call as you shuffled towards the playground and eyed it sceptically. You knew it wouldn’t be the same and not just because the swings were in a plain sight, but they also looked too fancy, to actually child-like and— they weren’t your swing. Your sanctuary. Your private space. Your secret place you never told anyone about, not Cade or your previous boyfriends, not your family, not Harry or other friends, not to anyone.

You watched the sun rise on the horizon, ridiculously heavy feeling in your chest, ignorant to the rest of the world.

God, you hated Mondays. You already knew this week was about to be a disaster.

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“There’s a swing outside in the green area.”

“Huh?” you hummed distractedly, too deep into figures to register more than the sound of your friend’s voice. What was her name again? What was yours? What day was today? What was the time? Had you already had lunch? Had the lunch-time already passed…?

A chuckle followed by a to-be offended tone responded to your intelligent way of communicating.

“I’m starting to think ‘Huh’ is my name with how often you call me that,” Harry (aha!) remarked with a hint of sass, but repeated herself, because she knew she shouldn’t take it personal that you didn’t quite payed her any attention. You were a person who would get sucked into their own world, too focused on one task to acknowledge anything else. “A swing. In our compound park. It’s kinda cute, hidden from a plain sight though, a simple wooden thing.”

You slowly raised your eyes to hers, your pupils widening with surprise. Your pulse was roaring in your ears, your heartbeat no doubt shaking your whole frame.

Harry was telling you that there was… a swing. In the compound area. Hidden from everyone’s prying eyes, at least partly.

Why?

How?

You could only come up with one ridiculous theory which involved you, but that idea alone was laughable. Why would anyone do that for you? More importantly, how did anyone know-

“You think it’s an invitation for children? Like, is ‘bring your kids to work’ day happening any time soon? ‘cause, not to be rude and greedy, but one swing doesn’t seem like— hey!” Harry called after you, but you could barely hear her as you jumped to your feet, your heels be damned, and strode through the halls with zero regards to anyone in your way.

Not that there was a soul; people actually worked around here, too busy to wander the halls.

The thing was, that one theory about the swing didn’t just involve you. It involved one more person, but that person was a stranger to you and had no reason to even… acknowledge you. Besides the obvious part of your day that no longer existed – not in the way it used to. But the thought was simply laughable.

A different part of your brain raised a figurative sceptical eyebrow, argumenting that you had no better explanation for the phenomenon.

Because… you loved Harry. She knew about your traditional early morning watching the sunrise, but not about the swing. The swing was always a secret, no one knew, except… except one particular guy who always passed you on his morning run and exchanged a smile with you and just happened to work at the very same compound you did and technically had the power to pull the strings to make this happen.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you gasped for fresh air when you finally made it out of the building, your eyes searching for a calm spot, a tree in whose shades you could possibly find a prove of Harry not pulling your leg.

Your heart positively stopped when your eyes fell on the simple plank hanging on two ropes, indeed offering a safe space for anyone who decided to sit there in search for serenity.

You felt tears stinging in your eyes, your feet moving of their own will despite semi-high heels digging into the ground an inch with each step, bringing you closer to that little, yet breath-taking miracle. A chuckle escaped your lips when your trembling fingers brushed the grey ropes, more of your senses acknowledging that this was in fact happening.

Your hand followed the line of the rope, sliding to the plank, only to notice a rough sensation on your fingertips in the corner. A carving, you realized.

Tears of surprise actually welled up when you recognized they were initials. Your initials.

How-- how was that possible?

‘Sit down, you dummy!’ your consciousness cried out exasperatedly. ‘It’s clearly for you!’

“But why?” you asked it under your breath incredulously, thousands of questions ruminating, no answers on the horizon.

Regardless, you reluctantly lowered yourself, shocked when your feet dangled above the ground in precisely the same way they used to-- they used to in the park. It was even installed in the same height.

Reverently, you gave the swing a test-drive, just tiny motions of your feet to try it out.

It was perfect.

Your gaze fell on a sign on the tree trunk, small, subtle and harmonizing with the place without a fault.

Sanctuary of the kind ones. Do not disturb, it read.

You giggled breathlessly, lightheaded and with no care in the world.

That naturally changed when you spotted your very much expectant colleague in the distance, her arms crossed on her chest, figuratively tapping her foot and screaming questions without saying a single word.

The thing is, you thought, I have no idea how to answer.

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Perhaps it was naïve, a child-like trust and excitement, but the next day, you went to your new spot expecting to enjoy the sunrise there and not to be disturbed indeed.

You weren’t.

What you couldn’t quite prepare yourself for was the single daisy lying on the wood, starling you to no end. Hesitating all of sudden, you searched your surroundings, wondering if you interrupted someone else’s plan. Perhaps someone had the same initials as you and whoever made this happen had a different person in mind, doing it for them and the swing was just a funny coincidence.

But then in the middle of your mussing – on the swing, because, screw it, you might as well enjoy this since no one had kicked you out yet – a familiar figure ran past, gracing you with a beautiful smile, once again without a word and with a shy gaze falling to the ground after you met their eyes. With that, it… actually started to settle.

He had done this for you. For some incredible inexplicable reason… your smiling ‘stranger’ offered you a kindness of unseen measures.

And as if it wasn’t enough, you would find a different flower on the wood every day for the whole week. They weren’t even fancy flowers, which made it absolutely magical. Daisy. Tulip. Lilly. No red roses, only cute blossoms, matching the simplicity of the swing.

Harry was nearing the verge of insanity due to your goofy smiles and flowers in your hands; but you remained tight-lipped like an international spy during an interrogation, too afraid that if you said it out loud, sharing that ridiculous impression you were getting these days with anyone, your bubble would burst.

And surely enough, as if you jinxed it mentally, the next Wednesday, no flower waited for you.

It was ridiculous how your mood died instantly. It could have had hundreds of explanations including the one that he went for a mission, because he was Captain Freaking America, in case your stupid heart forgot, but nope, you would still feel the corners of your lips turn down.

You watched the shades of orange bleeding into blue and grey, lost in thought and with unsettling longing in your heart.

You suspected his steps sounded purposely loud when they came from behind you, where you wouldn’t expect them. You didn’t need to see the familiar Nikes on his feet to know it was him; you doubted anyone else would approach you, let alone at such early hour.

Yet you would lie saying your heart didn’t skip a beat when he stopped in his slow tracks by your side, steady feet next to your dangling ones, and you had his identity confirmed.

Your throat went dry and stiff, your voice dying before it could form.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispered reverently, not disturbing the peace of the indeed lovely scenery in front of you.

You didn’t dare to look away from the sunrise as your voice came out unfairly scratchy, a stark contrast to his deep and smooth one that felt like a caress on your skin.

“It is.”

Silence fell on your pair again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The birds sung their morning songs, waking up the world and you didn’t think words were needed. Except you owed him something, and you wanted to say it.

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from the painting by the most amazing artist, the nature itself, you casted a glance at him.

You didn’t realize you had never seen him still; duh, you did know that, but what didn’t quite click in your brain was that you would be able to see him in all his glory, soft smile and an absent gaze framed by long eyelashes, shadows casted all over his face and body, playing games which gave him a surprisingly ethereal aura for a man of his built.  

Your stomach tied itself into a knot at the sight and the ‘thank you’ got once again stuck in your throat when his eyes turned to you as well, you breath stolen from your lungs, your lips parting uselessly and curling into a smile on instinct when his did.

Despite seeing the too startling sparkle up close, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the deep blue with a hint of green of his irises. It was just too captivating, locking you in a sweet cage you didn’t feel trapped in, but free and suddenly able to breathe in again.

“Thank you,” slipped from your lips unwittingly, shocking to your own ears.

The very same hint of scarlet you remembered from the infamous bar encounter dusted his cheeks, his smile softening as he turned a bashful gaze away, now fixated on the ground.

“Just wanted to see you smile again. Best part of my day,” he admitted, peeking at you from the insanely long and thick eyelashes and you could melt on spot, dizzying vertigo overcoming you at the sweet words. Good thing you were sitting.

You had no idea how to respond, your heartbeat thumping in your temples, your face feeling too hot and chest pleasantly warm at such admission. Your teeth went to chew on your lip and you abruptly stopped yourself. Bad, bad habit.

“Was… was that the only thing? Because the swing would be more than enough, let alone with my initials, and the flowers-“

“Maybe-“ he softly interrupted your lame attempt at flirting which had turned into a babble, but with same nerves coursing his voice unless your senses were playing tricks on you. A shiver ran down your spine at the realization that he might be as nervous as you were-- the strangest thing in the world, wouldn’t it be? “Maybe I could tell you… over a coffee?”

A daffodil entered your field of vision, happy, bright and yet somehow shy in his big hand and you didn’t think twice before accepting it, your fingers brushing his skin in the process only half-accidentally. Passing you the flower, he offered you a hand so he could assist you in standing up.

Ah, as if he knew your knees felt wobbly and uncooperating with the overwhelming turn of events.

You didn’t hesitate to accept that either. You had a hunch that the manners of a forties’ man would be offended if you didn’t anyway.

“Thank you. Again.”

The twinkle in his eyes shone brighter at your words, his smile widening.

“My pleasure.”

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“If I trip over something, I’ll bully you into carrying me everywhere for the next month,” you threatened in a joking manner as your boyfriend of one year led you through his apartment with his huge palm sprawled over your eyes, while his other gently rested on your lower back, making sure you maintained some balance.

“I wouldn’t complain about that. Are you serious? Because I just might let you trip then…” he teased back and you could hear the grin in his voice, mesmerized by the happy note in it. You would roll your eyes at him fondly, but he wouldn’t see it, so there was no point.

“Don’t you dare…”

“Okay, let’s stop now,” he whispered in your ear, his hand shifting to your hip to squeeze lightly, causing you to shiver. You and Steve had taken your time when it came to physical aspect of your relationship (past certain bases anyway), so a touch like that still sent a delicious electrifying feeling through your whole body.

As if you weren’t excited enough ever since the moment he had told you he had had a surprise for you.

Chewing on your lower lip, you followed his gentle instruction and stopped in your tracks.

“Should I be afraid?” you asked for the fourth time in the past five minutes.

“Terrified,” he confirmed in a joking manner. “You ready?”

Not waiting for your answer, he uncovered your eyes and with a deep inhale, you snapped them open.

Only for your breath to hitch at the sight in front of you.

“Oh my god... it’s beautiful!” you exclaimed, a surprised chuckle escaping past your lips.

In the corner of the living room, soft marigold pillows laid in a circular hammock chair coloured in the indigo of an early sunrise, practically begging for you to jump in and nestle there with a book and relax.

Instantly reminded of how you met Steve in the first place, you couldn’t but spun on your heels and threw your arms around him, strong arms eagerly welcoming you as his chest shook with hushed chuckle.

“Glad you like it,” he murmured, hiding his face in your hair, raising you from the floor effortlessly. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Happy anniversary, Steve. This truly is amazing. I love it!”

“But not more than me?”

It was your turn to chuckle as you retreated, placing a kiss on his nose and earning a pout that simply had to be kissed away.

“No, Steve, not even this amazing hammock compares to you. I’ll show you exactly how much I love you in a sec, I just have to test it out,” you promised.

He released you with no protest and watched with a fond smile as you climbed in with a child-like excitement, the corners of his eyes twinkling. He slowly made his way to you as the hammock swung gently with your weight and you sent him a delighted grin as he sat on his heels in front of you, his hands landing on the edges so he had the control over the movements.

“What’s the verdict?” he pried softly and you opened your mouth to respond with enough enthusiasm to power the state of New York for a year; but he continued. ”Is it comfy enough for you to… make you consider- that maybe-- you could… stay here more often?”

Your breath hitched, your throat swelling when you got a pretty good idea of what he was asking from his serious gaze. Yet, you needed to make sure, butterflies in your stomach flipping their wings wildly as you leaned forward, invisible magnets pulling you towards him.

“And by ‘more often’ you mean-“

“All the time,” he whispered, his eyes roaming your face nervously, trying to spy a reaction, read the answer in your expression alone.

You chuckled incredulously, ecstatic at such proposition, and placed your palms to both sides of Steve’s face, grateful for his grip on the hammock and trusting him not to let you faceplant on him with how hazardous the kiss you gave him was.

Your eyelids fluttered close, but you felt his smile as his lips engaged in a tender dance with yours, one of his hands sneaking to the side of your neck to pull you closer, tilting your head as his tongue teased your lips to part.

How could you deny him anything even when you felt like you were about to fall face-down any second? He would be under you when you landed anyway. What more could you wish for-

“I love you,” he breathed to your mouth as he broke the kiss for one damned second that felt like eternity; one second in which you forgot to suck more air in even when given the opportunity. Who needed oxygen anyway? You could breathe Steve in and live blissfully, it was what you were trying to do for the past minute and it was glorious- “That’s a yes, right?”

A chuckle escaped you as you dodged another kiss, his lips landing in your hair instead, the hammock swaying hazardously. Mm, seemed like your supersoldier was too distracted to watch your balance.

“Yes. The hammock totally convinced me,” you teased him lightly, an idea striking you when you said those words. Climbing down as he was still sitting in front of you on his heels, you lowered yourself on him, nestling in his lap and leaning to his ear and sharing your not necessarily filthy thought in a breathless whisper. “But I think I still like sitting right here much better.”

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S.R. masterlist

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​

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Thank you for reading :-*

P.S. - Keep smiling; at the people you love whenever you can, at strangers and at the person you see in the mirror :))

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #reader insert #fluff #one-shot #steve rogers oneshot #captain america oneshot #avengers #captain america #for a smile #anika ann

[giggle-me-this]

I want the K - Xi

12. Chest Kiss

Nate was admiring the smooth round face of the brand new Rolex that sat around his wrist, so polished that it was almost reflective, tracking the steady movement of the slender golden seconds hand as it tick, tick, ticked three hundred and sixty degrees.

Then he actually bothered to check what time it was, and he groaned aloud. “Xi, come on—literally every dress you’ve tried on looked great. Just pick one, I’m starving…”

“Merlin you are such a man! Just another few minutes…” Nate’s girlfriend called back from around the corner, where she’d been trying on various outfits for the past hour.

Nate sighed audibly, and leaned back in the wooden chair he was sat in. They were in an executive suite at the Casino de Monte-Carlo in Monaco—which seemed to Nate just to mean there was a desk and a chair in the room (like anyone would do actual work at a casino) and a huge circular bed.

But the views were unreal. Nate tilted the chair back on its back two legs and stretched his arms behind the chair’s back, looking out the window at the dots of light twinkling from boats sat in the harbor. Sure, maybe they were overdoing it just a little—Nate wasn’t too far gone to admit that. But after all the mountains of shit they’d been through the last couple years? The way Nate saw it, him and Xi deserved to go a little overboard on enjoying themselves.

And go overboard they certainly had. Nate had spend countless hours painstakingly training with the FTB hedges to gain some control over his probability-based discipline, while Xi, at the behest of her therapist Ruma, was working on reclaiming a sense of control over her life by going after the things she wanted.

Did anyone expect Nate and Xiomara to take these newfound skills and put them to use by robbing a bunch of unsuspecting No-Maj establishments blind?

Honestly, probably. But for now, it meant they were living large and loving it, snatching up far more than their fill on clothes, and jewels, and famous works of art, and—

“There is one piece I haven’t worn yet…” came Xiomara’s sultry, suggestive tone. And then she walked around the corner in a long, sleek fur coat that stretched down to her calves, patched with velvety chevrons of white and grey and black chinchilla fur—an exact replica of Sharon Stone’s coat from Casino.

And nothing else.

Nate choked a little on air and the two chair legs that were in the air slammed back to the floor with a loud clack, and an expression that was more delighted than it should have been spread across his face. “Holy fucking shit—where did you even find that? To be honest, I thought you fell asleep during that movie, but fuck, can I just—”

Xiomara had smirked at this predictable reaction and started to saunter toward Nate, but the moment Nate tried to reach out to run his fingers through the cloud-soft tufts that covered her body, he heard something mechanical happening with the Rolex at his wrist, and then something cool and hard and metal clamped his arms in place behind the back of the chair.

“Um…” Nate said dumbly. He tried to pull at the unexpected restraints, but they wouldn’t budge. “…Xi. Honey. Did you fuck with my watch?”

The smug expression that Xi returned to him was positively triumphant; Alexander the Great conquering an empire. “Oh baby…” she purred, pitying and coy, “…you didn’t really think you were the only one with friends to make them flashy little magic toys, did you?”

It was a wonder Nate’s heart didn’t stop ticking on the spot.

Then Xi slid herself between Nate and the desk he’d sat pointlessly behind and hoisted herself up onto it; the coat gaped open in the front and Xi crossed one smooth white thigh over the other, revealing everything and nothing. There was a magnificent yellow sapphire the size of an apricot that used to belong to a Russian czar, which they’d pilfered from a glass display in a museum last week, that now hung low in the center of Xiomara’s chest, resting against the smooth patch of skin below her breasts. Nate imagined kissing her right there, lavishing his tongue all over the polished, perfect prism of Xiomara’s body, and he made a needy, whining sound as he pulled forward against the magic restraining him again.

Xi tsked her tongue at him—naughty boy—and pressed the toe of her high-heeled shoe against Nate’s sternum to push him back in the chair, and Nate’s brain frazzled at the edges with fractals of sparkling light. Then Xi reached over and very calmly picked up the telephone that was sitting atop the desk, dialed a number, and waited. “Xi, what the fuck are you—” Nate tried, but Xi’s pressed her shoe against his chest hard enough to leave a mark, and Nate shut up.

To someone on the other end of the line, Xiomara said, “Oui, je voudrais commander le service en chambre…”

Nate gaped at her—dinner the last thing on his mind anymore—and said, “Jesus Christ, fuck the food! You made your point, okay, I just want to—”

Seeing no other option, Xi reached out the hand that wasn’t holding the phone and physically covered Nate’s mouth. He narrowed his eyes at her, and then kissed the center of her palm with exaggerated wetness, which earned Nate a smirk as Xi finished her exchange with the hotel staff.

She dropped the phone back into the receiver and reiterated, “So impatient…” To which Nate just shrugged, not contesting the point. Xi slid forward and into his lap, brushing her fingers along the stubble on his cheek to thread up into his hair. He could finally feel the fur tickling his forearms and it was so fucking soft—a stark contrast to the sharp look that gleamed in Xiomara’s eyes, the gold in them glinting like the karats around her throat. Nate wanted to be buried by the extravagant splendor of her, an Egyptian pharaoh entombed in gold; the richest man in the afterlife.

“…still hungry?” she teased, her breath soft and fine like rabbit fur centimeters from Nate’s lips.

“Mm, ravenous,” he replied with a smirk, eager for chance to be devoured by the likes of her.

#this is SO OVER THE TOP I'M SO SORRY #meme #drabble #ship #the smiths #[ bonnie & clyde ] #nate being an absolute drooling fanboy over old movie references cw

[teawizard-n-coffeewitch]

The Staffordshire Spell

1. Spilled Coffee (Cont)

https://teawizard-n-coffeewitch.tumblr.com/post/640607009930084352/the-staffordshire-spell-1-spilled-coffee-the

“Oh hi. Forget something?" Newt says with a small smile. Tina nods, replying, "I forgot my bags."

"Oh right." Newt says realizing how stupid he was to give her bags back. He lets her in once more and shuts the door before saying he'll be back in a moment.

He shoots into the kitchen and picks up the forgotten shopping bags. Then returns and hands it to her.

"Here we go." Newt says finding Tina gazing at his platypus companion, Niffler.

"Oh I see you have met Niffler." Newt says, suddenly finding it odd she wasn't looking at the creature in disgust or giving Newt a mean look.

Tina looks at Newt and smiles as she says, "I can't believe you have a platypus."

"Yes-er-well." Newt stutters, scratching his neck nervously. "Niffler isn't really mine. I am just looking after him for the moment as his habitat is being built back in Peak Wildlife Park."

Tina raises an eyebrow at Newt as he adds on, almost trying to back up his explanation, "No, honest. I am speaking the truth. I used to be a Zoologist, hence why my shop only sells zoology or marine life books. Though I don't work with animals no more I will step in if zoos or institutes contact me for emergencies or support."

Tina nods, believing him before accepting her bags from his hands. "Thanks. Well..."

They stand in that corridor -- in that small space. Second time saying goodbye. A strange feeling of intimacy. Newt is frozen solid when she leans forward and she kisses his cheek. Total silence. A real sense of the strangeness of those lips, those famous lips on his cheek.

Instead of asking why she kissed him Newt blurts out, "I apologize for the 'surreal but nice' comment. Disaster..."

Tina smiles before softly speaking, "Don't worry about it. I thought the apricot and honey business was the real low-point."

Tina sighs. "Probably best not tell anyone about this." Newt feels a sudden sense of disappointment that his time with her is over, forever. But he shouldn't have hoped for anything more. "Right. No one. I mean, I'll tell myself sometimes but... don't worry -- I won't believe it." Newt says awkwardly.

She smiles before putting her shades back on. "Bye."

With that she leaves, with just a touch of Newt's hand. Newt stands there, stupidly, gazing as her figure disappears down the street. All unnoticed by the civilians passing by. Newt touches the spot where Tina had kissed him and smiles sadly.

One in a lifetime opportunity indeed.

Newt closes the door and makes his way back to work, making a mental note to invite Bunty to some coffee some other time.

Later that night both Newt and Credence are on the couch, all the lights are off. Once a week they have a video fest and tonight was this week's. They were watching, what Credence calls, 'an absolute classic'.

The only light source was the light from the TV playing on their faces. Playing on the TV full screen is Tina... She is in a stylish Woody Allen type modern romantic comedy, 'Gramercy Park,' in black and white.

The scene is inside Manhattan Art Gallery, Tina's character -- Anna Scott -- is walking around the gallery with her famous co-star, Hugh Grant who plays William Thacker. They should be the perfect couple, but there is tension. Anna - Tina - is not happy.

"Smile." Hugh - William - pleads at Tina - er - Anna.

"No." she replies annoyed as they walk around the gallery.

"Smile." he pleads softly as she glares at him. "I've got nothing to smile about." she shoots back as she huffs and walks towards the bench in the middle of the room. Hugh - William runs after her and takes a seat next to her. She looks away and crosses her arms.

"Okay in about seven seconds, I'm going to ask you to marry me." Hugh - William says and after a couple of seconds -- wow -- she smiles. He smiles and they both begin to laugh at their childish behavior moments earlier.

Credence smiles as he blurts out, "Wow... imagine -- somewhere in the world there's a man who's allowed to kiss her and see that smile in real life." He whistles and claps at the movie.

"Yes, she is fairly divine." Newt whispers as he plays with his glasses and continues watching Tina's gorgeous smile.

The next day. Newt and Bunty are quietly co-existing when an annoying customer enters, Ms. Umbridge.

"Do you have any books by Dickens?" she asks in a commanding tone. Newt sighs. "No, I'm afraid not. We're a zoology bookshop. We only sell zoology, marine life, and perhaps a few mythology creature books.

"Oh right. How about that new John Grisham thriller?" she continues making Newt want to smack his forehead.

"No, that's a novel too." he replies calmly.

"Oh right. Have you got a copy of 'Winnie the Pooh'?" she asks raising an eyebrow at him. Newt opens his mouth to answer but pauses.

"Bunty -- your customer." Newt says loudly before Bunty's head pops out from the next book aisle and asks, with a sweet smile, "Can I help you madam?" Newt leaves them, not wanting to deal with the costumer. He walks towards the entrance of the shop.

He begins sorting some books in order before looking up. At that moment the entire shop's window is suddenly taken up by the huge side of a tour bus, obscuring the light -- and entirely covered with a portrait of Tina -- from her new film, 'Alien: Covenant.'

Newt smiles.

#fbawtft #newtina #comedy #au #newt scamander #tina goldstein #romance #fantastic beats and where to find them

[woodcastle]

APRICOT Don't worry, I thought the whole apricot honey thing was the real low point. (Anna Scott - Notting Hill) • 🍑 19 x 13 mm watercolor miniature. Originals, prints & commissions @ woodcastles.de - LINK IN BIO 🔝

#apricot #watercolor #miniature #miniature painting #tinyart

[fruitwoops]

c. sc // right person, wrong time

light angst, ex-boyfriend!seungcheol 1.6k words

You could still recall that day as though it were yesterday.

Rosy hues had replaced the cyan tones of the sky, and the ivory clouds were now splashes of apricot, allowing the fading daylight to paint the beach a faint glow of honey. The whimsical laughter of children filled the air, mixing in melodically with the soothing movement of low-tide waves, which caressed your bare feet each time they reached the shore.

Seungcheol stood facing you, your silhouettes illuminated in marigold. The backdrop was nothing short of romantic as your boyfriend reached for your hands with a soft smile, running his calloused fingers across your knuckles in the way he usually did when he was nervous. You returned his smile with a fond expression of your own, nodding encouragingly as you weaved your fingers with his. His plush velvet lips parted slightly, trembling as the words spilled out like bullets straight to your heart, “We should break-up.”

-

“I can’t believe you actually cleared your schedule for this,” Johnny laughed, the ice cubes in his whiskey clinking against the crystal glass as he did so. You rolled your eyes as you took a seat at the table which your friends had occupied.

“What? Can’t I want to catch-up with our high school friends?” You defended, glancing through the menu. Your friends shared a knowing look, waiting for the waiter to leave with your order before resuming their inquisition.

“He’s right though,” Nayeon giggled as she pointed her fork at you. “You’re a total workaholic, sajangnim. Plus, like us, you hated most of them. Why would you make time for them?”

“Not to mention, you’re high-key making us attend too,” Hyejin deadpanned. You stared back at your friends before throwing your hands up in mock surrender.

“Okay, fine, maybe a part of me just wants to see their faces now that we’re all mad successful. Especially after all the crap they gave us throughout high school,” you smirked as you raised your shoulders in a “can’t be helped” gesture, the Patek Philippe timepiece wrapped around your wrist emphasising your point.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Johnny reached over to high-five you, a devious glint in his eyes at the notion. Hyejin nodded approvingly, her own countenance morphing into nefarious pleasure as she sunk her teeth into the wagyu. Nayeon merely grinned at you, though that should have been a warning sign for the words that left her mouth as her perceptive brown orbs studied your face.

“I heard that Seungcheol’s going to be there.”

You felt your muscles tense at the name, unsure how you should react outwardly. While the break-up itself was far from a happy memory, it ended up being a beautiful one ; a romantic scene in a movie where a young, selfless boy chose to help the girl he loved to achieve her dreams. Your younger self had been naive and stupid, wanting to throw away everything you had worked hard for, for the boy you loved. But Seungcheol knew better, wanted better for the girl he loved. He broke up with you so that you would take the overseas scholarship at your dream college. And you did.

Truth be told, the real reason you chose to attend the reunion was to see him. You believed it was a case of right person, wrong time. And you longed to find out if you both were to meet again, now full grown and dreams in hand, would it be the right time?

It must have shown on your face, because Nayeon snorted and held her palm out to Johnny, who begrudgingly handed her a 10,000 won note. You groaned at their antics, fighting a smile as Hyejin reached over and squeezed your hand.

“We’ll have your back regardless.”

-

You could feel the stares as you handed the key of your Aston Martin to the hotel valet, basking in the attention that commenced the moment you exited the car. Not that you could forget that behind each awestruck face you laid eyes on were the lingering sneering faces of the classmates who made high school difficult for you.

Yet nothing would beat the collective shock and whispers of recognition and disbelief that rippled through the crowd when Nayeon called out your name, waving to you from where she, Hyejin and Johnny stood by the entrance. She looped her arms with yours once you reached them, whispering into your ear with a cheeky grin. 

“He’s inside with his boys.” 

You glanced into the foyer, catching sight of the male in question. Your heart skipped a beat, excitement and trepidation bubbling inside you instantly. Though that emotion immediately manifested into disgust and doubt when a familiar voice came from behind you.

“Heard he’s married already, or at least engaged.”

You turned your head back, scowl already forming at the sound of her voice. Minah stood before you, her high school posse trailing behind her just like they did in their youth. And just like the old days, they were here to ruin your mood. But unlike your younger self, you were no longer afraid of them or unable to hold your ground.

“It’s been 10 years and you still keep tabs on all of us? Grow up, Minah,” You countered with a scoff, raising an eyebrow at her. Though you could not deny the anxiousness that seeped through your mind at the thought that Seungcheol had already found someone else.

“Besides, how would you know that? I doubt Seungcheol invited you or released any sort of engagement news to you,” Hyejin chimes in. “He didn’t like you one bit.”

Minah looked offended for a second before schooling in her expression to point a finger in Seungcheol’s direction.

“We walked by them earlier and Yura saw a ring on his fourth finger. Go figure.”

Yura nodded fervently, speaking up to back her leader, “Plus, the other boys didn’t seem fazed at all, so their relationship must have been pretty serious for a while now.”

Your heart sank, realising the truth to her words. Of course he had moved on, it had been ten years since you last spoke to each other.

Yet here you were, ten years older, but still very much in love with Choi Seungcheol.

-

Seungcheol’s eyes found your figure the moment you entered his peripheral, breath hitching at the sight of you. You waltzed in with Nayeon and Hyejin, Johnny trailing behind you three with a laugh. The familiar sight took him back to the days where he would stare at you from across the hallways, heart in his throat as he thought of ways to approach you.

The memories seemed to rush back ten-fold now that you were standing in the same space as he was. The playful laughter, ardent touches, languid kisses, and whispered dreams of the future.

Seungcheol had not expected you to show up to the reunion. Ever since he broke-up with you that one summer evening, you had disappeared overseas and had not returned ever since. He could still see your sobbing face in his mind’s eye, and your heartbroken sobs pounded in his ears, all the memories burned into his memories for eternity.

While he had intended for you to leave the country and pursue your dreams, his younger self had not accounted for the heartbreak the both of you had to go through, both alone. That, and the fact that you never spoke to him ever again.

For a time, a part of him had been bitter that you did not understand his intentions, that you did not understand his love for you. But his older self knew better now; the two of you had not been ready for each other.

He shook the thoughts out of his head, fingers subconsciously prodding at the ring on his fourth finger as he focused on what his friends were saying.

Things were different now. 

-

You knew you had to face Seungcheol eventually, yet you remained unprepared when you finally stood before him. The amber tones of the chandeliers overhead cast a warm glow on his features, and the familiarity of the sight almost brought tears to your eyes.

“Hi.” You attempted a smile, though it came out slightly forced and awkward.

Time had done him well, his features sharpening over the years to form a more chiselled version of the face you remembered. Despite the early wrinkle lines that had begun to form around his eyes, Seungcheol still proved dashing as he reached out to pull you into a friendly hug.

“Hi, stranger,” he joked, making your lips curve up into a genuine smile. However, the feeling of metal against your back pulled you out of nostalgic reverie, the smile slipping off your face.

As you pulled back from the hug, you felt Johnny rest a hand on your shoulder, his squeeze of comfort indicating that the trio had seen the ring in question. Your heart ached, but you forced the smile back on at the sight of Seungcheol’s confused gaze. Yet nothing could have prepared your heart for the emotions which ran through your veins when you finally allowed your eyes to fall to the ring on his finger.

The cool metal resting on a chain around your neck almost burned at the sight of its counterpart ; a pair of cheap rings sourced from a capsule machine the autumn you both turned seventeen.

“So, is there a Mrs. Choi?” Minah asked in a faux saccharine tone, casting a snide look your way. You failed to notice, gaze fixated on Seungcheol as he chuckled bashfully.  

“No...” his eyes slid to you, the grin you loved so much adorning his face. “...not yet.”

Perhaps, this was the right time for you and me.

#seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen drabbles #seventeen angst

[pug-bitch]

That’s not why I’m staying (7)

Attention must be paid

Book: The Royal Romance, Book 2

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive, and a VERY steamy scene. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: about 4,700

Notes: This picks up pretty much where we left off, starting with Maxwell’s POV.

*****

‘Morning, Maxxie,’ Amara whispers, between two sips of coffee.

Maxwell yawns and nods, all the while pouring himself a big mug. He’s gonna need it. He hasn’t slept much, just in intervals, ever since his interaction with Michael. He plants a peck on Amara’s cheek and sits by her.

She raises an eyebrow. ‘You look like hell, did you sleep at all?’

He dramatically slams his coffee mug on the table. ‘Well, Miss Suarez, this isn’t a nice way of greeting your friend in the early morning.’ He takes a sip. ‘I wish I could reciprocate the compliment but unfortunately, you look glowy as hell.’ He pauses. ‘Must be all the sex.’

Amara blushes and bites her lip. ‘You got me there. I’ll shut up.’

Maxwell chuckles. He looks around, unsure of whether he wishes to see Michael or not. ‘Where are the others?’ he asks.

‘They went for a run. You ok?’

Maxwell nods and sighs. ‘I’m good. Are we all alone, you sure?’

‘You’re worrying me, Maxxie,’ Amara frowns. ‘Talk to me.’

He rolls his eyes. He shouldn’t talk about it. Right? ‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing.’ He pauses, but Amara’s eyes are glued on him, expecting something else to come out of his mouth. He sighs again. ‘Fine. But you can’t say anything, not even to Drake.’

Amara nods and mimes zipping up her lips. Maxwell takes a deep breath.

He continues, ‘I couldn’t sleep last night, because Hana had a massive nightmare about bees—don’t ask. I went downstairs, and Michael was there. We had tea, then whiskey. We kind of…’ he trails off, unsure of how to define what happened last night.

Amara’s eyes light up. ‘Hooked up?’ She says in a hopeful tone.

Maxwell chuckles. ‘What? No! Amara, you dirty little minx.’ He can’t contain his smile. ‘Come on. Be serious for one second.’ He rolls his eyes playfully before continuing. ‘So as I was saying before you interrupted with your sick fantasies, Michael and I kind of...confessed how we feel about each other.’

Amara gasps and slaps her hand in front of her mouth. ‘Oh my God Maxxie! Really? That’s incredible!’

Max laughs lightly and places his hand on Amara’s forearm. ‘Alright, settle down, nothing happened. Well, he, um. He did take my hand.’

Amara gasps some more. ‘Oh my, Mr. Darcy. That’s some sexy shit! If we were in Victorian England.’ Maxwell shoots daggers at her and she bursts out laughing. ‘I’m joking, hun. Teasing you, because it’s so fucking cute I can’t handle it. He took your hand?’

Maxwell nods excitedly. ‘Yes. Told me he had a lot to process because he can see himself healing. But he wants to see me again.’

Amara drops the playful act immediately and Maxwell notices tears poking through her eyes. She grabs Maxwell by the shoulder and pulls him closer for a massive hug. ‘Sorry,’ she murmurs, ‘this is a bit excessive, I know, but fuck, Maxwell,’ she says as she pulls away and wipes away a tear, ‘this just makes me so happy.’ They both laugh. ‘Damn, it’s gonna be so hard to keep it to myself.’

*****

‘Let’s get some olives!’ Amara yells out to Drake, who is intently staring at some fish.

He nods and smiles at her, before pointing at the halibut fillets for the fishmonger to wrap up. Amara is delighted to see Drake in his element. The food everywhere, the vendors, the decisions he must make in order to entertain several people… She can tell that he’s enjoying himself immensely.

She has been tasked with picking up some fruit so she and Hana can make dessert, and some apéritif stuff for Maxwell and Michael to put together. Liv is bringing wine, and flying solo, since Rashad has to go to Serbia for a business deal. Since he’s not aware of her relationship with Drake, Amara can’t help but be relieved that it’ll be just them. Bertrand will join as well, and is bringing mini quiches, champagne, and vodka. They definitely won’t die of thirst. Maybe of alcohol poisoning, though.

They pick up a couple of types of olives, and Drake casually plants a kiss on Amara’s head as they walk away. Amara can’t stop this feeling of bliss. Sure, it’ll be exciting to roam around Europe on a train, it’ll be very Some Like It Hot, and there’ll be some investigating involved—after all, they have to find not one, not two, but three whole adult people, plus a baby—, but this domestic life they have been leading for a few days now is idyllic.

‘Hey babe,’ Drake says softly, ‘what do you think of apricots for your dessert?’

Amara smiles excitedly, ‘Oh yeah, great idea, and I’ll pick up some almondmeal to make some sort of frangipane!’ She places some apricots in a bag and hands it to the vendor. ‘Hello there,’ she says gleefully.

The woman gasps in surprise. ‘Oh my, as I live and breathe! Lady Amara, it’s you!’

Amara’s heart drops, and her face remains frozen mid-grimace. Shit, she thinks, she’s been so used to laying low that it’s been a while since she was last recognized. Since the bar fight, really. ‘Hi,’ she says with a nervous smile. ‘How are you?’

‘Oh, just wonderful,’ the middle-aged woman replies. She hands back the apricots and waves Amara off. ‘Oh, Lady Amara, those are on the house.’

‘No no, I insist, there’s no reason—‘

‘Please,’ the lady whispers. ‘I’m such a big fan. The country needs a relatable Queen, someone like you. It’s so unfair how the court has been treating you.’

Amara glances at Drake briefly, and says, ‘Ma’am, I assure you everyone has been lovely, no reason to feel this way. Now please tell me how much I owe you.’

The lady scoffs. ‘No. I refuse to take payment from a national treasure.’ Amara hears Drake chuckling next to her. The woman continues. ‘You’re so poised, and yet so sweet. Not like those nobles with,’ she pauses and gets closer to Amara in confidence, ‘some broomsticks up their asses, if you know what I mean.’

Drake chuckles some more and chimes in, ‘Oh, I know what you mean, Ma’am.’

She laughs. ‘Right, Mr. Walker gets it.’ She pauses and studies the two of them. ‘This is nice, seeing you two out and about. I’m glad you have supportive friends. And just so you know, most of us aren’t fooled.’

Amara’s heart is about to throb out of her chest. ‘Oh, uh, fooled about…?’ She manages to utter.

The lady snorts. ‘Fooled about those pictures!’

Amara exhales in relief. ‘Oh, yeah, I mean, I’ll address that soon, I just—I just needed to catch my breath. But, um… yeah, I’m glad people could see they weren’t what they seemed.’

The lady nods furiously. ‘Oh please. How convenient is it that Lady Madeleine gets to swoop in after you were framed? I’m telling you, my book club and I are not fooled. I told my husband, I said, those nobles, they’re threatened by your elegance and your natural grace, and so of course they had to retaliate.’

Amara can barely recall the second half of the conversation. She tips the woman generously and agrees to a selfie with her. As they walk away, Drake whispers to her ‘We dodged a fucking bullet, Ms. National Treasure.’

Amara’s eyes widen. ‘Tell me about it.’

*****

‘Hana, can you show me again?’ Michael asks desperately.

Hana hurries by his side to help him untangle the fairy lights they just bought at the corner store and place them on Drake’s terrace, interlocked in the flower pots. Hana has a knack for decorating, which does not come as a surprise, since the woman can do just about anything in grace and skill.

‘There you go!’ She exclaims, letting go of the lights.

‘Wow,’ Michael marvels, ‘it’s so much better when you do it.’

Hana chuckles. Maxwell walks onto the terrace, his arms full of plates and silverware. Michael hurries to help him. ‘Thank you,’ Maxwell whispers with a smile. Michael’s heart sinks. He can’t believe he’s leaving tomorrow. Who knows when he’ll see Max’s smile again?

‘Of course,’ Michael responds as his knuckles brush against Maxwell’s. They set the table together, in silence.

Hana plants herself in front of them and gives them a knowing smile. ‘We’re gonna miss you, Michael,’ she says in a sweet tone. Michael smiles. He’ll miss her too, he’s grown to love each of Amara’s friends in a very short time.

‘I’ll miss you too, honey,’ he says, holding out his arms to give her a quick hug. ‘You’ll have to come visit me in New York.’

Hana chuckles, ‘Lucky for you, it’s on the itinerary. We’re all going there after the Engagement Ball, at the end of the tour.’

Michael’s heart skips a beat. ‘All of you?’ He asks hopefully.

Hana nods. ‘Yup. All of us.’

Maxwell smiles. ‘You thought you could get away with an empty promise huh?’

Michael snorts. ‘Quite the opposite. I was hoping that day could come sooner, rather than later.’

Maxwell bites his lip. ‘Yeah. Just a few weeks away.’

‘Hello?’ Olivia walks in, carrying a wine bag with 4 bottles in it. ‘Was anybody gonna answer the door?’

Hana squeals. ‘Olivia! Sorry we were arranging lights for tonight! So good to see you!’

Olivia rolls her eyes as she sets the wine on the table. ‘Yeah yeah, you too, Lee. Can’t wait to see you drunk.’

Hana giggles. ‘With all the wine you brought, you definitely will.’

Olivia laughs lightly. ‘It only takes a glass with you, so I’m sure. How are you gentlemen doing?’

Maxwell walks towards her and gives her a tentative hug, which Liv meets with an exasperated grimace and a reluctant pat on the back. ‘Great, how are you, doll?’ He asks.

Liv shrugs. ‘Can barely walk after a night of goodbye sex with Rashad, thanks for asking.’

‘Oh good,’ Michael says jokingly, ‘we were wondering about that. Good to see you again, Olivia.’

‘Good to see you too, Mike Tyson,’ Olivia says with a smirk. ‘Get it? Because you punched a guy with your skinny little arm?’

Michael chuckles. ‘It was pretty obvious, yeah. Want a drink? Amara made a pitcher of margs before she left.’

‘Sure, let’s do it. Where are the disgusting lovebirds, by the way?’

Hana smiles. ‘They’re at the farmers market. Shopping for the bash.’

Olivia snorts. ‘Oh so they’ll be gone for hours. They’re probably gonna stop somewhere and bone.’

*****

‘Fuck, I really thought she was going to say something about us,’ Amara says with a sigh as they hop back into Drake’s Jeep. ‘I thought, that’s it, people are starting to suspect something, and tomorrow the tabloids will be all over it.’

Drake sighs as well as he turns on the ignition. ‘Yeah, I know. Well, we’re good, for now. Breathe, ok?’ He puts a reassuring hand on Amara’s knee.

She nods. ‘Yeah. She was pretty funny in the end.’

‘You’d think so,’ he teases, ‘she called you a national treasure. How does it feel?’

Amara chuckles lightly. ‘I don’t know, it’s a little surreal. I’m glad the perks involve free apricots, but beyond that… no clue.’

Drake laughs. ‘Hey Suarez?’ He asks.

‘Hm?’

‘Wanna stop by the beach for a second? I don’t feel like coming back to a house full of people just yet.’

Amara smiles excitedly. ‘Let’s do it.’

It’s a short drive to the beach, and Drake parks the Jeep in the shade, near a small creek that resembles the one they swam together in, when they confessed their feelings for the first time. Amara smiles at the memory. It feels like so long ago, and yet just a handful of months have passed. Hard to believe that she was still in her funk in Brooklyn before all of this.

They get out of the Jeep in comfortable silence, finding each other’s hand as soon as they close in the distance between them. Amara squeezes Drake’s hand and shoots him a smile. They take off their shoes to walk freely on the sand.

Sitting down on a rock, they contemplate the rippling of the Mediterranean. Amara can’t help but think of all the summers she spent with her family on the Delaware beaches, where the waves are high and the Atlantic is somewhat untameable. She was lucky if she could actually swim for more than a minute before being slapped by a wave. It was nice, though. There is something to be said about lively beach towns in America: the laughter, the saltwater taffy, the carnival rides, the candy stores, the hot dogs… does she miss it? Yeah, she does. But is this delightful?

Fuck yeah. The silence, the quiet spaces, where no one can see you. The cute little creeks where she can snuggle up to the man she loves. She peels her head off of Drake’s shoulder to look up at him. His kind eyes meet hers, and her soul is instantly warmed. He smiles back and presses a light kiss on her lips.

‘I wish we could swim,’ she whispers. ‘This place is so nice.’

Drake’s eyes darken. ‘Who said we can’t?’ He gets up and swiftly takes off his shirt. He looks down at Amara and gestures for her to follow suit.

He doesn’t have to beg her for long. She gets up as well and takes off her plain white T-shirt, before unbuttoning her jeans. Drake throws his on the rock and wraps Amara in a tight embrace.

‘You’re so fucking beautiful,’ he whispers before capturing her lips in a deep kiss.

They close in the space between themselves and the sea, and start walking into the water in their underwear, hand in hand. The water gets high fast, and soon enough it’s up to their waists. Amara holds her breath and immerses herself completely. Her makeup can go to hell. When she emerges, she cautiously opens one eye, then two. She takes in the beauty of her surroundings. The Portavira sun, glowing on the Mediterranean. The glistening water gently swaying on the rocks. Her beautiful man, right next to her, his body immersed, his face and hair wet. ‘Hi there,’ she says playfully. She wraps her arms around his neck, and kisses him deeply. She feels his hands grabbing her waist, pulling her closer. She feels his strong body against hers. Still enmeshed in their kiss, she wraps her legs around his waist. She can’t get close enough.

‘Fuck, I wish we’d ditched the underwear,’ Drake whispers into her kiss. She chuckles. Underwear has never stopped them. She reaches down to Drake’s boxers and swiftly pulls them down, freeing his already hard cock. He gasps.

‘Better?’ She asks, raising one eyebrow. Drake nods. He cups Amara’s ass with both hands, one of which is getting dangerously close to the seat of her panties. With one smooth motion, he pulls her underwear to the side and gently caresses her pussy lips, before teasing her entrance with one, then two fingers. Damn, she thinks. That’s all it takes, huh. She wants him, now, urgently. She lowers herself close to his cock, to the point where the tip of it is right at her entrance. She teases it with hip movements, bringing it almost inside. Drake groans loudly.

‘Fuck. I want you,’ he says in a low voice.

Before long, he’s inside her, both thrusting their hips in rhythm, completely oblivious of the world around them.

*****

Drake can’t believe they had sex in the ocean. Again. He can’t stop grinning as they walk back to the shore to find their clothes. Amara’s pale yellow bra immediately soaks up her white T-shirt, making it look like she went swimming in it.

She sighs, defeated. ‘I didn’t think it through,’ she laughs.

Drake takes her hand and pulls her closer. ‘Who fucking cares. I’m so glad we came. Pun intended.’

Amara bites her lip. ‘Me too. Is it illegal in Cordonia to walk around in a bra?’

‘Nope,’ Drake says proudly as he puts his jeans back on.

Amara follows suit and peels off her now wet T-shirt. ‘Alright, deal. Let me text Maxwell, let him know we’re on our way.’ She snaps a quick selfie and types a text. The familiar chime comes in about a second later. Max is a quick texter.

‘Ready to leave our love creek?’ Drake says, immediately regretting saying something so corny.

Amara chuckles. ‘Are you going mushy on me, Walker? Love creek, huh?’

He shrugs. ‘I knew you’d give me shit for it. I don’t care,’ he spreads his arms playfully, ‘take me or leave me, Suarez, I’m a big pile of goo when you’re around.’

*****

Bertrand debates what to take with him for tonight’s mini-bash. He’s so excited that he was included in the festivities that he wants everything to be perfect. He hasn’t been to the Walker cabin since… No, he can’t think about it. Not now.

Who is he fooling? He won’t be able to keep it together. He manages just fine when there are no memories of her around him, but over there, oh…

Get it together, you coward, he thinks. No one can know. It’s shameful enough that he fell for a woman over 8 years his junior, but to have treated her like that… To have engaged in sexual activity with her without providing any sense of commitment… his father would be ashamed of him.

What had he been afraid of, after all? It’s not like she was a kid. When it all started, she was in her early to mid-twenties, and he was a young thirtysomething. They fell for each other, that’s not so bad, is it?

But what could he have given her? With the blackmail payments, House Beaumont was not the wealthiest, and Bertrand himself, well… has never been the most fun-loving, the most pleasant man.

Savannah Walker deserved better than that.

When she disappeared, he tried to contact her. Called a few times, but when she picked up, he would instinctively hang up the phone. Too much of a coward, once again. He didn’t know what to say.

That’s why, a year into her absence, he finally found the courage to write an email. A long one, detailing how he had felt about her. Why he hadn’t stood up for her. Why he hadn’t shown her his love like he should have.

Yes, he found the courage to write that email.

But not to send it. It remains, to this day, in his drafts. Instead, he wrote her a brief, non-committal one, along the lines of ‘I hope you’re doing alright. I miss our talks.’

He does miss their talks. Her presence. Her aura. He hates himself for simply thinking this word, because it sounds so fakey, but when it comes to her, it’s not. She always raised his spirits. Made him smile. Made him forget the world, until the world reminded him that it exists.

And that day at the Walker cabin… when he’d driven her home after a bash and she had insisted that he stay over. They’d slept together, in the same bed, without anything happening. They’d cuddled, of course. But she’d been drinking, and Bertrand is not one to take advantage. So, he’d been there for her. Until the next morning when, at dawn, they both woke up and gave in to their desires.

He’ll never forget that day. Because it was the last time he saw her.

She had wanted him to commit, to be together out in the open, and he had been noncommittal, as usual. He needed time. He didn’t contact her again for over a month. By the time he did, she was gone.

No, he can’t think about it today. Not when he’s supposed to have a good time with his brother and their friends. This is a worry for another time.

*****

Liam clicks mindlessly on various files that need addressing. He doesn’t feel like doing any work, not today, not any day lately. He’s tired. He can’t wait until the tour begins, in just two little days. He’ll be able to see Drake, hang out with the guys, and see Amara again. He also misses Liv’s presence. It’s strange not to have her around, for the first time in over twenty years. Yes, the tour will be better.

He and Madeleine will have to sleep separately, on the tour. It’s tradition. The very thought of sleeping alone fills him with joy. For the past few days, she’s insisted on sharing his bed every night, and he can’t say no, because then she would be suspicious.

Now all he hopes for is that the whole scheme will be unveiled soon. They need to find Tariq. Find proof that the outings and the pictures were all staged, maliciously planted to ensure Madeleine’s place.

They need to. He can’t go on like this.

A light knock on his door. His neck tenses up. If it’s Madeleine, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. Probably cry into his hands.

‘Your Highness?’ Says a tentative voice.

He recognizes it instantly, and his neck relaxes a bit. ‘Ioanna? Come on in!’

He gets up to greet her with a handshake. She smiles at him. ‘It’s good to see you. I’m sorry to come in like this, but there was no one there to announce me.’

Liam remembers he told his secretary to go home. He had completely forgotten about his appointment with the Ambassador of Greece. ‘Don’t apologize, I’m very happy you’re here. And I told you to call me Liam. Take a seat!’

She obliges. ‘Thank you,’ she says softly. She frowns lightly. ‘Are you alright?’ She asks. ‘You look...I don’t mean to be insulting…’

Liam glances at his computer screen, where his reflection is staring at him haggardly. Yep, he looks like shit. Bloodshot eyes, bags underneath, everything. ‘Um, yes, I realize I’m not looking my best.’ He tries not to focus on his tie-less shirt. ‘I apologize. If I’m being honest, I had completely forgotten about this appointment.’

‘I can come back later if—‘

‘No!’ He interrupts a little too quickly. ‘No, please. I’m happy you’re here.’

She smiles. ‘Alright. The Ambassador is still not feeling a hundred percent, and he didn’t want to take any chances. He would never forgive himself if he gave you the stomach flu right before your Engagement Tour.’ She pauses. ‘Oh my goodness,’ she exclaims, ‘I realized I didn’t even congratulate you properly! So, congratulations on your engagement, this is wonderful news.’

He smiles at her sadly. ‘Thank you, Ioanna.’ He can’t muster up the strength to say anything else.

She senses it. He knows she does. ‘Liam, I hope I’m not overstepping,’ she whispers, ‘but if you ever need to talk to someone who’s completely outside of…’ she looks around and makes an encompassing gesture, ‘well, all of this, you have my contact info. I mean it, ok?’

Liam lets out an uneven breath, which almost sounds like a sob. ‘Thank you,’ he says with relief. ‘You’re not overstepping at all.’

*****

‘Hey!’ Amara yells out at she comes onto the cabin terrace where all her friends are sipping margaritas. ‘Sorry for the delay, Drake is putting the groceries away.’

She had put her T-shirt back on, but it’s very obviously still wet. Olivia glances at it with a smirk. ‘So that’s how you greet me, Suarez? With a wet T-shirt contest?’

Amara gasps. ‘Liv! You’re here!’ She holds out her arms.

‘No hugs, thank you very much. This is silk,’ she says, gesturing to her black blouse.

‘Fair enough,’ Amara chuckles, ‘and it’s a gorgeous blouse. I should go change if we’re daydrinking!’

‘Fuck yeah we are!’ Michael exclaims.

Amara laughs wholeheartedly. She loves Drunk Mike. ‘Alright honeys, I’ll be right back.’

She hops up to Drake’s room to choose an outfit. Parts of her want to be casual and comfortable, but this is a mini-bash after all, so some degree of dressing up is expected. Plus, this is Michael’s last night in Cordonia. Attention must be paid. So, a cute sundress it is. She picks a white one with green flowers and a plunging neckline. Brown strappy heels to match.

An hour later, she and Hana have made their apricot frangipane dessert, which is baking in the oven. Max and Michael are prepping a nice apéritif, Drake is cooking gleefully, and everyone is already drunk.

‘Hey Liv,’ Drake says, ‘since you’re not doing anything, can you chop that mango for me?’

Olivia looks at him, outraged, from the chaise longue on the terrace. She gestures at her blouse. ‘Have I mentioned that this is silk?’

Drake rolls his eye. ‘Fine, I’ll do it…’

‘Yeah,’ Liv mutters, ‘it’s not like what you have on is made of any precious fabric.’

Maxwell sighs. ‘Be nice, Liv, he’s making you dinner.’

Liv sticks out her tongue and takes another sip of her margarita.

A knock on the door is heard. Everyone goes silent, all that can be heard is the playlist that Maxwell is carefully curating. Amara takes a deep breath as she gets up. ‘Alright, it better be Bertrand,’ she says softly, ‘because if it’s Leo again I’m gonna fuck him up.’

They all chuckle nervously. Amara walks to the door and opens it slowly. Her face lights up. ‘Bertrand! You made it!’ She exclaims as she throws her arms around him.

Bertrand laughs awkwardly. ‘Oh, what a nice welcome, Amara, thank you for having me!’

Amara gestures for him to come in and leads him to the kitchen and the terrace. She can’t help but notice that he looks nervous. She’s gonna have to make him a big drink.

‘Everyone, it’s Bertrand!’ She yells. The others cheer and chant Bertrand’s name. He seems to let loose a bit and smiles more broadly as he places the huge cardboard box containing alcohol and mini quiches on the table. Amara continues, ‘I hope you brought your tassel PJs, Bertrand, because no one’s driving back home tonight,’ she exclaims as she passes him a fresh margarita. ‘Also I love your ascot.’

Bertrand opted for a purple ascot with squids on it, and Amara has trouble looking away from his shoes: matching purple moccasins with...tassels.

‘Why thank you, Amara, it’s very kind of you to say,’ Bertrand blushes. ‘Please dig into the mini quiches.’

*****

‘Truth!’

Hana is already giggling uncontrollably, and Drake hands her a glass of water as she prepares to answer the next question. The evening inevitably started with a very fruitful apéritif and a game of truth or dare.

Liv raises her hand. ‘I got one! Who’s the grossest celebrity you would fuck?’

Amara frowns, ‘Ew, Liv, what a weird question.’

Liv shrugs. ‘I stand by it.’

Hana thinks intently. ‘Hmm… I don’t think anyone is gross, Olivia, everyone is beautiful in their own way!’

‘Come on, Hana!’ Amara exclaims. ‘Lots of people are gross!’

Hana shakes her head. ‘I don’t agree!’

Liv rolls her eyes. ‘Alright, Saint Hana, then who’s the oldest celebrity you would bang?’

Hana’s eyes light up. ‘Oh, that’s easy! Ruth Bader Ginsburg!’

There is a deep silence, before everyone bursts out laughing.

‘Ok, your turn, Bertrand!’ Hana exclaims. ‘Truth or dare?’

Bertrand wipes off a tear from laughter. ‘Let’s say truth!’ He says hesitantly.

Hana thinks for a second. Drake can’t help but feel badly for Bertrand, who has to be thinking of Sav right now. Drake is glad that they’re keeping busy with games to divert the attention, because if he gets any closer to becoming Bertrand’s friend, he’s gonna have a very hard time keeping the truth to himself.

Hana gasps. ‘I know! Who would you rather’ she pauses to let out a giggle, ‘bone, between Queen Regina, Lady Madeleine, and…’ Hana can barely control her laughter, ‘King Constantine!’

‘Good Lord, woman,’ Liv chuckles.

Bertrand’s face hardens. ‘This is sacrilegious, Lady Hana. Why would I talk about our royalty in such terms?’ He pauses and smiles broadly. ‘I’m joking. I would bone Queen Regina.’

*****

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@drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @andy-loves-corgis , @jovialyouthmusic , @mariahschoices @drakesensworld @thequeenofcronuts , @notoriouscs , @drakewalkerisreal @nikkis1983​ , @simsvetements , @alesana45 @iplaydrake @emceesynonymroll @lily1999love , @silviasutton1989 @dcbbw @texaskitten30 @furiousherringoperatortoad @hollygirl1269 @sirbeepsalot @ladyangel70 @thisperfectmemory @drxkewalker @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @mrsmairstanley @addictedtodrakefanfic @msjpuddleduck @kimmiedoo5 @furryperfectionlover @princessleac1

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#that’s not why i’m staying #that's not why i'm going #drake walker x amara suarez #dramara #drake walker x mc #drake walker #trr fanfic #trr drake #drake x mc #drake walker trr #drake x amara

[buurbees]

How To Make Honey Cake in Home (Delicious Recipe)

instructions to make nectar cake formula

nectar cake formula | how to make eggless bread shop style nectar cake with point by point photograph and video formula. simple and straightforward cake formula arranged fundamentally the same as wipe or vanilla cake yet with a nectar and strawberry jam icing. the nectar seasoned cake is massively mainstream in south india and is for the most part filled in as a fixing cut in iyengar bakery's.

instructions to make eggless bread shop style nectar cakehoney cake formula | how to make eggless pastry shop style nectar cake with bit by bit photograph and video formula. there are a few varieties of this well known nectar enhanced cake formula which fluctuates from india, yet in addition abroad. right now, have attempted to exhibit the south indian variety particularly sold on nearby bread shop shops as cuts. I have followed my past tutti frutti cake base with nectar, strawberry jam and parched garnish.

as I referenced beforehand I have utilized my past tutti frutti cake base for this formula. fundamentally, I have utilized the blend of yogurt, oil and vanilla concentrate as wet elements for this nectar cake formula. this followed by the dry fixings like maida/plain flour and heating operators. I for one like this blend and furthermore it brings about a clammy and light eggless cake base reasonable for any seasoned cake formula. having said that, you can likewise check my chocolate cake formula where I have utilized the mix of spread and consolidated milk as a component of wet fixings. the main disservice I feel with this blend is the cake turns hard sooner or later because of cementing of spread. each time when you serve you may need to warm it, else it ought to be similarly incredible.

nectar cake formula

moreover some significant hints, proposals and serving thoughts for an ideal nectar cake formula. initially, I have utilized hand crafted strawberry jam for this, however you can utilize locally acquired sticks as well. ensure the jam is crisp and has brilliant red shading to make it progressively appealing. in addition, you can likewise utilize other seasoned jams like apricot, raspberry or even blended natural product jams. furthermore, you can likewise add dry organic products to the cake hitter to make it increasingly nutty and flavourful. maybe, pecans, almonds, pistachios and tutti frutti ought to be a decent alternative. in conclusion, you can without much of a stretch store these cake cuts for 4-5 days in water/air proof holder. it ought to be new in the event that you refrigerate it and warmth it for 2-30 secs before serving. these cuts of nectar cake can be perfect for any events and can be a moment hit with kids.

at long last, you can visit my different eggless cakes plans assortment, fundamentally the same as this nectar cake formula. it incorporates plans like, carrot cake, roll cake, chocolate cake, banana cake, red velvet cake, frozen yogurt cake, rava cake, dark timberland cake and plum cake formula. furthermore, do visit my different plans assortment like,

dessert plans assortment

universal plans assortment

indian sweet plans assortment

nectar cake video formula:

formula card for eggless nectar cake:

instructions to make eggless pastry kitchen style nectar cake

nectar cake formula | how to make eggless pastry shop style nectar cake

3.87 from 46 votes

PREP TIME:15 MINUTES

COOK TIME:1 HOUR 20 MINUTES

All out TIME:1 HOUR 35 MINUTES

SERVINGS:

SERVINGS

COURSE:DESSERT

CUISINE:INDIAN

simple nectar cake formula | how to make eggless pastry shop style nectar cake

Fixings

FOR EGGLESS CAKE:

¾ cup (200 grams) curd/yogurt

1 cup (230 grams) sugar

¾ cup (135 grams) oil

1 tsp vanilla concentrate

2 cup (330 grams) maida/plain flour

¼ tsp preparing pop

1 tsp preparing powder

½ cup (120 grams) milk, whenever required

FOR HONEY SYRUP:

2 tbsp sugar

¼ cup water

¼ cup nectar

FOR JAM MIXTURE:

½ cup strawberry jam

1 tbsp nectar

Directions

right off the bat, plan nectar syrup by dissolving 2 tbsp sugar in ¼ cup water. heat up the sugar syrup for 2 minutes

at the point when the sugar syrup is warm, include ¼ cup nectar and blend well.

pour the readied nectar syrup over the cake and permit to saturate the cake. keep aside.

further get ready jam blend my taking ½ cup strawberry jam and 1 tbsp nectar in a container. blend well.

presently spread a liberal measure of jam blend over cake and level out.

additionally sprinkle 2 tbsp of dried up coconut over cake.

at last, cut the nectar cake and serve.

Did you attempt this formula?

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the most effective method to make nectar cake with bit by bit photograph:

eggless cake formula:

right off the bat, in enormous blending bowl take ¾ cup curd, 1 cup sugar, ¾ cup oil and 1 tsp vanilla concentrate.

the most effective method to make eggless pastry shop style nectar cake

blend well in with the assistance of rush for 5 minutes.

instructions to make eggless pastry kitchen style nectar cake

further strainer 2 cup maida, ¼ tsp heating pop and 1 tsp preparing powder.

the most effective method to make eggless bread kitchen style nectar cake

blend well utilizing cut and overlap strategy.

step by step instructions to make eggless pastry kitchen style nectar cake

don't over blend as the cake turns rubbery and chewy.

step by step instructions to make eggless bread kitchen style nectar cake

further, add ¼ to ½ cup milk whenever required and blend well framing thick streaming consistency player.

the most effective method to make eggless pastry kitchen style nectar cake

further, move the cake player into the square cake form (width: 7 inch, stature: 2 inch, length: 9 inch). make a point to oil the shape with spread to abstain from staying and line margarine paper at base of the plate.

step by step instructions to make eggless pastry shop style nectar cake

level up the hitter and pat the plate twice to expel the air consolidated into the player.

instructions to make eggless pastry kitchen style nectar cake

place the cake plate into the preheated stove. heat the cake at 180 degree celsius or 356 degrees fahrenheit for 40 minutes.

the most effective method to make eggless bread kitchen style nectar cake

or on the other hand heat till the toothpick embedded tells the truth. cool the cake totally.

instructions to make eggless bread kitchen style nectar cake

jab the cake with a toothpick or fork making gaps. keep aside.

presently set up the nectar syrup by dissolving 2 tbsp sugar in ¼ cup water.

heat up the sugar syrup for 2 minutes or till sugar syrup turns clingy.

presently permit the sugar syrup to cool marginally.

at the point when the sugar syrup is warm, include ¼ cup nectar and blend well.

pour the readied nectar syrup over the cake and permit to saturate the cake. keep aside.

nectar cake formula

further plan jam blend my taking ½ cup strawberry jam and 1 tbsp nectar in a skillet. use jam of your decision.

nectar cake formula

blend well keeping the fire on low.

nectar cake formula

when the jam liquefies, switch off the stove. try not to heat up the blend as we have included nectar.

nectar cake formula

presently spread a liberal measure of jam blend over cake and level out framing an icing.

nectar cake formula

additionally, sprinkle 2 tbsp of dried up coconut over cake.

nectar cake formula

cut the cake into square shape or state of your decision.

nectar cake formula

at long last, serve nectar cake promptly, or store in a cooler for seven days.

nectar cake formula

Conclusion:

right off the bat, supplant maida with wheat flour/atta to make the cake progressively sound.

additionally, adding squeezed orange to the cake player assists with adding flavor to the cake.

also, use margarine instead of oil in the event that you are serving kids.

moreover, to heat in microwave convection mode preheat and prepare at 180 degrees for 40 minutes. also, to prepare in cooker look at how to heat in cooker.

at last, nectar cake remains useful for seven days when refrigerated.

#food

[thebossveigar]

Return to Bandle City pt. 2

Later that night, Veigar was preparing for the journey ahead. He wasn’t sure how long finding a gateway would take, but he had a feeling that he’d be traveling alongside Lulu for much longer than he would like.

Before setting out to the Silent Forest to meet up with Lulu, Veigar was going to steal some food from some Boleham farmers, and from their small bakeshop. It was late at night, so Veigar knew everyone was asleep. He grabbed an empty potato sack from the back of a villager’s house, and blasted down the fence that was around the fields with a bit of magic, then he headed into the fields.

The villager had been growing mostly vegetables in their small fields, with some fruit trees past the fields. Not too much of the produce was ripe, either due to the bad season or due to Veigar throwing some small Baleful Strikes into the fields in the past, just to mess with them.

‘What a sorry farmer this guy is.” Veigar thought to himself, ignoring the fact he’s likely the reason half the field is in ruin. He managed to get some tomatoes and some small melons from the fields, and some apples and apricots from the trees. Veigar left through the fence he knocked down, and was heading towards the small bakeshop. 

The bakeshop was a bit harder to steal from. Veigar didn’t find it worth the effort to risk getting caught trying to break a window, so he went around back. Going inside would get him the freshly baked stuff that was made earlier in the day, but there was some stale stuff that was always left out for animals. Veigar went behind the shop, and there was a crate on the ground that had slightly stale goods in it. Muffins, half a loaf of bread and some biscuits. Veigar took all of it and was ready to go now. He started heading back to the Silent Forest while the villagers were still asleep.

Veigar had made his way to the forest, around where Lulu was supposed to meet up with him. He sat down on the ground, and pulled out one of the muffins from the potato sack to eat while he waited for her. He was getting impatient and irritable.

“Lulu? Where the hell are you?” Veigar groaned to himself, looking around for the yordle girl. Lulu overheard his complaining, and came out from the bushes, with Pix fluttering by her. “I’m here, sorry.” she said to him, while dusting some leaves off of her dress. Veigar looked up at her. She had leaves and twigs all throughout her hair. “What the hell were you doing?” he asked her, while putting the sack of food in front of her.

Lulu sat down, and opened the sack. She picked out a muffin and some strawberries to eat. “I was looking for Pix.” she says. “He likes to run off. I found him just a bit before you started groaning. Where did you get this food by the way?”

“Stole it from some villagers.” Veigar responded, pulling an apple out of the bag.

Lulu choked on her muffin. “Stole?!” she exclaimed. “Why would you steal?” she asked Veigar this with wide eyes.

Veigar shook his head. “Lulu, I told you I have nothing, didn’t I? How else do you expect us to eat? You can’t possibly think we’ll be able to go without food for long” he explained this to her in a stern, slightly angry tone. “I can handle getting food. I’ve lived my whole life stealing.”

Lulu was a bit disheartened she had to live off stolen food, but she knew Veigar was right. Neither of them have any money, and they do have to eat.

Veigar finished his apple, flinging the core of it into the bushes. “Now” he says “let’s start looking for the gateway, shall we? It’s what we’re here to do, not sit around and chat about life.”

“Right.” Lulu says, while opening her bag. She pulled out the map and handed it to Veigar. Veigar took the map from her, and unraveled it.

“We can start either here in Noxus, or go to Demacia in the west. Either work fine for me.” Veigar says, pointing to their location on the map. “Do you know what one would be closest?” he asks Lulu.

Lulu pulled some twigs out of her hair while thinking. “I know where one is in Demacia. Right down here.” she pointed to a cliffside south of the capital city. It was on a ledge overseeing the Conqueror’s Sea.

Veigar looked at the spot. “This will do nicely.” he says “It’s not too far, a day or two walk for us. We just have to be careful and travel off-road. We don’t want to be caught by mageseekers.” he explained to her.

Lulu was confused, and curious. “Veigar, what’s a mageseeker?” she asked him this with curiosity in her eyes.

Veigar was frustrated that she knew nothing. “Demacia is an anti-magic kingdom. Mageseekers find mages, mainly in the capital city, and execute them.” he snapped at her. Lulu jumped back, partially due to Veigar going off on her so suddenly, and partially hearing about mageseekers.

Lulu looked like she was about to cry. “Mageseekers sound scary. When I was in Demacia, I never saw them, so I didn’t know they existed.” she said somberly.

Veigar was surprised to hear she had been to Demacia. He wanted to ask her why, but it would have to wait until later. “We should get going. While we’re travelling, I want you to explain gateways to me, how they work and what they look like, alright?” he said this to her while tying up the sack up, to hopefully keep things fresh.

Lulu nodded. She picked her staff off the ground and was ready to head off. The two yordles started their travels towards Demacia.

‘Hopefully, this gateway will be active and we can go our separate ways.’ Veigar thought to himself.

Veigar and Lulu had been travelling all the next day, and it was getting late into the night. While Veigar could keep going all night, Lulu was slogging behind him. She looked ready to collapse, and Pix had already fallen asleep on her hat.

Veigar looked on the map for their location, they were still a bit of a ways from the gateway. It would take at least another day or two of walking to get there, and they needed to rest.

Veigar sat down by the mountainside. Veigar assumed they’d be alright here. They were shielded by some tall mountains, and it’s unlikely anyone would be out at such a remote place.

“Alright, Lulu. You’ve seen gateways before, tell me what they look like.” Veigar said, while looking at her.

Lulu let out a yawn, and sat down next to Veigar. “Well… they’re these big, yellow portals that have the crest of Bandle City on them. I think I have a picture of one in my book here.” Lulu reached into her bag take out her photo book and opened it, she turned to a page and handed the book to Veigar.

Veigar looked at the gateway. Seeing the gateway, even in just a photograph, made Veigar’s heart race. The gateway gave him a weird feeling of hope inside of him, but he didn’t want to show Lulu that.

Veigar turned his head to the right to see that Lulu had fallen asleep. He was going to give the book back to her. Since she was asleep, he thought there was no harm in looking at more of the book.

Veigar flipped to the next page and saw a picture of a bustling town full of yordles. Some of the yordles were children playing by a river, some of them were adults that were trading materials and fruits Veigar had never seen before, and some were just going about their daily lives. The picture gave him a feeling of safety, and deep down, a feeling of happiness. He wasn’t used to these feelings, but he welcomed them.

 While Veigar didn’t want to admit it, he did appreciate Lulu helping him find Bandle. Despite his hostility towards her, she still helped him. ‘I wonder why’ he thought.

 ‘Why would she help me? I was incredibly rude and mean to her. Maybe it’s because she has nowhere else to go. She did tell me she was exiled from Bandle City after all. I never did ask her why she got exiled anyway.’ these thoughts stayed on Veigar’s mind. He could ask her why she got exiled in the morning, but it’s none of his business anyway.

Veigar looked in their sack of food - it was getting low on food. Just a bit of bread and a biscuit left. He looked at his map for any nearby towns to smuggle some food from.

There was a town not super far from them called Old Bargate. Veigar raveled up the map and put it back in Lulu’s bag, along with her photo book. He grabbed the sack and swung it over his back, and snuck away from where Lulu was resting, and headed to Old Bargate.

Upon arriving at Old Bargate, Veigar scanned over the town quickly. With his quick glance, he noticed a bakeshop, bigger than the one back in Boleham, but still not big, a field with honey melons growing and some berry bushes.

Veigar walked over towards the bakeshop and noticed this one leaves their baked goods out overnight. Veigar let out a small chuckle. “It’s almost like they want to be robbed.” he said under his breath.

Veigar grabbed everything they left out. Bread, muffins, cookies, brownies, and some biscuits. The owners of the bakeshop even left out some plastic bags, so Veigar could wrap everything up. “Demacian villagers are as dumb as Noxian ones.” Veigar said to himself.

Next Veigar went towards the berry bushes. He picked off every berry on one of the bushes, and put them in a plastic bag in the sack. He started picking off more from another bush. One of the villagers was still awake and had seen Veigar outside in her berries.

The villager opened her door, and Veigar’s ears perked under his hat. “Fuck.” he whispered. Veigar had bolted towards the gate of the town before the villager could get catch sight of him. Veigar was nearly out of breath from running so fast. He didn’t have to run far, just fast. While he wish he had gotten more, he didn’t have a choice but to leave with what he had.

On his way back, Veigar saw a large white building in the distance. ‘That must be the capital city.’ he thought. ‘We’re too far up, we need to head south more or we’ll both be caught.’’ Veigar was out of breath from running. No one saw him, or at least that’s what Veigar hopes. He could see their spot up ahead, and Lulu was already awake.

“Up so soon?” he asked her, completely out of breath. He put the sack of food down. “Here, I got us more food.” Veigar opened the sack and took out a muffin and some berries for himself, then handed the sack to Lulu.

Lulu’s eyes lit up when she saw all the food Veigar had brought. She got herself a muffin, broke off a piece of bread and took the rest of the berries Veigar didn’t take. “You know, I thought you left me.” Lulu said quietly.

Veigar looked at Lulu with a brow raised. “Why would I abandon you?” he asked, still tired from running from the villagers. “I still need your help. You have my map, and you know more about Bandle City than I do.” he explained this to her in a nice tone, nice for Veigar at least.

Lulu smiled when he said this. “You say you’re evil, and act all mean and tough, so I thought you wouldn’t care if you left me here or not.” she giggled, she was happy to hear Veigar wouldn’t abandon her randomly.

Veigar just ignored her and finished eating. He still wanted to ask her why she got exiled from Bandle, but he’d worry about that later. Right now he wanted to get moving before the silverwings woke up and found them.

Veigar stood up. He tied the sack and put it over his back. “Alright Lulu” he says “Let’s get going.” he was already walking in the direction they needed to head. “We need to be a bit more south. When I was out stealing food for us, I saw a building from the capital.”

Lulu stood up to follow him. She was twirling her hair and asked him “Can I see the capital? When I was here last time, my friend Tristana didn’t let me see it.”

Veigar thought about it for a minute. “You should be able to see it while we’re heading towards the gateway. You’ll be able to see it for a bit before we head off.”

Lulu’s ears perked. “R-really?” she said happily, “Thank you, Veigar!”

Veigar just rolled his eyes, and had a faint smile under his hat. He found her to be annoying as hell, but did enjoy her company. ‘Maybe’ he thought, ‘Maybe having a friend won’t be so bad after all.’

The two yordles travelled most of the next day. They were so close to their destination - Veigar could feel it. They were on the Evenmoor mountains, and Demacia’s capital was in the distance.

Veigar nudged Lulu. “There it is.” he says with his finger pointed to the north. “The ‘great’ city of Demacia.”

Lulu’s eyes had a sparkle in them. “Wow! They use a pretty white stone for all their buildings, it looks nice. I wish we could visit it.” she said excitedly.

Veigar kept moving. He wasn’t interested in looking at the capital like Lulu was - he was interested in getting to the cliffside. “Come on Lulu.” he shouted, as he was already heading down the mountains while she was looking at Demacia.

“Coming!” she eagerly responded, taking one last glance at the city before following Veigar down the mountains. “I like Demacia. It looks so pretty.” she said to him.

“You like everything.” he mumbled. “If we keep moving at this pace, we should be at the cliffside tonight.” Veigar was getting tired, but he didn’t want to rest until they at least got there.

The mountains weren’t the most fun way to travel, but it was that or risk being seen by mageseekers roaming around the capital. At least on the mountains they were safe from Demacians.

“We should probably move a little faster.” Veigar said to Lulu. “These mountains are silverwing territory. We shouldn’t stick around, they’re rather territorial and aggressive.”

“Silverwing?” Lulu asked.

“Silverwing raptors. They’re sort of gryphon-like creatures that live on mountainsides in Demacia.” Veigar responded.

Veigar looked around, he saw a full grown silverwing sleeping on a rock in the distance. Veigar whispered, trying to not wake the silverwing up. “I don’t know if we could take on a group of silverwings. Maybe we could take on one or two, but if we got found by more we’re as good as dead.”  he started heading in a different direction, just in case that silverwing had friends. “Let’s move down south.” he whispered.

Lulu saw the same silverwing Veigar had saw. “It looks really pretty.” she whispered to Veigar. “It’s like a big bird.”

“Yeah.” Veigar responded. “And if we don’t move we may end up as its lunch.”

Veigar was joking with that last comment about being its lunch. He was getting comfortable around Lulu so he felt fine about joking, though Lulu took the remark seriously and didn’t say anything. She kept following Veigar down the mountainside silently.

It took the two almost three hours to get down the mountains. Lulu almost tripped down the mountains, so Pix ended up flying instead of resting on Lulu’s hat the whole time. To Veigar’s surprise, they didn’t attract any silverwings to their attention.

‘Perhaps what I read was false, or maybe we just got really lucky.’ he thought. Veigar turned to Lulu. She tore her pants and scraped her knee on the way down.

“Are you okay Lulu?” Veigar asked, sounding concerned. 

“You care?” Lulu giggled. “I’m fine. I get cuts and scrapes often, don’t worry about it. I didn’t realize you cared.”

Veigar blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he snapped. “I just had to make sure you wouldn’t slow me down. Now, hand me the map. I want to see how close we are.

Lulu had a smile on her face. ‘Veigar does see me as a friend.’ she thought. She pulled out the map from her bag. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” he grumbled. He looked at the map, they were almost there. “Let’s have a short rest. I’m hungry, I’m tired. I’m going to go down to the river for a drink after. You can come to if you want.” he sat down under a nearby tree and Lulu sat next to him.

Veigar was mad at himself. He accidentally showed he cared for her, even though he didn’t want to admit it. ‘I could’ve just been honest.’ he thought. ‘I can’t let my stupid feelings get in my way. I’ll tell her I’d like to be friends later.’

He did have one thing to ask Lulu, before they set off again - and that was why Lulu got exiled from Bandle.

“Hey, Lulu. There’s something I’ve wanted to ask since you first brought it up.”

Lulu looked up at him. “Oh? What is it?” she replied.

“You said you got exiled from Bandle, how did that happen?” he asked.

Veigar saw Lulu hang her head down in shame. “My magic.” she answered somberly.

Veigar was confused by this answer. “Your magic? Why did that get you exiled?” he asked.

“My magic is different from everyone elses. I was gifted fae magic from Pix,and I tried to show it to everyone in Bandle. I turned some kids my age into squirrels and flowers for a few seconds, and all the adults freaked out.” she explained, with tears in her eyes. “They considered me a threat and exiled me. I never saw my parents before I got exiled since they were on a trip.”

Veigar was disheartened listening to this, though he made sure to hide it this time. ‘She really doesn’t have anyone. No wonder she clung to me so fast.’ he thought to himself.

“Sorry that happened.” Veigar said to her, giving her a small pat on the back. “Let’s get something to drink, and rest up a bit. I’m tired from climbing down the mountain, I need a nap.”

Veigar was back to his normal passive aggressive tone, even though he did want to open up to her a bit. He didn’t feel quite ready to accept Lulu as a friend.

Lulu wiped the tears from her eyes and stood up. “Alright. I could use a bit of sleep after all of that, too.” she said somberly.

Veigar stretched and went towards the river. ‘If Lulu got exiled for doing something like that, I wonder if I’d even be accepted in Bandle.’ his mind was racing with these thoughts, and would be plaguing him for the night.

‘I guess there’s only one way to find out.’

#veigar #veigar league of legends #League of Legends #Bandle City #yordle

[whiskyconsidered]

G & M Glenburgie 10 Y.O.

Glenburgie has been toiling away on the western edge of Speyside for nearly 200 years, although you would never know it, given the distillery’s low profile. Located near the town of Forres, Glenburgie was built in 1829. Over the course of the 19th and early 20th centuries, it changed ownership numerous times (a common fate for distilleries), finally landing in the hands of Hiram Walker, then-owner of the Ballantine’s blend in 1936. It has remained a core component of that well-known blend ever since, even now that the now-defunct Hiram Walker is part of the Pernod-Ricard empire. Glenburgie, like most of Pernod-Ricard’s second-string assets, is almost never bottled as a single by its owner. Gordon & MacPhail, however, has regularly bottled it at several age statements in its “distillery label” range (although given the rarity of official bottlings, it is worth pondering what the reference for a “distillery label” might be in this case...), and this 10 year old is one such assay from prior to G & M’s recent revamp. My thoughts:

G & M Glenburgie 10 Y.O. 43% abv

Region: Speyside

Nose: Quite rich, meaty, and distinctively sherried. There’s a hint of sulphur in there. Kern’s apricot nectar. Peanut butter apple. Boiled cabbage. Very light smoke—smoked ham, like jamon serrano or prosciutto. Honey dew melon. Complex.

Body: Medium, oily, and slightly grainy as well, like olive oil with bread crumbs.

Palate: Prunes and baked apples. Rich, but also a little bitter. Yams. Sarsaparilla. Ginger beer. A little chewy. Blueberry pancakes with pine nuts. Rooty. Just slightly meaty and sulphury.

Finish: Drying, slightly effervescent and still quite rooty. Medium to long.

Score: 90/100 Comment:  Points for amazing nose, and being odd and interesting. Price: $40-50. This particular bottling has been replaced by a revamped range, so if you want the exact one, you’ll probably need to get it at auction, but I suspect the replacement in the revamped range is similarly priced. Availability: Specialty retailers in the UK, and select liquor stores in major US cities. 

#scotch #single malt #whisky #whiskey #speyside #glenburgie #liquor

[nofeartina]

I think a while ago you wrote something about a Notting Hill au, but that you were not going to write it? I just finished reading a book about a woman who owns a bookstore in Vienna and god!!! I can't stop thinking about that. Even would be the best bookstore owner he would have all this obscure sections and a great children's books collections and would be great at recommending stuff. That's it tbh. I just wanted to share that with someone. I love your fics!

Dear sweet anon. Thank you for sharing this with me (even though I’m amazed that you remembered..? xD). Because honestly?? I love this movie so much and it makes me cry-laugh every time I see it and it would just be the most perfect AU for Evak and now I can’t stop thinking about it.

BECAUSE IMAGINE THIS!

Even as The Travel Book Co. owner (although I do agree he would be awesome in a normal bookshop setting) who’s barely scraping by. He lives with his roommate Magnus who’s a total slob and doesn’t have an inkling of social skills.

And then one day, one fateful day, a beautiful man enters his shop in the most unassuming clothes and with a snapback so far down his face it’s almost impossible to see it. But there’s something about his build that makes Even look at him again from behind the counter, makes him ask, “Can I help you?”

It’s not until the man looks up at him that he realizes just why he seems familiar. It’s Isak Valtersen. The Isak Valtersen. One of the most famous actors on the planet right now. And he’s looking just as gorgeous and divine as he does on screen. And he’s standing in his bookshop.

(sorry – read more because this got long. As it does when I start going off… ;))

“No thanks, I’m just looking around,” Isak Valtersen says and Even can’t figure out what to do with himself now.

And so we know how the story goes, there’s another customer that comes in – yadda, yadda, yadda, BUT THEN!!!!

Even decides to close up early because what even was this day? The door is old and the lock sticks, but Even knows it by now, does this twist and jerk combo that works 9 out of 10 times but it tends to get the key sticking a bit, so he pulls at it violently until it sort of just suddenly lets go, making him spin around straight into a solid wall of a body.

“Oof!” Even grunts.

“Oh Jesus.” Comes the response.

Even steps back ungracefully, feels how his entire front is soaking through with cold orange juice, slowly starting to drip down his pants, and he looks up to find Isak Valtersen standing in front of him, former white t-shirt now orange with juice as well, so wet that it’s dripping.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Even says, patting his pockets to see if he has any paper he can help Isak clean up with.

“That’s alright, I’ll just…” Isak replies but he looks down at himself and glances at the mess that is Even’s shirt and before he can say anything else Even just blurts it out.

“I have a t-shirt you can borrow if you want. I live just across the street.” And he sincerely hopes it doesn’t come off as creepy as he suspects it does because it’s a genuine offer.

Isak seems to see it on him because he asks, “How close is just across the street?”

Even turns and points to a bright blue building that’s quite literally across the street.

“You can get cleaned up so we can get you back out onto the streets in no time. In a totally no prostitute kind of way,” Even says, cursing his own uncoolness on the inside.

Isak squints at him, before he quickly scans their surroundings, probably seeing how the streets are getting busy with people now, and he glances at the house before he looks at Even and nods.

Even lets out a relieved sigh, letting out air he didn’t even realize he was keeping in.

“Okay, brilliant.”

When he unlocks the door and opens it he’s met with the horrifying sight of his hallway a complete mess of jackets and shoes, and he swallows nervously as he starts apologizing.

“Uhm. It’s not quite as clean as it normally is, we, that is my roommate and I, were a bit busy this morning,” which is a blatant lie, this is the normal state of the apartment, it might even be a little bit tidier than usual. But he’s never telling Isak Valtersen that.

As they enter Even surreptitiously kicks some shoes out of the way and quickly hangs up a couple of jackets.

“It’s fine,” Isak mutters behind him and Even is torn between looking back at Isak to just look at him. A movie star. In his home. But on the other hand, he’s afraid what kind of face Isak is surely making at the state of this place.  

The door closes behind Isak and Even finally turns to look at Isak who’s now staring a framed photo of Even with the rest of his family.

“Right. I’ll just get you something to change into.” Even almost runs to his room, frantically rummaging through his clothes for something clean, but luck would have it that there’s almost nothing clean left. He should’ve done the laundry days ago, and he himself has been wearing the same shirt for three days now, but he does manage to find a clean pair of sweatpants and then he takes the liberty to pop into Magnus’ room for a second to find a clean t-shirt there. He’s not happy with the lone clean t-shirt that’s left in Magnus’ closet, but it’ll have to do.

Isak is standing in their living room by the time he comes out of Magnus’ room and he hands him the clothes.

“Here, the bathroom is just down the hall, to your right.”

Isak smiles a small smile and Even almost melts at the sight. Isak’s taken off his cap and his hair is so bouncy and curly and his eyes are so green that Even almost can’t stand it.

“Thank you,” Isak says and disappears into the bathroom.

Even uses the time he’s out there wisely, rushes through picking up clothes and throwing them into his room, which he then closes the door to, and his eyes widen in horror when he reaches the kitchen.

Fuck. It’s such a mess. He throws some really dirty plates in a cupboard and scoops a handful of dirty mugs into the sink and then he hears the door to the bathroom open.

Isak appears in the door to the kitchen, wearing Even’s old washed-out sweatpants and a t-shirt with lots of hearts saying You’re the most beautiful woman in the world which would be lovely if not for the Fancy a fuck Even knows is on the back. Once more he curses the universe for his uncoolness. Why couldn’t this happen on a day where they had just done the laundry and had one of those spontaneous Why is everything so disgusting in here? We should clean it up-days that they have once in a while (or once a year if he’s being honest).

He postpones his inevitable break-down by opening the fridge and as he looks through it he asks, “Would you like something to drink? Some beer or soda? Or orange juice?” he pops his head out of the fridge to add, “no better not that one.”

And Isak smiles at him, a real smile, a bit bigger this time and oh. Even wants him to smile all the time now.

“Are you hungry instead?” he asks and pulls out the only thing eatable from the fridge. He looks at it as he’s talking. “We have some… apricots, soaked in honey?” he glances at Isak who just shakes his head and Even couldn’t keep all the words inside of him even if he tried it seems. He rambles on, “No, I wouldn’t recommend it either. I don’t even know why we have these because really, they stop tasting like apricots and just taste like honey. And if you wanted honey, you would just eat honey, you know? Instead of apricots. But anyway. If you want them, they’re your’s.”

And he’s almost out of breath from saying all that, but it keeps the smile on Isak’s face and even though he just answers no again, it makes Even want to keep talking.

“Do you always answer no to every question?”

It makes Isak’s smile widen even more, and he pauses a bit before he answers, “No.”

Even laughs. He can’t help it, this is just too surreal. “Alright then.”

And then there’s the awkward shuffle of getting them back into the hallway and them trying to say goodbye to each other. Imagine all that tension with them crammed into the small hallway, the way Isak keeps looking at Even’s lips until he finally leans in and plants a small, almost innocent kiss on them, and Even almost can’t breathe from it.

He touches his lips in wonder, can’t help but ask, “What was that for?”

Isak shrugs, one hand still on the door handle, but before he can answer the door opens violently, making Isak stumble a bit from the force of it, and Magnus rushes through them, a flurry of blond hair and colorful clothes, and he takes off his jacket and toes off his shoes while he walks down the hall, talking without even paying them any attention.

“I just have to piss real quick,” Magnus says in a much too loud voice for the small hallway, “and then I’m going to tell you a story that will make your balls shrivel up to the size of raisins.” 

The bathroom door slams behind him and Even just have time to think that he at least closed the door this time before he turns to Isak in horror.

Isak has a wide-eyed half-smiling look on his face, like he’s not sure what just happened and yes. Even can relate.

“My roommate, Magnus,” he says pointing over his shoulder in Magnus’ general direction, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him hole. He’s still reeling from the kiss and how the world is all backward today.

“I have to go,” Isak says, but he sounds almost sorry and Even just wants him to stay.

“Right. It’s been surreal, but nice,” Even says, closing his eyes to how stupid that sounded but he can hear Isak snort at it.

“Surreal but nice?” he asks in a teasing tone and Even just wants to kiss him all over again.

“Yes. Sorry about that. I don’t always… mouth, brain, you know.” And he has to take a deep breath to not die of mortification.

“Don’t worry about it,” Isak says with that damn delicious smile still playing on his lips. “I thought the honey-soaked apricot thing was the real low point.”

It punches a surprised laugh out of Even. “Right, yes. That.”

Isak reaches for the door handle again. “Goodbye Even,” he says and then he starts to open the door and Even knows that he’ll probably never see him again.

But there are just no words in him to keep Isak there anymore it seems, so he returns the goodbye and watches as he walks out the door, watches him walk down the street, out of his life.

It’s not until Magnus comes out of the bathroom, pants still open saying, “Wait. Was that Isak Valtersen?” that he closes the door behind him and turns to face Magnus with an eye-roll.

------

WOWSIE!!!! This got so long, though?

Look what you made me do anon!!!

Why do I always do this??? I keep telling myself that if I wrote this AU it would be a small one-shot of maybe 8k words. Honestly, I don’t even know who I’m trying to kid anymore. Because it would get so long, and even though I really want to write it, there are so much other stuff that I want to write too. (and I know that there’s another Notting Hill AU coming out soon and I still don’t want to step on anybody’s toes)

No, but seriously, thank you for letting me play in this verse a bit anon (and for paying attention!). It’s been so much fun and I really, really loved it! I hope you enjoyed it too… :D :D

#Notting Hill AU #just a scene #but this was so much fun to write #but whoa that AU would get long #(hides) #but anon I honestly loved writing this #but I don't know if I'll ever get around to do more #sorry #I'm already writing 3 fics as we speak #I don't want to get involved in more... x) #nofeartina writes #Anonymous

[noplanwithavan]

A BALKAN EDUCATION

I was pretty down on Albania in my last post. But journeying north, further from the coast, its redeeming features soon began to reveal themselves. The wilderness, dramatic beauty, political complexity and sheer “otherness” can’t fail to win you round. In fact, the entire Balkan region has woven itself firmly into our affections. In the last month we have journeyed through Albania, to Kosovo, Macedonia, Bulgaria, Serbia and finally Croatia.

My knowledge of former Yugoslavia - and the rifts and shadows cast by Europe’s last war - was sketchy to say the least. In many ways, its easy enough to ignore. The countries we have seen in the past few weeks share more similarities then differences. Driving across the many borders you see only gradual progressions in the food, landscape and slavic tongue. After a while the currencies too blend into each other, and its hard to keep track of the respective Leke, Denar, Lev, Dinar, Mark, and Kuna. The mediterranean olive oil and oranges we have become accustomed to have been supplanted by soft fruits and a diet rich in dairy. Just as one bucolic village with haystacks and higgledy-piggedly houses made from wattle and daub looks much like the next, just across the border, so too the roadside markets, bursting with cherries, strawberries, peaches, nectarines and apricots. In Kosovo we were given a guided tour of the local cuisine by a stunned supermarket shop assistant. “Why are you here?” she asked, fussing over the girls and high-5’ing them on account of their red t-shirts, emblazoned with the double-headed Albanian Eagle. Tourists are still a novelty in Europe’s newest country (whose independence was only recognised in 2008, and is still disputed by neighbouring Serbia). She followed us around the aisles, like a personal assistant, pointing out what food we should try - the best Ajvar (stewed aubergine and paprika relish), which brand of Kos (goat’s yoghurt). Yet study the war graves, etched with young men bearing kalashnikovs, the dates glaring out at you, impossibly raw and recent. Delve into any conversation in the Balkans and watch how you are immediately brought up short by an impregnable wall. We asked that same young shop assistant directions to Visoki Dečani - a UNESCO-listed Serbian monastery just outside the town. “What monastery?” she replied wide-eyed. “There is no monastery here.” It was only when we drove the short mile to the site that we understood. The entrance was under armed guard by the KFOR (Nato-funded Kosovan Peace Force). Following the 1997-99 war with Serbia, newly-independent Kosovo bitterly resents the continued presence of any Serbian who has chosen to remain on their territory. Inside this fortified enclave, was possibly one of the most beautiful churches I have ever seen. Over 1,000 orthodox 14th century frescos adorning the walls, inlaid with gold and lapis from Afghanistan. One depicted a unique scene, “The only painting of its kind in the world,” our Serbian host beamed. It was Jesus bearing a sword. It wasn’t that our Kosovan supermarket girl didn’t know about this monastery. She wasn’t allowed to tell us she knew. And we were stupid for asking.

Kosovo was a special place. Somehow the complete lack of other tourists and top sights to see made it all the more beguiling. There were towns which appeared to offer little in the way of attractions, but whose charm lay in their sheer differentness. In Peja we were blinded by the ritzy dazzle of wedding dress shops, stopped to watch a man repair my broken sandal, witness a child bare-foot cleaning the gutter, and paused before an open shop door where inside young girls stretched and cut baclava pastry on a cloth the size of a ping pong table. The girls revel in one foreign word in particular which they are adept at pointing out on signs. It’s only now, 9 months in, that they’ve shown any interest in being able to read. Probably not unrelated to the fact we’ve eased up on the whole home-schooling thing big time. It’s too hot now for a start, and I’ve kind of ceded defeat, acknowledging that Marcus is far better at teaching than I am. He’s more patient, and doesn’t suffer from the frustration that it all seems so piecemeal. Like the fact you teach something one day and it’s disappeared entirely from consciousness the next. I have the word “Shitjet” to thank for this breakthrough. It means “for sale”, but they find it relentlessly hilarious. Sometimes they try and weave the word “shit” into conversation. “This honey is shit,” one of them might remark to a chorus of giggles. When I rebuke, the perpetrator retorts, “But I meant this honey was for sale!”

One highlight has been Albania’s Accursed mountains. By far the most impressive peaks we have seen so far on this journey. Just the name whets your appetite. They rise up before you like a vast vertical wall, softened only by a fringe of pine trees climbing the lower slopes. Above shark-like jaws of rock, arranged in snaggletoothed rows, guard the border to Montenegro beyond. Rain prevented any serious trekking, but just soaking up those mountains shrouded by mist was enough. Warned to stay away from one side of the valley because of the very real danger of brown bears, we scampered around on small excursions, foraging for elderflower, wild strawberries, lemon thyme, oregano and mint. The effort just to get here is testimony to the sense of rugged isolation. The only road in requires you first to travel 2 and a 1/2 hours on a ferry ride across the dammed Lake Koman. And the only way to continue is to walk up and out across the pass to Montenegro. Passing mountain villages dotted with haystacks, houses with wooden shingle rooves, and women wearing traditional Albanian dress, we bounced rather than drove the road to Lake Koman. Arriving by nightfall it was a surreal experience, agricultural scenes abruptly giving way to mining machinery and finally a kind of post-apocalyptic industrial dead end, as we emerged by a hydro power plant. At first I thought we must have taken a wrong turn, but we were waved down and sold a ferry ticket by an obliging young man, who told us to continue towards the dam and park overnight on the ferry. Following his scant directions to “Park in the middle, at the back,” we crawled our way up an ever more desolate road and into an endless tunnel. Just as it crossed our mind we may have been scammed out of €70, we emerged, and implausibly spy a tiny ferry moored alongside the dam wall.

The next morning we are awoken early as other passengers begin to embark. The girls refuse to take off their Albanian t-shirts, and here they attract much admiring attention. A group of young Albanians stop to chat and exchange high 5’s with the girls. One is very pally, with a comedy Estuary accent, “Alright, how you doin’? Yeah mate, yeah, right,” he reels in effortless patter. It transpires he’s spent a few years on a building site in Kent, and despite his status as a self-proclaimed economic migrant, has rather surprising views on the Brexit question. “It’s the Bulgarians mate, taking all the work and that.”

The ferry ride is incredible, just how I imagine the fjords of Norway may look if we ever get that far North. The compact nature of the top-deck makes for a friendly, communal atmosphere. While the young Albanians treat us to rousing nationalistic songs, putting paid to our peaceful surroundings, the girls befriend a group of Scottish pensioners. One man, Brian, is particularly indulgent, and becomes drawn into their play. Before long they graduate from roaring loudly at him, to clambering all over his person, inspecting his jewellery, trying on his shoes, and finally taking pictures of his body parts (all decent) in order to reconstruct later into a collage. A few days later Lulu draws a picture, and labels it “Brian” in her sketchbook.

Braving the bears, one day we dare to head further into the folds of the Accursed mountains, to hike from the village of Çeremi near the Montenegro border. The journey up the rough track is bone-crunching and spliced with the danger of a river crossing. Summoning courage, Marcus revs the engine and plunges across, grating the underside of the van. Its at times like these I wish we had gone for a 4WD. Felicity Evans you were right! When we can go no further we stop, and try to continue on foot. But within minutes the rain, which has never strayed far, is back, and we are soaked to the skin. Like so often on this trip, unwittingly our misfortune presents a unique opportunity. We find ourselves taken in by an Albanian family, sheltered from the rain, fed and housed for the night. Our “saviour” so to speak is some sort of scout, on the lookout for reckless souls such as we. Instinctively you sense there will be a catch, but we opt to follow him regardless, curious as to how things will play out. He is wearing the most incongruous outfit, given the location - a black baseball jacket with pinstripe trousers and black leather shoes. It looks even more ridiculous a few moments later when he confidently coaxes us across another river bed, where this time our van becomes firmly lodged. With a shrug he attempts to push us out, and the wheel spin flings mud all over his smart office wear. We’re taken to a farmhouse, and find ourselves in a small, low space where a family leap to their feet to greet us. A stove dominates the room, which, by the look of the beds made into seating, and the sink in the corner, serves many purposes. With no common language to fall back on, it is a bizarre mixture of mime where we play as best we can the theatre of hospitality. Our “scout” introduces the family, and we believe we can discern the relationships: a man, his wife, two daughters and his sister. The girls break the ice best, drawing the little 5 year old girl, Linari, into play by dressing up the family’s cat. The room is roasting and while we strip off, a round of buttermilk drinks are laid before us. It’s a challenge to say the least - rich, creamy, cold milk with an island of butter bobbing below a greasy surface. I watch as Marcus slurps a lump into his mouth, trying to disguise a grimace. Next comes the home-brew - distilled Reiki - followed swiftly by Turkish coffee. For the last month I’ve dismissed this coffee due to the fact it tastes like drinking warm earth, but out of the 3 drinks on offer it is by far the most palatable.  “Hmm,” remarks Marcus. “We’ve got all the makings of a deconstructed White Russian here. Shall I go and fetch the cocktail shaker from the van?”

The dairy theme continues. For dinner, the family lay a table top on the floor, scatter cushions around and gesture for us to sit down while they load up food and perch behind to watch us eat. There is pasta with cream, a yoghurt soup, salad and another dish of cheese melted in butter. That night we are shown to our “accommodation” in a back shed, consisting of two damp rooms with no lights. The girls room comes with bunkbeds and a chainsaw in the corner. Ours has a man’s clothes hanging up and musty-smelling bed clothes. The next morning things turn sour - and this time it has nothing  to do with the rancid salted yoghurt and bowl of melted cheese we are served for breakfast. The “guide” wants us to pay €110 for our stay, which by Albanian standards buys you 2 nights in a slap-up luxury hotel. It’s all a bit tense, as we only have the equivalent of €40 in Albanian currency, so we sit around for a while trying to ascertain whether they will allow us to leave or if things might turn nasty. In the end it is only the children who say their farewells without a trace of awkwardness. Little Linari has become attached to a pair of sunglasses, which the girls gracefully donate, blissfully unaware of the deals their parents have struck.

We still have the odd day of meltdown, when tiredness, endless questions or long hours of driving frazzle all of our nerves. But generally things are pretty harmonious, and the girls are markedly better at the art of negotiation now. Elsie in particular has blossomed in confidence, talking and chatting to people we have just met in a way she never would have done before we left on this trip. I’m amazed at how well they take it all in their stride. We are told “Twin team Albania” must remove their t-shirts in Serbia - an inflammatory act in the current climate. At the Kosovan border the guards purposely don’t stamp our passports to prevent problems later on. Elsie and Lulu kind of absorb it all, our whispered asides at border controls, and attempts to explain the tensions. They have an imprecise but workable understanding of both religious divides and communism now. Our favourite capital city has been Tirana, in Albania. Small, but relaxed, green and leafy, we took the girls to study the socialist realism paintings in the National Art Gallery, pointing out and discussing what they thought about the fresh-faced men and women depicted as mighty, eager workers. There have been so many border controls - including one where we walked from Croatia into Bosnia just for a coffee across the narrow Una river. The first thing they do, after studying the flag, is to ask, “So are they Muslim or Christian here then?” just to ascertain whether its safe to get out their Albanian t-shirts and football emblazoned with the flag of Kosovo. A few times we’ve just pulled off a motorway by a toll pay point and one of them will sigh, “Crikey, Is this another country again?”

But the onslaught of change and unrivalled hospitality doesn’t seem to faze them. Stopped by the Danube in the Serbian town of Donji Milanovac one day, we watched the girls scramble around a playpark, weaving between an army of gun-toting young boys. One father, with an 8 year-old son, engaged Marcus in conversation. Before long we had an invitation back to his house for a drink. I sometimes wonder what Elsie and Lulu make of these situations - what they sense when we find ourselves in odd places, trying unfamiliar home-made specialities, never knowing where we will be, who we will meet from day to day; following their parents into the unknown. Where the adults are nervous and thick-tongued, they act without hesitation - goofing around with 8 year-old Michaelo, who speaks impressive English. Too impressive in some respects - skidding his bike and yelling “What the fuck!” with obvious relish.

We have now racked up 16 countries in 9 months. In that time over 100 camping spots have been our home for a night or longer. I like to think we leave each one as we find it. Our only markers a tell-tale puddle of run-off water, and a small pile of swept scrapings from the van floor. Shells, nuts, pebbles; downtrodden relics from the recent past. But in truth, it is not all we have left behind. Our belongings are scattered all over Southern Europe - clothes, 4 pairs of shoes, tweezers, a stool, shovel, bodyboard, hats, sunglasses, 3 towels, 2 cheese graters, and an iPhone. All sacrificed along the way, through sheer carelessness or neglect. Each day a small parade of objects dance past us through the door, carried away to be used as props in Elsie and Lulu’s latest show. Before we depart, Marcus and I attempt to do a minesweep of the van’s curtilage, but invariably we fail to retrieve the odd thing, left behind like a discarded offering. Our plan of attack has been to tax their pocket money instead. It seems the only way to inculcate some concept of personal liability. So far Lulu has replaced her own hat and my tweezers from her savings, and Elsie saved up for 2 weeks to buy Marcus a new shovel. Their new found wealth has also proved a useful safety net for us. On at least 3 occasions we’ve had to raid their reserves after finding ourselves caught short at borders or toll booths.

There is a new urgency now, as we can sense our time is running out. The loop of the Balkans took as as far inland as Bulgaria. Our destination was the a tiny village in the countryside near Vratsa, visiting an old University friend of Marcus’s, Cen Rees. Despite having no contact for 10 years, it was effortlessly easy to be in his company, along with his wife Chrissy, daughter Islay and baby Olly. Another of their UK friends, Karen, was staying with her daughter, Tenzin, and we spent a glorious 4 days cooking outside, walking in the meadows and swapping stories. The simple way they lived their life - rich in time, not in possessions - was a pleasure to behold. The girls made mud pies, searched for horned vipers and spent many happy hours studying the contents of the long-drop compost toilet by shining down a torch. Little Islay’s biggest hero is the chubby survival specialist Ray Meers. While Cen treated us to a demonstration of fire-lighting “a la Ray”, Lulu picked up Islay’s considered way of speaking, with a Eastern European twang.

We have now moved on to Croatia. It feels like one big tourist theme park compared to the rest of former Yugoslavia. But at least here we can feel the breeze of the Adriatic coast, as the heat of summer begins to bite.

[simonsaidfred]

Love Forever, an Otasune Fic

(I Already Have Over 9,000 Writings I’m Working On, Here’s A Random Drib!Fic it gets a bit smutty at the end but it’s mostly shippy slighty au, probably somewhere circa MGS2 also, can you tell I’ve been obsessed with cleancore blogs lately?)

Snake held two bottles to his face, scowling and squinting at the labels. Which one is bubble bath…? He wanted… an obscene amount of bubbles. A Curly Sue amount of bubbles. Otacon had been hunched over his computer for days now, hacking here, coding there, working all the while. He threw words around like Breakthrough! and Nine months of work finally paying off! and Philanthropy isn’t going to be fringe anymore! He wasn’t wrong - the progress he was making toward… whatever… was unprecedented. Snake was, as always, impressed with his partner. However, what he wasn’t impressed with was the smell. All the hacking and coding and dozing off for moments at a time at his computer, only to jerk awake and continue to work - other than quick breaks, he hadn’t spent more than one minute at a time in the bathroom. Personal hygiene had gone by Otacon’s wayside. And Snake had had enough. I’m sure a bath would help him relax, Snake reasoned. When was the last time Otacon relaxed? The mission was Operation: Bathe Otacon, and it began immediately. …after a trip to the store. They had basically nothing by the way of shower products, and certainly nothing fancy - dollar store bottles of White Rain 3-in-1 that were three fourths water, and a couple of travel size bottles of store brand dandruff shampoo. This would never do. Snake grabbed his wallet and car keys, approaching Otacon from five o'clock. The scientist startled slightly when the soldier’s caressing hand made contact with his shoulder, and then relaxed into the stroking sensation. “Hey Snake, you’re never going to believe this. I created a whole new interface for the new version of the codec I’ve been working on, and Nastasha sent me some –” “That’s fantastic. Listen, I’m going to the store for a few things. Do you need anything?” “Just for you to come back.” Otacon pushed against the desk to spin around, smiling up at Snake. He perched criss-cross applesauce on the office chair, right knee bouncing slightly. He wore a heather grey t-shirt with a picture of an anime on it, and pajama pants patterned with the same cute cartoon over and over. Snake leaned over, kissing Otacon on the cheek, then backing away immediately. “Teeth. Brush them while I’m gone.” “O-okay…” Otacon stammered sheepishly, glancing down. Snake caught his chin with his hand, pointing his gaze back up. “You’re doing important work, work that no one else is capable of. Stepping away for a minute isn’t going to derail anything you’ve accomplished, Otacon.” With that, Snake kissed him firmly, lips pressed together, a quiet affirmation. When they separated, Otacon’s eyes slightly hazy, Snake teasingly pushed his shoulder, spinning him a quarter turn. “Seriously. Brush your teeth, nerd.” With that, he walked out the door. Otacon spun back to his computer, smiling. (Cue music: Push It To The Limit) Snake pulled into the parking lot of the Target. Shopping was difficult for the legendary mercenary; large crowds of unwashed masses tended to put him on edge. Wal Mart was basically impossible, and smaller dollar stores, which Otacon preferred, weren’t Snake’s favorite either.¹ Target would have to do. Snake stood in front of a wall of dozens of different varieties of bath soap under the bright fluorescence, arms crossed, finger raised to his pursed lips, deep in thought, pondering the eternal question.. Peach or apricot…? Snake was way out of his element here. He could disassemble and reassemble a gun in the time it takes to say “exfoliating body scrub,” but in settling between that and honey citrus coconut what the fuck ever… He needed help. An employee stood a bit down the aisle, facing shelves. Snake grumbled a bit, approaching from their seven. “Excuse me… I was wondering if you could help me.” The employee turned toward Snake’s voice, smiling helpfully. Her name tag stated her name, Lacey. “Sure! There’s quite a selection, it can be a bit overwhelming!” “I’ll say. I don’t know much beyond Lava and Irish Spring.” “Oh, gosh!” Lacey exclaimed. “Well, do you have anything in mind? Are you picking up something for your wi…?” “My partner,” Snake said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He really needs a nice, relaxing bath. I’m picturing a Curly Sue bubble bath.” “I love that movie!” Lacey laughed. “Bubble baths can be nice, but for deep relaxation, I would actually recommend a milk bath.” “A milk bath?” Snake raked his fingernails thru his six o'clock shadow thoughtfully. “Yeah. Here,” she reached down for a bottle. “This is a lavender chamomile milk bath. You can’t beat lavender or chamomile for relaxation.” Snake glanced at the label. Purple. He nodded appreciatively. “This is perfect.” “Let me know if you need help with anything else,” Lacey said with a smile, turning back to the shelves she had been tending to previously. Snake continued studying the shampoos, taking one down at random and popping the lid open to sniff it. Unsatisfied, he set it back down, gaze listing to the right aimlessly. What would Otacon like? His eyes settled finally on a black and red bottle. He picked it up, popping it open and inhaling the fragrance. Roses and berries. He turned the bottle over to read the label. Caress® Fine Fragrance Love Forever™². Snake stared at the label incredulously. We have a winner. Snake returned to the apartment, opening the door with a bit of trouble with the shopping bags. After a brief struggle and a bit of a commotion, he managed to get the door open, calling a greeting to Otacon. “Kept you waiting, huh?” Otacon was slumped at his keyboard, head resting on his crossed arms. His shoulders rose and fell evenly, three blue Z’s floating above his head. Snake closed the door behind him, setting his keys and the bags on the kitchen island. He crossed the living room to where the scientist slept, pulling the hoodie from the back of the chair over the sleeping man’s shoulders, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. Mint. Good boy. Snake made some tea and ran a bath. The bathroom mirror fogged from the steam floating in the air. A heavy foam of bubbles floated on top of the bath water. Once the tub was three fourths full, he shut the water off. “Otacon.” Snake rubbed the sleeping man’s shoulder. “Wake up.” “Huhh..” Otacon slowly sat up, sleepily wiping his mouth. “Oh, Snake.” He adjusted his glasses, which Snake gently plucked from his face. “Wha–” “Otacon, it’s time to take a bath.” Snake set the glasses on the desk, folded neatly. He took the hoodie from Otacon’s shoulders, returning it to the back of the chair. He then moved closer, hands on either side of Otacon’s shirt, lifting it with no resistance from him. “I have so much work to do…” Otacon began to protest weakly. “Yes, you do. We both do.” Snake placed his hands on Otacon’s shoulders, leaning in to kiss him. “But right now, you’ve got a warm bubble bath with your name on it.” “Snake…” The scientist eased into the bath with a blissful sigh. The soldier rolled up his sleeves, kneeling at the edge of the tub. He squeezed a palmful of Caress® Fine Fragrance Love Forever™ into his hand before raising a slight lather, massaging it into the scientist’s chest. “Snake, this is wonderful,” Otacon breathed into the steam. His hand reached up, grabbing Snake’s wrist. His eyes slid closed as he moved Snake’s hand down into the water to caress him. Snake smirked as he began to stroke slowly, his other hand reaching to unzip his jeans. His erection strained against the fabric, popping free to stand tall. Otacon opened an eye at the sound of unzipping, and then both eyes popped open. “Snake!” “Otacon…” Snake continued slowly stroking Otacon's​ cock as Otacon leaned over, his lips parted slightly, taking the head of Snake’s… well, snake into his mouth. Snake’s eyes slid closed as a low moan escaped from his parted lips. fade out ¹Otacon likes dollar stores because they often have obscure or bootleg toys, as well as cheap electronic components; Snake doesn’t like the narrow aisles (source: my headcanon) ²In researching body wash scents for this very fic, I found Caress® Fine Fragrance Love Forever™. Imagine my delight. Please pay me, Caress®. (Link to Caress® Fine Fragrance Love Forever ™ Otasune art I did as a companion piece to this.)

#otasune #slash #snotacon #cleancore

[bestofrepices]

Skinnytaste Meal Plan (April 15-April 21)

posted April 13, 2019 by Gina

A free 7-day flexible weight loss meal plan including breakfast, lunch and dinner and a shopping list. All recipes include calories and Weight Watchers Freestyle SmartPoints®.

With Easter coming, I thought you’d be interested in a few dessert options if you’re entertaining. This Super moist Carrot Cake is delicious, we also love these Honey Lemon Bars, and these Coconut Macaroons.

If you’re new to my meal plans, I’ve been sharing these free, 7-day flexible healthy meal plans (you can see my previous meal plans here) that are meant as a guide, with plenty of wiggle room for you to add more food, coffee, beverages, fruits, snacks, dessert, wine, etc or swap recipes out for meals you prefer, you can search for recipes by course in the index. You should aim for around 1500 calories* per day.

There’s also a precise, organized grocery list that will make grocery shopping so much easier and much less stressful. Save you money and time. You’ll dine out less often, waste less food and you’ll have everything you need on hand to help keep you on track.

Lastly, if you’re on Facebook join my Skinnytaste Facebook Community where everyone’s sharing photos of recipes they are making, you can join here. I’m loving all the ideas everyone’s sharing! If you wish to get on the email list, you can subscribe here so you never miss a meal plan!

Also, if you don’t have the Skinnytaste Meal Planner, now would be a great time to get one to get organized for 2019! There was a print error last year, but it’s perfect now! You can order it here!

(embed)https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X6RZHTD9AM4(/embed)

THE DETAILS:

Breakfast and lunch Monday-Friday, are designed to serve 1 while dinners and all meals on Saturday and Sunday are designed to serve a family of 4. Some recipes make enough leftovers for two nights or lunch the next day. While we truly believe there is no one size fits all meal plan, we did our best to come up with something that appeals to a wide range of individuals. Everything is Weight Watchers friendly, I included the updated Weight Watcher Freestyle Points for your convenience, feel free to swap out any recipes you wish or just use this for inspiration!

The grocery list is comprehensive and includes everything you need to make all meals on the plan. I’ve even included brand recommendations of products I love and use often. Cross check your cabinets because many condiments you’ll notice I use often, so you may already have a lot of them.

And last, but certainly not least, this meal plan is flexible and realistic. There’s plenty of wiggle room for cocktails, healthy snacks, dessert and dinner out. And if necessary, you can move some things around to make it work with your schedule. Please let me know if you’re using these plans, this will help me decide if I should continue sharing them!

MONDAY (4/15) B: Avocado Toast with Sunny Side Egg (4) and a pear (0) L: Penne Arugula Salad with Sun Dried Tomatoes (9) D: Spaghetti Squash Enchilada Bowls (3) with 1 ounce avocado (1) and Instant Pot Refried Beans* (0)

Totals: Freestyle SP 16, Calories 884**

TUESDAY (4/16) B: Avocado Toast with Sunny Side Egg (4) and a pear (0) L: Penne Arugula Salad with Sun Dried Tomatoes (9) D: Shrimp Scampi Tacos with Caesar Salad Slaw (6)

Totals: Freestyle SP 19, Calories 913**

WEDNESDAY (4/17) B: Overnight Oats in a Jar (5) L: Penne Arugula Salad with Sun Dried Tomatoes (9) D: Chicken and Asparagus Lemon Stir Fry (1) with ¾ cup brown rice (5) Totals: Freestyle SP 20, Calories 956**

THURSDAY (4/18) B: 2 scrambled eggs (0) with 1 piece toast (3) and 1 cup blueberries (0) L: Penne Arugula Salad with Sun Dried Tomatoes (9) D: Beef, Tomato and Acini di Pepe Soup (5)

Totals: Freestyle SP 17, Calories 858**

FRIDAY (4/19) B: Overnight Oats in a Jar (5) L: LEFTOVER Beef, Tomato and Acini di Pepe Soup (5) D: Fish Florentine (6)

Totals: Freestyle SP 16, Calories 843**

SATURDAY (4/20) B: Tex Mex Migas (6) L: The Skinny Tuna Melt (4) (recipe x 2) with an apple (0) D: DINNER OUT!

Totals: Freestyle SP 10, Calories 651**

SUNDAY (4/21) B: Easy Bagel Recipe (3) with 2 tablespoons reduced fat cream cheese (3), 1 ounce lox (0), sliced cucumber (0), tomatoes (0) and red onion (0) L: Chicken Quiche (6) with Low-Carb Potato Salad (4) D: Apricot-Rum Glazed Spiral Ham (4) with Instant Pot Mashed Potatoes (5) and Roasted Parmesan Green Beans (1)

Totals: Freestyle SP 24, Calories 1,159**

**Prep Sunday night, if desired. Soak beans overnight (Sun to Mon)

**This is just a guide, women should aim for around 1500 calories per day. Here’s a helpful calculator to estimate your calorie needs. I’ve left plenty of wiggle room for you to add more food such as coffee, beverages, fruits, snacks, dessert, wine, etc.

**google doc

Print Shopping List

Shopping List:

Produce

2 medium pears (any variety)

4 medium apples (any variety)

1 (5-ounce) package baby arugula

1 (10-ounce) package baby spinach

1 small (4-ounce) and 1 large (6-ounce) Hass avocado

1 medium head cauliflower (or 1 pound florets)

1 pound asparagus

2 small spaghetti squash

2 pounds Russet potatoes

12 ounces green beans (increase accordingly if you plan to cook for a crowd on Sunday)

1 small head romaine lettuce

4 ounces white mushrooms

1 medium banana

2 medium heads garlic

1 small bunch fresh cilantro

1 small bunch fresh Italian parsley

1 small bunch/container fresh dill (can sub 1 ½ teaspoons parsley in Potato Salad, if desired)

1 small bunch celery

1 medium jalapeno

1 small bunch scallions

4 medium vine-ripened tomatoes

1 small cucumber

3 medium lemons

1 dry pint fresh blueberries

1 (2-inch) piece fresh ginger

3 medium carrots

1 medium red bell pepper

1 large red onion

1 large yellow onion

Meat, Poultry and Fish

1 pound peeled and deveined jumbo shrimp

2 ¼ pounds boneless, skinless chicken breast

1 pound 90% lean ground beef

1 ¾ pounds (4) thick, skinless white firm fish fillet (such as grouper, bass or halibut)

4 ounces smoked salmon (lox)

1 (6 to 8 pounds) Hickory smoked fully cooked spiral cut ham

Grains*

1 loaf sliced whole grain bread

1 small package all-purpose or whole white wheat flour

1 large package corn tortillas (you need 16)

1 small package quick oats

1 package dry brown rice (or 3 cups pre-cooked)

1 (1-pound) package small pasta, such as Acini de Pepe

1 (1-pound) package penne pasta (such as Ronzoni Smart Taste or Delallo Whole Wheat)

Condiments and Spices

Extra virgin olive oil

Cooking spray

Olive oil spray (or get a Misto oil mister)

Kosher salt (I like Diamond Crystal)

Pepper grinder (or fresh peppercorns)

Hot sauce

Balsamic vinegar

Cumin

Chipotle chili powder

Cayenne (optional, for Refried Beans)

Red pepper flakes

Dijon mustard

Yellow mustard

NuNaturals liquid vanilla stevia (or your favorite sweetener)

Cinnamon

Reduced sodium soy sauce*

Canola or grapeseed oil

Bay leaves

Regular or light mayonnaise (I love Sir Kensingtons)

Red wine vinegar

Optional toppings for Easy Bagels: everything bagel seasoning, sesame seeds, poppy seeds, dried

garlic flakes, dried onion flakes)

Thyme

Paprika

Garlic powder

Dairy & Misc. Refrigerated Items

2 ½ dozen large eggs

1 large wedge fresh Parmesan (or Parmigiano Reggiano) cheese

1 tub reduced fat cream cheese

1 tub whipped butter (can sub 2 tablespoons unsalted butter with a pinch of extra salt in Mashed

Potatoes, if desired)

1 small box unsalted butter

1 package queso fresco (can sub ¼ cup Mexican blend in Migas, if desired)

1 pint half and half

1 (17.5-ounce) tub nonfat plain Greek yogurt (I like Fage or Stonyfield Farms)

Refrigerated pie dough (for 9-inch pie)

1 pint 1% buttermilk

1 small tub light sour cream (I prefer Breakstones)

1 (8-ounce) bag reduced fat shredded Mexican cheese blend

1 (8-ounce) bag reduced fat shredded Swiss cheese (can sub 1/3 cup Mexican blend in Quiche, if desired)

4 slices reduced fat cheddar cheese

1 pint skim milk

Canned and Jarred

1 small can/jar chipotle chilis in adobo

1 (15-ounce) can garbanzo beans

1 small can/jar anchovy filets

1 (28-ounce) can diced tomatoes

1 (32-ounce) carton beef stock

2 (4.5-ounce) cans tuna in water

1 (15-ounce) can reduced sodium chicken broth

1 small jar sundried tomatoes

1 small jar dill pickles

1 small jar apricot preserves

1 (15-ounce) can tomato sauce

Misc. Dry Goods

1 package dried pinto beans

1 small package chia seeds

1 small bag chopped pecans

Cornstarch

Baking powder

1 (1.7-ounce) bottle dark rum

*You can sub gluten-free, if desired

Print Shopping List

posted April 13, 2019 by Gina

The post Skinnytaste Meal Plan (April 15-April 21) appeared first on All Repices.

from WordPress https://ift.tt/2S4dgqc via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress

[lilylink9-blog]

Skinnytaste Meal Plan (April 15-April 21)

posted April 13, 2019 by Gina

A free 7-day flexible weight loss meal plan including breakfast, lunch and dinner and a shopping list. All recipes include calories and Weight Watchers Freestyle™ SmartPoints®.

With Easter coming, I thought you’d be interested in a few dessert options if you’re entertaining. This Super moist Carrot Cake is delicious, we also love these Honey Lemon Bars, and these Coconut Macaroons.

If you’re new to my meal plans, I’ve been sharing these free, 7-day flexible healthy meal plans (you can see my previous meal plans here) that are meant as a guide, with plenty of wiggle room for you to add more food, coffee, beverages, fruits, snacks, dessert, wine, etc or swap recipes out for meals you prefer, you can search for recipes by course in the index. You should aim for around 1500 calories* per day.

There’s also a precise, organized grocery list that will make grocery shopping so much easier and much less stressful. Save you money and time. You’ll dine out less often, waste less food and you’ll have everything you need on hand to help keep you on track.

Lastly, if you’re on Facebook join my Skinnytaste Facebook Community where everyone’s sharing photos of recipes they are making, you can join here. I’m loving all the ideas everyone’s sharing! If you wish to get on the email list, you can subscribe here so you never miss a meal plan!

Also, if you don’t have the Skinnytaste Meal Planner, now would be a great time to get one to get organized for 2019! There was a print error last year, but it’s perfect now! You can order it here!

THE DETAILS:

Breakfast and lunch Monday-Friday, are designed to serve 1 while dinners and all meals on Saturday and Sunday are designed to serve a family of 4. Some recipes make enough leftovers for two nights or lunch the next day. While we truly believe there is no one size fits all meal plan, we did our best to come up with something that appeals to a wide range of individuals. Everything is Weight Watchers friendly, I included the updated Weight Watcher Freestyle Points for your convenience, feel free to swap out any recipes you wish or just use this for inspiration!

The grocery list is comprehensive and includes everything you need to make all meals on the plan. I’ve even included brand recommendations of products I love and use often. Cross check your cabinets because many condiments you’ll notice I use often, so you may already have a lot of them.

And last, but certainly not least, this meal plan is flexible and realistic. There’s plenty of wiggle room for cocktails, healthy snacks, dessert and dinner out. And if necessary, you can move some things around to make it work with your schedule. Please let me know if you’re using these plans, this will help me decide if I should continue sharing them!

MONDAY (4/15) B: Avocado Toast with Sunny Side Egg (4) and a pear (0) L: Penne Arugula Salad with Sun Dried Tomatoes (9) D: Spaghetti Squash Enchilada Bowls (3) with 1 ounce avocado (1) and Instant Pot Refried Beans* (0)

Totals: Freestyle™ SP 16, Calories 884**

TUESDAY (4/16) B: Avocado Toast with Sunny Side Egg (4) and a pear (0) L: Penne Arugula Salad with Sun Dried Tomatoes (9) D: Shrimp Scampi Tacos with Caesar Salad Slaw (6)

Totals: Freestyle™ SP 19, Calories 913**

WEDNESDAY (4/17) B: Overnight Oats in a Jar (5) L: Penne Arugula Salad with Sun Dried Tomatoes (9) D: Chicken and Asparagus Lemon Stir Fry (1) with ¾ cup brown rice (5) Totals: Freestyle™ SP 20, Calories 956**

THURSDAY (4/18) B: 2 scrambled eggs (0) with 1 piece toast (3) and 1 cup blueberries (0) L: Penne Arugula Salad with Sun Dried Tomatoes (9) D: Beef, Tomato and Acini di Pepe Soup (5)

Totals: Freestyle™ SP 17, Calories 858**

FRIDAY (4/19) B: Overnight Oats in a Jar (5) L: LEFTOVER Beef, Tomato and Acini di Pepe Soup (5) D: Fish Florentine (6)

Totals: Freestyle™ SP 16, Calories 843**

SATURDAY (4/20) B: Tex Mex Migas (6) L: The Skinny Tuna Melt (4) (recipe x 2) with an apple (0) D: DINNER OUT!

Totals: Freestyle™ SP 10, Calories 651**

SUNDAY (4/21) B: Easy Bagel Recipe (3) with 2 tablespoons reduced fat cream cheese (3), 1 ounce lox (2), sliced cucumber (0), tomatoes (0) and red onion (0) L: Chicken Quiche (6) with Low-Carb Potato Salad (4) D: Apricot-Rum Glazed Spiral Ham (4) with Instant Pot Mashed Potatoes (5) and Roasted Parmesan Green Beans (1)

Totals: Freestyle™ SP 26, Calories 1,159**

**Prep Sunday night, if desired. Soak beans overnight (Sun to Mon)

**This is just a guide, women should aim for around 1500 calories per day. Here’s a helpful calculator to estimate your calorie needs. I’ve left plenty of wiggle room for you to add more food such as coffee, beverages, fruits, snacks, dessert, wine, etc.

**google doc

Shopping List:

Produce

2 medium pears (any variety)

4 medium apples (any variety)

1 (5-ounce) package baby arugula

1 (10-ounce) package baby spinach

1 small (4-ounce) and 1 large (6-ounce) Hass avocado

1 medium head cauliflower (or 1 pound florets)

1 pound asparagus

2 small spaghetti squash

2 pounds Russet potatoes

12 ounces green beans (increase accordingly if you plan to cook for a crowd on Sunday)

1 small head romaine lettuce

4 ounces white mushrooms

1 medium banana

2 medium heads garlic

1 small bunch fresh cilantro

1 small bunch fresh Italian parsley

1 small bunch/container fresh dill (can sub 1 ½ teaspoons parsley in Potato Salad, if desired)

1 small bunch celery

1 medium jalapeno

1 small bunch scallions

4 medium vine-ripened tomatoes

1 small cucumber

3 medium lemons

1 dry pint fresh blueberries

1 (2-inch) piece fresh ginger

3 medium carrots

1 medium red bell pepper

1 large red onion

1 large yellow onion

Meat, Poultry and Fish

1 pound peeled and deveined jumbo shrimp

2 ¼ pounds boneless, skinless chicken breast

1 pound 90% lean ground beef

1 ¾ pounds (4) thick, skinless white firm fish fillet (such as grouper, bass or halibut)

4 ounces smoked salmon (lox)

1 (6 to 8 pounds) Hickory smoked fully cooked spiral cut ham

Grains*

1 loaf sliced whole grain bread

1 small package all-purpose or whole white wheat flour

1 large package corn tortillas (you need 16)

1 small package quick oats

1 package dry brown rice (or 3 cups pre-cooked)

1 (1-pound) package small pasta, such as Acini de Pepe

1 (1-pound) package penne pasta (such as Ronzoni Smart Taste or Delallo Whole Wheat)

Condiments and Spices

Extra virgin olive oil

Cooking spray

Olive oil spray (or get a Misto oil mister)

Kosher salt (I like Diamond Crystal)

Pepper grinder (or fresh peppercorns)

Hot sauce

Balsamic vinegar

Cumin

Chipotle chili powder

Cayenne (optional, for Refried Beans)

Red pepper flakes

Dijon mustard

Yellow mustard

NuNaturals liquid vanilla stevia (or your favorite sweetener)

Cinnamon

Reduced sodium soy sauce*

Canola or grapeseed oil

Bay leaves

Regular or light mayonnaise (I love Sir Kensingtons)

Red wine vinegar

Optional toppings for Easy Bagels: everything bagel seasoning, sesame seeds, poppy seeds, dried

garlic flakes, dried onion flakes)

Thyme

Paprika

Garlic powder

Dairy & Misc. Refrigerated Items

2 ½ dozen large eggs

1 large wedge fresh Parmesan (or Parmigiano Reggiano) cheese

1 tub reduced fat cream cheese

1 tub whipped butter (can sub 2 tablespoons unsalted butter with a pinch of extra salt in Mashed

Potatoes, if desired)

1 small box unsalted butter

1 package queso fresco (can sub ¼ cup Mexican blend in Migas, if desired)

1 pint half and half

1 (17.5-ounce) tub nonfat plain Greek yogurt (I like Fage or Stonyfield Farms)

Refrigerated pie dough (for 9-inch pie)

1 pint 1% buttermilk

1 small tub light sour cream (I prefer Breakstones)

1 (8-ounce) bag reduced fat shredded Mexican cheese blend

1 (8-ounce) bag reduced fat shredded Swiss cheese (can sub 1/3 cup Mexican blend in Quiche, if desired)

4 slices reduced fat cheddar cheese

1 pint skim milk

Canned and Jarred

1 small can/jar chipotle chilis in adobo

1 (15-ounce) can garbanzo beans

1 small can/jar anchovy filets

1 (28-ounce) can diced tomatoes

1 (32-ounce) carton beef stock

2 (4.5-ounce) cans tuna in water

1 (15-ounce) can reduced sodium chicken broth

1 small jar sundried tomatoes

1 small jar dill pickles

1 small jar apricot preserves

1 (15-ounce) can tomato sauce

Misc. Dry Goods

1 package dried pinto beans

1 small package chia seeds

1 small bag chopped pecans

Cornstarch

Baking powder

1 (1.7-ounce) bottle dark rum

*You can sub gluten-free, if desired

posted April 13, 2019 by Gina

Source: https://www.skinnytaste.com/skinnytaste-meal-plan-april-15-april-21/

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more