#Missy Robbins

[margowritesthings]

your favorite pairing rn baking holiday treats. them realizing theyre both in love and having a kiss covered in flour 😭❤️❤️❤️

a/n: oh bloody hell this... this was supposed to be a little fluffy piece and it got SAD. sorry not sorry (but kinda a little bit sorry). thank you for the request my love, it was a lovely challenge for me!! (also 3 posts this week who AM I)

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A Bit of a Mess

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 785 words

warnings: Big Sad

Two failed batches of biscuits lay discarded on the countertop as you try your absolute hardest to get the new set evenly placed on the tray. Arthur is keeping his distance this time, watching your dainty digits with an almost timid air about him. You glance over your shoulder to see him practically at the other side of the room, which makes you laugh softly.

“They don’t have the plague, y’know. You can still help, just don’t… well, maybe just watch.” You struggle to push the amused tones out of your voice, another laughing fit waiting in the wings of the conversation as Arthur feigns an offended air. 

“Look, I said I’m real sorry, but how was I supposed to know-” “-That biscuits don’t have 3 cups of salt in them?” Your eyebrow twitches and your hands find their way to your hips as you begin to lose the battle with laughter. 

“Well sorry that I spent my childhood on the streets, robbin’ for scraps instead of this Baking School for Ladies you seem ta’ have been raised in, missy.” He folds his arms, but the ever growing smile tightening those wonderful, kissable lips of his gives his amusement well away. 

“Oh hush your mouth, Arthur Morgan, it don’t take a genius to tell sugar from salt.”

“Well, apparently it does…” His voice turns low, almost seductive, as he begins to approach you slowly. He looks like a predator, stalking his unassuming, doe-eyed prey. You know this look all too well: you’re either about to get catapulted into ecstasy or tickled to oblivion. You hold your hands up, part in surrender, part to remind him of the masses of flour stuck to your skin. Neither option phases him and he steals a loud squeal from your throat, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you closer. You giggle uncontrollably as he pinches at anywhere he can get his hands on, not caring a jot about the stark white powder coating his shirt, pants and face. 

“Arthur! Sto-op!” You shriek, your giggle evolved into full-blown laughter. Somehow, you manage to reach over to the bowl of flour sitting next to the uncooked treats, grasping a handful and throwing it over the pair of you. A little goes on your dress, but it’s a necessary damage to stop the tickling enough to catch your breath. Arthur stands, slack jawed in shock, absolutely covered. It is a sight to behold, to say the least.

“Oh, you’re done for, sweetheart.” He threatens, leaving you only a single second to register before breaking out into a run. You attempt to bolt off, around into the living room or even yours and Arthur’s bedroom, but his strong arms barricade you in, pulling you up against his hard, large frame. He engulfs you, and while you expect another overload of touch, he stays still, biding his time. 

You look up at him, watching specks of flour fall from his eyelashes every time he blinks. He smirks down at you, enjoying the rise and fall of your chest as apprehension takes over. Instead of tickling, however, Arthur pulls you even closer into him so your cheek is flush with his chest. It coats you in flour, a final act of revenge, you’re sure, but it’s worth it. So so worth it. 

You stay there for a while, wrapped in the strong arms of your cowboy, feeling the safest you’d ever felt. Everything is falling into place. Everything is going to be okay.

A kiss is pressed to the top of your head as Arthur runs his fingers through your hair soothingly. “I love you, y’little minx.” He whispers, placing two fingers under your chin to lift your gaze to him, “C’mere.”

You have to reach onto your tiptoes, but when Arthur’s lips tenderly meet yours, it is perfect. Standing here in your kitchen, safe, protected by your cowboy, everything is as it should be.

Until it isn’t.

The flour falling from the top of Arthur’s head, splattering your nose like white freckles turns wet and cold. The heat from the oven against your backs disappears, replaced by an awful draught through decaying wood. Arthur melts away, slipping through your panicked, grasping hands like liquid smoke.

Your eyes snap open, the breath dragged out of your lungs in a strangled cry. The noise echoes out into the empty, abandoned cabin. 

You’re awake, clutching onto a dusty jacket, your only proof that it was ever real in the first place, as reality hits you like a tonne of bricks falling from the sky.

He’s gone. You’re all alone. It never fell into place at all, never was going to be okay. 

Oh, your sentimental mind…

#arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan drabble #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 #red dead redemption #arthur morgan angst #red dead redeption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #MargoFiore

[imtryingmybeskar]

Come Home Chapter Twenty Two

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Word count: 7,397

The summer cookout is a time for joy and relaxation (and some much needed alone time for you and Joel!)

But nothing in this world is ever permanent...

We're ramping up the smut a little in this chapter. I hope you all enjoy! (Also when he says "You imagined it?" I immediately thought of the sweet, eager way he said "You got me a present?" to Sarah in the first episode. Hence the gif choice!)

Come Home

Chapter Twenty Two - The Happening

The summer cookout in Jackson was anticipated with just as much excitement and fanfare as the Winter Dance. Every time you moved through the town you would hear snatches of conversation about it – the decorations that were to be hung, the dishes to be made, hopes that the good weather would hold out.

That you and Joel would be attending together was no secret of course, but you had also decided to pool your resources and bring a selection of food between you. He had also promised you a surprise, and in your excitement you found yourself asking about it almost as frequently as Ellie had asked about her birthday, but he was as tight lipped now as he had been then.

What he didn’t know was that you had an ongoing secret plan of your own. Since Mrs Drew had allowed you access to her sewing machine you had been working on a project – a summer dress that you hoped would drive him wild. You had searched through the clothing supplies in the central stores of Jackson and eventually found something that looked like it might have once been a nightgown. It was powder blue and very long, with an empire neckline and long sleeves. You had removed these, cut and hemmed it so that it would sit mid-thigh instead, and were currently in the process of taking in the waist so it was more form fitting.

Mrs. Drew had not been shy about voicing her opinions.

“Your young man is going to have difficulty keeping his hands to himself!” she had cackled.

“He’s fifty three!”

“If he’s young enough to get excited by you in that dress, he’s young,” she had insisted, making you laugh.

Shoes were the only thing you were slightly concerned about, as you really didn’t want to wear your boots, but Vanessa came to the rescue when you told her what you were planning. She was due to ride out to inspect the town that you and Joel had delivered supplies to all those months back, and she promised she would try to find something suitable for you. She returned with a pair of plain black ballet pumps, jewelled sandals that were surprisingly intact and some silver stilettos that were absolutely beautiful but that you were sure you wouldn’t be able to walk in after years of practical footwear.

The day of the cookout you’re up early to make potato salad, roasted vegetables and a buttery oat and blueberry traybake. Your front and back doors are wide open to counter the heat from your kitchen and Ellie flits between your house and Joel’s, assisting and hampering your progress in equal measures.

“Hey!” you say as she nabs yet another piece of potato salad. “Not cool! There won’t be any left if you keep this up!”

“She robbin’ you blind too?” come Joel’s gravelly tones from your doorway.

“Hey, I can’t help it if you’re both good cooks,” Ellie says after swallowing.

“Your flattery will get you nowhere, missy,” you reply jokingly, re-covering the potato salad from where she had opened it up.

“What about my flattery? Will that get me anywhere?” Joel asks smoothly as he enters your kitchen, a distinctly flirtatious tone to his voice.

“Annnd that’s my cue to leave,” Ellie says, jumping up from her seat.

“Hey, it worked! The food is safe once more,” Joel grins.

“You dick!” Ellie rolls her eyes before departing from the same door Joel came into. “I’m just gonna eat your food now!” she calls back as she walks away.

“I do not doubt that,” Joel mutters before planting a kiss on your cheek. “Which means I gotta go stop her. That girl is like a plague of locusts all on her own! I just wanted to see if you needed any help with anything.”

“Thank you, but I’m good,” you say turning to him and clasping your hands around the back of his neck. “Might need some help carrying it into town, that’s all.”

“People are gonna start getting’ there around three or so. I’ll come by then?”

“Sounds good to me,” you say leaning up to kiss him, excited anticipation thrumming through you at the thought of his reaction to your outfit.

It does look good, you have to admit. Another little piece of life past that you thought had been permanently buried and that Jackson was allowing to shine through again. The heels were more comfortable than you had anticipated, though you didn’t doubt that you would be cursing them after a few hours. You decided upon the sandals instead, promising yourself to give Joel a more private viewing of the stilettos another time. The empire neckline is very flattering, skimming the top of your bra in just the right way that you show a little cleavage, but won’t feel too exposed. You grab a cardigan too, in anticipation of the evening time chill, and in case you start to feel self-conscious about the scarring that can partially be seen on your upper shoulder. The wounds have healed as well as can be hoped, but still stand angrily against the rest of your skin.

Just as you’re finishing packing up the food into bags, a knock comes at the door and Ellie enters.

“You ready?” she’s saying before she’s even inside. “We’re gonna-wow!”

“I’m hoping that’s a good ‘wow’ and not a ‘what the fuck are you thinking’ one,” you grin.

“Dude, you look great! Where have you been hiding that?”

“Thank you! I made it. Thought I could try to make myself look decent for once instead of stomping around here covered in manure and hay!”

“Joel’s gonna lose it,” she grins, and then catches herself, her nose wrinkling as a faint look of disgust passes over her face. “You guys can stay the hell away from me tonight,” she adds, a jibing tone softening her words.

“Fair,” you agree. “Let’s go.”

Joel has his back to your house as you emerge from it and close the front door, Ellie thundering down the steps ahead of you. He turns as he hears the noise, and you see the precise moment that all thought leaves his brain. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open slightly as he sees you and you try very hard not to laugh and ruin the effect you’re having on him, choosing instead to pretend you had no idea that he was currently short circuiting inside.

You make your way daintily down the steps, swaying your hips just a little more than came naturally as you moved and setting the light cotton material to brushing against your bare thighs.

“Ready to go, Miller?” you purr.

“Uhh…uh yeah. Yeah,” he replies, sounding a little dazed.

Ellie rolls her eyes. “This is gonna be a long night,” she mutters darkly.

From your peripheral vison, you see Joel’s eyes consistently sliding over on the walk to town, drawn inexorably to you. Every time they do, he stares for a few moments before coming to himself and dragging his gaze away to focus on the path ahead again. The thrill of power rushes through you and wonder how long it will be before he finally snaps and drags you away from the party for a little one on one time.

The town is bustling and jovial. Streams of homemade bunting twine down pillars and flutter from the roofs, waving gaily in the soft summer breeze. Laughter and chattering voices are raised above the strains of exuberant fiddle playing, the hiss and sizzle of cooking meat underpinning it all. The smells are gorgeous, chicken and sweet barbeque and woodsmoke all coming together to hurl you back to a more civilised time. You approach the already heaving trestle tables to add your contributions where you are intercepted by Vanessa and Chloe who draw you into hugs one after the other, and who fuss over your dress and praise your sewing skills.

The long afternoon changes to early evening almost imperceptibly. Everyone is laughing and smiling and there are more than a few loud conversations as the alcohol and food flow through the populace. You and Joel draw together and break apart, floating on the tides of friendship and laughter as you circulate through the crowd. Whenever he is next to you his hand invariably finds its way into yours, or on to the small of your back or around your shoulders, and his gaze lingers long on your eyes, your face, your body. His own eyes are full of smiles and a softness that makes your chest fill to over brimming with breathless excitement.

Ellie comes and goes too, but you notice she is sticking particularly close to the girl with the lotus tattoo that you had seen at the movie night. After a bathroom break, you emerge from the bar to find them talking outside. You edge closer to them, not wanting to disrupt their evening, but curious to know if this is the famed tattoo artist you had heard about. Ellie spots you and waves you over.

“Good evening?” you ask.

“Pretty good, yeah,” she replies casually. “This is Cat,” she adds.

“Hi,” you say, introducing yourself with a wave. “Nice to meet you. Am I right in thinking that you’re our resident tattoo expert?”

“Expert is a strong word,” Cat says with a laugh. “But I have a little studio set up at home. Why, you want another?"

“I’m thinking about it,” you admit. “How would I go about paying you?”

“You made that traybake, right? I could go for more of that. Like…a LOT more. It’s damn good! And Ellie told me you know how to knit. Could you teach me?”

“Of course. Come by any time. And I don’t know if you go on patrol but if you ever want something from outside let me know. As soon as I can get back out there I’ll try to find whatever it is.”

A pained expression passes over Cat’s face. “Yeah, I heard about your accident. Sounded rough.”

“Not infected, not dead,” you shrug. “Could have been much worse.”

You spend a few minutes showing Cat your various tattoos, exclaiming over hers and telling her about parlours from before the world fell, but you get the feeling Ellie would prefer to be alone with her, so before too long you make your excuses and wander off to find Joel. On the way you stop to root through a cooler packed with ice, eventually drawing out a couple of cold beers for you both.

You spy him from afar – those broad shoulders are hard to miss, even in a crowd. He is talking to Tommy, and from this distance and with them stood so close together you can see the familial resemblance more and more - the carelessly curly hair, the broad shoulders, their noses and eyes.

Tommy spots you approaching and tips his beer bottle toward you in greeting. Joel’s grin grows wider as he looks up sees you too, and he mutters something to Tommy that makes him smile as well. He claps Joel heartily on the shoulder and moves away before you reach him, leaving the two of you alone.

You hand Joel his beer and clink the neck of it delicately against your own before taking a sip.

“So…how you doing, Miller?”

You can see the struggle within him but try as he might, Joel’s eyes still slide down your body, catching on the swell of your breasts at your neckline, the way the hem of your skirt brushes your thighs, your bare legs.

“Joel?” you prompt after a full ten seconds of silence.

“Yes!” he says, his eyes snapping back to yours and his voice forceful with an “I was definitely paying attention” note to it.

“I asked if you’re okay,” you giggle, sliding your arm around his waist and looking up at him.

“Oh you know I ain’t,” he grins. “Since someone decided to wear the prettiest damn dress I’ve seen in years. Where did you even get that?”

“Made it,” you say casually. “I was hoping you’d like it. Also it’s keeping me nice and cool right now.”

“Not me,” he murmurs, his eyes roving over you hungrily again. “I am feelin’ distinctly warm.”

“We can erm…we can go to the stables? I mean if you want,” you offer, raising a cheeky eyebrow at him.

“I got a better idea. Time for your surprise I think.”

He grabs his backpack from where it rests beside one of the tables before catching hold of your hand and beginning to lead you away from the main thoroughfare of Jackson toward the fields of pasture that you were working in and around so regularly these days. He guides you decisively to a particular one of them, leading you to believe that he has reconned this particular mission thoroughly. The field he enters is on a slight incline, giving you a magnificent overview of the vastness of the setting sun in the evening sky whilst also affording you a degree of privacy from the rest of Jackson as you walk down it a little way.

“Here’s good,” Joel says as he stops, hands you his beer to hold, drops his pack to the ground and begins to rummage through it.

He produces a large, checkered blanket in red and white which he lays upon the ground, putting his pack at one end in case an errant gust decides to try to carry it away. As you kneel at the other end he takes out a Tupperware box and takes off the lid to reveal a pile of large, ripe strawberries that he places reverently on the blanket. A bundle that looks very much like one of his t-shirts emerges next, from which he produces two wine glasses that were nestled within and which he also places down carefully. Finally, he lifts a wine bottle from his backpack, along with a corkscrew. He uncorks the wine to breathe and places it on the ground, flattening the grass and pressing it firmly into the dirt so it doesn’t tip over.

The grin on your face is wide and joyful and he matches it as he looks down at you.

“I realised,” he says slowly, grunting as he lowers himself on to the blanket next to you, “that we have never been on a proper date. And I just could not let that slide.”

“Glad I accidentally dressed for the occasion,” you smile as you lean forward to kiss him softly. “And you certainly know how to pull out the stops, Miller.”

“You like it?”

“It’s perfect,” you assure him.

He lies down, propped up by one elbow. You seat yourself next to him, tucking your legs under you to one side and resting your hand on his hip after you give him his beer.

“Here’s to our first date,” you say, clinking the beer bottle against his again.

“Our first date,” he echoes. “And to you. For…for givin’ me another chance. You woulda been well within your rights to never speak to me again. But you did and-“ He takes a deep breath, and you can see him mentally fortifying himself to continue speaking. “-and I ain’t been this happy in a long time.”

The sincerity of his words and the fact that he is sharing his feelings openly like this blindsides you, temporarily causes your brain to stall and the feelings within you to amplify and stutter within your chest with how overpowering they are. Your first thought is of how you feel the same way, how his presence in your life has reignited feelings you swore were dead and buried years ago, and how you can tell him that without it sounding trite or like you were just echoing his sentiments for the sake of it.

Your second thought is of how you supposed you could have never spoken to him, but deep down you know that had never been a real option. You had missed his company so desperately when he hadn’t been around, and now that you are thinking about it more fully, you realise that period had been the first real glimpse into the profundity of the emotions that were now so present in your everyday life. That the absence of him had left such a gaping chasm so quickly had led to the inescapable and frankly terrifying conclusion that you had come to depend on him. And that having him here with you like this felt so fucking perfect, so fucking right was swiftly leading you to another that was equally alarming. But you can’t find it in yourself to allow those anxieties to enter this moment. Not when he’s lying right in front of you looking so handsome, with one hand resting against his head and his fingers disappearing and reappearing within the salt and pepper of his hair, the other hand grasping his beer bottle like a lifeline and rubbing his thumb over it in nervous movement.

“Say somethin’?” he says and there’s a note of pleading that you have never heard in his voice before. You realise you’ve been silent for a long time, just staring at him, and as he raises his eyes to you there’s another first. The openness and pure vulnerability in those warm chocolate depths delivers a sucker punch to your heart, and you can do nothing in this moment except lean forward and kiss him. Its soft and slow, and you feel as if you’re somehow juggling both his heart and yours, desperate not to drop them, aching to make him understand how deeply he affects you, yearning to make him feel happy every single day.

You draw back and stroke your thumb over his whiskered cheek as you cradle his face in your hand and this time you steel yourself to speak.

“There…was never another choice,” you admit quietly. “You make me so happy, Joel. You always have. Except well…you know.” He drops his eyes to his beer bottle again, his face closing off a little in his shame. “I never thought we’d end up like this,” you continue. “I just wanted my friend back. But having you this way…it’s better than I ever imagined.”

“You imagined it?” he asks, his eyes snapping to your face again eagerly.

“Yes, idiot, I imagined it,” you say, unable to stop the smile that slides across your face.

“Well, I did too,” he confesses, his hand leaving the beer bottle to take yours. “Especially after you asked me to stay that night.”

You groan and close your eyes against the memory of your drunkenness.

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I uh…I woke up in the night and I was cuddling you.”

“I know,” he smiles softly. “I woke up too when you put your arm round me and pushed yourself against my back. I didn’t know if I should try to move away, but I realised that I really didn’t want to. No regrets. Best damn night’s sleep I’d had in years.”

You drain your beer and place it to the side before lying down next to him, mirroring his position with your elbow propping you up.

“Well,” you sigh, sliding your hand around his waist. “I say we should have a repeat performance then. In the interests of a good night’s sleep of course.”

“Oh of course,” he frowns, all mock seriousness until the sunshine of his smile breaks through again.

“Can’t promise I’ll be quite so hands off this time though,” you add, slipping your hand under his t-shirt to stroke over his bare skin.

“Oh I’m countin’ on it,” he rumbles as he rolls forward, gently pinning you to the blanket and kissing you sweetly.

The strawberries are delicious, perfectly ripe and juicy. So ripe in fact that one almost explodes as you bite into it, the pink juice running down your chin and dripping on to the top of your breast. Luckily, Joel is there to catch it with his thumb, the pad sliding smoothly on your skin, up the slope of your breast, and making you shiver.

“Can’t be ruinin’ that pretty dress,” he winks at you as he sucks the sweetness from his finger.

The wine is also delicious, but much stronger than you had anticipated and you’re glad he only brought one bottle with him. You drink and eat and chatter and laugh together. He is glorious by the light of the long-setting sun – his skin seeming to glow golden in its hazy, warming light, his arms all sinuous muscle as they prop him up, his face less laden with worries than you ever remember it being, and his smile wide and insistent and true.

“What’s the best date you ever went on?” you eventually ask, the buzz of alcohol flowing through you and removing some of the barriers to your curiosity about him.

“This one. Obviously,” he smiles. “But before…I guess it was probably with Sarah’s mom. In fact, I think it was the night that Sarah was…y’know…made.”

The snort that you make is in no way attractive, but you can’t help it. “Made?!”

“Conceived then. I dunno how to say it without soundin’ stupid,” he grins. “But that night…well I dunno if it even counts as a proper date really. But it sure was memorable. We’d had a fight. We fought a lot back then. Always somethin’ stupid, I don’t even remember what it was about this time. And I was so tired. Of fightin’ and from the day and I just needed to get outta there. Outta that apartment, outta that situation. So there she is, lookin’ at me like I pissed in her cereal after screamin’ blue hell at me, and I just grab her hand and walk. She asks me where we’re goin’ and I say I don’t know. And we just got in the car and drove. Windows down, music up. Ended up singin’ along and laughin’ together and it was like the fight never even happened. We made it to this little place on the edge of the city, overlookin’ it and we just sat on the hood together and watched the lights.”

“That sounds pretty romantic actually.”

“It was. Until it started rainin’.”

“Ah but you see, you forget that I know what you look like caught in the rain. No wonder she couldn’t resist you. I know I couldn’t.”

Joel smiles and looks down at the blanket, and the sweet self-consciousness of his expression makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“C’mere,” he says, taking your wine glass and placing it on the ground next to his own. He draws you down, wrapping one arm around you so you’re lying next to him with your head on his shoulder. The sky above you has faded from a rosy gold to a chillier lilac, the first brightest stars already appearing, and the breeze is still warm and welcoming as it gently whispers across your skin.

“So what was your best date?” he asks. “Apart from this, of course,” he adds cheekily.

“Six month anniversary with Alex,” you reply, and then immediately freeze. The words had just slid right out, no hesitation, no stumbling over her name. To cover your shock you turn on your side, nestling closer to Joel and placing your hand over his chest. He takes it, covering it over with his and lacing his fingers with yours.

It's bizarre, this feeling. A warring within of two versions of yourself. The person that you had held on to for so many years, that had been so deeply affected by what had happened, by what you had seen and done, the part that made you sleep in a bathtub, that closed your airways at the mere thought of her name. And then this you – here and now, lying peacefully on a hillside at sunset with the man that you were falling in love with. And you knew now for a certainty that you were. Your thoughts around him were tinged with brightness, his smile made you weak, the mere touch of his skin upon yours was electric. He made you feel safe and wanted and like you were something he had been desperately missing, though you knew that wasn’t entirely true. He had been happy before you came, as far as you could tell. Happy in Jackson with his family. Still…the way he looked at you, the way he kissed you, the way he wanted to be close to you. It all spoke to an acute need within him that you were fulfilling. And you hoped with every fibre of your being that it was true.

“What did you do?” he asks softly.

You know you could back out. You could tell him that you couldn’t talk about it, or even that you didn’t want to and you know he would respect that and nothing would change between you. But for the first time in as far back as you can remember you want to say something about her. You want to share openly and honestly, to feed that part of you that connects with him and allow the closed off part of you to wither away and die. And you want to supplant the final memories you have of her, replace them with happier and more vibrant times. You take a deep breath and ground yourself in the feeling of Joel surrounding you before you speak again.

“We went to the carnival. She…she was studying medicine at the time and she was always stressed out and overworked. But that evening we went and we just had an entire evening of fun. I won her a giant stuffed dragon at one of the games almost as soon as we got there and she had to carry it with her the whole time. It came with us on the rides and everything. We nearly made ourselves sick with the amount of funnel cake we ate. And then we sat on the pier and watched the sun set. It was just us you know? Like no one else existed.”

“I think I have an inklin’” Joel says, the rumble of his low voice vibrating through you as he holds you tighter to him. It is like that here, you realise. The strains of the sounds of the cookout are almost fully muted by the buildings and expanse of pasture between you and the others. All you can hear are the birds, the breeze, Joel’s breathing and heartbeat. You might as well be the only two people on earth.

“Thank you for doing this,” you whisper, your voice emerging much softer than you had intended.

He kisses your forehead, the whiskery brush of his beard a little ticklish against your skin.

“Any time, sweetheart.”

You lie there together in peaceful silence for a while, enjoying the evening birdsong, the warmth of his body, the comforting scent of him surrounding you. Perhaps it was the beauty of your surroundings, or simply having him so close, but you didn’t feel the way you thought you would about sharing some of your past with him. You felt more rounded, more whole. As if a damaged part of you was slightly less jagged and no longer rubbing other parts of you raw.

The stars are shining more fully now as the sun gives way to the twinkling darkness and you point out the constellations you know and can see to each other. Joel is surprisingly knowledgeable, and he admits that he’s been doing his homework to be able to talk to Ellie more deeply about the thing she loves.

You turn your face away from the sky in favour of looking at him beside you. His hair is ruffling softly in the breeze, his eyes seem black in the fading light. You want to tell him how you feel, how much he means to you in this moment and always, but your words have been robbed from you by how truly beautiful he is. But your silence doesn’t matter. He turns on his side to face you more fully and you see it in his eyes too. He’s looking at your face as if he never wanted to look anywhere else again and his hand is warm against your skin as he cradles your jaw and strokes his thumb over your cheek. You nuzzle into his touch and press your lips to his palm.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur against his skin.

“Never been called that before,” he smiles.

“You are,” you insist. “The most beautiful man. And not just because of this.” Bringing your own hand to his face you trace the lines of his forehead, how the skin of his temple and cheek turn to coarse hair, the warmth and plumpness of his lips. “Because you care. And you let people know that you care. Generous. Kind. Thoughtful.”

Before you can continue your litany he surges forward and kisses you slowly and deeply, his breath hot against you. Your mind blanks on whatever else it was you wanted to say. All you can concentrate on is him, so close and so present. His nose brushes over yours before he kisses that too, and your forehead and all over your cheeks and even your chin before he returns to your lips. There’s an urgency about him now, something of iron at the heart of the affection and when he runs out of breath you pull away slightly to look at him again.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“It’s…it’s nothin’,” he says softly. “I just…I find it hard to hear that. It’s not how I see myself. All the things I’ve done…” He trails off, and the furrow that has appeared at his brow near breaks your heart.

“It’s how I see you,” you say softly as you cup his face. “I don’t care about what you’ve done. I don’t care about who you were before Jackson, before everything. I care about you now. This person in front of me.”

“But if you knew-“

“I can guarantee that what you’ve done, I’ve done. It’s just how it is now. None of us can go back to who we were. But I want this Joel. Right now, here with me. If I don’t have to be shy with you, you don’t have to hide from me.”

A look of wonderment creeps into his expression. He looks like he wants to say something but that the words won’t come, and after a few moments you take pity on him instead of trying to make him fill the silence.

“You wanna know what I called you in my head before I knew your name?” you smile.

“Ooof, do I wanna know?!” he replies.

“Ruggedly Handsome,” you confess. He snorts a laugh and presses his forehead against your cheek as the ripples of humour run through his body.

“Aw, that’s cute,” he teases, still half laughing as he drags his head up to face you again. “You were Blanket Girl to me at first.”

“Blanket Gi-Joel that’s the worst name I’ve ever heard!” you say indignantly.

“You looked cute all wrapped up in those blankets!” he protests, trying to defend himself. “It stayed with me. Besides, I’m not sure anything can compete with Ruggedly Handsome!”

He joins in with your laughter, the sound loud and joyful in the midst of the quiet of the summer night. As the sound dies away, the humour also fades from his eyes, replaced with urgency and truth.

“You really do look amazin’ you know,” he says softly. “Every day. Not just today.”

“So do you.”

“What? This old thing?” he chuckles, clutching at the hem of his shirt.

“Yes,” you affirm, covering his hand with yours and stroking the skin of his stomach softly. “In everything. And in nothing too, I’ll bet,” you add, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“We’ll have to test that theory one day,” he hums as he rolls toward you, propping himself up on one elbow and caressing your cheek with his other hand.

The weight of him above you is everything you want right now, and you look deeply into the darkness of his eyes before you lean up and kiss him, soft heat flaring within you as your lips meet. Your hands are in his hair, running through his waves as you pull him closer, running your tongue over his bottom lip before he opens to you with a rumbling hum. He’s already half hard and before he can scoot backward to put some distance between you, you trail your hand down his back to the curve of his ass, kneading the firm muscle before pulling him closer to you, feeling him swell further against your thigh.

His hand trails down your cheek, your neck, your chest, and you emit a needy little noise against his mouth as his finger brushes your hardened nipple.

“Fuck, I love hearin’ you,” he whispers fervently.

“I wanna hear you,” you reply just as urgently as you bring your hand around to stroke over the front of his jeans. He exhales sharply at your touch and takes a shuddering breath in as you run your fingers up and down his shaft within the denim before lightly skating upward to where the trail of hair from his belly button disappears behind the button of his jeans.

When you begin to fumble with it, he draws back so he can see you more fully.

“You sure?” he asks, his voice breathless and unsteady.

“I wanna touch you,” you say in a voice that’s half a moan already. He rests his weight on one hip to help as you flick his button open and draw the zip down, releasing him from where he has been confined. You stroke your fingers softly over the magnificent tenting in his boxer briefs, a shiver of excitement passing through you and ending up somewhere between your legs.

It's too dark to see him properly, but you can feel the circular patch of wetness on his underwear and it stokes the simmering inside to a furnace. He’s brushing his lips over your neck as you run a finger around the elastic, dragging it down to free him fully and when you grasp him he chokes out a moan that sends a shiver through you. He is iron clad in velvet and he whispers a breathy ”Fuck” into your temple as you begin to stroke him.

You want to kiss him, want to take him into your mouth, want to feel his tongue on your skin, feel his palms against your breasts. You want so much and before you think about what you’re doing your other hand is between your legs, slipping under the damp material of your own underwear to seek some relief. Lost in the feeling of your hand wrapped around him, he doesn’t seem to realise, at least not until your breathing starts to come stuttered.

“Fuck,” he whispers again. “Can I-“

“Please, Joel,” you whine, not knowing what he wants to do but wanting to give him anything and everything at this moment.

His palm slides down your neck, over the slope of your breasts where he stops briefly to caress you, and then continues down to rub over the soaked strip of fabric that lies between you. His breathing becomes harsher at the feeling of your arousal, and when you take your hand away to grant him greater access he grinds the heel of his palm against you, making you clench around a nothing that you desperately wish was him. You switch hands to touch him, gliding your own slick down over his head and shaft and beginning to pump him in earnest, and the bitten off moan that rumbles through him makes you wetter than ever before.

He gently moves your underwear aside and slowly and reverently runs the pad of his finger up to your clit and down, again and again, spreading your slick all over and drawing moaning sighs from you as warmth begins to spread throughout your lower body.

“Fuck, honey. You’re so wet,” he whispers, nipping at your jaw.

“It’s you. You’re too…fuckin’…much,” you stutter, the English language currently struggling to compete for brainspace with how good he’s making you feel.

He runs his finger down over your clit once more before stilling briefly. His eyes are fixed upon your face as he finally slides one thick finger inside and you see the hunger in his expression before your eyes close of their own accord to try to make sense of the multitude of sensations that erupt within you. He slipped in so easily, so perfectly and he only waits a few brief moments before adding a second. You arch your back, welcoming him and your thighs begin to tremble at the feeling of him filling you.

He repositions, moving so he is kneeling between your legs, and you whimper a little noise of disappointment as he leaves your hand.

“I can’t,” he pants. “You’re too…you’re so…Look at me. I wanna see you.”

Your eyes open to meet his, their dark depths filled with burning desire. He drops his gaze as he pushes further in and then slides out slowly, his eyes fixed on his fingers as they disappear inside of you. Sharp heat is already building, and when he finds the spot he’s looking for he begins to move faster, hitting it every single time. Your hands trail upward to cup your breasts, and you tweak your hardened nipples hard through the thin fabric.

Christ how can anything feel this good? You’re dizzied, trying to drag air into your lungs faster than you’re able, and when his thumb lands on your clit it pushes you impossibly further, the slow build of pleasure suddenly intense and burning.

“Joel,” you whimper.

“I’ve got you,” he rumbles, his eyes now on your face. “I want you to come, honey. Come all over my hand.”

His voice is shaky, and you realise it’s at least partially because he’s also touching himself. The thought is too much and it tips you over, white heat spreading from his hands within you and unfurling through your body as you give him what he wants. He works you through it, kicking it up a notch and focusing with precision upon that place that you can never reach alone. Instead of becoming overstimulated you feel the wave build again before it can fully recede, surging and cresting through you as you cry his name to the skies above.

All too soon you begin to tremble, to skitter away from his touch and he gently withdraws his fingers. Your jaw is slack from your heavy breathing and from the feeling that you can’t really do anything right now except to lie here and bask, and he takes full advantage by leaning over you to kiss you deeply.

As you lie there panting, sweaty and buzzing, his large frame almost covering you and with the feeling of his lips upon yours, you hear a wet sound and realise that he is using your slick to stroke himself.

“So beautiful,” he mumbles against your mouth. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your hands come around to glide up his back, the dewy sheen of sweat over his skin easing the path of your fingertips. He groans at your touch and strokes himself more insistently, your combined wetness sliding over your inner thigh as he presses himself against you, the knuckles of his hand bumping against your skin as he moves. When you run your nails lightly down his back he twitches and judders against you.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “S-so good. I’m-I’m gonna-“

You raise the hem of your dress further, bunching it around your stomach, but you don’t even get the chance to invite him to come on you before he is, a low, hoarse groan erupting from deep within him as you feel hot jets splash thickly all over your thighs.

His breath is warm and heavy and hitching against you as he stills and you are seized with a desire to know, so you reach down and scoop his spend from your skin, licking it from your fingers, the warm saltiness of him serving to flare the arousal in you once more.

“Christ,” he mutters in an awed voice as he watches you.

“You taste so good,” you hum.

“Christ” he repeats as he half collapses on the blanket next to you.

You draw him close and he rests his head on your chest, snuggling into you, his breathing still rapid and uneven.

“Told you I’d get you back, Miller,” you murmur as you kiss the top of his head.

You feel more than hear his chuckle as he replies “That you did.”

“I still feel like I didn’t do enough. We’re gonna have to-“

“Joel!”

The voice is distant and at first you’re not even sure you heard it, given that blood is still pounding in your ears. But then-

“JOEL!”

It’s Tommy, and he sounds panicked.

“Sh-shit,” mutters Joel as he lurches on to his knees and begins to tuck himself away. You sit up too, tugging your dress down and trying to make yourself look partway presentable.

“JOEL!” comes Tommy’s voice again, his pitch now frantic.

“I’m here!” Joel yells back as he stands up, his jeans finally done up again. You hear the sound of rustling grass as Tommy approaches, and by the sounds of it he is running.

“Joel…you gotta come! Raiders…at the dam,” he manages to pant out.

“Fuck,” Joel curses under his breath as he prepares to follow Tommy.

“Wait!” you exclaim. “I’m coming too!”

“No!” Joel says sharply as he turns back to you.

“I can help!” you insist, bending down to begin dragging items into the backpack.

Suddenly Joel’s hand is on your arm and he’s raising you to face him. He holds your shoulders firmly and looks pleadingly into your eyes as he speaks.

“Your first trip back outside can’t be somethin’ like this. You ain’t prepared-"

“I have to go back out sometime!”

“Sweetheart, I know you wanna help but you ain’t even dressed for it. Please. Stay here. I gotta go. Now.”

You bite your lip. He’s right and you know it, no matter how much you want to argue.

“Come back to me,” you plead.

“Always will,” he promises as he kisses you hurriedly before hurrying after Tommy up the hillside.

You clean yourself up more thoroughly and smooth your hair and clothes while your mind is racing at a hundred miles a minute. The dam had been running smoothly for weeks now, and fewer and fewer people had been needed to go out there. Besides that, everyone had wanted to come to the cookout, and while you didn’t doubt Maria had left a guard out there, you wondered how many people had actually been present when it had been attacked. Tommy had sounded panicked and actively frightened when he had called for Joel. You didn’t even know how word had reached Jackson of the incursion. The walkie talkies wouldn’t work over that distance, so you had to assume someone had ridden in. You stuff the remainder of the things into the backpack and sling it over your shoulder. Even though you’d eaten and drunk everything Joel had brought, it seems to weigh a ton as you begin your own trek up the hillside a few minutes after his departure.

When you get back into the main square of Jackson it’s to the unsurprising discovery that the gathering has been thoroughly dispersed and the party atmosphere sullied beyond repair. People stand huddled in groups talking rapidly and worriedly, some busying themselves by gathering up the leftovers to be stored for tomorrow, some clearing the decorations away.

Maria is standing with Ellie and Cat, all of them with their arms folded and anxious expressions on their faces. You go over to join them.

“If they aren’t back by morning, I’m going out there,” you say bluntly without preamble.

“You and me both,” replies Maria firmly.

Taglist - @thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities @deadhumourist @pedrostories @abbyhaslongshorts @celebrtyskinz @majahu @sanscas @myloveistoolittle @ohthemisssery @harperdoodle @hummelmi @casssiopeia @midgetpottermills @rivierasunsetdiner @starkleila @nunya7394

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f! reader #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou x you #joel tlou x reader #joel tlou x f! reader #joel tlou x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou fanfic #joel tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic

[themanhattanfoodproject]

The addition of Pasta by Missy Robbins to my cookbook collection has been such a boon for my Sunday night pasta dishes, because her recipes are chock full of inspiration that push me to do some fun variations. This is trenette with sun-dried tomatoes, garlic, oregano, and saffron that needs some tweaking (they all do before they get published), but I’m really pleased with it because it’s light and tasty and there needs to be more dishes that call for saffron.

Granted, I specifically use American saffron, or safflower, because it’s significantly cheaper and therefore you can afford to use hefty pinches of it. It’s not nearly as good as Spanish or Iranian saffron, but for a dish like this, it works. I’m also absolutely on a pink peppercorn kick right now, and I absolutely love it in mascarpone cheese because it adds a lot of zest to an otherwise pretty mild cheese.

#food #cooking #home cooking #fresh pasta #pasta #trenette

[sennamybeloved]

// gift giving!

~ ship; mary-beth gaskill x fox (s/i)

~ word count; 980-ish

~ authors note; women..............i love women. also i'm sorry if arthur's dialogue feels unnatural, i did not put as much thought into his characterization as i did mary-beth's. also i did not and will not proofread so i cannot gauge the quality of this fic.

~ reblogs appreciated!

“Fox! Miss Fox!” They hear Mary-Beth calling from across the camp. 

As they hear her footsteps approach, they finally put down the piece of wood they’ve been whittling for the past hour and turn around to face her. “Yes?”

Mary-Beth comes to a halt in front of them. She has an expression on her face that’s bright and warm, like sunshine, and she’s visibly excited over… something. Likely the thing she’s cupping in hands.

“I found somethin’ neat while I was in town! I thought you would like it…” she crouches down next to them. She slowly opens her hands, unveiling a small, semi-translucent purple crystal. From all of the books they’ve read, Fox can easily identify this stone as Amethyst, but… it’s quite rare to see it around here. In shops, in the ground, anywhere.

“Where did you get this?” They look up at Mary-Beth, wearing a slight-yet-genuine smile on their face.

“There was a vender sellin’ little trinkets and collectors items. He had a buncha cool stuff, but I’ve heard you talk about crystals a lot, so…”

Fox plucks the crystal from her open palm, holding it up to the light so they can inspect it. It’s as genuine as genuine can be… as far as they can tell.

“Mary, this is beautiful.” They muse, their smile widening. “Looks authentic, too. Fantastic find!”

She blooms under their praise, her cheeks reddening as she begins fidgeting with her hands.  “I’m glad y’ like it, Fox.”

They admire it for a moment longer, before turning to face Mary-Beth with a tiny smirk playing on their lips. “How much do you think this would’ve cost?” They ask.

“20 bucks.” She answers simply. “I’d know—I paid for it.”

Fox’s eyes widen. “You paid for this? Oh, now I’m even more honored. First time I’ve ever seen you pay for something, I think.”

She laughs aloud; a beautiful sound, like the chiming of silver bells of a tune from an expensive opera piano. It makes their heart skip.

“Oh shush, you have too seen me pay for things!” She gives their arm a playful shove. “I just… prefer robbin’ over payin’. You do too. We all do!”

“Simmer down missy, I never said it was a bad thing.” Fox chuckles.

They finally decide to pocket the crystal, stowing it away where it’ll be safe and they don’t risk losing it. Until they can get it back to their tent, that is. They then shift their attention—and their unwavering gratitude—towards Mary-Beth, who sits on the grass beside them, staring up at them with glimmering forest green eyes.

The afternoon sun highlights every detail of her beautiful face, from her thick, almost doll-like eyelashes to her freckled face, from the slight curve of her nose to the fullness of her cheeks. She’s gorgeous. Oh, so gorgeous. It nearly takes Fox’s breath away.

After a long moment, they finally find their words: “Thank you, Mary.” They whisper, cupping her face and pressing a gentle kiss on the bridge of her nose. 

She giggles sweetly, placing her hands over theirs and pressing their foreheads together. “It’s no problem at all, darling.”

They remain like that for a moment longer, nuzzling into each other as they bask in the moment… until they are (quite rudely) interrupted by a certain camp member's commentary.

“Good to see the lovebirds out and about.” Fox sighs and squeezes their eyes shut. Fucking Arthur.

“This is a private conversation, Morgan” They say to him, reluctantly pulling away from Mary-Beth’s touch so that they can get a better look at him.

“What’s so private about smoochin’ in the middle of camp?” He retaliates. Fox rolls their eyes.

“I guess not much, friend. Now could you leave us alone?” They snap back, and Arthur is quick to take the hint—as he usually is. I suppose that’s an upside to his nosey nature; when you tell him to piss off, he does.

Once he backs off, resuming his stroll around camp, Fox shifts their attention back to Mary-Beth. She doesn’t look at all bothered by the intrusion. As a matter of fact, she looks rather amused.

“Strange man, that one is.” Fox huffs.

“You’re a strange man too, Fox.” Mary-Beth replies, punctuating her words by pecking them on the lips. “Besides… perhaps Arthur was right. Maybe we should move this to one of our tents.”

They shrug. “Yeah, I guess. Any chores you should be doing right now?”

She shakes her head. “What about you?”

“Clearly not, since I’ve been carving a stick for the past however long. Till you showed up.”

With that, the pair rises to their feet. Mary-Beth takes Fox’s hand. Hers is much softer and more delicate than theirs, but they fit together so perfectly. They begin meandering towards her tent, attempting to avoid the prying eyes of camp members that may or may not need something from them.

Mary-Beth goes unchecked, but unfortunately, Fox catches Hosea’s eye. “Fox! Can you go help Arthur take care of the horses, please? I haven’t seen you up and moving all day.”

Fox lets out a loud and over-dramatic groan of annoyance. They just can’t have a moment without interruption today, can they? They reluctantly release their girlfriend’s hand, putting over to the horses, past Hosea, away from Mary-Beth’s tent. 

“Love can wait, Fox. Life, however, cannot.” Hosea commentates. They reply with a small, agitated ‘mhm’ and little else.

“I’ll see you in a bit, Fox!” Mary-Beth calls out. They glance over their shoulder to see her waving exuberantly. “Don’t take too long!”

That makes them smile and pick up their pace. Yeah, they will see her in a bit… which should inspire them to move through this faster; more diligently. That way, they can get back to her faster, and they can resume where they had left off. Who knew romance could be such an effective motivator? 

However, her newfound positivity is soon dulled by a familiar voice. 

“Good ol’ Hosea.” Arthur says, walking past Fox with a bale of hay in his arms.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

#HEHE #📜💐 shall i compare thee to a summer’s day? 💐📜 #arthur placeholder tag #self ship community #self shipping #selfship #f/o community #self ship fanfiction #self insert #self insert x canon #s/i: fox #lotus writes #rdr2 self ship #red dead redemption self ship #fandom tags........thats bold #i mean technically they are fandom tags #i know the fandom will find this. im prepared #lesbian self ship #wlw selfship #lesbian selfship #nblw selfship

[tenaciouspostfun]

Sent from Yahoo Mail on Android

Purlie Victorious. Theater Review.

The problem with "Purlie Victorious" at The Music Box is two fold. The first problem is that director Kenny Leon has some of the actors at time inaudible; most strikingly so is Kara Young (Lutiebelle Gussie Mae Jenkins). While Leon reaches desperately for the laughs, many of the jokes are not heard among the audience and we are constantly playing catch up to try to hear where we are in this farce that at times is slow and flat. The second problem is that the play is confusing. We are never sure if we are in the early 60"s or whether we are at the turn of the 19th century.

 The book by Ossie Davis has the audience wondering where they are in time. He mentions Martin Luther King but the Ol' Cap (Jay O. Sanders) talks to his slaves as he does. His son, Charlie (Noah Robbins) is very miscast; he has not one ounce of Southern in him... he is more New York City Jewish than a true Southern boy.

 "Purlie" is not all lost, however, Leslie Odom Jr. as Purlie Victorious, Billy Eugene Jones as Gitlow Judson, Heather Alicia Simms as Missy Judson are all excellent. But even these actors cannot carry the play that has its setting on a cotton plantation in the old South and has the time in the recent past. Some of the other positives are the set design by Derek McLane, the lighting by Adam Honore and the costume design by Emilio Sosa.

 The play is almost two hours without intermission. At the center of the show it becomes very slow and lackluster. As it picks up steam from the mid point, it never really has a great climax nor a fulfilling falling action. The play never gains solid traction and is one that can be missed especially with a great fall lineup coming to Broadway.

 

Show less

[antonio-velardo]

Antonio Velardo shares: No Luck With Misi Reservations? Cook Missy Robbins’s Pasta at Home. by Florence Fabricant

By Florence Fabricant The owner of the Surf Lodge in Montauk debuts a clubby SoHo spot, Taste56 opens a bar and more restaurant news. Published: September 5, 2023 at 01:10PM from NYT Food https://ift.tt/Gq0PjnO via IFTTT

View On WordPress

#antonio velardo #IFTTT #NYT

[nothingunrealistic]

BUSINESS

—————

MPC

FORM 10-K

[Post-It note — indecipherable]

—————

The New York Times

The New Decas

[photo of Prince, Axe, and the new decas at Vanity Fair shoot]

—————

[photo of Kai Huang Liu, Jr.]

—————

[photo of Prince and Krakow]

—————

[photo of Prince, Krakow, and Bud Lazarra at Olympics bid kickoff]

—————

[photo of Prince and Scooter]

—————

the MIKE

DINNER SERIES

Missy Robbins

Fireside Chat

MIKE PRINCE and BOBBY AXELROD

—————

The New York Times

Billionaire Michael Prince is Taking Over Axe Capital

[photo of Prince]

—————

[legal pad page — indecipherable]

—————

1990

—————

[Post-It note — indecipherable]

—————

[photo of Prince at The Mike fireside chat]

—————

[photo of Mohonk Mountain House, site of The Mike]

—————

[official document — indecipherable] [Post-It note — indecipherable]

—————

[news articles — indecipherable] [photo of Prince and possibly David Fells?] [Post-It note — indecipherable]

==========

PERSONAL

—————

[official document — indecipherable] FILED

—————

Friendships of Note

Oprah Winfrey Mark Cuban […] […] […] […] […] […] […]

—————

[photo of Prince and Gabby Reece out running]

—————

[photo of Prince]

—————

DAVID FELLS SCANDAL

—————

2023

—————

[legal pad page — indecipherable]

—————

[photo of Prince, Andy, and Prince Cappers at Olympic bid party]

—————

NEW YORK POST

Daughters of Billionaire Mike Prince Try Their [Hands At] The Cannabis Biz

—————

[photo of Gail and Liz at Fine Young Cannabis]

—————

[second photo of Prince, Andy, and Prince Cappers at Olympic bid party]

—————

[…] Andy Salter (wife) Gail & Liz (daughters)

—————

[Post-It note — indecipherable]

—————

[Michael Prince] Headed to Indiana A&M […]

[photo of Prince playing basketball]

ALMA MATER INDIANA A&M

—————

[legal pad page — indecipherable]

—————

2028 NEW YORK CLIMBING FACILITY

ANDY SALTER

[photo of Andy]

HEAD COACH AND ROUTE SETTER FOR USA CLIMBING

==========

POLITICAL

—————

FINANCIAL TIMES

NYC Olympic Bid Crumbles Amidst Bribery Allegations

CAMPAIGN COMMITTEES

LOOK INTO ETHICS VIOLATIONS

—————

[legal pad page — indecipherable]

—————

[photo of Prince, Andy, and Prince supporters at campaign kickoff]

—————

CANADIAN DONOR to Super PAC

potential violation of 52 USC 30121

—————

[photo of Prince]

—————

2022

—————

[photo of Prince at Olympics bid kickoff]

—————

2028

NEW YORK

—————

Michael Prince Joins Presidential Race as Independent

[photo of Prince and Mayor Johnson at Olympics bid kickoff]

—————

Weaknesses in Voting Record (is NO on increased voting rights in 2021)

—————

[photo of Gayle King interviewing Prince]

—————

OLYMPIC STADIUM PROPOSAL

[floor plan and elevations for proposed Olympic stadium]

—————

SUBWAY CARD ADVERTISING

I 🚴 NY 2028 | I ⛹️ NY 2028 | I 🎾 NY 2028

I 🤾 NY

I 🏊 NY 2028

[Post-It note — indecipherable]

==========

PHILANTHROPIC

—————

FDNY on Prince List

Stuart Legere (Indiana A&M president)

— got Board of Endowments to join Prince List

— misappropriated state funds

—————

SHAKE THE QUAKE

WELCOME TO THE MIKE CONFERENCE ATTENDEES

[photo of Prince with The Mike attendees at Shake the Quake]

DONATIONS […]

—————

ANNUAL

IMPACT REPORT

SHAKE THE QUAKE

—————

[photo of Scooter and Prince at Yonkers Opportunity Zone hearing]

—————

CORRUPTION @ THE MIKE

—————

2018

—————

FINANCIAL TIMES

A Look Inside The Prince List

[photo of Prince]

The Prince List

legit?

—————

* Basketball star at Indiana A&M [University]

* Won two NCAA championships

* Find his former teammates

—————

[official document — indecipherable]

—————

[photo of Prince at Mike Money announcement]

#billions #7x04 #mike prince #i am once again asking for clear shots of things like this. i want to be able to read what's there! #“is NO on increased voting rights” oh i'm sure

[dbs-superleggera]

Why Chefs Are Designing Their Own Restaurants

Salut Bernard Arnault,

Food play is a type of sensory play activity that can help your child learn about different food textures, smells, and tastes. It helps children with sensory disorders or picky eating habits explore various food options and more easily engage in healthy eating habits.

Food sensory play activities don’t have to include squishing or smashing food — they can also include activities such as preparing and eating food. Whether it’s through food prep, play, or simply trying new food types, children can gain beneficial experience that allows them to become familiar with new foods.

Chefs use all five senses when cooking. Growing up I used cross training to help build Defensive Facilitator Physiques for Athletics; cooking can be used for Designer Cross Training.

Dress Codes, Interior Design, Art, Color Psychology, Plating & Presentation, and Real Estate all go into planning restaurant.

Editorial, Promotional, Mature, Cologne, and Lifestyle Modelling compliments TV Chefs.

Salut,

Adrien Blake-Trotman

[joecial-distancing]

Captain’s (album) logs

Marty Robbins Gunfighter Ballads And Trail Songs (1959): Alright, this is country-adjacent music I like: Really pleasant voice singing about old west & cowboy things

Adam & The Ants Kings Of The Wild Frontier (1980): I’m an easy mark for new wave, even if on paper this particular one's mediocre. There’s interesting drumming on some of the songs, and a couple tracks on here feel like a direct antecedent to something like Vampire Weekend

Jimi Hendrix Axis: Bold As Love (1967): It’s Jimi Hendrix, you know his stuff! I liked this less than “Are You Experienced”, but still a great time

John Mayall & The Bluesbreakers (ft. Eric Clapton) Bluesbreakers (1966): Blues w/ Jazz organ doesn’t impress me the same way it might’ve before I started this albums project, found this kind of grating after a full album of it

Leonard Cohen Songs of Love and Hate (1971): I think I really like how distinctive Cohen’s voice is, but that alone didn’t really sell me on this. Honestly has me reconsidering the reasons I like Tom Waits so much, like it’s clearly not just about being won over by interesting vocals, the music backing Cohen’s voice was just kind of boring to me

ABBA Arrival (1976): I’ve grown to appreciate ABBA over the years, even if they’re often not my taste. Arrival has some classics on it, but overall I kinda found it less interesting than The Visitors had been

Emmylou Harris Pieces Of The Sky (1975): Definitely not my preferred kind of country/folk music

Janis Joplin Pearl (1971): Not really my thing

Joy Division Unknown Pleasures (1979): I’ve liked all the Joy Division that’s come across my radar for this project, but haven’t been able to access, like, true enthusiasm for them yet. They are a definite, definite influence point for a lot of great acts that came after!

Metallica S&M (1999): On paper, live metallica + full backing orchestra is a hilarious idea, but also symphonic metal is absolutely a guilty pleasure of mine, so I was excited to hit play on this. Even though the runtime on this one’s over 2 hours, it’s pretty fun overall. I stand by my original complaint with metallica, though--every individual song slightly overstays its welcome

Roxy Music Roxy Music (1972): This one kicks ass! Some research reveals Brian Eno was involved in making this, which makes a ton of sense in hindsight.

Band/album name & especially album cover had me nervous this was going to bore me, but instead it kind of re-sold me on the 1k1 albums project after what had kind of felt like some doldrums

GZA Liquid Swords (1995): This was a lot of fun, though after two albums from their members on here, I’m suspecting the generator’s not a good way to get oriented with Wu-Tang stuff.

Aerosmith Pump (1989): Hard Rock Cafe

New York Dolls New York Dolls (1973): Really interesting kinda pre-punk thing, lots of the reception to this seems to indicate it was very influential to genres I’m not otherwise super checked into

Solange A Seat at the Table (2016): Bit too slow for my taste, most of the songs felt dull to me

Missy Elliott Under Construction (2002): Never spent much time with Missy Elliott before, turns out her stuff’s incredibly fun!

Baaba Maal, Mansour Seck Djam Leelii (1989): The kind of music I could pretty easily spend all day with, but on the scale of things, I kind of wish it had more texture to it

Kool Keith Dr. Octagon Dr. Octagonecologyst (1996): The arrangements were often interesting. Extremely stupid concept.

B.B. King Live At The Regal (1965): Extremely pleasant blues

Harry Nilsson Nilsson Schmilsson (1971): I spent about half this album wondering why I recognized his name until I got to the lime & coconunt song (simply called “Coconut”, apparently!), which was like somebody slapped me. What’s crazy is the rest of the thing sounds nothing like that! Most of the rest of the album sounds like the halfway point between Beatles and Elton John, it’s great!

Seriously, I wish I could explain better what it is about this that’s like, similar to Beatles and other late-60s brit acts like Kinks, Monkees etc, but different in a way that I liked way more. Like it incorporates blues a lot more, maybe?

#1001 albums

[zoeoliver]

[Download Book] American Sfoglino: A Master Class in Handmade Pasta (Pasta Cookbook, Italian Cooking Books, Pasta and Noodle Cooking) - Evan Funke

Download Or Read PDF American Sfoglino: A Master Class in Handmade Pasta (Pasta Cookbook, Italian Cooking Books, Pasta and Noodle Cooking) - Evan Funke Free Full Pages Online With Audiobook.

  [*] Download PDF Here => American Sfoglino: A Master Class in Handmade Pasta (Pasta Cookbook, Italian Cooking Books, Pasta and Noodle Cooking)

[*] Read PDF Here => American Sfoglino: A Master Class in Handmade Pasta (Pasta Cookbook, Italian Cooking Books, Pasta and Noodle Cooking)

 "Evan Funke's respect for tradition and detail makes American Sfoglino the perfect introduction to the fresh egg pastas of Emilia-Romagna. It's bold in its simplicity and focus." ? Missy Robbins, chef/owner of Lilia and MISI2020 IACP Awards Finalist - Chefs & Restaurants2020 IACP Awards Finalist - Food Photography & StylingA comprehensive guide to making the best pasta in the world: In this debut cookbook from Evan Funke, he shares classic techniques from his Emilia-Romagna training and provides accessible instructions for making his award-winning sfoglia (sheet pasta) at home. With little more than flour, eggs, and a rolling pin, you too can be a sfoglino (a pasta maker) and create traditional Italian noodles that are perfectly paired with the right sauces.Features recipes for home cooks to recreate 15 classic pasta shapes, spanning simple pappardelle to perfect tortelloni.Beginning with four foundational doughs, American Sfoglino takes readers step by step through recipes

[themanhattanfoodproject]

One of the pastas that I’ve been intrigued by in Missy Robbins’s Pasta is her pink peppercorn and Parmigiano-Reggiano pasta, but I decided to add some citrus to it because I had a bag of Cara Cara oranges that needed some use. 

Pink peppercorns are an interesting ingredient--they are far more delicate than their black counterparts, and they bring in a much different flavor profile versus black peppercorns, but it’s one I want to play with. The original recipe is kind of a cacio e pepe variation with Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese and the pink peppercorns, while I was playing up the pink concept with the Cara Cara oranges. Unlike blood oranges, you don’t really get any color in the juice, so it didn’t end up as pink as I initially thought, but the final dish was still really good.

#food #cooking #pasta #citrus #pink peppercorns

[kireiscorner]

We know you guys are waiting patiently so here are some glimpses at some season 3 designs that'll appear in the comic ^_^ thanks for being patient with us! We're planning a Q&A for Saturday (the 28th) to let fans talk with all 4 of us; more to come later.

#lolirock #iris princess of Ephedia #auriana princess of volta #talia princess of Xeris #izira princess of Xeris #lolirock Nathaniel #doug #Matt #missy robbins #Zack Brady #lrs3 #lolirock comic #fanart

[allwayshungry]

Missy Robbin’s Speedy Kale and White Bean Stew

The first thing you’ll notice about this stew is that you can cook and serve it in about the time it would normally take for you to sauté greens. The second is that the broth is made from a second-string ingredient that other recipes tend to leave behind—the discarded juice from canned tomatoes. If you’re irked right now that you want to make this stew and don’t have a stash of leftover juice on hand—don’t worry, Missy Robbins and I thought of that! She also allows for tomato passata (also labeled strained tomatoes), a similarly thick, rich tomato puree sold by the bottle or box. Or you can do as I’ve been doing lately: Buy the cans of tomatoes for the juice, then hang onto the tomatoes for dinner later in the week (or freeze them). Adapted slightly from Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner... Life (Rizzoli, 2017).

Ingredients

1 large bunch Tuscan kale or 2 small ones

2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced

1 1/2 teaspoons red chile flakes

2 cups juice from two 28-ounce cans whole peeled San Marzano tomatoes (save the tomatoes for another use) or tomato passata

1 15-ounce can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, or more to taste

1/2 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

Directions

Remove the leaves from the woody stems of the kale and wash leaves. Save the stems for another use.

Heat a shallow saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the olive oil and garlic to the pan and sweat until aromatic but not browned. Add the chili flakes.

Rip the kale leaves into rough, 2-inch pieces and add to the pan. Lightly sweat until well-coated in the oil and starting to wilt, 3 to 4 minutes.

Add the San Marzano juice and cook the kale until tender, about 10 to 12 minutes. If using passata and the juice is too thick, add a cup of water, which will evaporate as it cooks. The kale will also release a bit of water.

Add the cannellini beans to the kale just to heat them through.

Season with the salt, stir to incorporate, and taste. Add more salt if necessary.

Transfer the kale into a large serving bowl or two soup bowls and top with Parmigiano-Reggiano.

Tags:

#Missy Robbin’s Speedy Kale and White Bean Stew #white bean kale stew #stew #missy robbins #food52

[allwaysfull]

Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner...Life | Missy Robbins

#breakfast lunch dinner life #missy robbins

[rafascosmic]

Pretty much the only Women I would gladly give my life for 🥰😍❤

#viola davis #annalise keating #missy peregrym #andy mcnally #callie torres #arizona robbins #calzona #grey's anatomy #ayo #florence kasumba #tfatws #dora milaje #grace ryder #sierra mcclain #natacha karam #marjan marwani #hen wilson #aisha hinds #angela bassett #athena grant #vic hughes #barrett doss #station 19 #htgawm #rookie blue #911 lone star #danneel ackles #anael spn

[viceland]

Mario Batali cooks Tuscany & Umbria inspired dishes for Action Bronson and Missy Robbins MOLTISSIMO wednesdays 10p 

#moltissimo #vice #viceland #mario batali #action bronson #missy robbins