#cube sugar forming machine

[jjkamochoso]

The Perfect Fit

Story Overview: Levi Ackerman begrudgingly finds himself falling in love with the Survey Corps’ seamstress. Will they be able to own up to their feelings for each other? Or is their love doomed to fail before they discover the truths of each other’s hearts? This slow burn reader insert story will be filled with angst, yearning, and a bit of mystery as we slowly unravel the truths behind Y/N’s past… and explore her and Levi’s future!

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 linked here

Chapter 3 linked here

Levi Ackerman x female reader

Warnings: cussing, mentions of blood and pus (not graphic)

You decided it was in your best interest to listen to Levi’s advice and go see the medic to get your fingers treated. You knew they couldn’t do much for blisters but getting bandaged up, at the very least, would prevent infection and further damage. Even with the aid of your new sewing machine, you couldn’t risk your hands being out of commission since you had no other means of making money. So, before the sun rose too high in the sky, you walked to your small stable, ready to unleash your horse from her confines to take you back to the Scouts. However, when you greeted her, she didn’t look too good.

“Aww my poor thing, are you feeling alright?” you asked, petting her snout and coaxing her to eat a sugar cube, but she refused it.

She probably worked too hard yesterday dragging that cart in the heat, you thought to yourself, a frown forming on your face. You became increasingly worried when she began to cough and you knew that was a bad sign pointing to illness. Trying to stay as calm as possible, you made sure she had plenty of food and water for the time you’d be gone and after you gave her snuggles, you started the trek into the forest on foot.

As you got deeper and deeper into the woods, you realized the risk you were taking. Titan sightings had been on the rise everywhere and here you were without a horse. You couldn’t imagine them infiltrating Wall Rose, but anything was possible. If you were unlucky enough to run into one of the giant beasts, you’d be their dinner in no time. Thankfully, your place was only a 10 minute walk to the former Survey Corps HQ, but today, it felt like a lifetime. You picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog. You were so on edge the entire trip that you couldn’t appreciate the birds chirping and flying away, too fearful that it could signify something was headed your way to gobble you up. Your anxiety didn’t cease until you spotted the castle. The slightly crumbling walls never looked so beautiful to you than in that moment. Catching your breath, you straightened out your disheveled outfit. As you approached the gate to enter, you were questioned by two young soldiers who were on the lookout tower.

“Who goes there? State your name and business” one said, clearly deepening his voice in an attempt to seem older and more intimidating. His comrade, unamused, elbowed him in the stomach. They began to quarrel and any other day you would’ve found their antics endearing, but you were in a hurry.

“My name is y/n L/n, Captain Levi told me to see the medic here.” You held his note in your outstretched hand. The boys stopped bickering as the taller one came down the tower, leaving the one with the buzz cut above. The gate was opened barely enough for you to squeeze through as the boy read over your letter. Satisfied with its contents, he nodded and handed it back to you.

“Here you go, miss, the medic is-” The boy suddenly stopped, a look of realization dawning on his face. “Wait, y/n L/n? The seamstress?”

When you nodded yes, he broke out in a huge smile.

“No way! You’re a legend around here!” He yelled up to the boy on the tower. “Connie! She’s the seamstress!”

Connie smiled eagerly as he waved and shouted, “Thank you for all your work, Ms. L/n!”

You felt your heart pang with sadness. These kids were so sweet, yet you knew they had to face so many horrors in their short lifespan. You were just glad to bring them a bit of joy in an otherwise bleak existence.

“No problem, Connie!” you yelled back, giving him a wave. “Thanks for all the hard work that you do!” You let out a laugh when you saw him clutch his chest and pretend to faint. Your attention was turned back to the boy who was still next to you.

“So, you need the medic? You know where to go or can I escort you?” he asked.

“I have zero clue where to go, but is it alright that you leave your post? I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Connie’s got it,” he sputtered out, but quickly returned to a more poised version of himself. “Besides, I wouldn’t want a pretty lady like you to get lost around here. Name’s Jean.”

You tried your hardest not to giggle as he led you to your destination. These kids were truly something else! You were glad they hadn’t lost their teenage “charm” to the cruelty of the life around them, but if Jean kept flirting with you, it’d be a bit awkward.

“What do you guys do for fun around here?” you asked, keeping the mood light.

“Fun? I mostly train while the other soldiers slack off. I could show you a few of my moves if you’re around after my shift at the tower is over,” Jean said, not-so-subtlety flexing his muscles. You sighed. You had to put an end to this, now.

“Hey Jean? How old do you think I am?”

He took a moment, obviously thinking hard. “You don’t look a day over 20.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” you replied, “but I’m definitely older than that. Think Captain Levi’s age.”

“Wow, that’s old!” he exclaimed, a surprised look on his face. “You’re only a few years younger than my mom.”

You weren’t sure what his response would be, but you certainly weren’t expecting that. You weren’t in the mood for conversation anymore. Luckily for the both of you, you had arrived to the infirmary and Jean begrudgingly took his leave (he wasn’t sure if you’d be able to find your way out but you finally convinced him that yes, you’d remember to make a left at the end of the hallway and walk in a straight line back to the gate you entered). Getting your fingers bandaged up felt really nice and you wondered why you didn’t do it earlier. Right, you couldn’t afford gauze. Thanking the medic for being gentle yet speedy, you hurried back toward the gate. Little did you know, a certain raven haired man was watching you like a hawk.

As you approached Jean and Connie once more, you heard a familiar voice.

“Oi! Brat!”

The three of you whipped your heads around to see Levi walking your way.

“The woman brat, not you two. Back to work,” he barked, and the boys saluted quickly, not wanting to get on his bad side.

“Where’s your horse?” he questioned you, arms crossed and scowling. Was he always so serious?

“She’s at home.” You wanted to explain yourself further but he spoke too fast.

“You mean to tell me, you what? Walked here? Tch, you’re stupider than I thought. I’m taking you home.”

You understood how he rose up the ranks to captain because he was very good at bossing people around.

“Captain!” you hurried to catch up to him since he was already almost to his horse at the stables. His legs were short but he was lightning fast!

“Captain! Please, it’s alright. I got here fine, I’ll get home okay. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

“You’d cause me more trouble as potential titan food or robbery victim. Quit your whining and get on the damn horse.”

It was no use arguing with him and you needed to get home fast anyway since your client appointments were coming up soon. When you found yourself with your chest pressed against his back, legs touching, you felt your heart begin to race but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. Levi’s horse bucked forward a bit and you struggled to keep yourself upright, having nothing to hold onto.

“You can wrap your arms around me, you know. I don’t bite.”

“Somehow I doubt that’s true,” you muttered, hesitantly resting your arms on his apparently sculpted abdomen. Little did you know your comment coupled with your closeness caused Levi’s lips to quirk up in the smallest manner.

The horse ride to your place was quiet, neither of you in the mood for idle chitchat. It was nice to see the world from the view as a passenger on a horse for once. Usually you had to pay close attention to where you were going, but today, you felt a sort of freedom for the first time in a long time. You were the safest as you’d ever be, riding with humanity’s strongest soldier, in a quiet forest. Was this was heaven felt like? Being in the presence of nobody but the trees, a handsome man and a galloping horse?

Wait.

Did you just call Levi handsome and envision your dream life with him?

You shook your head, trying to shake those thoughts from your mind as fast as possible. You just met the man a day ago, for crying out loud, and the only reason you were catching feelings was because you were touch starved. Definitely not because he was extremely cute, was super helpful to you for no reason in the past day you’ve known him, and was eyeing you from his turned around position on the horse, wondering what the hell was wrong with you, why are you daydreaming like an idiot—

Oh yeah. You must be home.

You blinked a few times, hoping it would be enough to wipe away the sin of dreaming about a man you could never have.

“Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. This is me.” You let go of his waist and he dismounted, waiting for you to do so as well, and he tied his horse to the pole you had in front of your house. You were confused by his action, thinking he was going to leave after dropping you off, but you didn’t mind his company so you invited him in. As you entered your house, you hoped the captain wouldn’t notice all the structural damage and rot your residence had. You didn’t think you had it in you to take any more of his criticism. You thought that too soon, however, because Levi immediately got to examining your workshop like some sort of crazed policeman scouring a crime scene for the last clue needed to solve a murder.

“Thanks for the gift, by the way. It’ll be very useful,” you said, breaking the silence and nodding to the sewing machine.

Levi rolled his eyes, temporarily pausing his inspection. “I got it for you because I didn’t want your nasty blood and pus filled blister fingers all over everyone’s clothes. And so there’s no more favoritism in whose uniform gets the best treatment, especially if that person was Hange.”

“Does that statement stand if I decide to make you the person to receive special treatment?” you teased, while Levi shot you a glare. You busied yourself with arranging the measuring tapes and other equipment needed for your clients who were bound to be there at any moment. You noticed Levi was still stalking around your workshop and he answered your unspoken question of what he was thinking about.

“This house is a mess, inside and out! It’s one titan fart away from getting blown over. How can you work in such a shithole?”

Ah, so he had noticed. You averted your gaze, not wanting to irritate him further. “Commander Erwin found this place for me and without it, I’d have nowhere to live. The Scouts are my main source of income but I take on civilian jobs for supplemental income. I’ve been saving my money to rent a house in one of the local villages or fix this place up but I… my horse is sick and she needs to see a veterinarian. I’d gladly live in this shack or worse as long as she gets the help she needs.”

“How do you determine the fee for your work?” Levi suddenly asked, “Is it by item or size of the tear?”

You tried to gauge what Levi was thinking but he wore his trademark unreadable expression.

“Both, but mostly how big the tear is. For example, a cheaper fix would be an undershirt with a small hole and something pretty expensive would be a cape with a giant hole. I usually-”

You were interrupted by Levi unclasping his cape, grasping it firmly in his hands, and ripping the fabric in one fell swoop. You stood there, dumbfounded, as he placed the mangled textile on the table next to you.

“I would like this back by tomorrow or the next day, if that’s alright.”

The captain turned to leave while you were left struggling to find your voice.

“Tomorrow evening works,” you managed to squeak. “Drop off or pick up?”

“Pick up is fine. See you around closing.” He shut the door behind him and you were left wondering—

What the hell just happened?

Chapter 3

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi angst #levi fluff #levi ackerman x reader angst #levi ackerman x reader fluff

[oyesmendes]

pancakes & coffee for two

masterlist

it was the stream of sunlight and the cool sheets of daniel's side of the bed that woke you up. you hadn't opened your eyes, but your hands felt around the bed for the warm body that you craved, and it was no where to be found. frowning, you opened you eyes to be met with the blanket fully covering your body, and his side of the bed empty. its supposed to be winter break, off season, no morning workout commitments, yet the australian was no where to be found in your shared bedroom.

you made your way out of the room, and the sound of clanging of bowls and utensils brought you to the kitchen.

"danny, what are you doing?"

you lean against the wall, arms folded loosely in front of you. he grins at you, whisk in hand as he stirs up some form of liquid in a metal bowl. the metal bowl from your prized kitchen aid, which was bought with your first paycheck, cradled in the arms of your boyfriend.

"morning love, i'm making pancakes." he tells you, shifting his attention back to the ipad that was propped carefully in front of him.

"you- you're making breakfast?" you look at him, wide-eyed. then your eyes scan the room, and the table was absolutely battered - carton of eggs left wide open, flour all over the countertop, chocolate chips, blueberries and bananas laid all across the surface.

"oh don't look so scared honey, i've got things under control."

and when daniel meant he had things under control, he meant spooning the pancake batter straight on to your induction stove.

"DANIEL!" you shouted, but it was too late. at least half the ladle of batter was spreading onto the surface. you ran over quickly, turning the stove off and take the items from his hand.

"use a pan, babe. please." you nodded towards the wall lined with perfectly shaped pans for frying, boiling, grilling - you name it, you had it. there's a sheepish grin on daniel's face as he picked out a medium sized pan, placing it on the induction stove right next to his disaster. you grabbed a wet cloth, wiping the now half cooked batter off the stove.

you rinsed the cloth at the sink, and daniel hugged you from behind,

"m'sorry, just wanted to make breakfast for us."

"its okay danny," you spun around to face him, "how about this? i'll make us the pancakes, and you can make the coffee? i've got some new pods we could try."

although reluctant and sad that you had banished him with a job that pretty much only required the hit of two buttons, daniel agreed to the arrangement. you started preparing the pancakes, while he chose two matching mugs from the cupboards and placed them by the coffee machine.

he took his job seriously, pouring the oatmilk with much precision into the frother, and making sure he got the temperature of the milk just right. you watch as his tongue sticks out with his concentration, pouring the now warm and fluffy milk into the mug.

two shots of espresso, one cube of sugar, and a splash of milk for you.

you return your attention to the stove. its not long before you were flipping multiple pancakes and you must admit, he did a great job with the batter despite the mess. the house was filled with the aroma of sweet, buttery pancakes, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee made you smile. he hands you your mug as you waited for the next batch of pancakes to cook, and you couldn't help but moan when the coffee hits your tongue.

"mmm, this is good danny." he takes the mug back, setting it on the counter so you could get back to the food.

"at least i could get one thing right."

"aw don't say that, you made a perfect batter for the pancakes. its a job well done." you gesture to the stack on the plate. he wraps his arm around your shoulder after you cook the remaining pancakes, and you both just stand there for awhile - admiring the view out of the window overlooking the city.

"just don't take my stove as a hibachi grill again please." you joke. daniel squeezes you closer to him, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

"i promise i won't."

"good. now eat up because you're on clean up duty."

a/n: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP IDK WHY I DID THIS!!!! reposting bc i dont show up in the tags???

taglist: @primadonnasdream @dr3lover @chicadelapartamento512-blog @thebagginsofbaggend @d0ntjudgemy50shades @cowspew @justthatgirlxox @ggaslyp1 @fromthedeskofjoii @lorenakaspersen @words-4u @o0itsjustme0o @gulsolsikke @enjoymyloves @rmaddens-blog @care2703 @katcontrreras @tattered-tales @piceous21​ @kyomihann @sgkophie @idkiwantchocolate @ricc3rodeo @organasith @anthonykatebridgerton @icecoldtires @vamossainz55 @ophcelia @dudde-44 @ladyf1 @kissatelier @leclerc16s @nmw-am @dan3avocado @ally4and33 @amsofftrack

let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist!

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fic #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 fanfiction #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fic

[stevebattle]

LEARN by Anthony Platt, Peter Bailey, Gary Ridgdill, and William Hurst (1970), Massachusetts Institute of Technology, MA. LEARN was developed by M.I.T. Master’s of Architecture students. A simple architectural model is built from sugar cubes (top image) and then transcribed to punch cards identifying the location of each cube. Design criteria derived from many such inputs enable the machine to generate a solution of its own in a similar style (bottom image). "The appeal of this simple experiment is that the criteria were first determined from the form and then used in the generation of the alternatives. The students observed the variations within the given 'style' of the solution." – Nicholas Negroponte, The Architecture Machine: Toward a More Human Environment.

#cybernetics #architecture #1970

[skzsauce01]

Designer Eye Bags and Luxury Grenades

Synopsis: Minho is simultaneously the best and worst partner you could have chosen for the chariot race. Or, the epic highs and lows of demigod chariot races.

Warning: mentions and uses of weapons

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: son of Hermes!Minho x child of Hephaestus!reader

Camp Half-Blood AU Masterlist

You and Minho agreed that he would source the chariot while you would build the horses for the upcoming chariot race since regular, organic horses don’t like you much. You’ve tried to trick them with sugar cubes, but they can always smell your fear or hesitation or general disdain for anything that you can’t take apart. Because of that, the last race was disastrous, and you don’t want a repeat of that. As such, for the past couple of days, you have been spending every waking minute at the forge, melting and molding Celestial Bronze and tinkering around with gears. All those sleep deprived nights paid off. Gleaming golden in the sun, your creations are a thing of beauty as they walk autonomously around the arena.

“Wow,” Minho says.

You smile proudly at the pair of metal horses whom you’ve named Squeaky and Clicky. Everyone else has noticed them now, and you accept their looks of awe readily. “Yep. Look at them go. We’re winning this for sure.”

“I was talking about the bags under your eyes. Gucci or Prada?”

You snort and say, “Hermès,” which makes him crack a smile. “Where’s the chariot?”

With an even broader grin, Minho gestures to the dingy, abandoned wheelbarrow-esque contraption behind him. “Ta-da! Courtesy of Demeter’s Cabin.”

Normally, you would think that Minho stole it—after all, he is the son of the god of thieves—but this “chariot” looks so dilapidated that you would believe the campers from Cabin 4 willingly gave it to him. The wood in the front is rotting, the wheels are out of shape, and the whole thing screams, “Dead weight!” You can’t believe you trusted him, best friend or not.

“Are you serious? I spent all that time making our horses, and all you can come up with is this?” You point at your face. “Designer eye bags, Minho, and I get this in return?”

He shrugs. “Jackson stole the one I wanted, and he threatened to put me on cleaning duty for a week if I stole it back. But you can fix it up. You can fix anything.”

Flattery is a powerful weapon. You sigh and begin circling around the wheelbarrow, appraising it up and down. You have never understood your father more now. Machines can be tricky and require you to be very specific, but organic life forms don’t do what you tell them to most of the time either. Sure, you can repair this, but it would be much better and probably more efficient if you just made one from scratch. The issue is that you don’t think you can do that in two hours.

You whistle for Squeaky and Clicky, and they come trotting back to you. Minho nods appreciatively at their quick pace and pats Squeaky on the nose.

“Nice horsey,” he says. “Don’t breathe fire on me.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t have time for that. Okay, I need a hacksaw and as much Celestial Bronze as you can find. Just to make sure, you have weapons right, or do I need to make those for you too?”

He smirks. “C’mon, what do you think I spent all my time doing? I got us covered, just focus on the chariot.”

You respond by reaching into your tool belt for a hammer and smashing the two handles of the wheelbarrow. Squeaky and Clicky make noises of approval, and Minho hurries off to get you your materials.

Up until the race begins, you’re hard at work at destroying and rebuilding. Meanwhile, Minho greases the horses and scouts out the competitors. The chariot races are no longer restricted to teams from the same cabin, though many campers still pair up with their siblings. As usual, Apollo’s Cabin’s chariot is led by bright white horses, and the duo from Ares’ Cabin have skeleton horses. A team comprised of the sole child of Hades and a son of Demeter also has skeleton horses. When you ask for details on the chariots since information on the horses isn’t that useful, you learn that Seungmin from Athena’s Cabin has a spring-loaded net trap set up. You have tin snips, a tool made for cutting metal, in your belt, so that’s hardly a concern for you.

When you complete your revisions, the finished chariot looks nothing like what it started off as, with Celestial Bronze sheets reinforcing the frame and sturdy wheels that won’t fall apart after two seconds. It’s not perfect, but it’s pretty good for the small amount of time you had.

As Minho harnesses Squeaky and Clicky to it, you do one last maintenance check on them, making sure that their gears are well oiled and the little secrets you implemented in them are still in good shape. At the start line, you stand in the front with the reins in your hands while Minho stands behind you with his sword out. You note that his shirt looks suspiciously bulky but say nothing now that all of the participants have lined up beside you.

The chariot races require a driver and a fighter, but new rules state that drivers and fighters are permitted to switch positions if desired, which is why you have a large hammer resting between your feet. It’s not like you really need to drive Squeaky and Clicky with reins anyway; they’ll follow your verbal instructions.

“Try not to fall off like last time. They’re fast,” you mumble as you shift your stance. Chiron is almost done explaining the rules everyone knows.

“You spooked the horses, not my fau—”

You cut him with a loud shout for Squeaky and Clicky to go, and Minho grabs onto the side for stability. You take the lead swiftly as your horses are warmed up from their trotting earlier. Your partner, however, is currently holding on for dear life as he swings his sword to deflect the arrows Felix from Apollo’s Cabin has started shooting.

“Left!” Minho shouts and you repeat the command to your horses who veer viciously into the crimson chariot from Ares’ Cabin.

“A little to the right!” you shout once you notice that Changbin has his electric spear with him. It crackles when he jabs his spear in your direction. Too frazzled to speak, you jerk the reins even further to the right. “Minho!”

Ares’ Cabin is on your tail now, so you have to switch between focusing on the track and defending yourself from them. Even after flinging a handful of nails at him, Changbin still relents. To make things worse, Aphrodite’s Cabin has gotten sight of you, and their most combative camper is leading the charge with a sword. Behind you, Minho growls.

“Can your horses go any faster?” he yells.

“Hold on tight! Giddy up!”

That phrase activates the store of nitrous oxide you placed in them, and the chariot lurches forward. Squeaky and Clicky are increasing their lead, so you glance back to get the bearings of everyone else only to see Minho pulling the pin of a grenade with his teeth.

“Cover your ears!” he shouts directly in your ear as he lobs the grenade.

You swiftly turn around and do as he says. Instead of a loud explosion, there’s a series of popping sounds and the smell of hot butter. Minho swears, and you look back to see multicolored popcorn all over the track. Not exactly ideal, but a few of the horses get distracted by the food and linger behind as their drivers try to get them back on course.

“That was the wrong one,” Minho groans as he fumbles around beneath his shirt where he definitely has grenades strapped on.

“Where did you get grenades from?” you hiss. Hecate’s Cabin has appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and their fighter is leaning over the side with a dagger taped to the end of a broom. An interesting choice when spears exist, but you’re not too interested in finding out how well that makeshift weapon works. “Left! Watch your right, Minho! Also, your grenades?”

Minho easily parries the attacks with one hand while double checking his stash with the other. “I made some, stole some. Left!”

“We’re already going left!”

“No, I said net!”

You preemptively reach for your tin snips, but the Celestial Bronze woven net lands on top of Squeaky and Clicky, tangling their feet together, and the fail-safe you implemented makes them completely halt. It’s your turn to swear as a parade of chariots glide past yours. As you bitterly stare at Athena’s Cabin’s team, your horses obediently wait for you to fix the issue.

“Eat,” you command, and they begin gnawing at the metal ropes at their hooves. Powerful teeth in exchange for fire breathing was a good decision. You would help them if you could, but the rules state that if you leave the chariot, you’ll be disqualified, so you have Minho lift up sections of the net with his sword for you to cut. “Eat faster,” you mumble, knowing full well that such a command doesn’t exist in their program.

“We can still win this,” Minho assures. “I’ve got four more, and two of them are from Ares’ Cabin. But one is confetti for when we win, so I guess it’s just three.”

Of course he would have one with confetti. “What else you got?”

“Um… Greek fire, a pig ball, a couple of hay fever arrows. We both suck at using a bow though.”

You can work with that. You’ve practiced tennis serves with hammers and nails before. A loud boom from farther down the track draws your attention, and fortunately, Squeaky and Clicky have finally eaten through the mess at their feet.

“Go! Giddy up!”

The boom from earlier, caused by Greek fire by the looks of it, disqualified the non-Ares team with skeletal horses. A charred chariot from Athena’s Cabin and a destroyed chariot from Dionysus’s Cabin also lay in the rubble. As Minho lowly whistles when he sees the damage, you fly right past the scene and barge your way into the thick of the masses.

Minho leans over the side and waves at Ares’ Cabin. “Hey, Changbin, catch!”

Minho tosses him the pig ball. Confused, Changbin, the ever athletic demigod, catches it with one hand, transforming his team and two other teams beside him into little teacup pigs. All six squeal and scamper everywhere, leading to chaos on that side of the track. You direct your horses to the opposite side where Hecate’s and Aphrodite’s Cabins are locked in a fierce duel. They ignore you and Minho, which gives Minho the opportunity to slide out a new grenade to use. He throws it far ahead to where Apollo’s Cabin is, and you both cover your ears. It’s a real one this time, albeit less explosive than the usual because Camp Half-Blood has regulations on weapons of mass destruction in camp games. In the commotion, Minho also decides to borrow your hammer to swing at the chariots of the dueling teams, toppling the Aphrodite fighter off.

You urge Squeaky and Clicky forward and pass by the craters of the grenade. Minho pushes your hammer into your hands and points at the red chariot. Though the chariot is Ares’ Cabin’s, the team aboard it is from Hermes’ Cabin.

“We have to take them down,” Minho insists. His sword is back in his grip, and he lowers himself into a proper fighting stance. “Get closer.”

“A little to the left! Give me the arrows.”

He places all of them into your tool belt. When you’re close enough, you execute a perfect tennis serve, and the hay fever arrow lands cleanly onto the side of the chariot. A puff of white smoke later, Hermes’ Cabin team is violently sneezing and losing control.

“That’s what you get for stealing our chariot!” Minho yells as he makes a gesture that would offend anyone. After making another one with his sword, he nudges you. “It’s just Ares and Apollo now. I’ll drive, you shoot.”

You yank the reins as the skeletal horses start galloping in your direction. “They’ll only listen to me! Also, you’re a horrible driver.”

“Fine, we’ll both fight.”

Apollo’s Cabin is in front, so you aim at them while Minho focuses on the closer range attacks from Ares’ Cabin. However, your aim isn’t as good as Felix’s. He meets your arrows with his own, and the hay fever magic bound in them dissipates into the air. On the other hand, Minho is holding up surprisingly well to Changbin’s electric spear, though he does scream a few times when the tip of the spear scrapes his arm. When you’re out of arrows, you assist Minho. With a well-timed smash, you break Changbin’s weapon, which results in a very upset child of Ares that you do not want to be on the other end of.

You flash him an apologetic look before saying, “Giddy up!”

The finish line is just around the corner, and the only thing that stands in your way is an annoying archer. And possibly an angry Changbin, but he’s been left in the dust, so he’s not a priority.

“All the way to the left!” Minho says, and you tell the horses the same thing. You have no idea what he has planned. “Duck!”

While you wildly look around for a duck on the loose, Minho shoves you down to the floor of the chariot and throws something. Another loud boom shakes the ground, and you realize that that was Greek fire. When you peer out over the side, you are greeted with scattered green fires and two white horses running frantically around with an empty chariot behind them. They’re unharmed, but the same can’t be said for their driver and fighter, both of whom are moaning on the ground. You hope they have ambrosia with them.

“Cabin 20 incoming!” Minho says, drawing his sword out to face off the dagger-broom combination weapon. He tries to slice the broom handle in half, but his sword transforms into a piece of driftwood. “Giddy up! Giddy up!”

The chariot suddenly dips to one side, threatening to dump both you and Minho out. Clicky is starting to steam, but you push your team forward since the finish line is in sight. Minho informs you that one of the wheels is now a tumbleweed and that he’s now going to use a grenade.

“We’re almost there!” you tell him, trying to stop him.

However, as Squeaky and Clicky thunder past the finish line with Hecate’s Cabin following close behind, he pulls out the pin. Like all of the campers gathered, you put your hands over your ears and pray that he launches it far away. Instead, there’s only a relatively quiet pop. When you look, a spiral of colorful confetti rains down on you and Minho, who has a smug grin on.

“Told you we would win.” He catches a handful of the confetti and throws it haphazardly at your face, making you bat them away. “I told you so, but guess who still doubted me?

You sigh and mumble something about Hermès bags, receiving a light flick to your arm. You don’t really care about that now that you’ve won, but there’s something about the way Minho gloats that both irritates and amuses you.

Organic life forms—always a pain.

#stray kids #skz #lee know #lee minho #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #lee know imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #lee know scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #stray kids au #skz au #pjo au #demigod au #camp half blood au #20220714

[thehyperrequiem]

What a Weird looking dog...Wait, that's not a Dog-

"A beast lurks in the shadows of what used to be a tunnel of love. However, this beast knows no love-but bloodlust. And believe me, Lust is a very strong emotion-just as strong as this beast who was once human.” (Description by @sundove88)

Corrupted! Secco is a monster similar to Corrupted! Ghiaccio, but instead of an Icy Feline-like Oni, Corrupted! Secco takes form of what described to be a Chupacabra. His territory is "Loverwall", a Tunnel of Love Attraction that is next door to Corrupted! Cioccolata's Haunted Hospital Attraction (Also known as "Asylum of Broken Dreams"), which the Tunnel of Love used to have water and it is clean, but now it is all messy with mud and liquified ground he gathers from his body.

Corrupted! Secco is pretty much a big threat, especially after you got away from Corrupted! Cioccolata and his moldy hospital of his territory since Secco has rows of sharp teeth in his stitched-up mouth in this state, his main trick is that he hunts from below the ground after liquifying it with his magical drool, to know that he is under the ground, always look around for any signs of sinking dirt or any distorted canine like growl/snarl, he is near the pile, but that is not all, his claws and feet help him navigate through his dirty travels. But better beware, he can spit out mud from his mouth thanks to the burrowing and digging underground like a deranged, mindless dog mole thing.

The best way to surviving him is not just paying attention to where you step and/or to your surroundings, but you have to use sugar cubes to distract this crazy beast, you can find bags from the candy vending machine where they sell chocolate covered sugar cube treats or any kind of sugar cube treats you see.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba part 5 #secco #jjba secco #vento aureo #jjba vento aureo #secco jojo #corrupted stand users #Shadow Stands

[addcests]

you’re beautiful [ao3]

pairing DBrDom

words 913

summary  There were some things Doom Bringer and Dominator couldn’t see eye to eye on. Mundane, ordinary things such as whether cake with frosting was too sweet, or if coffee best served black or with cream and sugar, or even something so simple but personalized as the taste of their clothes. Little trivial differences that Doom Bringer could overlook. Things one would agree to disagree about.

note inspired by dbreater (@ twitter)’s work (link here)! with permission to post! :> thank you for the lovely add comics!

There were some things Doom Bringer and Dominator couldn’t see eye to eye on. Mundane, ordinary things such as whether cake with frosting was too sweet, or if coffee best served black or with cream and sugar, or even something so simple but personalized as the taste of their clothes. Little trivial differences that Doom Bringer could overlook. Things one would agree to disagree about.

But there was always the touchy topic of their scar.

When Doom Bringer ripped his shackles off, a brilliant and defiant show of his unadulterated freedom that he obtained for himself, Dominator had looked at him with such disdain. They had even fought about it, at first. But this was one topic they’d refuse to let go. Both too stubborn to understand the other at the time.

“It’s an eyesore, Psyker. Maybe it looks good on you,” and there was an unsaid brute such as yourself that Dominator did not tack on as he continued, “but I won’t subject myself to something so imperfect. I look in the mirror and—it’s ugly.” And he would tug his turtleneck up, anything to hide the scar.

They’d argue so much after.

But with time, they would come to try to understand one another. They had to, to move forward from this.

But Dominator would of course still do all he could to hide the scar.

And Doom Bringer let him have that. After all, Dominator didn’t force him to change his stance on this and neither would he. Still, he couldn't help himself sometimes…

It was morning, and Doom Bringer was setting up the coffee for everyone, and for one particular caffeine fiend. He blinked the sleepiness from his eyes as he started the machine, opting for a glass of water himself. Leaning back against the counter, he took absentminded little sips and waited. 

Soon, Dominator waltzed in, flashing Doom Bringer a smile and greeting as he took a seat and went back to pouring over data on screens.

“Don’t bring your work to the table,” he muttered. “‘s rude, you know.”

“Yes dear,” Dominator mumbled back, distracted, not once taking his eyes away from the screens before him.

The brawler simply scoffed, shaking his head because he knew the other definitely didn’t hear him, head too wrapped around numbers and formulas as it were. He went about setting up the coffee just as Dominator liked, pulling out their matching mugs and then dumping excessive creamer in Dominator’s, and then followed up by way too much sugar. He made a face as the last sugar cube went in, wondering how Dominator could consume this much sugar and still taste any of the coffee. As he mindlessly counted the amount of sugar the scientist consumed daily, he walked back over, one cup for himself and one for Dominator in hand but stopped mid step to see Dominator was fiddling with the turtleneck.

It was a habit he had formed, Doom Bringer had noticed. He never meant anything by it, but it was subconscious in nature. 

Even so, it still bothered him.

Wordlessly, he resumed his pace to the table and sat the mugs down, eyes fixed on Dominator’s neck still. He quietly nudged Dominator’s mug to him.

“Oh, was it already ready? I could definitely use—hmm?” Dominator stopped, finally feeling Doom Bringer’s eyes on him, “Psyker?”

Upon hearing his name like that, he walked over, one hand on the table for support, and the other tugging Dominator gently by the cuff of his turtleneck, pulling the offending article down just enough so he could reach his goal. Once the scar was free, he laid his lips upon Dominator’s neck, almost reverent in nature with how terribly soft he kissed him there. Doom Bringer pulled back, but only just barely, eyes closed, then fixed Dominator with a look so full of emotion, he could feel it stir in his heart. “My love, you’re beautiful.”

Dominator’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes were wide, face already dusted light pink, blushing. “Psyker… ?” 

Again, Doom Bringer went back in, lips feather light, barely there as he kissed the spot again. 

Dominator gasped audibly, eyes flying shut again, “P-Psyk?”  Dominator was putty, head tipped back so the other man could have all the space he wanted. 

And at that invitation, the brawler didn’t pull back, he kissed all along the scar, from side to side and top to bottom. Then his kisses trailed about aimlessly, kissing wherever his lips deemed fit, any of Dominator’s skin was fair game. Doom Bringer continued worshiping the area, unable to help himself. How dare Dominator ever think any part of him was ugly. He would kiss him again and again and again until he knew just how beautiful he saw him.

“You are beautiful, Dominator” Doom Bringer said again, lips tracing the words this time along his neck. He was unsure of how long he stayed at Dominator’s neck like that. Minutes. Seconds. Finally. he drew back, but hardly space was left between them, and he rested his forehead against Dominator’s, fixing his eyes on Dominator’s heavy lidded ones. 

“Psyk,” Dominator whispered so softly, were it not for how close they were, he certainly would have missed it. He seemed at a loss, unsure of what to say next. So instead he smiled, as tender as Doom Bringer’s kisses across his skin, “Thank you.” And he leaned forward, slotting his lips against his.

And Doom Bringer met him halfway.

#my fanfiction #addcest #dbrdom #doom bringer x dominator #add x add #doom bringer #doom bringer (elsword) #dominator #dominator (elsword) #I WAS A MAN POSSESSED SEEING DBREATER'S WORK AAAAA DLGKJKLSDG SO GOOD I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF #also i was too lazy to post this until now whoops so enjoy the double posts!

[lthegoldenthreadl]

crackers in no time flat

CRISP ROSEMARY FLATBREAD CRACKERS

Makes 24 2-by-9-inch oval crackers or 5-inch round crackers.

These crackers look impressive, they taste great and they couldn’t be easier. They can be stored in an airtight container for up to five days. Adapted from a recipe in the July 2008 issue of Gourmet.

1-3/4 cups flour, plus more for the work surface

1 teaspoon baking powder

3/4 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons coarsely chopped rosemary

1/2 cup water

1/3 cup olive oil, plus more for brushing

Flaked sea salt, such as Maldon

Place a heavy baking sheet on the middle rack of the oven; preheat to 450 degrees.

Lightly flour a work surface.

Stir together the flour, baking powder, salt and 1 tablespoon of the chopped rosemary in a mixing bowl. Make a well in the center, then add the water and oil, gradually stirring them into the flour until a soft, shaggy dough forms. Turn the dough out onto the work surface and knead gently 4 or 5 times to bring the dough together into a soft, smooth ball.

Divide the dough into 6 equal pieces. Work with one piece at a time and keep the remaining pieces covered with plastic wrap. Divide the first piece into 4 equal pieces; roll each one out on a sheet of parchment paper into a long oval shape, roughly 2 inches wide and 9 inches long, or into a circle with a diameter of at least 5 inches. The dough should be very thin.

Use the tines of a fork to prick the cracker several times.

Alternatively, and for crisper results, use a pasta machine to roll out each piece of dough until very thin, usually the fifth setting on the machine. Transfer to a sheet of parchment paper.

Right before baking, lightly brush the top of each cracker with oil. Scatter a little of the remaining chopped rosemary on top, then a little of the flaked salt, pressing slightly so the flakes adhere.

Slide the parchment onto the preheated baking sheet and bake until pale golden and browned in spots, 4 to 6 minutes. Transfer the crackers to a wire rack to cool.

Repeat to use all of the remaining dough.

Nutrition per cracker (based on 24): 80 calories, 1 g protein, 9 g carbohydrates, 4 g fat, 1 g saturated fat, 0 mg cholesterol, 135 mg sodium, 0 g dietary fiber, 0 g sugar

FLAXSEED AND CRACKED PEPPER CRACKERS

Makes about 60 2-inch crackers

These earthy crackers can hold their own against a zingy tapenade or dip or a sharp cheese. Roll them as thin as you can; the thicker they are, the less crisp they’ll be. The dough needs to be wrapped and refrigerated for 10 minutes before it is rolled out.

Adapted from “Joy the Baker Cookbook,” by Joy Wilson (Hyperion, 2012).

1/2 cup all-purpose flour, plus more as needed

1/4 cup golden flaxseed

1/4 cup ground flaxseed meal

1 cup whole-wheat flour

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 to 1 teaspoon cracked black pepper

2 tablespoons chilled unsalted butter, cut into cubes

1/2 cup regular or low-fat buttermilk, or more as needed

Place a rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 325 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Lightly flour a work surface.

Whisk together the flaxseed, flaxseed meal, the whole-wheat flour and 1/2 cup of all-purpose flour, the baking soda, salt and black pepper (to taste) in a mixing bowl. Add the butter and use your fingers to quickly work it into the dry ingredients.

Make a well in the center of the mixture. Add the 1/2 cup of buttermilk and use a fork to bring all of the ingredients together, making sure that every bit of flour is moistened; add buttermilk as needed. The dough should look just slightly dry.

Turn the dough out onto the work surface and knead it about 10 times to bring the dough together. Wrap it in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 10 minutes.

When ready to bake, cut the dough in half. Return one-half to the refrigerator (wrapped) while you work with the other half.

Place the dough on the work surface and use a floured rolling pin to roll it out to a little over one-sixteenth inch thick. Use a 2-inch round cookie cutter to cut out crackers. Alternately, use a pizza cutter to cut 11/2-inch squares, or use the small cutter of your choice. Use the tines of a fork to prick each cracker several times.

Transfer to the prepared baking sheet, spacing them about 1 inch apart; bake for 15 to 18 minutes, until slightly browned around the edges. Cool completely on a wire rack. Repeat to use all of the dough. You may reroll the dough scraps and cut out more crackers; their texture will be a little tougher.

Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 4 days.

Nutrition per cracker: 20 calories, 1 g fat, 0 g saturated fat, 0 mg cholesterol, 50 mg sodium, 3 g carbohydrates, 0 g dietary fiber, 0 g sugar, 0 g protein.

EVERONA MARKET CRACKERS

Makes about 100 small crackers

Everona Dairy owner Pat Elliott developed these crackers specifically as an accompaniment to her award-winning cheese. She says their subtle buttery taste and crisp texture enhance the cheese without overpowering it.

The dairy sells several types of these crackers; see variations below. The cocoa crackers have the barest hint of chocolate flavor and are particularly suited for blue cheeses. The cinnamon-sugar variety, Elliott notes, aren’t ideal with cheese, but she likes them for their sweet taste.

Serve with cheese as snacks, as appetizers or with an after-dinner cheese plate. They’re also good with a variety of other toppings, or even unadorned. The recipe can be doubled.

The crackers can be stored in an airtight container at room temperature for about 2 weeks.

Adapted from a recipe by Elliott, owner of Everona Dairy in Rapidan, Va.

2 cups flour, plus more as needed

3/4 teaspoon sugar

3/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, at a cool room temperature

1/2 cup hot tap water, or as needed

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Lightly flour a work surface and a rolling pin.

Combine the flour, sugar, salt and baking powder in a food processor. Add the butter and pulse several times to combine. With the machine running, add enough hot water to form a smooth, soft ball, stopping to check the texture before you add all of the water; you might not need all of it. (Alternatively, whisk the dry ingredients together in a large mixing bowl and use a fork or pastry cutter to cut in the butter, then stir in the hot water.)

Turn the dough out onto the work surface and knead it quickly and lightly. Divide into fourths and wrap in plastic wrap. Let the dough rest at room temperature for about 10 minutes.

Use the floured rolling pin to roll the dough out as thinly as possible on the work surface (re-flour as needed). Ideally, the dough should be translucent enough so that you can see the work surface underneath it. You can pick up the dough and rotate it as needed in between rollings, but don’t turn it over.

Sprinkle the dough with a little flour. Fold the dough carefully into 2 or 3 pieces, transfer it to a baking sheet and unfold it to cover the sheet. Use a pastry cutting wheel or sharp knife to quickly slice the dough into approximately 11/2-inch squares, cutting the whole sheet in one direction first, then the other.

Use the tines of a fork to prick each cracker several times. You can remove any trimmed-off pieces at the edges and re-roll them later, though they will be a little tougher in texture.

Bake for 6 to 10 minutes or until the crackers turn golden and are light brown around the edges. (You might need to bake the crackers on the inside of the sheet a little longer, because they will not brown as readily.) Transfer to a wire rack to cool. Repeat to use all of the dough.

Cool completely before serving or storing.

VARIATIONS

Oat/Wheat Crackers: Follow the basic recipe, using 11/2 cups of flour and adding 1/4 cup of old-fashioned or quick-cooking rolled oats and 2 tablespoons whole-wheat flour.

Cocoa Crackers: Use 13/4 cups of flour and 1/4 cup of unsweetened cocoa powder.

Corn Spice Crackers: Substitute 2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons yellow cornmeal for an equal amount of the flour, and add red pepper flakes or taco flavoring to taste.

Pepper Crackers: Add about 1/2 teaspoon of coarsely ground black pepper.

Herb Crackers: Add 1/2 to 1 teaspoon crumbled herbes de Provence.

Cinnamon Spice Crackers: Sprinkle the crackers with a blend of ground cinnamon and sugar on the baking sheet before they go in the oven.

Nutrition per cracker: 15 calories, 0 g protein, 2 g carbohydrates, 0 g fat, 0 g saturated fat, 0 mg cholesterol, 20 mg sodium, 0 g dietary fiber, 0 g 

#Recipes for crackers in no time flat

[lamb-entertainment]

WBMM CHAPTER 5

I wake up extremely sore. There’s a wet cold cloth on my forehead and I’m stripped down to my underwear. I try to sit up but my body refuses with how weak it is. I look to the right of me. Pepper’s coffee table. 

“PEPPER! Help me sit up please!” 

I hear some noise from her bedroom as if I startled her, then footsteps. 

“Your awake!” 

“Yeah, can you please help me sit up my body hurts. Also, why the hell am I only wearing underwear.” 

Pepper steps closer, putting her hand behind my back and slowly pushing me up as my body adjusts to the feeling of sitting up. 

“Your body was over heating, and you had a temperature of 104 I had to cool you off somehow. You know my body has never been so weak from transforming before, but I’ve also never been in such control of the form either. The nice lady who called me said she only helped because of the mercy you showed with the robber and that she didn’t know vampires were so… compassionate. The only thing is that vampires really aren’t like that, not in their adrenaline form at least. So how come you were? I want to know everything that happened.” 

I took a second to try and recall everything. It seems almost like a blur now.  

“I uhm I went to go get ice cream with Vinnie and there was a robber… he tried to steal from the uh the place and after failing he…. He went for Vinnie I had been trying to keep it together but I couldn’t stop myself from… from turning I jumped on him making him fire his gun… I feel like I can still hear the ringing I then… lost control drinking his blood and I only stopped when he begged me to. I hurt him. I’m so ashamed I-.” 

“YOU BIT HIM!” 

“Yes?” 

“IN YOUR FULL FORM!” 

“Yes...?” 

“THAT MEANS HE’S GOING TO TURN NOW!” 

“Wait... I turned him?... Oh no no no no. I didn’t mean to I just it was all so intense and quick and I just… I- I’m so sorry.” 

I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer, I didn’t even quite know what I was crying from. The stress, being turned into a vampire, the robbery, or maybe just everything. I start sobbing. I can’t help it. I don’t even want to. I’m trying not to. Attempting to take deep breaths which creates those almost hiccup noises.  

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” 

“Liam…” 

Peppers voice was sympathetic but also slightly confused like she had no idea why I was crying which is so stupid. It’s just Pepper at her best though always meaning well yet never meaning the right thing. 

“Liam… hey come here.” 

Pepper squats down in front of me holding her arms out and I just collapse into her arms letting everything out I keep sobbing for who knows how long it feels like hours though. Just general crying about life. It did feel good especially on how long I just kept it to myself. Pepper, although almost completely uncompassionate in her comforting, is an amazing listener. I tire myself eventually and stop crying. Pepper takes this time to make some tea. I check my phone. There’s just a lot of voice mails from Vinnie. Pepper walks back up with tea.  

“Here’s your tea.” 

“Thanks.” 

I take a sip of peach tea from a mug that’s in the shape of a cartoony purple octopus one of its tentacles is the handle. Of course, it’s made to perfection. 2 sugar cubes and 3 squirts of honey.   

“You feeling better?” 

I nod. 

“You want to go back home?” 

“What about moving I’m supposed to help.” 

“Just make sure your all packed and I’ll move you and your stuff tomorrow.” 

“Are you 100 percent sure?” 

“Yes, you're far too weak to even help anyways so there’s no point in you staying here.” 

“Alright, but first can I please have my clothes back.” 

“OH YEAH. Of course.” 

Pepper gets up from the couch and opens the living room closet that holds a washing machine, dryer, and typically some coats and extra blankets and pillows but all of that is already packed away. She opens up the dryer and throws me my clothes. I put on my clothes and stand-up stumbling slightly. Pepper reaches to grab me but I put my hand up to stop her. I stumble out the door with Pepper following behind. We get to her car and leave. I try to lighten the mood a little. 

“You know this is the last time I’ll be leaving this parking lot.” 

“Yeah, it is isn’t it.” 

We chat for the next 27-minute ride to my home. Then we make it to my mom’s condo. I say goodbye to Pepper, hop out of the car and make my way to the stairs that lead up to the door. I reach out my hand and take a deep breath double checking in my phone’s camera that my vampire-ness is completely hidden, and I knock. It takes a moment before mom 2.0 opens the door. She’s wearing gold strap heels, a lavender dress that compliments her dark brown skin, and her hair is newly braided. Uh oh. I completely forgot we had a reservation at some fancy restaurant in celebration of my birthday and moving out. Before I can muster a single word to explain why I was gone or how sorry I am, she pulls me into a hug. 

“I know you’re an adult now but please don’t go running off like that.” 

Mom 2.0 then let’s go of her death grip and gently grabs my chin.  

“You know you scared your mom.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I mean your birth giver.” 

I sigh.  

“Yeah, I know. How upset is she?” 

“Extremely.” 

Mom 2.0 steps back into the apartment and I move past her closing the door behind me.  

“Your mom is in our room.” 

I walk over to the room at the other side of the apartment and give it a nock. 

“Hey, mom I’m home” 

The door flings open almost immediately, and I’m pulled into a tight hug. 

“Honey, I was so worried about you!” 

“Yeah, I uh I’m sorry.” 

“So why didn’t you come home sooner!?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Mom let’s go of me. 

“You didn’t call or text or anything! On a BLOOD MOON as well! I thought you got killed or worse… turned!” 

A part of me breaks when she says that, but I still keep my smile. 

“I know, but I’m fine. Perfectly healthy.” 

“Alright if you say so. Now go get ready for dinner.” 

I nod and head to my bedroom. It’s mostly empty only holding an air mattress and a few boxes plus a backpack that holds some things I’ll need before I’m able to unpack all the moving boxes. My work clothes, a dark gray sports jacket, dark gray dress pants, a navy button up shirt, and a black tie are all hung up, so they don’t wrinkle. I also grabbed my black vest. I hesitate to put my clothes on. I can’t stop thinking about Vinnie. I don’t know what he’ll think of me as a vampire. If he’ll still care about me, well care about me the same amount he did before, but we’ve known each other for a while now, and... I care about him. If Vinnie leaves my life… I- he can’t. Maybe if I don’t call or listen to the voicemails and I just go back to work everything will stay the same, he’ll still… no I can’t just ignore him he deserves an answer. I can’t just call though; I’ll listen to the last voicemail he sent. I hesitate, this voicemail undoubtably has the power to completely ruin our relationship. Although I guess since it’s already been sent to me then the question of our relationship has already been answered, all I can do is listen. It consists of him being worried about me and he doesn’t care I’m a vampire he just wants to know if I’m ok. I take a deep breath of relief and call him. It rings. 

#original writing #writing

[dhimanfoods]

Behind the Scenes: Inside a Hard Boiled Candy Manufacturing Plant

As you unwrap a colorful hard boiled candy and let its sweet flavor melt in your mouth, have you ever wondered how these delightful treats are made? Join us as we take you on a captivating journey behind the scenes of a hard boiled candy manufacturing plant. From the carefully selected ingredients to the intricate production processes, we'll explore the art and science that go into creating these irresistible confections.

The Selection of Premium Ingredients

At the heart of every high-quality hard boiled candy lies a combination of carefully selected ingredients. The candy manufacturing plant sources only the finest sugars, corn syrup, natural flavors, and colors from trusted suppliers. These premium ingredients are key to ensuring that the candies have the desired taste and appearance, making them stand out in a competitive market.

Cooking the Syrup

The candy-making process begins with the creation of the syrup, the very foundation of the candy's flavor. In large stainless steel kettles, sugar and corn syrup are mixed together and heated to precise temperatures. Skilled candy makers closely monitor the mixture, adjusting the heat and stirring continuously to achieve the perfect consistency and avoid any undesirable crystallization.

Flavoring and Coloring

Once the syrup reaches the right temperature, it's time to infuse it with delightful flavors and vibrant colors. Natural or artificial flavorings are carefully added to the mixture, imparting the unique tastes that will captivate candy enthusiasts. Likewise, food-safe dyes or natural colorings are introduced to create the eye-catching spectrum of candies that line store shelves.

The Formation of Candy Mass

The flavored and colored syrup is then transferred to large batch rollers, where it is rolled into thick slabs. The consistency of these slabs varies depending on the type of candy being produced. From these slabs, the candy mass is cut into manageable portions, ready for the next stage of the process.

Shaping and Forming

To create the iconic shapes of hard boiled candies, the candy mass undergoes a shaping and forming process. Extrusion machines, equipped with various molds and rollers, transform the candy mass into tiny spheres, cylinders, cubes, or other charming forms. The precision and speed of these machines ensure a uniform shape and size for each candy.

Hardening and Cooling

As the candies are shaped, they are moved through a cooling tunnel, which facilitates the hardening process. The controlled cooling ensures that the candies achieve their characteristic hardness and a glossy finish. This stage is critical for ensuring that the candies remain sturdy and unyielding, even in warm temperatures.

Polishing and Coating

To further enhance their appearance, some hard boiled candies go through a polishing and coating process. A light layer of vegetable oil or beeswax is applied to each candy, giving them a shiny, appealing finish. This process not only enhances the candies' visual appeal but also helps to lock in their flavors and freshness.

Packaging and Quality Control

The final step of the manufacturing process involves packaging the candies into various forms, such as individually wrapped pieces, jars, or bulk bags. Before being shipped to retailers worldwide, the candies undergo strict quality control measures. Experienced inspectors meticulously examine each batch to ensure they meet the company's high standards for taste, appearance, and safety.

Hard Boiled Candy Manufacturing Plant- Find Out The Best In Town

Dhiman Foods, a renowned name in the confectionery industry, has been a pioneer in the world of hard boiled candy manufacturing for decades. Established with a passion for delivering high-quality confections, Dhiman Foods has consistently upheld its commitment to excellence. At the heart of their success lies a philosophy centered on selecting only the finest ingredients, sourced from reputable suppliers, to ensure that their candies are nothing short of exceptional. 

With state-of-the-art production facilities and a team of skilled candy makers, Dhiman Foods meticulously follows precise recipes and manufacturing processes, resulting in candies that captivate taste buds with every bite. Their dedication to craftsmanship, innovation, and stringent quality control measures has earned them a stellar reputation, making Dhiman Foods a trusted choice for hard boiled candies enjoyed by confectionery enthusiasts around the globe. As we delve behind the scenes of a hard boiled candy manufacturing plant, Dhiman Foods stands tall as a shining example of the art and science that create these delectable treats.

Conclusion

The world of hard boiled candy manufacturing is a fascinating blend of artistry and precision. From selecting the finest ingredients to transforming syrup into delectable candies, every step in the process is a testament to the dedication of skilled candy makers. The next time you indulge in a piece of hard boiled candy, take a moment to appreciate the intricate craftsmanship and care that went into creating that sweet delight. It's truly a remarkable journey from the raw materials to the irresistible treat we all know and love.

Source: Evernote.com

#hard boiled candy india #hard boiled candy manufacturers india #Hard Boiled Candy Manufacturing Plant

[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

Pro Heros Comforting an S/O with various chronic illnesses

All Might/ Yagi Toshinori

For being a chronically ill person, you were a big baby about being sick. Well, for you, there was two types of ‘being sick’. One, the usual, was the everyday upkeep of your body, with the usual minimal discomfort of working a machine with missing or loose parts. On the other hand, another type of ‘sick’ would be you hunched over the toilet, or sweating in bed with a trashcan by your face, or sobbing in the shower because of how shit you feel. 

Today was one of those sick sick days. 

You never admitted to anyone when you were having an especially hard day like today, sometimes not even yourself. In between bouts of puking up the small amount of food you should’ve been able to keep down, you’d convince yourself that it was just because it was stale, or that this was a fluke, or even try telling yourself that you were over reacting. 

So when your boyfriend gently asked if you were feeling okay to be home by yourself, you enthusiastically replied, “of course I am! Go ahead and go to work, I’ll be fine!”

So, he did. 

And you were definately not fine. 

Mere moments after he left, you were hovering over the toilet bowl, heaving up bile. You screamed at your body to just stop, to please just give up, but it couldn’t hear you. Instead, it did what it knew how to do best: be sick.

Finally, it was over, and you found refuge pressed up against the cool tile of the bathroom floor. 

You were a mess of sweat, tears, snot, and puke. 

Thinking of that just made even more tears stream out of your puffy eyes. 

Pathetic. 

You shakily turned on the shower. Maybe a cold shower will snap you out of it. Your clothes didn’t matter; they’re just pajamas. So, you crawled into the shower, looking for refuge. 

The ice cold water pelted your blanched flesh mercilessly, providing both relief and shock to your system.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying your best to ignore your cramping abdomen and pay attention to the cool, refreshing liquid rolling down your back. 

In the end, though, you couldn’t focus on either of these things. 

Someone knocked at the bathroom door. By the way the person knocked, light and inquisitive, you knew it had to be him. 

He called out your name.

“Are you okay in there? Something told me to come check on you one more time,” he asked through the door. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. He knocked again, a little harder this time. 

Still, you didn’t have the strength to respond. You rested your head onto the shower wall weakly. 

The doorknob wiggled noisily before he was in. 

“Oh, honey...” he murmured as he fully understood the situation. He flushed the toilet and opened the window to let in some fresh air. 

“I’m going to open up the shower now, okay?” 

He carefully pulled back the curtain and turned off the water. His heart panged to see you struggling like this. 

Like him.

He took a moment to cradle your cheek in his palm, cooing your name.

“I’m going to get you some fresh clothes. Don’t try standing up by yourself, okay? I’ll be right back,” he instructed gently. You nodded weakly.

He returned with some fresh pajamas and a towel. You shook your head.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he inquired, stroking your hair. You couldn’t help but begin to cry. It was so humiliating being taken care of. Hell, even needing to be taken care of was degrading. 

You squeaked out tiny words between sobs. He patiently tried his best to understand what had you so upset, but he just couldn’t hear you. 

So, his only chioce was to continue to clean you up. 

Gently, ever so gently, he dried you with the towel as best as he could with your soaked clothes on.

“Pumpkin, I hate to ask you this, but...can I take off these clothes to help you get into new ones? I promise I won’t look.” 

You sobbed pitifully. 

“I...Let me...let me try,” you managed to get out. He nodded.

“I’ll be right outside the door. Knock if you need any help at all,” he assured, kissing you sweetly on the forehead before leaving you alone. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to see you naked; he already had done that. It was just...you didn’t want him to see you like this.

Shakily, you stood up, grabbing the clothes. Your feet stepped out of the tub, only supported on shakey knees.

Knees that gave up on you.

Within an instant, you were collapsed onto the floor. You gasped at the impact, the wind being knocked out of you.

Toshinori was by your side before you could blink. He helped you sit up, asking tenderly if you were in any pain. You shrugged.

He sighed deeply.

“I...I’m so... sorry. You shouldn’t-“ you stammered before he shut you down.

“No. I should. It’s okay for you to need help. I understand. It’s not an inconvenience.”

“...but... your job... your students...”

“They’ll be fine. Right now, let me focus on you,” he asserted. You nodded, allowing him to undress and towel dry you before redressing you.

“Can you stand?” He asked. You thought for a moment before shaking your head. Instantly, the bathroom filled with smoke, and he appeared to you in his much more muscular form in order to carry you.

He being sick himself could never hope to carry you in his skinnier state.

You didn’t care however he looked. It was just that he was there. That he cared.

You were carried bridal style to your bed, and placed down ever so gingerly. Smoke surrounded you once again, cradling you for a moment before dissipating and revealing your boyfriend in his true form.

He leaned against the bed frame, coughing into a tissue.

A pang of guilt hit you, seeing how he’d sacrificed just a tiny bit of himself to keep you comfortable.

You pushed the guilt away, replacing it with warm love.

Instead of apologizing, you murmured a “Thank you.”

Aizawa Shouta

Today was a good day. Your joints weren’t achey, and you felt good enough to even go to the store with your boyfriend. Usually, he’d go by himself, or do a curb side pickup to save time, but you insisted that you wanted to go.

“Sho, please. I’ll be fine,” you assured him.

“I don’t want you to overwork yourself,” he replied skeptically. He knew your fighting spirit coming through when he saw your determined eyes, so he knew his words were of no use. However, he also was deeply worried about the pain that could show up later on that night.

Those were the hardest on Aizawa. He usually wasn’t home at night, so when he’d come into the bedroom and see the bedsheets strewn across the floor and your pain medications sitting idly on your dresser, the cap on sideways, he’d be instantly racked with guilt. He wanted to be there for you. Even if it meant seeing you in pain. He just wanted to be able to do whatever he possibly could to help alleviate things just a little for you.

Today, though, he relented, and you found yourself at the local grocery store. You chose to not bring your cane, opting to try to pretend that you were a perfectly healthy young person.

Bad idea.

About half way through your shopping trip, you could feel the beginnings of a flare up.

“Sho... Could you help me?”

He instantly took on your weight on one arm.

“Do you need to go home?” He asked quietly as to not stir the other customers. You shook your head.

“I’ll get you something. Hold on.”

And like that, he was gone and you were alone in the bread aisle.

You sighed, rubbing your forehead.

Stupid! You should’ve known better!

It wasn’t long before he was back, riding on a mobility scooter. He stood up, gesturing towards it.

You knew it’d help, but...

“What will people think?” You whimpered before you could even think about it.

He scoffed.

“Geez, baby. I hope you realize that other people’s opinions should never trump your own comfort.”

You nodded, still anxious about how it’d look for someone like you to be using something like that.

“But...what if someone actually needs it?” You ask as you guide yourself into the seat.

“You need it. It’s okay,” he reassured plainly.

That night, you had no pain. All your body was filled with was butterflies as Aizawa gently cuddled you to sleep.

Sir Nighteye/Mirai Sasaki

You’ve always been sick. It was a part of your identity that you’d come to terms with. Sure, your life was shaped different than everyone else’s, but you didn’t mind much. 

You brewed yourself some tea, breathing in the fresh steam from the kettle. The warm air made its way past your oxygen tube, warming you from the inside out. Today was going to be a good day. You could tell that much by the light rays of sun filtering past the blinds, and the way you weren’t a coughing mess by now. Usually, you were signaled to remember to take your meds and do your treatments by your own sputtering and coughing, but today, things were going a little different so far. 

Your boyfriend came into the kitchen, stretching a little, causing his bones to crack and pop. He retrieved his black coffee from the pot, lightly and lovingly brushing his hand across your upper arm as he moved. 

You instantly tensed up.

“Don’t do that,” you frowned, glaring at him, “it’s too early in the morning to think about that yet.”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

“Your quirk. Don’t use it on me.”

He put both hands up, “If you wish for me not to touch you, I won’t.”

“That’s...not what I’m asking for and you know it.”

He allowed himself a tiny smile. He did know that. 

You turned around, moving your attention back to your tea. Mirai stared at you lovingly as he sipped on his drink. 

Two sugar cubes plopped into the tea, honey and lemon being stirred in next. Just how you like it.

Just as you were getting enveloped in the whirlpool you made with your spoon, Mirai broke your train of thought.

“Today’s going to be a good day,” he murmured.

#toshinori x reader #yagi mha #yagi toshinori #aizawa shouta #small might x reader #toshinori yagi #yagi toshinori x reader #all might #all might hc #all might x reader #aizawa headcanon #Aizawa x reader #nighteye x reader #mirai sasaki #mirai sasaki x reader #Aizawa shouta x reader #tw chronic illness #tw illness #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha toshi #bnha yagi #nighteye #bnha mirai sasaki #mr Aizawa x reader #aizawa shota

[queridopascal]

heloowwwr lovie ♡ how about #26 with reader as a uni and getting a hard time studying for exams and (any of pedros boy of your choice) getting all "ok let's go teach me all you know" so reader teaches/explain to him the topic and gets more easier to her remember and he is like "#26 I just love you intelligent and sexy u r" all kissy kissy sloppy kissy over his favorite girl

Hello darling 💕 I really loved this, but for some reason I can’t find the prompt list where this is from 🙄 I chose Frankie, hope you like it!

Study day (Frankie Morales x F!Reader)

Warning: none, Supportive!Frankie

JOIN A TAGLIST!

A long, exasperated sigh leaves your mouth while you stir the steaming amber beverage. The clinking of the spoon against the ceramic is like a white noise, and you continue stirring as a mini vortex forms inside the mug, swirling until the sugar cubes are completely dissolved. Inhaling the citrusy notes with your eyes closed, you finally bring the mug to your lips and take a cautious sip. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” Frankie’s calm voice echoes through the living room, space you have now converted into your very own study sanctuary.

And there you are, sitting at what used to be a dining table, surrounded by piles of textbooks and notes, eyes glued to the screen of your laptop while you continue drinking your tea.

The exam is in two days and to claim that you are exhausted would be an euphemism. You've been studying hard for days, sleep hasn't been the best and your frustration has even increased because of that one specific topic you are unable to learn.

“It’s just… I can’t!” you put the mug down and rake your hair back as you shake your head. 

You remove your glasses and rub your eyes, red and dry from the intense studying you’ve been doing for the past four hours. The pulsing in your temples intensifies and you feel like failure is fast approaching. 

“I know you can.” Frankie reaches around you from behind and hugs you tightly, making you sway a little in your chair. 

He is always very supportive and every time you have to study for an exam, he gives you all the space you need and takes care of everything in the apartment. 

“You should take a break…” he puts his chin on your left shoulder “...maybe we could go for a walk.” he adds and tilts his head to the side to place a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Frankie, it’s raining.” you point out “Were you too caught up with the chores to notice?” 

“Probably, yeah.” he snorts out a small laugh and for a moment, your anxiety seems to dissipate. 

“A break is a good idea, though.” you slowly free yourself from the embrace and stand up, stretching the sore muscles of your lower back as he pulls you closer.

“I got laundry to do.” he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear “Maybe you can come downstairs with me and teach me all you know about that chapter, how does that sound?”

***

A few moments later, you and Frankie are down in the basement with two large baskets full of dirty clothes. You both kneel down and begin to sort them, throwing the light ones to the left and the dark ones to the right. 

Once the two piles have been made, Frankie helps you stand up and grabs you by the hips, making you sit on the washing machine. 

"I'm all ears, babe." he kneels down once again and looks up at you for a moment, then proceeds to open the porthole. 

You clear your throat and, much to your surprise, words and anecdotes flow out of your mouth like a river in flood. 

Frankie is completely mesmerized by the way you express yourself, explaining things and gesturing to underline the different notions. Like, so mesmerized that he is now sitting on the cold floor, half the clothes into the washing machine drum and half still piled up next to him. 

"And that's how the theory has been verified." you shrug your shoulders lightly and tilt your head to the side, as Frankie regards you with a crooked grin. 

"I just love how intelligent and sexy you are." his warm eyes are looking dreamily at you, and you blush at the compliment. 

"Thanks." you reply with a whisper, suddenly feeling very shy in front of the man you love. 

"It's true." Frankie stands up and positions himself between your legs, sliding his warm hands under your sweatshirt "You're sexy as fuck and your brain is…even sexier." he adds as his thumbs swipe gently on your hips. 

"Shut up!" you playfully slap his left arm and he smiles, leaning forward to touch your forehead with his. 

"You got this, babe. You're gonna pass the exam with full marks and I'll take you out for dinner." 

"Sounds like a plan." a smile curls your lips before Frankie captures them in a tender kiss, tasting the citrus flavor that is still lingering in your mouth. 

Your hands come to rest on his broad shoulders, and you tug him even closer as you both melt into the kiss, now becoming deeper and sloppier. 

"I don't think you should study anymore for today…" he purrs between your kisses, hands desperately roaming your thighs, grabbing the soft flesh and kneading it greedily. 

"W-what… what do you suggest?" you pull him towards you for another kiss before parting for a moment. 

His pupils are dilated, you can barely see his chocolate irises in the feeble light of the basement, and a mischievous grin peeps out on his face. 

"I haven't made the bed yet." 

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @sleep-tight1 @mssbridgerton @imcalledflorence @withakindheartx @emmy626 @greeneyedblondie44 @myguiltypleasures21 @pedroverse @donnaa @snow30285 @computeringturtle

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #francisco morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #francisco morales x reader #queridopascalrequests

[vintagedolan]

hiraeth: initial concept

*this is a concept train!! in short, that means you all send in asks and tell me what you wanna see! so feel free to send me in whatever you want to see happen (it would be awesome if you guys send them kinda in order of plot like not jumping way ahead or anything if you know what I mean hehe. anyways, hope you enjoy, and here is my askbox for concepts!! love yah!*

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1: The Valley Isle

“What makes Hawaiian shaved ice Hawaiian? Isn’t it just ice and syrup?”

“Well, every morning we go out and collect water from the waterfall in our backyard, and then we freeze it into ice cubes shaped like the islands, and then we shave each one special into our various menu sizes.”

“Really?!”

“No. Your total is $5.47.”

Koa looked up from the syrup station, reaching over and smacking Kahua’s arm.

“Dude. Do you want to get fired?” She kept her voice low so it didn’t travel past the window.

He just laughed and grabbed the banana syrup, finishing off the mound of ice and sticking a spoon in the side before passing it out the window to the woman who’d asked the question. 

“Yes. My master plan is to get in trouble, blame it on you, get it put on your permanent record so you lose all your future jobs and have to stay here with me forever.” 

“You act like you aren’t going to also be in LA in literally three months.”

“And you act like you aren’t leaving me here on this rock, alone, for three months,” Kahua countered, turning to switch out the withering ice block from the machine. 

Koa looked out over the rainbow of syrups, taking in the view.

Her and Kahua had been calling Maui a rock for years - since third grade, to be precise. She didn’t say it often, and especially not to any tourists who were coming to visit. To them, Maui was paradise. Tropical, perfect weather, perfect beaches. Koa could see it. She understood the allure. But when she thought of her paradise, it came in the shape of a bustling city, of opportunities and new faces and places. 

LA.

Kahua called it the haole’s dream. The white girl’s dream. Didn’t matter how many times he complained about being on the same island his whole life, he never really wanted to leave it. The fact that Koa wanted to was seen as borderline criminal by half her ohana, but she pushed their comments and insults aside.

There were only two opinions that she really cared about anyways. 

First was Nahele; her older brother. She didn’t have to ask him what he thought - he’d moved to Texas as soon as he could, started up a food truck in Austin, named it 808 GRINDZ and brought every hawaiian cooking method he knew along with him. He’d been making a life for himself ever since then, and he was ecstatic when Koa told him she was moving. The thought of having family on the mainland, even halfway across the country, was comforting enough.

But the most important one? That was Amosa. 

Amosa, who called her when he knew she’d be walking to her car after she clocked out.

“Hi Dad.”

“Kaikamahine, my girl. How was your shift?”

“Busy, but it was fine. They gave me a card for a free small everyday that you can have, but you gotta get the sugar free syrup when you use it.”

“Yeah yeah,” he laughed. Even over the phone, Koa could hear the waves in the background, and she knew where he was before he said it. “Come to the dock.”

“Did you book another tour?” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.

“Come to the dock,” he said, his quiet way of saying no. “I’ll see you soon. Aloha wau iā 'oe.”

“Love you too.”

The drive to the boat dock was short, and the parking lot was busy as ever. Koa passed the bigger boats, with their names in fancy script screen printed on the side. Their buoys and extra snorkel gear, the bars nestled in the middle of the deck, an extra incentive for the tourists to book with them. Everyone loves a mai tai after all.

The Honu Nai sat at her spot on the dock, the farthest to the left. She had three years on any other snorkel boat out there. Her bow was worn, paint sanded off by the salt and sun over time and travel through the waves. But the little drawing of the smiling turtle still shone through on the side, despite the fact that Koa had painted it almost 10 years ago. 

Over the edge, Koa could see her father. He was cleaning, like usual, organizing all of the extra gear that he had on the boat. The kids section was scarce again, all the smaller sized wetsuits, snorkels and fins barely taking up a rack. Koa knew why - if there was ever a kid on his snorkel tour who couldn’t afford their own gear, he’d ‘lend’ it to them. Every kid deserves to see the underwater world, he would say. It changes you, shows you what life is really about.

Koa had been in the ocean since before she could walk. If she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, she was one of two places; either diving under a wave somewhere, or writing in her notebook. Or, one of her notebooks at least. 

“No book today?” He asked when she jumped aboard.

“Already packed them up.”

Amosa couldn’t think about the suitcases in her room without the tears starting to form. He blinked them away and looked out to the sea of blue. 

“Did you pack your snorkel gear?”

“Dad. You know I’m not going to see shit in the ocean in California,” she sighed, moving over to him and putting an arm around him. 

“I know, I know. They have sea lions I’ve heard. Maybe they’ll be friendly.”

“I’ve heard they stink.” She laid her head on his shoulder gently, closing her eyes when he kissed her head.

“Well. We have 5 hours until you have to get to the airport, and I say that’s just enough time for one more run, hmmm?”

Koa didn’t want to. She couldn’t think of many things worse than having salt all over her skin for a 6 hour plane ride. But the excitement in his eyes was irresistible, so she simply nodded and offered him a smile, letting go so he could get them on their way out to the reef. 

She sat on the bow as they headed out to sea, closed her eyes and soaked in the spray off the waves. Her dad laughed when they hit a particularly big one, cutting through the crest so much that it splashed up onto the deck. He used to do it on purpose when she was a little girl just to hear her giggle and have her running back to him. 

They made it to their favorite place quickly, and Koa didn’t hesitate to put her mask on and get to work. She took the line and dove over the side, tying it to the anchor hook under the water before coming back up. Amosa dropped the ladder for her on the back, but she didn’t need it. She was watching the reef. 

Moorish Idols. That’s what she wanted to see. They were second only to green sea turtles - honu in Hawaiian. But they were the most beautiful fish, with their delicate top fin that tapered off to a tail. She was always excited to find one and show the kids on tours. All she had to say was look for Gill from Finding Nemo and they were able to spot them. She floated for a while, watching the fish dart around, even spotting a small reef shark about 15 yards to the right before she decided to climb back in to see her dad. 

He passed her a towel and smiled at her as she sat down. All he could do was look at her for a moment, taking her in. His baby girl, on the boat she’d practically grown up in for the last time in a while.

He put on his brave face, and forced his biggest smile. “You ready to go out there?”

Koa sighed. 

“I don’t know how to tell.” 

“You’ll do great. You’re capable, and it won’t be long until you’re writing your own books instead of writing for these… whatever boys.”

“Dolan. Their names are Ethan and Grayson Dolan.” 

“Well, like I said. Soon it’ll be your stories out there instead of someone else’s, with your name instead of theirs.” He said it with such certainty that she couldn’t help but believe him. Maybe it was the salt water left over in her eyes, or the glare of the sun off the ocean, but she began to tear up. 

“Thanks for always supporting me dad. It means the world. I’m sorry I have to go so far away, I wish I could stay.” It was true - she just needed the money from the Dolan’s to get herself started, and then she’d come back, help her father.

Amosa smiled. 

“Kaikamahine, it’s just an ocean between us.” He reached out for her cheek. “And we know the ocean, don’t we.”

“She’s an old friend,” Koa said, her heart tight in her chest. 

“Exactly. Now c’mon, let’s get you home and on your way.”

Across the ocean and 3 hour time change, Grayson Dolan was pacing. 

“It’s gonna be fine.” Ethan said.

“Shut the fuck up Ethan,” Grayson said. 

That was the extent of most of their conversations over the last three days. Actually, that’s how all of them had been since Ethan had signed a deal with their agent for a ghostwritten book about their lives.

“It’ll get more people connected to us, the right people-”

“Has it ever fucking occurred to you that I’m tired of that shit? That I’m tired of people prying into my fucking life? What if I don’t wanna connect with anyone else, what if I just wanna be left the fuck alone? But no, now we’re gonna have some fucking stranger asking us a million fucking questions and digging for information in my own fucking house where I just wanna exist.”

Ethan didn’t have an answer for that. He’d fucked up, and he knew it. But he also knew that he signed a contract, and there was no backing out of it now. Grayson rubbed his hand over his eyes.

“When does the writer get here?”

“She flies in tonight.”

“Fucking fantasic. Can’t wait.” 

With that, Grayson walked back to his room, leaving his twin alone in the living room with his hands in his pockets.

#hiraeth #IM NERVOUS

[twoidiotwriters1]

Iron 12 (Peter Parker x Fem!Oc)

A/N: Now let's start with Avengers! Getting closer to seeing Peter, lol.

I know, I know...

Words: 1,593

Masterlist:

Post-credits scene II  / Chapter 13

“Good to go on this end. The rest is up to you,” says Tony from the other end of the call.

"You diconnected the transmission lines?" Pepper asks. "Are we off the grid?"

"Stark Tower is about to become a beacon of self-sustaining clean energy.”

"Well, assuming the arc reactor takes over and it actually works,” She continues

"I assume,” answers Tony. "Light her up.”

The huge sign forms a Stark when the lights come on.

"How does it look?"

"Like Christmas, but more... me.”

“Us!" says Lily after listening to the boring conversation between the two adults.

“We’ve got to go wider on the public awareness campaign. You need to do some press. I'm in DC tomorrow, I'm working on the zoning for the next three buildings,” says Pepper.

"That sounds so boring,” Lily complains walking to the couch, leaving her legs swinging on the armrest.

“I agree with the girl. Pepper, you're killing me. The moment, remember? Enjoy the moment.”

"Get in here and I will,” replies the redhead with a smile.

“Ew," adds Lily.

Since Tony and Pepper are finally together, they can't help but be more affectionate than normal, unfortunately the girl always has to interrupt them. She already has enough trauma.

When Tony reaches the tower, he walks on a platform where several robotic hands are responsible for removing the Iron Man suit.

The redhead continues to see the levels projected in the holograms. She leans back on the desk, waiting for Tony.

"Levels are holding steady… I think.”

Tony comes to her side, they talk, and then discuss the percentage of the great success of the reactor. All while Lily continues to get bored on the couch. The adults sit on the floor in front of the coffee table, surrounded by the armchairs, along with two glasses of champagne.

Blah, blah, blah, elevator, blah, blah, blah, money, blah, blah, percentage.

Lily sighs exaggeratedly to get their attention. They both stop talking and Tony watches her.

"Oh sorry, are we bothering you?"

Pepper purses her lips to keep from laughing.

"Actually yes,” the girl sits up. “I'm supposed to be able to do more things, go out more often.”

"And you did it.”

"From the house to the tower does not count, Dad,” She answers. "It's the same as before, only in another prison…”

"Don't exaggerate,” answers Tony. She sighs and falls back onto the cushions. “I don't understand why you’re bored. We’ve just made a breakthrough for the company.”

“One, your company. Two, I did nothing, just watched percentages, values, holograms. Bored!"

"I thought you liked that," adds Pepper.

"I want to do something else.”

"Like what, Smarty?"

"What about an Iron Man suit for me?" She says turning her head towards them.

Tony laughs out loud.

"It wont happen.”

"I had to try it…”

"Sir, the telephone," Jarvis interrupts. "I'm afraid my protocols are being overridden.”

"Mr. Stark, we need to talk,” says a male voice. Tony takes the phone from him.

"That sounds interesting," says Lily.

“You have reached the life model decoy of Tony Stark. Please leave a message,” He pretends to be an answering machine looking at the screen, making Lily and Pepper laugh.

"This is urgent.”

"Then leave it urgently.”

But the elevator doors open, revealing Agent Coulson.

"This just keeps getting better,” says Lily. It had been a long time since they had seen Phil.

"Don't get excited kid. Security breach,” Tony complains.

"Phil, come in!" says Pepper getting up.

Tony looks confused at his girlfriend and follows her to where the agent is.

"I can't stay," answers Phil. He looks towards the couch where Lily greets him. "Hi, Lily.”

"His first name is Agent,” says Tony a little annoyed, but then he fakes a smile.

"We need you to look this over as soon as possible,” says Phil offering him a device.

Pepper is in charge of exchanging the device for his champagne glass, until it reaches Tony's hand.

"Official consulting hours are between eight and five, every other Thursday—”

"This isn’t a consultation," replies Phil.

"Now what did we do?" Lily asks, rising from the couch.

"Is this about the Avengers?" Pepper asks, then adds quickly. "Which I know nothing about.”

Tony opens the device in such a way that he reveals only a touch screen, he gestures to Lily and they both walk to a desk in the back.

"The Avengers Initiative was scrapped, I thought — And I did not qualify," He huffs.

"I did!”

Tony looks at her.

"Who told you that?"

“Nat," She smiles.

"I didn't know that either," continues Pepper.

"Apparently I'm volatile, self-obsessed, don't play well with others…”

“Bingo," says Lily.

"That I did know.”

"This isn’t about personality profile anymore,” replies Phil.

“Whatever," says Toy looking at the screen.

"What are we watching?" Lily asks, as her father obstructs her vision.

"Wait, Ms Potts, got a second?" The redhead obeys.

Tony enters some codes.

"You know, I thought we were having a family moment," He complains.

"I was having 12% of a moment.”

"Oh, not this again,” says Lily

The pair try to argue again, but Pepper changes the subject.

"What is all this?”

“This is… this.”

Lily walks to see each screen, where the profiles of some people are shown. Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Thor.

Pepper sighs. "I'm going to take the jet to DC tonight,” She says.

“Tomorrow," corrects Tony. They both talk, but Lily's attention is still in the files.

"Lily?" says the redhead and the girl turns. "I have to go."

Lily walks up to her and hugs her tightly.

"Be careful,” the little girl whispers when they part. Pepper nods, strokes her black hair and kisses her forehead. She then goes back to Phil.

"Wait, so who am I staying with?" asks the girl looking at her father. The three adults share a look. "Jess is in class, Happy’s busy and you’ll go,” She points to Pepper.

“Actually…” Coulson begins.

"I'll find a babysitter," Tony interrupts.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Sir. For this we need both Starks.”

"What?" say Tony, Pepper and Lily at the same time.

"They need me? Me?" Lily asks in disbelief. She feels a tickling start in her hands, but this time she controls it and hides her hands behind her back.

"No, Phil, it's dangerous for a ten-year-old girl," says the Redhead.

"I thought she was on probation," adds Tony.

“Our base will be surrounded by qualified and knowledgeable agents to ensure Ms. Stark's protection. Besides, it’s only a search, in case the situation changes, she’ll be taken to Miss Potts immediately.”

Lily's gaze moves between the agent and her father repeatedly, waiting for an answer.

“What do you need her for? Specifically,” says Tony.

"Director Fury thinks two Starks are better than one,” He tries to joke. "His words, not mine, but everything’s explained in the files.”

"Is this really happening?" Lily asks to no one in particular. “Someone finally heard my complaints!”

“Hey, calm your sugar. I won't let you go alone like this,” Tony warns.

"So, can I go?”

Tony groans. He senses Pepper's confused look, but he ignores it. Even he doesn't know if this is a good idea, but the fact that the super agents need his daughter makes him curious, and he has a feeling that if he doesn't accept, they’ll try to get it some other way and that's worse.

The redhead sighs in defeat, waiting for Tony to have everything under control. Although that’s not common in him. She now must worry about both of them, but at least has the assurance that Phil will be around. She just hopes she doesn't regret it later.

"Please, stay safe,” She finally says to them, then he returns to Phil and the two leave the Stark tower.

Lily watches them until she's alone with her father. She turns to meet the man holding a hologram of a blue cube.

"What's that?"

"We'll find out soon,” He returns the hologram to the screen and looks down at her. "I'll prepare coffee and chocolate, you and I will find ourselves reading and talking about the new rules of the game."

"New Rules? I'm not six years old anymore, dad.”

He sighs and makes a face.

"These rules are not in case you break something, Lily,” He looks directly into her eyes. “You heard Coulson. We’ll be surrounded by agents, spies trained to do whatever they are ordered to do. And at some point that order can harm us.”

"But Mr. Fury-"

“I know we have given them permission for certain things like your training, but it was all happening under my watch and Jarvis's. This time we’ll have to go to them, and that’s a problem.”

She frowns, analyzing that information.

“But Nat and Phil… They wouldn't do something like that.”

"I don't know, Kid. We can’t take anything for granted.”

"It's not easy and anyone can fool you, Lils." She remembers Nat's words during her training. In the end she nods towards her father.

"So what do I have to do?"

“Pretend that everything’s fine, but you have to stay alert and try not to get too far away from me. I don’t know the real reason why they want you in this, but you should not believe everything they tell you.”

"This will be more complicated than I thought," She adds with a grimace.

"Don't worry,” He offers his hand. "You and I are smarter than they are.” Lily holds his hand.

Taglist:

@silenthappyplace @yourbonesareinmybody @aylauwuuniverse    @skittles-skittles @hufflepuffzutara @poetryislife0715 @21bruhs @heavenlymistakes @my-love-of-books @dielgonacoffee  @thelastpyle​

#Iron #Peter parker fanfction? #Peter Parker #Peter parker x oc #Peter parkerx reader #Avengers #Avengers fanfic #Marvel #Marvel fanfic #Tony Stark #Stark!reader #Bruce Banner #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #Thor #thegangishere

[pip-n-flinx]

SO. Since you have brilliantly crafted the perfect Paloma, Sam and I are selfishly eager to know if you have a preferred Old Fashioned recipe. :D

OOooooookay. So this is a can of worms here. But for starters, we begin at the beginning.

An Old Fashioned is derived from an older cocktail called a Bittered Sling. Fundamentally, a Bittered Sling is bitters (often aromatics,) sugar, and whiskey. Rumor from an old bartenders manual has it that someone walked in to a bar and asked for Whiskey ‘the old fashioned way’ referencing the Bittered Sling, thus the drink was born. There’s also something called an Improved Cocktail which replaces either the bitters or the sugar with a sweeter liquor like a maraschino or orange, but that’s mostly a historical sidenote at this point.

Most of the time, when you go out to a bar and order an Old Fashioned what you’re getting is a Mid-Century Old Fashioned (henceforth the MCOF for reference.) This is an adaptation to the old standby inspired by the advent and widespread use of the ice machine. In a similar vein to the Mint Julip, the MCOF uses crushed or small cube ice to strain out muddled additives - usually and orange round and/or a maraschino cherry with sugar - meaning you can have your cocktail infusing while its in the glass! It does also mean that your ice (now having greater surface area) melts faster, diluting your cocktail and eventually letting all the pulp from the fruit slip into your mouth

The downside to this, for me at least, outweighs the benefits. While it does incorporate some of the fruit notes from the horribly named Improved Cocktail, it dilutes the whiskey, letting any oils or esters in your booze separate and form strange little oil droplets in your drink. It’s designed to be slammed, not sipped, which is just not how I drink my whiskey anymore. Personally, I also don’t like the fruit they add at most bars either. The full (or half) orange wheel doesn’t have fleshy juicy bits to soak in your whiskey, it also has the pith between the skin and the beloved orange slices. This tends to lend a very bitter taste to the drink if it sits for any time at all. And the cherries! Don’t get me started on the bleached and died monstrosities that pass as maraschinos in the states. Gimme a proper Luxardo from Italy or a properly jarred Michigan cherry instead of that fake red bleached nonsense any day.

Another brief history of bartending aside is that for many-many years Bourbon and Tennessee Whiskey were considered too sweet for mixed drinks. At least in the states, Rye was the mixing whiskey of choice, as its spice and astringency were thought to lend more depth to cocktails and hold up better to more robust flavors like citrus and vermouth.

So, with all this in mind, what is my favorite Old Fashioned? Well, there are several recipes that come to mind. A sugar cube, two dashes of Cherry Bark and Vanilla bitters, 2.5 oz Rittenhouse Bottled-In-Bond Rye, and a large rock of ice is a staple where I am. Old Overholt Bottled-In-Bond and Rossville Union Barrel Proof are common substitutions for the above recipe in my house. The first Old Fashioned I ever fell in love with uses a whiskey no longer commercially available. A barspoon full of simple syrup, two dashes of Angostura orange bitters, 2.5 oz of Nikka Coffey Malt Japanese whisky was the recipe that will haunt me to the end of my days.

If you wanted to use bourbon instead of rye, I’d recommend something like Elijah Craig or maybe an Old Forester with a higher proof. I’d steer away from Woodford (too friendly already, hard to improve with bitters) and wheated Bourbons like Makers (strange creamy vanilla note doesn’t always play nice with your bitters, also I always find these kinds of bourbons to be just too thin, and they just wash out when ice starts melting into them or you add a cut of water....)

If you’re trying to write a Old Fashioned obsessive, I’d consider making them a bitters enthusiast. I myself have more than a dozen (at one point 18) different bitters in my collection. My current secret weapon is the Bittermens Elemakule Tiki Bitters XD However, specifically for ‘shoot-it-again’ Sam Shepard, I’d consider a different tact: Perhaps he’s a purist about the cherries alone. I’d definitely peg him as a Mid-Century Old Fashioned man myself @swaps55, but perhaps he’s a purist about cherries not being died red? Feels in character to me, but I’ll let you be the judge