#did the recipe call for the bread to be toasted

[ultimateinferno]

Where the fuck was that one moment of clarity for research I experienced when I decided to debunk the etymology of French Toast in random fucking Reddit thread?

#someone claimed it originated from a colonial american inn keeper named french who called it ''french's toast'' #and date the origin circa mid 1700s #i ended up finding the only sources with that claim all being recipe blogs #with the only reputable source at the bottom of one being the Smithsonian #didnt exist. i did find a recipe book from the 1600s for french toast where you soaked french bread in eggs; seasoning and orange juice #and it was on like... JSTOR #an engaging pice of research imho

[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: cooking with zb1

a/n: i’m not the greatest cook myself so apologies if some of this is terribly misinformed, but i can bake okay (during quarantine i’d bake when in class sooo)

notes: yujin is not included due to his age!

wc | 1.4k

jiwoong is a monster when it comes to cooking, but NOT baking. give this man a grill and a slab of meat and you have a masterpiece, but give him a mixing bowl and a recipe and he’s clueless. as such, assuming you’re a good baker, you and jiwoong are the perfect summer barbecue couple, and the ideal dinner party couple. but, i think the real fun is when you make jiwoong bake with you—you offer as much help as you can, but let him take the wheel. he can make it through brownies and cookies, but his weakness is bread—he doesn’t like how long he has to wait. he also doesn’t understand why he has to punch the dough???? i also think he doesn’t understand why you need to make it yourself when you can just go to the store…and when you say you can buy cookies at the store too, he says it’s “different.” okay then!

zhang hao is a princess and therefore does not cook or bake. and, when he does, it is a meal only HIS taste buds enjoy…my reference is whatever he was doing in camp zb1 with that soup. the nice thing is that he loves whatever you make, no matter what it is. you could put slop in front of him and, as long as it was constructed by you, he would eat the entire bowl. hao feels very loved when you cook him a meal or bake him a little treat, especially when he comes home to it. there’s no better feeling (in his opinion) than opening the front door and immediately smelling a batch of cookies cooling on the kitchen counter. because he’s far from home, i think hao will feel especially warm when he comes home to you making any sort of food he had often back home—so perhaps give his mom a call and ask for some recipes.

sung hanbin can’t cook very well, but can bake okay! perhaps you’ll be gifted some cold toast from time to time, but at least it comes with the opportunity to look at his face. but, if you ask hanbin for a fun drink … THAT is a different story. sung hanbin is the god of fun drinks, so if you’re a beverage person, he’s the exact right guy for you to date. he has a million fancy drink tools in his kitchen (an espresso machine, a high-tech blender that costs an arm and a leg, etc) and can make you anything you want. he also can make a MEAN shirley temple, which is an essential quality in a person. hanbin’s absolute favorite thing to do though is have you bake some fun dessert that he can make the perfect drink to pair it with—whether it be bitter coffee or a sweet smoothie, it brings him a lot of joy. it also brings him a lot of joy to enjoy both of the creations with you while you tell him all about how your week went.

matthew can do everything in the kitchen. say what you will, but MAN, matthew can make a MEAL. i mean the fries he made on camp zb1 looked so delicious and he straight-up did that himself. i think your favorite pastime in a relationship with matthew is watching him cook because he will roll up his sleeves and chop away at whatever he’s making, making the muscles come out. especially if he’s dealing with anything that might be sort of tough, and he often is because he likes to show off—if you ask him to make you an apple pie, he will rip the apples in half in front of you. i also think he likes to narrate what he’s doing like he’s on a cooking show, and will proceed to tell you that there’s going to be a test on what he taught the next day. matthew loves cooking for you, so make sure you let him know that you love what he cooks with a kiss on the cheek and a big “thank you” :)

taerae is decently good at both. he’s not exactly the best cook or the number one baker, but he knows enough to make some good food. i think he’d prefer cooking/baking with you rather than by himself, and you pretty much do, too. one of you will pick a recipe and assign tasks to the other, whether it be chopping up a carrot or grating some cheese. sometimes, he’ll jokingly pretend like he’s gordon ramsey and sarcastically joke about how “bad” you are at skinning the potato, and other times he will shout these bizarre “you’re doing great!” messages while he’s trying not to burn himself taking something out of the oven. then, when you’re close to finishing the food, you’ll sometimes throw together an easy dessert, like brownies or mug cakes, which will be done right as you finish eating. together, the two of you can make pretty good meals!

ricky is solidly okay at cooking, and not as okay at baking. i don’t think it’s intrinsic to him, though, he just never really tried to teach himself how to do either. he can boil water and make himself instant noodles, but he’s not crafting a perfectly cooked salmon over the most delicious rice you’ve ever had. there are other things ricky would instead dedicate himself to, like dancing or upgrading his wardrobe, so he’s never tried to upgrade his cooking skills. in fact, he’s kind of glad he never did, because now he can force you to teach him all that he wants to know. he basks in the light of your complete attention as you help him peel a potato, your hands over his as you drag the peeler across the vegetable. then, when you finish the meal, he revels in your praise as you compliment his “newfound skills” in pasta making. just make sure not to tell him you know what he’s doing.

i think gyuvin would be good at both!! judging by his snack bag, he cares a lot about yummy food and thus can carry himself in the kitchen. although, i think he’d be a lot better at baking than cooking. it’s just easier to follow a recipe to a t, and once you teach yourself how to gauge whether or not something is over-mixed, it’s smooth sailing from there. from soft and custardy lemon bars to hard-headed creme brulee, gyuvin loves gifting you with little sweet treats every week. when you were in high school, he’d bake you a treat and give it to you every friday, loving how your eyes would light up at the sight of his mom’s purple tupperware. in particular, i think gyuvin would be a good cake baker, and he absolutely goes all out for your birthday. flowers crafted with icing, any flavor your heart desires, and the most beautiful array of candles he could find—it makes you happier than you can describe. and then he gets you a super lame gift because he spent all his money on cake supplies lol

gunwook is a cook, but decidedly not a baker. his specialties happen to be any sort of stir fry and really good instant noodles, and his weaknesses are anything that requires him to stick a knife in to check if it’s done. he refuses to learn how to bake, too, because the idea that he isn’t immediately good at something terrifies him to the core and makes him feel a little sick to his stomach. the thing is, though, you don’t even know gunwook is a terrible baker for at least a year of your relationship. you automatically assume he can bake yummy cookies just from how delicious the meals he makes for you are. so, when you ask him to make you cookies and he says no almost instantly, you’re absolutely shocked—and then he lets it slip that he can’t bake for the life of him. you then learn that he hates it when you bring it up, so you stay quiet and let him sulk on his own, enjoying the taste of his yummy pork stir fry.

thank you for reading !

tags: @happysmileybee @wtfhyuck

#cinna.zb1 #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 fluff #zb1 reactions #zb1 headcanons #zb1 scenarios #jiwoong x reader #zhang hao x reader #sung hanbin x reader #seok matthew x reader #taerae x reader #shen ricky x reader #gyuvin x reader #gunwook x reader #req

[brainlessrot]

Ranking NRC dorms on how much I would trust and like their cooking -

fair warning: I've skipped like most culinary croucible events and forgot 90% of the ones i played, so this is all based on my subjective reading of their vibes and the limited canon knowledge i could gather in my brain

Contents: As the title says +individual characters ranked

Characters: All dorms + students and teachers

1. Scarabia

do i even need to explain this one??

One of the first episodes in their chapter was literally cooking with jamil

I LOVE middle eastern food. give me hummus and some pita bread and im set for life.

Pre scarabia arc jamil would be a dangerous choice, but post chapter? im gonna be knocking on his door with bribes so that he gives me any extra food he made 🙏

not kalim tho, yall stay safe

(also wrote this while at Agrabah's cafe in disney land, so my opinion might be skewed)

Continues under this cut!!

2. Octavinelle

Mans whole bussiness is food

if im paying for it i better be getting something good

but would NEVER try to ask any of them to cook for me (for free obv) bc i dont think that would end well (for me)

Jade?? mixing mushrooms he found somewhere

Floyd? forgets and goes somewhere, now the kitchen is burnt

Azul? nuh huh 💀 i aint seeling my soul for some toast

theyre like, Norwegian/italian i think?? and idk much about Norwegian cuisine but like italian is soooo good 🤞

3. Heartslabyul

Only for the sweets (i might not trust trey but i have a sweet tooth)

I dont mind tea, but they better not bring out their British cuisine out

If i see any fish n chips im evaporating from that table (lies, free food is free food)

i wanna go to an unbirthday party 😔

riddle would cook something too healthy and would count my calorie intake 💀

ace or deuce? id better be getting ready to get intoxication

cater... i just dont see him cooking

4. Pomefiore

listen... theyre mostly rich pampered boys, so would they even be cooking?

i dont trust the source of Rook's food

epel would only give me apple based foods (tasty, but gets boring after a while)

Vil would probably give me those weird natural green smoothies AND I DONT WANT THAT 🤬

+ i dont like french people (jk)

5. Ighnihyde

listen

HEAR ME OUT

ik theyre all nerds and all they eat is instant ramen

BUT GREEK FOOD.

all for that greek yogurt 😩

idia doesn't know how to cook except for instant foods which i dont mind (he gets favourite character treatment)

ortho,,, questionable. He has access to the internet (aka infinite recipes) but would it taste good? hes like 10

6. Savanaclaw

sweaty men.

i should just leave it at that ngl

leona? rich ahh man (a GROWN man at that!! 20 whole years of age!!!) and he probably doesn't even know how to fry an egg

ruggie? no way he gives me anything good for free 😭

Jack is the only one i would trust, but man probably also drinks protein shakes and those sad chicken breast and rice meals.

7. Diasomnia

no thank you

i like my soul staying where it is.

i dont trust their magical food

lillia is not even my last choice if im ever hungry, he aint a choice AT ALL

Malleus... he probably doesn't know how to physically cook?? sure he can bibidi babidi boop me some food like the giant fairy godmother he is, but i want something real man 😔

Sebek... protein shake man...

Silver MUST know how to cook (living with lillia would be imposible if not) so if i HAD to, I would go to him, but i dont want him to fall asleep and faceplant on my food 😭

+ Characters Ranked in tiers! (students and teachers)

The best, five star Michelin food:

Jamil, Trey, Trein

You could be happy eating:

Vil, Epel, Floyd, Silver, Azul, Ruggie, Crewel

Its food:

Jack, Cater, idia (if making instant ramen) Ortho, Sam

its... food?:

Rook (seriously, where did he get that?), Jade, Ace, Deuce, Malleus (the food is uncorporeal), Sebek, Vargas

dubious taste, would rather not:

Riddle, Kalim, Leona (its just a slab of uncooked meat), Idia (if trying to cook real food)

call 911 BEFORE eating please:

Lillia, Grim, Crowley

#Heartslabyul #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #cater diamond #ace trappola #deuce spade #Savanaclaw #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #Octavinelle #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #Scarabia #kalim al asim #jamil viper #Pomefiore #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #Ighnihyde #idia shroud #ortho shroud #Diasomnia #malleus draconia #lilia vanrougue #sebek zigvolt #silver #twisted wonderland

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana Recipes: Asra's French Toast

Remember months and months ago when a friend sent me the link to the official recipe for Selasi's pumpkin bread and I made it? It turns out that there's two more recipes that were posted to official socials in 2020!

So here's Asra's pumpkin brioche french toast, and how it went when I made it (pictures and details under the cut)

The trickiest part of this was how few measurements are provided. Beyond the ratio of one egg to one tablespoon of brown sugar, everything else is to taste. Here's the mixture before and after adding the milk:

The recipe didn't specify what kind of bread to use, beyond the title in the original post calling it brioche and the short glimpse in the video before it's submerged. I ended up going with the homemade whole wheat bread that I bake every week, but I'm pretty sure any sliced bread will work just fine!

My pieces did fall apart a little bit, if only because my slices were so absorbent. Like any french toast it's better to go with a lower heat and some patience to make sure it's cooked the whole way through. In this case, there was the added effect of partially caramelizing the brown sugar in the mixture which was so good.

(excuse the turkey bacon in the back, I was hosting my younger siblings for dinner and roped them into the fandom shenanigans)

The finished product is supposed to be served with maple syrup and pecans, but I didn't have any pecans so we just had it with syrup. We were all really impressed with how it turned out. It doesn't taste hugely different from normal french toast, but the added depth and twists of flavor just take it to a whole new level. 10/10 this is my default recipe for french toast now and I'm going to be thinking about this for weeks (I mean I knew Asra could cook but I didn't know he was a culinary genius what the heck)-

So ... should I make Mazelinka's soup next?

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana food #asra the arcana #asra alnazar #asra the magician #the arcana brainrot

[sesamestreep]

30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 9

Write about a heated debate (from this list) ➸ set in the Bakeoff AU AGAIN, because after my last fic, I wanted to write more Milly content and also it’s been a rough few days and I need to be silly and self-indulgent or I shall perish!! Based on an Instagram Reel I sent to @firstelevens the other day and that we’ve been spinning into a kid fic concept ever since. It grew out of control and I don’t know if it technically fits the prompt, but it’s what I got for you nonetheless. Bon appetit I guess???

“Euuuugghhh! Daaaaad!”

“What? What’s the matter?” Foggy asks from his spot in the kitchen. That tone of voice from his daughter is never a good sign, but he’s mostly used to hearing it when he and Matt are being particularly disgusting about how much they love each other. As Matt is still in the shower currently, he knows that can’t be the reason.

“What did you put on this?” Milly asks, holding up a piece of toast accusatorially. If she ends up following in their career footsteps someday, her cross-examinations are going to be brutal.

“Cinnamon and sugar, as requested,” Foggy answers, coming to stand across the counter from her. It’s a long way from the elaborate recipes he used to make with his spare time—which he no longer has—and when he was on Bake-Off, but it’s one of his daughter’s favorite breakfasts despite its simplicity. Well, it normally is. She’s currently staring daggers at him, so it must not be her favorite right now.

Milly shakes her head at him, like he’s a moron or maybe, more accurately, like they’re going to have to send him to a home soon if he keeps this up. “Not cinnamon,” she says, holding the offensive piece of toast out to him.

Before he can take a bite (his original plan, to illustrate that she’s being silly and unnecessarily picky), the smell reaches his nose and it doesn’t take an extremely experienced baker to know that’s not cinnamon. He brings it closer to sniff it again and makes himself cough. To confirm his suspicion, he returns to the cabinet where they store their spices and looks at the jar he used to make Milly’s toast a few minutes ago and, yep, there it is.

“Paprika,” he says. “I made you paprika toast.”

“Paprika and sugar,” Milly says, in that same enjoy your time in the retirement home, old man tone of voice.

“They look similar in the bottle,” Foggy says, rubbing a hand over his face. “Same color, I mean.”

“Do they smell the same?” she asks, innocently.

“Listen, you—”

“And are they spelled the same way?” she asks, thoughtfully. “You know, when you read the bottle before pouring it over my toast? You did read the bottle first, right?”

“Mills, I’m not kidding, if you can spell ‘paprika’ or ‘cinnamon’ for me right now, I will give you twenty dollars out of my wallet,” he says. “Otherwise, I don’t want to hear it!”

“I don’t know—”

“Exactly!”

“I’m eight! What’s your excuse?”

“For one thing, my eight year old daughter won’t stop tricking her babysitter into letting her watch scary movies and then crawling into bed with me in the middle of the night because she can’t sleep,” Foggy says, grabbing the plate from her. “How’s that?”

“Don’t throw it away!” Milly calls.

Foggy pauses. “Baby, you don’t have to eat it. I’ll make you more with actual cinnamon.”

Milly looks at him like he’s grown an extra head. “I know,” she says, slowly. “I just wanted to show Dada what you did.”

“Okay,” Foggy says, rolling his eyes and returning the plate. “Just for that, maybe I won’t make you more toast.”

“Sure, starve me for telling the truth. That’ll go over great with the other trusted adults in my life when I snitch on you.”

“It’ll never hold up in court,” Foggy replies, already putting two more slices of bread into the toaster.

“Besides,” she says, ignoring him and popping a sliced strawberry into her mouth. “I don’t crawl into your bed, I crawl into Dada’s.”

“It’s the same bed,” he explains. “Just because you cuddle with Dada and kick me all night doesn’t make it any less my bed. And what’s up with that, anyway? I have it on good authority that I’m the more cuddly of the two of us. Why don’t you ever snuggle me?”

“You want it too bad,” she says, taking a two-handed drink of her orange juice.

“Devil child,” he mutters. His mother once told him, when he and Matt were first looking into adoption, that your children will act as cosmic comeuppance for all the things you put your poor parents through as a child yourself and he hadn’t believed her. Maybe he just thought that, because Milly didn’t share any DNA with them, that his and Matt’s most exhausting qualities wouldn’t rear their ugly heads in her at all. And, boy, love her as he does, he was wrong on that count.

“Dada would never do this to me,” Milly continues, happily. “And he can’t even see! Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

“About looking into boarding schools?” Foggy asks. “Definitely.”

“Mean!”

“You’re saying you’d miss me?”

“No,” Milly says, crossing her arms. “But I’d miss Dada and my friends and my teachers and Aunt Daisy and—ooh, can I borrow your phone?”

“Why?”

“I want to text Aunt Daisy a picture of the paprika toast.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come onnnnn,” she whines. “She’ll think it’s funny!”

“That’s exactly why I’m not giving you my phone.”

“You’re no fun,” Milly grumbles, sinking down to rest her chin on the counter dejectedly. Her head immediately pops up again when Matt appears behind her. “Dada! Wait til you see what your husband did!”

Matt stops to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Please don’t say your hair because it feels…uh, chaotic?”

“I haven’t even gone near it this morning,” Foggy says, as he fetches the toast that’s just popped out of the toaster. “That’s all natural.”

“Well, that’s something,” Matt replies, coming into the kitchen. “So, what did you do?”

“He made me cinnamon toast,” Milly interrupts, enthusiastically. “Here, try it!”

As with Foggy, the toast doesn’t even make it to Matt’s mouth before he’s frowning. “That’s…not cinnamon, honey.”

Milly cackles while Foggy glares at her. “I made a small mistake,” Foggy says, over the chorus of his daughter’s laughter.

“What is that? Chili powder?” Matt asks, sniffing delicately.

“Paprika.”

“Oh.”

“And I have been soundly roasted for my error,” Foggy says, mostly in Milly’s direction. “So, I don’t want to hear it from you, okay?”

Matt shrugs. “Okay.”

“Apparently, you would never make such a mistake in your life, because you’re a good dad and I’m some sort of rodeo clown who ended up here by mistake.”

Matt looks at him, very clearly stifling a laugh. “She only thinks that because she’s led a charmed life where I almost never make her breakfast,” he says. “Give it a week, she’ll be begging for you back.”

“You’d just let me eat fruit snacks for breakfast,” Milly says, as Foggy puts her new breakfast down in front of her.

“Yes, and then you wouldn’t have all the nutrients you need to learn new things at school and get smart enough to become the first female president of the United States,” Foggy says. “And then where would we be?”

“There better be a female president before I’m old enough,” Milly says, darkly and with a mouth full of toast.

“Better eat a balanced breakfast just to be safe,” Matt says, pushing off the counter to go find some coffee. “And be nice to your dad.”

“How will that help me become President?”

“People skills,” Matt says.

“Surviving into adulthood,” Foggy says, at the same time.

Milly blows a raspberry at him, but eats the new toast without complaint. Matt’s scouting around for the sugar bowl now and Foggy stops him with a hand on his elbow.

“I already put sugar in it for you,” he says.

Matt smiles. “I don’t care what Milly says. You’re the best rodeo clown a kid could hope for, and a very good husband too.”

“Thanks,” Foggy replies, and allows himself to be pulled in for a kiss. He gets to enjoy that for about ten seconds before Milly makes another disgusted noise behind him. He sighs and pulls back. “What’s wrong with the toast now?”

“Nothing,” Milly exclaims. “It’s you two that are grossing me out!”

“Sorry your dads are in love with each other,” Matt says, with a smile and a faint blush. “You live a tough life.”

“I’m glad you understand,” Milly says, as she shoves an improbably large bite of her toast into her mouth without issue. She’s not even finished chewing when she asks, “Will you walk me to school today, Dada?”

“Why? Are you worried I’ll do that wrong too?” Foggy asks, putting an arm around Matt’s shoulders.

“I’d be happy to, baby,” Matt interjects before Milly can say something smart-alecky back to him. “Go get dressed, okay?”

Mill hops down from her chair happily and practically skips to her room. Matt nudges Foggy’s shoulder with his nose.

“What’s up with you two?” he asks.

“I don’t know. She’s just pushing my buttons.”

“Successfully,” Matt replies.

“Yeah, well,” Foggy shrugs. “I slept half the night with her foot in my face while she cuddled with you. I’m a little cranky, I guess.”

“Feeling left out?” Matt asks, smiling, as he turns to wrap his arms around Foggy’s middle.

“I’m definitely the cuddliest person in this household and I want it acknowledged.”

“I agree,” Matt says, kissing him on the shoulder. “Don’t listen to Milly. She’s a maniac.”

“She takes after you.”

“Not true. I love to cuddle with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, leaning in to kiss him again.

“We could make that happen, you know,” Foggy says against his lips. “Drop the kid off at school, cancel our appointments for today, play hooky from our responsibilities, stay in bed all day…”

Matt seems to be thinking it over, tempted. “We couldn’t,” he says, not quite convincingly.

“We could. I know our bosses and, trust me, they’d want us to get laid.”

“I’ve said it before but those guys are weird,” Matt jokes. “They’re honestly too involved in our sex lives.”

“Yeah, it’s an HR nightmare,” Foggy replies, kissing him again.

“You two better not still be kissing when I come back,” Milly hollers from the bathroom, where she’s brushing her teeth (or so Foggy guesses from the sound of running water).

“We definitely will be,” Foggy shouts back, as Matt collapses into his shoulder laughing.

“I’m going to go attempt to get our daughter’s hair fit for public appearance,” Matt says, giving Foggy another quick kiss on the lips.

“And I’m going to text Kate that we’ll be in late this morning.”

Matt pauses. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Foggy consults his watch. “Our first appointment is at 11. I can do plenty to you in that amount of time.”

Matt looks a little startled by that, but not in a bad way. “Kate’s going to know what that text means, you know.”

“That just means there will be someone to share in Milly’s pain over us being disgustingly in love after all these years. Unless that’s your way of saying no?”

“Definitely not. Just warning you that we’ll get a lot of grief for it later.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You always do,” Matt replies, and Foggy’s definitely not being conceited when he says Matt’s tone sounds downright dreamy.

He heads off to help Milly finish getting ready and Foggy tackles the few dishes in the sink while he waits for another pot of coffee to finish brewing. A few minutes later, Milly appears in the kitchen, dressed and with her hair pulled into a neat bun. Neither of them can do anything particularly fancy with her hair, not least because she won’t sit still long enough for all that, but Matt does a good job for someone who’s never had long hair or siblings. A now presentable Milly pulls her backpack and coat off the hook on the wall and stops by Foggy’s side expectantly.

“What do you need, kiddo?” he asks, as he dries his hands on the towel hanging by the stove.

“Hug goodbye,” she says, lifting her arms towards him and he kneels to capture her in a big hug.

When she finally pulls back, she still looks hesitant, like there’s something she needs to ask him. It once again strikes him as crazy how much she reminds him of Matt sometimes.

“What’s the matter?” Foggy asks, tucking a picturesque loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You feel alright? Is all that paprika I fed you bothering your stomach?”

Milly shakes her head, looking away. “I just wanted to—Dada said that his dad would have made him eat that gross toast because they never wasted food when he was little.”

“Did he?” Foggy asks, already making a mental note to kick Matt’s ass when they’re alone together. “Listen, baby, your Grandpa Jack, he…didn’t have a lot of help when your Dada was young. They had to be really careful with their money and Dada was in the hospital for a while…”

“I know,” Milly says, nodding. “I’m just—thank you for making me new toast, instead.”

Foggy feels a lump in his throat that he struggles to swallow past. “Hey, you don’t have to thank me for that, okay? It’s my job to make your life as good as it possibly can be. Even if I have to make you a hundred pieces of toast every morning.”

“That would be expensive.”

“Still,” Foggy says, firmly. “I’m sorry if what Dada said made you upset.”

Milly scrunches up her face like she’s eating the paprika toast all over again. “He said it like it was funny,” she says, mildly horrified.

“God, okay,” Foggy replies, running a hand over his face. Matt would consider that a charming anecdote about his father. Speaking of people who are going to need a hug from him… “Don’t worry about that. Just have a good day at school, okay?”

“Okay,” Milly says, all concern gone as she hops in place excitedly.

Matt appears around the corner then, pulling on his coat. “Ready?”

“Just gotta get my shoes,” Milly shouts as she zooms off in the direction of the door.

“Alright,” Matt says, as he comes into the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a few.”

“Okay,” Foggy says, as he leans in to kiss him goodbye. “Oh, and maybe no more stories about your dad before school, yeah?”

Matt blinks at him. “What? Why?”

“We’ve talked about how sometimes the anecdotes from your childhood that you think are charming and scrappy are actually alarming to the people who love you now,” Foggy says, gently.

“Yeah…” Matt says, uncertainly, before his expression clears. “Oh. Shit.”

“It’s fine,” Foggy replies, rubbing his back. “I already explained that she can ask for as much food as she wants. Just maybe reinforce that with her on your way to school?”

Matt looks pale and queasy even as he nods. “Right. God, I didn’t—I’m sorry—”

“I know. I’m not mad.”

“And you still want to play hooky from work with me, even though I’m the world’s biggest idiot?”

Foggy kisses him on the forehead. “Of course. You’re still a very cute idiot.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Listen, I told Milly it’s my job to make her life as good as possible, and that’s true, but it’s also my job to do that for you. And right now, the best way to make your life better is to take you back to bed and—”

“Ready!” Milly shouts as she skids around the corner. “Are you guys still kissing?! What about my education?”

“She’s right, you know,” Matt says, pulling back and looking a bit better, though still tremulous. “We’re terrible parents.”

“Maybe I should look into boarding schools, after all,” Foggy jokes, crossing his eyes goofily at Milly over Matt’s shoulder.

“I’m never going to be President at this rate,” Milly laments.

“Alright, let’s get you to school,” Matt says, holding out his hand for her.

Foggy leans down to give Milly a kiss on the top of her head. “Don’t let your dad walk into traffic, okay?”

“I won’t,” Milly says, swinging their joined hands between them. “I promise.”

“That’s my girl. Have a good day, baby cakes.”

“You too, daddy cakes.”

“I’ll be back shortly,” Matt says, smiling at the two of them.

“I’ll be here,” Foggy replies, as suggestively as he can manage. It must work because Milly snarls in disgust.

“If you two start kissing again, I’m taking myself to school,” she says, leveraging her full weight against Matt to drag him towards the door. “Or running off to join the circus. You won’t know which until it’s too late.”

“She gets that from you,” Matt says, tiredly.

“I was going to say I think she gets it from you.”

“Maybe she has a point about us being gross.”

“Oh, well, yeah,” Foggy says, with a wink at Milly, who’s glaring at both of them now. “There was never any debate about that.”

#I have my block button ready for anyone who comes for me about the pet names or terms of endearment herein #I did my best and all of them read right to me #source: I based them on things I call my various niblings or have heard their parents call them #I’m not as confident that Milly’s dialogue is super realistic for a kid but I hang out with a 9 year old all the time #and most of the dialogue is stuff she might say #So who knows??? #anyway I love one (1) dumb little family #HWS30days #30 day challenge #homelywenchsociety #mattfoggy #daredevil #matt murdock #foggy nelson #do I need a Milly tag? Is that who I am now? #kid fic #COULD NOT RESIST MAKING IT WEIRD AND SAD RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE THERE SORRY #the gbbo au #gbbo AU #once again no prior knowledge of this universe required! #series: how sweet it is #is it hot? ☑️ #is it fresh? ☑️ #am I proud to serve it? ☑️ #and post

[thatgirlsza]

Untitled ♡

Kento Nanami x fem reader

Fluff, couples being couples, failed cooking attempts

Baking is not a skill but a science, as you were always told by many people—chefs, baking gurus, and basically anyone who had access to social media. Never the less, you grabbed your apron, tightening it around your waist, and then slamming the old cook book you'd stored behind all your clothes when you'd first moved in with Kento. He was at work; whether it was the office job or sorcery, it was not important, but what was important was that he came to a pot of food and baked breads and goods made by his one and only.

He had left a few minutes ago, like usual, and you had awoken as soon as his car pulled out of the driveway. Still in your pajamas, you gather the flour, eggs, and ungodly amount of butter you'd successfully hidden from his sharp eyes. You looked at the first recipe, and it was 24 servings of cookies. Easy enough. You measured out each ingredient to the tee, looking at the book each time to make sure you were messing up. Then you shaped them and placed them in the oven before dusting your hands. You smiled contently as the sun began to shine into the lounge area. It was going to be a long day, but Kento deserved it.

In the other end, the grade 1 sorcerer ate his piece of dry toast and the runny, cold egg he had prepared for himself before he left this morning. Sighing, he let the dry, wet, and tasteless blob slather in his mouth and swallowed harshly. He was right. Jujustu's sorcery was sh*t today more than ever because, for a second week, he could say goodbye to the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. He left his gorgeous wife, fast asleep, dreaming of a happy life, and her husband reminded her in bed with her. He didn't even leave you with breakfast, only a sorry excuse for a kiss on the forehead.

Saving people was still something he wanted to do, but the office was swamped, especially after the horrific public act of suicide committed by a terrorist group a week ago. Curses were becoming stronger, running more quickly on the streets, and I was too much for only the high schoolers. So he stepped in to assist, but the calls were getting more and more ridiculous, having to work over time and eating a cold dinner while you were at book club to pass the time. Today seemed as if it would be similar; after reading through all the paper work, he'd come home late. He sighed, and Gojo gave him a somewhat supportive pat on the back.

Back at home, it had long past its show-stopping performance for the day, drowned by the curtains of darkness, and you were something of a mess. After your lovely cookies had started baking, everything had gone south so fast that you should've seen it coming, but your optimistic tendency had held you captive. To sum up the hours that fell upon your modern-styled kitchen, the bread was flat and dense because the yeast would simply not be yeast, the macaroons were one big burnt cookie, and the vodka sauce for the paste caught a light more than it should've and burned the food. So you improvised and made a big, messy pizza you would've made for your old college roommate after forging the topping. It tasted good but was not worth the expensive red wine and love you were going to give Kento.

You hung your head, in defeat, to clean the kitchen, not even noticing the time striking 7 a.m., which is when your "where is Kento panic? would've kicked in." Instead, after cleaning, I went for a long shower and came out wearing your soft blue pajamas that matched his. Just as you settled on the sofa, the door clicked open, and Kento strolled in with some blood on his pretty suit and a bouquet of blue and white roses. "Honey," your sweet voice called, and you let out a defeated "here." You called, and pizza and wine were set up before you as he stepped closer before he came into view, making your eyes widen. His own did the same at the cute assortment before you.

"Mr. Nanami, where have you been? Your hair is a mess, and your covered in blood, and you..." you trailed off, walking up to him and gently caressing him as you noticed the roses. "What's this?" You asked, absently looking at them and who the hued "Yuji found these on his way home today. From a rose-torn curse or something. " He spoke shakenly as you gathered them in your arms, your eyes glinting as you looked at them. "So I picked them just for you." He continued to watch your pretty round eyes dart to him and back to the flowers. "I thank you. Oh, I'm such a bad person; all I made you was messy pizza and cookies." You said you were pouting, feeling a little bad, but he wouldn't have that.

"How about you? I listen to you tell me about your day. If we aren't too tired, we can make something special." He nuzzled your chick sweetly, making your pouty lips smile softly. "Fine, shower first." And so the night went on without a hitch, with you both nestled in each other's arms.

#fem reader #fluff #x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #jjk #nanami kento

[imlivinginyourtrashcan]

Hi hello im a dirty American heres some friendsgiving headcannons for the sp character

Cartman:

That man aint bringing shit

Only there for the food

The type of mf to steal ingrediants while youre cooking something

Dives RIGHT for the pumpkin pie

Nobody is happy

He denies it but its do obvious hes stealing shit 🤬

Does not wait for a toast

Bro just dives in

Getting seconds, thirds, fourths

When hes done theres no left overs

If he were to bring something id be pie

His moms recipe

BUT THIS LITTLE FUCK EATS IT IN THE CAR

Kyle:

Sometimes hosts the friendsgiving at his house

Brings the sparkling grape juice/apple juice

And also the Kosher things

Only has one helping, tries to get leftovers for the family or for kenny

Helps his mom cook when hes hosting

Setting the table always

Tries to toast but ends up yelling at Cartman for eating before hes done

Helps Ike pack for those little kindergarten thanksgivings?

Yknow when you dressed as a pilgrim and ate food?

Was I the only one who did that??

Stan:

He panicks and brings what he can find

"Hey dude! What you bring?"

"Uhhh... leftover mash potatos?"

Hes TRYING

Downing the sparkling juices like no tomorrow

The eggnog too

Cartman encourages it

"CHUG CHUG CHUG"

Watching the football game

RESTRAINS himself when it comes to food

Like, he wants it but knows Kyles gonna be pissed

Plays catch with everyone else

Or pingpong

Doesnt give a fuck about the Macys parade

Kenny:

Brings canned stuff he got from the food drive

Like cranberry sauce

Sneaking leftovers for his family

Plays catch with the boys

Died from a football lodged in his eye

Oh and from the

"Macys parade"

Incident

You dont want to know

Butters:

Brings the sweet potatos

Suggest christmas music/movies be played

Cartman called him gay immediately

So that got shut down

Brings the extra pies and everything since Cartman eats his

Lover of cranberry sauce and other things most people hate on thanksgiving

"Oh that was good! Could I have more please?"

"Butters what the fuck who likes CRANBERRY SAUCE???"

"I do!"

Doer of the toast

Often gets hit in the face when they play catch and cries

Can't stay for long cuz his parents are strict but hes there on video call rest of the time

Craig:

The type of mf when you ask what he brought he says

"My presence"

MF-

No!!!

You need to bring FOOD

They have to kick him out

He comes back with bread rolls or crackers, cheese and olives

So hes aloud back in

Doesnt care abt the parades or catch or anything

Just kinda there for Tweek

If someone asks him to do sonething he'll do it though

Hes limited by meals thanks to his braces

He doesnt care

Thats future craigs problem

Flips someone off if they beat him in a sport

Or flips off the tv when someone does something stupid in football

Has restraint when it comes to food

Bro will just wait

Wait

Wait

Wait

And then devour his plate in seconds

Tweek:

Brings homemade cider or pumpkin spice

Panicked the whole time

Hiding upstairs half the time

At least until food

He looks like a sopping wet cat

Doesnt really eat that much

Convinced the food is poison

Dont try to reassure him either he doesnt trust you

Has to check a million times though

"Is this poison???"

"No???"

"GAHH!! I dont believe you!!"

Leaves after feasting

He can only handle so much

Arrives super late too which is ironic

Jimmy:

Brings the food over and makes a puns

Like puts devil horns on eggs

"Jimmy what is that?"

"D-d-d-deviled Eggs"

Bro is telling thanksgiving jokes every second

Does the toast some years

Its like a stand up comedy routine tho

He lets you eat during that

Sneaking food

Mischievous little bastard

Puts on family fued when he realizes the boys are too pissed at football

Also has brace limits

But does he follow them ever? Nope

Drinks sparkling juice from a wine glass

Able to keep the party going for a WHILE he has ENERGY

Card playing KING

Winning at Crazy 8s left and RRRRIGHTTTTTT

Clyde:

Brought mac and cheese

Either that or bread

Food sneaker

Thinks hes good at sports

Hes not

He gets hit in the face so often

And cries

Tried Tweeks coffee

Started coughing and gagging immediately

Hes a picky eater im calling it now

Like will not eat if he doesnt think he'll like it

Me too Clyde i get it

Likes the Macys parade

Fucking weirdass

Arrives a bit before Tweek but is still late

The mf to get seconds

Wont eat before the event either

Saving his stomach for yum yums

Tolkien:

Also hosts

Helps his parents with food

Makes the dinner table look like a whole buffet

When hes not hosting he brings stuffing or some expensive good food

Or like

Homemade dip?

Casserole?

Idk

Seems like itd change every year

Great at sports

Helps clean up too

Toasts sometimes

Very generic toast

Doesnt seem like someone who has much to say

#south park #southpark butters #southpark #sp butters #sp tweek #sp craig #sp headcannons #tolkien black #tolkien #south park tweek #craig x tweek #tweek tweak #craig tucker #kyle brovlofski #eric cartman #stan marsh #thanksgiving

[latestparis-style]

My sister and I made French toast from a recipe in a fanfiction. And we took a lot of pictures.

Welcome to the LatestParis_Kitchen.

For the last year or so, my sister and I have made a fun hobby of reading the most bizarre Phantom of the Opera fanfictions we can find. Out loud, tossing the phone back and forth to each other by chapter. Neither of us read it beforehand, and it's a 10/10 experience.

There's a POTO fanfic on Wattpad by the name "Angel In Hell". It's by user: momenttodebruh. Read the fic. It's the epitome of the perfect, unhinged Y/n fic. With loads of iconic lines. My sister and I quote this fic like it's a popular TV show. Seriously, it got to the point where my mother repeated one of lines because we said it so often. This fic is (intentionally or not) hilarious and a masterpiece.

In the fic, the protagonist, a Y/N my sister and I dubbed "Bitch", makes her "famous French toast™" to impress the manager into hiring her as a chef at the opera house.

The best part?

The recipe is followable with exact quantities given.

Here are screenshots from the fic:

I refined it to this recipe:

You know, just in case you're a freak who wants to try this.

My sister, Beth, and I have joked about "Bitch's famous French toast™" every time we make regular French toast, and today is the day we decide if her recipe would make us hire her.

Beth can make a mean French toast, so let's see how Bitch's famous recipe measures up.

Here's all the ingredients. We are following this shit as closely as possible, so no half batch. 6 eggs and all.

We thought we would only need four slices of bread. God were we mistaken.

Just as a side note, Beth and I were doing this while our parents were out to dinner, so we're on a time crunch. Sorry for any blurriness in the photos!

Here's the 6 eggs. This is the least gross looking photo I managed to take. Also, Beth is method acting, look at the Victorian lace on those sleeves.

MAY I PRESENT THE TEASPOON OF THE ONLY SEASONING! CINNAMON Y'ALL!

We added the vanilla extract here too, but I believe it didn't change much.

Okay, so we used our four slices only to discover that there was half the batter left. Beth suggested we make it to freeze. She has much more hope in Bitch's Famous French Toast than I do, but I agreed. We were drenching these slices, so maybe you could get more out of this recipe.

haha, this is where shit hits the fan, or egg hits the pan? Anyway, the house started to get a little smoky. Our house has smoke detectors connected to the alarm system, so if they go off, the firetrucks are coming. We burnt about half the French toast, so I took the smoke detectors off the walls. Then the alarm started... beeping? It wasn't blaring, thank God, but I'd never heard it beep before, so Beth opened all the windows to air out the house, and I had to awkwardly call my dad like: "heh, we made French toast, so if you get a call, don't let the fire trucks come. oops."

Only after that did I realize that the alarm was beeping because I took the smoke detectors off the walls.

So I put those back on.

We were simultaneously laughing our asses off while flipping out about the possibility of firefighters coming to our house because of a fanfic. It was fun. Certainly intensified this experience.

And in the end we had...

A strangely eggy, flavorless stack of "Bitch's Famous French Toast"

Some of them were very burnt, but that's down to Beth and me. Y/N doesn't hold any blame.

Look at all that toast (eight fucking slices) and keep in mind that Firmin canonically eats the entire stack. And, AND! It was so good, in the next chapter, he call for it to be served to the whole opera house.

Beth quote: "It really just tasted like eggs. The cinnamon didn't do much, but because the egg soaked into the bread so much, it had this strange, bizarre custardy quality?"

Her rating: 4/10

I, as a person with celiac disease, had to make it on gluten-free bread. It's worse that way: 3/10

After eating, uh, some of the French toast and freezing the rest for a moment of hungry desperation, we sat on the couch to collect ourselves. I started typing up this post, when our upstairs TV miraculously turns on (it turns on with any change in the room's lights, and it's extremely annoying).

What is it playing?

KITCHEN FUCKING NIGHTMARES

Which, in fairness, we had been watching earlier. Gordon Ramsay was speaking to our souls while we sat on that couch.

Side note, please don't take this as us hating on this fic. It was our single biggest inspiration while writing "A Girl's Desire" and we genuinely adore it for all it's worth.

If the author sees this, I will be starstruck.

#phantom of the opera #fanfiction #poto #erik destler #wattpad #fanfic #phantom of the opera fanfiction #phantom of the opera fanfic #gaston leroux #erik poto #poto musical

[vaya-writes]

The Wyvern's Bride - Part 3.3

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

4800 words. Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut). firefly-graphics did the divider.

Masterlist - Previous

Get excited. A large portion of this is Slate's POV. And by the Gods please don't let me edit this a third time. I'm done. If I left any filler words or random parts bolded for later fixing, no I didn't.

Slate is gone when Adalyn wakes. She’s sensing a pattern and wonders how he manages to wake and leave before she does, despite her baker instincts to be up before sunrise. 

Not in any rush, Adalyn fortifies herself with a cup of tea out on the balcony, snacking on some old biscuits. She cooks jam on toast over the fire, frowning at the mess cluttering the hearth. She takes a moment to straighten the equipment and jars – she's keen to get cooking, but with Slate’s explicit permission to organise his belongings, part of her is tempted to spend the morning rearranging.  

Still, they’d purchased a week’s worth of groceries yesterday, and she plans to experiment. After she’s fed and dressed, she heads down to the kitchen, lighting the room once she arrives. They’d visited Northpoint, the main trade hub of the valley, and Adalyn had managed to procure some sugar. Slate had smiled at her excitement at seeing the ware, and purchased the merchant’s whole stock.  

She spends half the morning baking, experimenting with recipes that exist only as scraps in her family journal, or as fragments in her memory. The shortcrust biscuits are a little sweet and the pastries don’t keep the shape she wants, but the sweet rolls turn out beautifully, and she makes note of the recipe she’d used. 

When the dining area begins to lighten, Adalyn starts to prepare lunch. She packs a basket, and is off towards the main-way, excited to showcase her food for the day. 

Slate is working on the same passage as last time, and she waits expectantly by the stream bank as he washes off and joins her on the blanket she’d laid out.  

“Potato and leek pottage. Bread of the day. Wine,” she gestures to each in turn. 

He smiles. “You’re an absolute blessing, Adalyn.” 

She blushes and stares at her food. “There’s like three breads of the day, but this one turned out best.” 

Slate lets out an appreciative groan when tears into the loaf and raises it to his nose. “I believe you.” 

They eat in silence for a few minutes, before Adalyn tries to start a conversation.   

“What are you working on today?” 

 Slate grins at the inquiry. “I’ve pretty much dug to the right spot. Now it’s time to start hollowing out a living space.” 

“What do you do with all the stone?” 

He shrugs. “I set it aside. Most of it is good for sculpting. I can use it for furnishing, or steps, or block facades. Though some of it is as good as slag by the time I’m through.” 

Adalyn nods contemplatively. Realises that they’re sitting in a makeshift limestone quarry. She’s musing about the other uses of the stone, wondering if there’s any further use, or if Slate would sell the material when he interrupts. 

“Have you given any thought to what you’ll call your wing?” 

She starts from her thoughts. Raises a brow. “Can’t I just call it my wing? My chambers. My tower?” 

“You can. But where’s the fun? It’ll be big enough to be its own fort, at least.” 

A pang of unease goes through Adalyn. If she were self-reliant in her quarters, wouldn’t that mean less reason to visit Slate and the Tower? 

She shrugs, pushing the feeling down. “From the valley they look like they’re in a row. Sometimes we number them. The Tower is fifth...” 

Slate hits his knee with a fist, excited. “I like the way you think. That’d make your mountain the fourth?” 

“Yes.” 

“We could call it Fourth Spire? Fothspire? Fourth Peak?” 

Adalyn busies herself with her food. Watching the enthusiasm in Slate’s demeanour stings, just a little. “Fourth Spire is fitting.” 

There’s a silence while they eat. Slate shoots Adalyn some careful stares, sensing something amiss. “What are your plans for the day?” 

Adalyn glances to the sky. The sun is high overhead, stretching into the afternoon. “Dunno. Maybe I’ll clean your desk.” She means it as a joke, but considers with some seriousness. 

Slate purses his lips. “If it makes you happy, dearest.” 

She takes pity on him and huffs a laugh. Some of her tension seeps away. “Did you have a system you’d like me to adhere to?” 

He pouts down at his food. “Not presently.” 

“And the books you’ve left out. They’re quite numerous...” 

He fidgets. “I might be referencing some of them.” 

“Even the ones left on the floor?” 

“Well, maybe not those.” 

Adalyn teases him with a smile. “I also meant to inquire about your book-marking system.” 

He meets her eyes, despairing. “... What book-marking system?” 

“The one where you leave books open or close them on a variety of... strange things. Feathers. Receipts. Fabrics. Unidentified plant matter.” 

He shifts. “Well, you know dog earring is terrible for parchment.” 

  “So is staining the pages with potion ingredients, dearest.” She pushes back with the new endearment. 

He covers his silence by scraping the bottom of his bowl. 

Adalyn relents. “If they’re not an elaborate bookmarking system I’ll just remove them then? At least from the books not currently in use?” 

He relaxes a bit. “I should be grateful for your care, Adalyn. I admit the treatment of my hoard is not always delicate.” 

She permits another soft smile. “Would that I knew how to care for your belongings. I’ve never cleaned armour or weapons, and I fear to touch half of your possessions for worry of mistreating them.” 

He stretches. Gives her a sheepish look. “I’ll show you then. If you’ll remain patient. I’m not fond of cleaning but you’ve my permission to wrest the best methods out of me.” 

She raises her brows. Considers the chance to spend more time with her husband, under the guise of learning and cleaning. 

Weary at her interest, Slate stands and dances back. “Later, though. You’ll not have me that easily.” 

She scowls at him. “Tease.” 

--- 

By sunset Adalyn has cleared the walkways significantly. She doesn’t know how so many tomes found their way onto the floor when they’d tidied less than a week prior. Slate exudes a special kind of chaos. Despite his list and his priorities, it seems the wyvern can’t help but start other projects on a whim, falling victim to tangents and rabbit holes much too easily. 

She doesn’t even know what half his side projects pertain to. Just that their shopping trip in the valley had resulted in them visiting all three major settlements and stopping to speak with every experienced tradesperson they crossed. 

He’d been so enthused by the time they got home – evening, despite their morning start – that he’d raced off to work on something that night and had completely missed dinner. 

He’d eaten at least – the food was gone when she woke this morning. Along with her husband. And with Slate dismissing her at lunch – albeit playfully – and now running late for dinner again, Adalyn feels the itch of rejection chafing at her once more. 

She knows it was foolish to assume that it’d be a perfect transition. That things between them would stay simple and easy. They've been married... five days now. Complications are to be expected.  

But she still wonders if Slate even notices her disconnect. If he feels as estranged as she does. She doesn’t know if he’s rushing the construction of her quarters because he wants her gone, or if he’s being dutiful and kind, or if he’s just hyper-fixating on his next big project. She doesn’t know, because he hasn’t given her any indication. Hasn’t spoken to her about anything serious. Has barely spent any alone time with her. 

She finishes her dinner and covers Slates before standing to pace, restless. She scours the room for something else to do before flopping into the desk chair and scowling at Slate’s desk. Blueprints and plans are scattered around.  

Part of her feels small and dumb. Because each night after dinner, if he remembers to attend, Slate spends hours poring over these papers, drafting out his plans and thumbing through his reference books. Small and dumb because of the jealousy she feels towards some parchment. She wants to resent the paperwork. Envies the attention Slate gives it.  

But she relaxes incrementally and lets out a sigh. She doesn’t hate his work. Listening to him talk about engineering and different types of construction, watching him get so animated; she feels guilty for being so angry over something that obviously brings him so much joy.  

And it’s not as if Slate had promised her romance.  

He’d married out of self-interest. To discourage his family. An act of pettiness, or rebellion, she’d thought when he’d first revealed the plan.  

It only hurts because she likes him. 

Her fingers brush the scale that she keeps in her pocket. She grits her teeth at the acknowledgement. Then pushes the thought away. Her feelings for the wyvern aren’t something she wants to contemplate yet, even as she skirts around the truth of them. 

Adalyn lets out a sigh and chides herself. There’s no point dwelling on it. Especially if she refuses to act. And tonight, she doesn’t feel like doing either. 

--- 

The following morning, Slate stirs from his spot on the chaise as the room, barely perceptibly, begins to lighten. He groans, stretches, and nearly falls onto the floor. His cheeks darken, despite the lack of audience to his mishap.  

Slipping back into autonomy, Slate makes his way to the partitioned wash area and fills the basin with fresh water. He splashes his face and dresses for the day. The sun’s not up yet, but rays of red light – probably imperceptible to the human eye – are filtering into the room. Enough to let Slate know it’s time for him to start the day. 

He makes himself coffee. Adalyn had tried the bitter drink once and nearly spat it out, to his great amusement. He supposes that it’s an acquired taste, and as remote as they are, it’s not like any of the locals would have the chance to get used to it. 

He scarfs down a handful of Adalyn’s biscuits, puts another log on the fire, and lingers by the bed. He adjusts the blankets on his wife before leaving in a rush, not allowing himself to stare for too long. 

It’s a bad habit. 

He shouldn’t have started it. Shouldn’t keep indulging it. If she knew how he fussed, how often he touches her without permission... He hates to think of what she’d do if she found out he’d been pushing the boundaries like that. Especially with how touch sensitive humans supposedly are. 

Slate flies to the main entrance before shifting into his demi form and going on foot to Fourth Spire. The ground floor is gradually opening up, and he’s paying close attention to the central column. 

It’s thick, acting as both a support within the tower, and a centralised route up and down the floors once he hollows it out into a large spiral staircase. He hopes Adalyn likes it. Still, part of his mind ticks away at the design, wondering if there’s anything he can add, anything he can do to make carrying things up and down the Spire any easier for his human wife.  

Ready to begin, he lets shadows gather at his fingertips. Feels the weight of keratin form into large claws. In his demi form his muscles are already prepared for the weight the transformation brings. More scales appear across his forearms, the dense patches protecting him from any loose debris that might go airborne. 

Then he begins carving. 

Taking breaks only to sip at a skin of water, he loses himself in the sounds of the earth and the rhythm of his work, pausing occasionally to check that the angles and measurements aren’t out of order. It has to be perfect. Sure, it’s only the first shaping of the stairs. He’d go over it with his chisels once the basic shape had been found. But he moves carefully, not willing to make any mistakes with Adalyn’s quarters.  

She’d been... withdrawn last night. Pale and wan once she’d fallen asleep. There’d been a strange undercurrent in the air when he’d landed on the balcony and found her reading in the back corner.  

Seeing his covered dinner plate had shamed him. Once more he’d been late for dinner. Once more he’d promised himself he’d do better. He’d check the sky. He’d stop work early. But deep beneath the surface it’s hard to keep track of the time. Even if his eyes can cut through the dark with perfect clarity, he has no way of knowing what time it is. Especially as he gets lost in his work. (Especially as he can’t find anyone to fix that blasted timepiece). 

There’s the crunch of footsteps and he pauses in his work. Turns to regard Adalyn, waiting by the entrance with a torch. 

Controlling his delight, Slate wipes his hands on his pants and banishes his claws, trying to appear somewhat collected. Somewhat normal. Human. Palatable, he thinks. 

He gives her a polite smile. “What brings you today?” 

Her brief lunch visits are perhaps the only time she seems open. Relaxed. He looks forward to their little appointments, even if half the time he doesn’t know what to say or how to act.  

She crinkles her nose as she looks around the space. For a moment his heart skips a beat. Is something wrong with it? 

“I don’t know how you breathe through all this dust. If a human worked in these conditions they’d probably get black lung.” 

Relief floods him at the comment. Then embarrassment. Ancestors, he cares too much about her opinion.  

“Black lung is caused by scarring to the lung tissue. Most dracanoids are resistant to minor scarring and damages.” 

“Resistant,” Adalyn corrects, “but not immune.” 

Her concern is sweet enough, endearing enough, that his smile softens. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Her ears turn pink, and she turns away. “Did you want some lunch?” 

He follows her out into the mainway, sheds his footwear, and steps into the stream. The water is icy and he grits his teeth before dunking himself and rubbing the grey dust away.  

Curiously, Adalyn doesn’t watch, instead unpacking their blanket and lunch with careful movements, barely sparing him a glance. It’s his second clue that something is up, as most afternoons she can’t keep her eyes off of him, much to his pleasure.  

Dripping, but clean, Slate joins her at the makeshift picnic, sitting cross legged across from her. He eats the food with gusto, hoping the sounds and motions can convey what he struggles to do so with words. When Adalyn produces a flask of coffee, still hot, he almost swoons. 

“A female after my own heart,” he mutters, sipping at the brew. He misses the way she stills at his words. “So what are your plans for the day?” 

She shrugs before drinking from her own flask of tea. “I was just going to explore. Maybe experiment in the kitchen later. Do something different for dinner.” 

Something in his chest warms. “I’ll look forward to trying it.” 

She huffs. “Don’t be so enthused. I could end up poisoning us if I go too wild.” 

“I’m not worried.” 

Adalyn is silent for a moment, a strange expression flitting across her face. When she speaks next, her words still roll with the same cadence and volume, but Slate can’t help but feel that there’s something missing in her tone; some of the warmth behind her eyes has waned. 

“Is there anything I can eat that you can’t?” 

Grateful for the change in topic, Slate takes a moment to consider. “Not really. I think some red dragons can’t eat ice. But otherwise, we’re pretty good at digesting things, even if they’re not particularly nutritious.” 

“What do you like to eat?” 

Slate bites back a smile. He enjoys Adalyn’s curiosity. Her willingness to learn, and to hear him talk about the things she likes. She never makes it seem like he’s being boring. Even if there’s the occasional moment when he wonders if her mind is elsewhere, or she’s veiling some display of emotion. 

“I like all kinds of foods. One of the benefits of living so long and so richly is that I can travel around and try different things. I adore coffee. Though that might be because it’s mildly addictive. I like fish when it’s simple and game when it’s extravagant. I’m not very experienced at cooking many of these things, but I like different spice blends from Shad and the different grains they cook with. I like fruit and berry pastries. Cocoa from the Isles. I prefer my eggs cooked through, and I like the texture of toast when it’s a bit too crispy. But mostly I like variety. Being surprised by my food, or changing things up occasionally.” 

He reigns it in when Adalyn stares. There’s an indecipherable look on her face once more, and he pauses, suddenly self-conscious.  

“I’m not boring you, am I?” 

Her look softens. “I asked.”  

Slate drops his eyes. Suddenly overcome with the urge to reach out and touch her, to cup her face, to lean in and taste her breath; he schools his features into neutrality before pulling out another practiced smile. She’s just being friendly. Polite. 

“Lunch was wonderful. Thank you, Adalyn.”  

She smiles back, soft, but with that shadow of emotion from earlier, the one he can’t quite place.  

It’s enough that he finally frowns. Reaches out and touches her hand. “Is something wrong?” 

She hesitates, and he waits, giving her the time she needs to find her words. She seems to be thinking hard, conflicted. Eventually she lifts her eyes to his. Bites on her lip.  

“It’s silly.” 

“I won’t laugh.” 

She looks away again. “Will you... show me how to take apart and clean your armour tomorrow?” 

He tries not to frown. He has to wonder if she’d changed her mind about what she was going to say. Why look so torn over such a simple request? 

“Of course. Is that all?” 

She struggles to meet his gaze again. Shrugs. “Yes. I just... I like spending time with you.” 

Something in his chest warms. His face too.  

“I like spending time with you too, dearest.” 

She rolls her eyes at the endearment, but the tension is barely diffused. She still looks uncomfortable. 

He’s not sure what to say to make it better. Instead waits, hoping that she’ll break the silence. 

After a while, she does. “I’m just- worried.” 

He tilts his head.  

She shrugs again, trying to downplay the moment. “When you finish the Spire and I move out, what if I don’t get to spend any more time with you?” 

He blinks. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. At least, not as something to worry about. He’d been toiling away in the keep, eager to gift Adalyn with her own space and not considering how she might feel about it. Does she want her own quarters? Will she like living by herself? He hadn’t even thought to ask. 

Looking at her now, vulnerable, hardly able to meet his eye, the previous warmth in his chest dissipates, and fractures. He’d messed up.  

He flounders for the right words to fix his mistake. To reassure Adalyn, and make that doleful expression go away. 

“I- uh. Of course you’ll spend time with me. You have a knack for tracking me down. And I really enjoy our lunches together.” 

Her expression barely changes. She just nods, and looks away, before making to stand. 

Slate winces and grabs her hand. Stands with her. Blurts the first thought to pop into his head. “I could build a bridge? One from the tower to your Spire? That way you can visit me whenever, and won’t even have to walk the whole keep.” 

Her face is blank for a moment. Then he watches as she goes through the effort tilting up the edges of her lips. Summons a spark to her eyes. “Sounds difficult.”  

He agrees. “A secret tunnel would probably be easier.”  

The smile twitches. “Probably more romantic too.” 

He blinks again. Latches onto that train of thought with clawed hands. “Do you like romance?” 

She looks away. “I don’t know. I haven’t really tried it.” 

There’s a precipice in front of him. A vulnerability he’d yet to show Adalyn. Yet to show anyone really. And while he hesitates to step over it, looking at the cracks in his wife’s composure, and their linked hands, his decision to speak is easily made. 

“Neither have I.” 

She turns to regard him, face still mostly blank. “You... haven’t?” 

“Nope.” 

He watches her weigh her words. Shift her weight. Consider the implications.  

“I see.” 

Adalyn no longer looks quite so melancholy, and it’s a balm on his nerves. But now that the desperate grab for reassurances and comforts is done, he shifts uncomfortably. The silence grates on him, and he wonders what next he should say. 

Adalyn saves him the trouble when she floors him with her next question. 

“Would you like to? 

Slate blinks. Looks sharply at the woman only to find her staring at her feet again, arms wrapped around herself. 

“Uh,” his heart is beating too hard, “I hadn’t considered it.” There’s another tense silence. “Would you?” 

Despite asking the first question, Adalyn still has the gall to look surprised. She meets his stare, eyes wide for a moment, before looking away. She packs the picnic blanket. Puts their dishes away, slowly, while she deliberates on her answer.  

Finally when she stands, she holds her basket in hand, almost as if she’s ready to flee at a moment’s notice. She makes herself meet Slate’s eyes. Composes her expression into one of neutrality again. 

“Yes. I think I would.” 

His mind blanks.  

He doesn’t have it in him to consider the implication of her words while she still stands before him. To consider the surge of... something... in his chest. To get a grip on his emotions and form a coherent response.  

But she stands there, waiting for him to reply.  

In his panic, he settles on an abrupt change in topic. “Tomorrow then, I’ll show you the armour.” He smiles. Starts backing away, before giving a little wave and turning. His steps back towards the Spire aren’t measured. He practically flees the scene, head reeling.  

When he’s out of sight he pauses to lean against the wall and lets himself just marinate in the mix of adrenaline and surprise.  

He can hear her still, lingering in the main-way. After a moment he listens to her footsteps fade into the distance, and he lets himself breathe again. 

Adalyn wants romance.  

Even thinking the words surprises him. Makes him haunted and hopeful. She might be open to advances. She might want somebody else. She might have been speaking on an entirely hypothetical level. And because he ran like a coward he’ll never know, unless he can muster up the nerve to pry further. 

Slate abandons the central column and starts working on one of the outer walls. They still need to be taken out, and there’s not many mistakes he can make while doing that. He resummons his claws, still in a daze, and resumes his work, though not grounded in the slightest. 

With enough monotony of motion he’s able to push the emotions down and focus on his work. Thought’s still swirl but he’s able to get lost in it, until he is sore and stiff and thirsty. He goes to take a drink and finds his skin empty. He lets out a long breath as the echoes of his labour fade away. It has probably been a while, and he resolves to take a break. To head to the main-way and refill his skin.  

When he makes it to the cavern, he catches sight of the sky and curses. The moon is high, and he bemoans how late it must be. Time just keeps getting away from him.  

He shifts and takes flight, making a direct beeline to the Tower. He lands on the balcony, trading his wings for his human form. 

He’d missed dinner again. Not only that, but Adalyn is already in bed, and her breath indicates that she’s sleeping deeply.  

Damn it.  

Grinding his teeth at his latest mistake, he fills the bathtub and sheds his clothes. When he’s no longer the colour of chalk or tasting grit in his mouth he dries and dresses, and empties the tub. 

Spying dinner on the table, he’s hit with a slew of emotions. Gratitude and adoration. Guilt and sadness. He needs to fix his timepiece. Or pull his head out of his ass and start making time for his wife. If he doesn’t, the next few decades are going to be incredibly stilted, and it would probably be his fault. 

Walking past his desk, he pauses when he sees Adalyn’s binder sitting open, a handful of papers poking out. He’s sure she didn’t have nearly as many when she first moved in and unpacked. Curious, he examines one. It almost looks like a blueprint. It’s a birds-eye-view of a room. Or perhaps not a room, judging by the lack of walls or doors. Those are... garden beds. Pots. Plant names. Has Adalyn been planning a garden? 

Unable to dampen his curiosity, he slides the other sheets into view. There’re recipes, to do lists, shopping lists, more blueprints. He skims the to do list, written in Adalyn’s tidy print: garden supplies, write Rin, meet with G&G, see jeweller. On the other side is another list, self explanatory: 20x small pots, 10x large pots, 5x crates soil, old garden cuttings, 1x load fertiliser, spade, watering can, water barrel... The list trails off, instead devolving into loose sketches of a rudimentary irrigation system. Slate is impressed.  

He puzzles over the next page. Adalyn had drafted a blueprint – two blueprints, of similar design. It’s not up to industry standard, but it’s legible. Slate doesn’t know what to make of the design. Apparently half of the building is to be hewn from the mountain, and a protruding half to be built from wood? He decides to ask about it later. 

He sits down for dinner, considering her plans and altering his own. Glass. Wardrobe. Rail. Timepiece. Pots. Soil. Fertilizer. His list is growing. The trip he’s been putting off is starting to look more and more needed, and Slate sighs, wondering if he should just get it over with. It could certainly be a pleasant surprise for Adalyn. 

When he finishes cleaning up for the night he hesitates at the foot of the bed. He should just go and lay down on the chaise. Sleep off the fatigue that is starting to cloud his mind.  

Instead, he finds himself laying down beside Adalyn and watching her for a moment. He almost immediately wishes he hadn’t as he sinks into the mattress and muffles a sigh. It’d be the only perk, giving Adalyn her own quarters. He’d missed sleeping in the bed.  

It seems kind of dumb to him. That humans reserve sex for the bedroom. It makes him self-conscious whenever he enters the space. Is he bothering Adalyn by being here? Is he pushing her boundaries too much? It’s not like she’d say much if he did. Fuck, she’d even offered to share the bed with him, that first night. He’d declined, if only to make sure she wasn’t rushing into things. And she hadn’t asked him back since.  

Adalyn rolls. Her back slots against Slate’s chest. Her head rests on his arm. Slate freezes. Scarcely breathing, he waits for her to wake. To jerk away. To do something. Anything.  

She doesn’t wake. As the minutes tick by, Slate relaxes fractionally. Lulled by her warmth and lured by her gentle breathing into lowering his guard, Slate lets his eyes close. Inhales deeply. 

Just a few more minutes. Then he’d leave. He’d go and sleep on the chaise. Would stop smelling her hair like a depraved pervert. Would pull away from her touch. 

Just a few more minutes. 

--- 

“Dearest Adalyn 

I need to pick up some supplies from Cheywyn. Unfortunately, I won’t return until tomorrow morning, if things go according to schedule. I’m saddened that I’ll be missing our midday meal, but look forward to returning to you. 

Fondest regards 

Slate” 

She’d woken from a pleasant dream this morning. Warmth against her back, and a hand entwined in her hair. Slate’s absence was not unusual. She’d stoked the fire, started breakfast, and had sat at the table, relaxed and looking forward to the day. Then she’d seen the note. 

Adalyn sips her tea on the balcony, eyes trained on the horizon. The letter is clenched in her fist.

Next

#the wyvern's bride #vaya writes #monster romance #wyverns #dragons #tetaro #exophilia #my writing #oh my god this was so long because i wanted to put his pov in this chapter #fuckkkkkkk #fun fact the pov is largely unchanged from the draft #but i had to rework much of the prior conversations and interactions #please validate me #this writing is top notch and the best thing you'll ever read and im so incredible i already know yuo'll love it but also tell me #so i can hear it #pls

[zealfruity]

Clones as Incorrect Quotes 1/2 Master Post (Canon-compliant and Standard Fix-It AU version) Ft. Jedi Disaster Trio

Unholy mixture of random generators, unsolved/ghost files banter, and things my friends have said

Occasional spoilers following below

A few notes for these: Tup is NB he/they. Hardcase is genderfluid. Vaughn is agender they/them. Jesse has no idea how any of this works, someone help him. NO CLONESHIPPING OR JEDI TRIO SHIPPING HERE!

Kix: Underestimate me. That'll be fun.

*Dogma is casually searching around the room*

Jesse: Hey Dogma, what're you looking for?

Dogma: My will to live.

*Tup walks into the room*

Dogma: Oh, there it is.

Hardcase: Assert your dominance over your friends by kicking them in the face, and then giving them a little smooch on the forehead!

S7 501st Trooper: Didn't you die?!

S7 Echo: That was weeks ago, dude. Things change.

Dogma: Have I ever told you that you cook well?

Hardcase: Awww, no, you haven't!

Dogma: So why do you keep cooking?

Crosshair, pointing to the wall: What color is this?

Hunter: Gray.

Tech: Grey.

Crosshair, turning to Wrecker: Now tell them what color you think it is.

Wrecker: Dark white.

Tup: As someone who has a long history of not understanding anything, I feel confident in my ability to continue not knowing what is going on.

Rex: Now, the recipe calls for 2 shots of vodka.

Rex: *upends the bottle*

Hardcase: I was put on this earth to do one thing.

Hardcase: Luckily I forgot what it was so I can do whatever I want.

Rex: Do not come over to my house. If the house is on fire you may knock once, if I don't answer assume I set the fire and I want to burn to death.

Blackout: I'm not superstitious... But I am a little stitious.

Hunter: You’re jealous.

Crosshair: Jealous?

Hunter: That’s why you were being so negative about this.

Crosshair: That’s absurd. I’m always negative.

Waxer: Just took a personality test and got an A+.

Tup: Shouldn't get stressed out, it's not good for the baby.

Fives: What baby?

Tup, crying a bit: Me.

*Disneyland, in the teacups*

Kix, Jesse, and Rex: *spinning a little and talking*

Fives and Hardcase: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

Kix: Isn’t this a bit dangerous?

Fives: Kix, please. We’ve been in a lot of unexpected predicaments before and we always escape unhurt.

Kix: ...

Fives: Okay, we sometimes escape unhurt.

Kix: ...

Fives: Alright, we escaped unhurt once... Then we hurt ourselves on the way home.

*Comments under an image of a lightsaber cutting bread*

Jesse: Imagine stabbing someone with this.

Kix: It would instantly cauterize the wound, so the person wouldn't bleed, so it's not very useful.

Fives: if you want information it is

Hardcase: why would you stab a person when you can have TOAST?

Rex: Hardcase is late again.

Fives: How did this happen? I called them at 8 o’clock this morning and pretended it was 11.

Kix: I printed up a fake schedule for them saying we were starting at 9 instead of noon.

Jesse: I set their clock to say PM when it’s really AM.

Rex: Oh boy. We may have overdone it.

*Hardcase bursts through the door*

Hardcase: WHAT TIME IS IT?

Kix: Where is everyone?

Hardcase: Tup had a nervous collapse, Jesse is looking after him, Rex is trying to kill Fives, so I’m in charge.

Kix: Oh my god!

Hardcase: I know, right?

Hardcase: I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven.

Dogma: I have that dream, too, but you go in the other direction.

Kix: Your lover doesn't have the mental strength to caramelize onions.

Echo: Your lover thinks it takes 5-10 minutes to caramelize onions.

Jesse: Who's fucking caramelizing onions? Have you sociopaths forgotten that apples exist?

Fives: Do you think caramelizing onions is putting caramel on onions.

Hardcase: Don’t be sad!

Tup: Why not?

Hardcase:

Hardcase: I don’t have a good answer.

Dogma: You have friends and I envy that.

Tup: You're welcome to share my friends.

Dogma: *looks at Hardcase and Fives*

Dogma: I don't want those.

Fives, T-posing in the doorway: Greetings, Captain.

Rex, not looking up from his caf: Good morning, problem child.

(Post war, Jesse’s a farmer on a farm)

Jesse: I need 28 lightbulbs for 28 ducks.

Tup: Ducks can’t eat lightbulbs?

Kix: I think that’s the point.

Jesse: Exactly. I want my ducks to glow so I can find them.

Vaughn: Could you guys at least try to see this from my perspective?

Jesse: *crouches down*

Appo: *kneels down*

Sgt. Fox: *sits on the floor*

Vaughn:

Vaughn: I hate all of you.

Cody: Wow, this parking is as straight as I am.

Wolffe: I know I should be focused on the fact that you just came out, but HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY PARKING!

Fives: I have met some of the most insufferable people. But they also met me.

Omega: WHY DID YOU KILL HIM?! HE COULD HAVE HAD HOPES AND DREAMS, HE COULD HAVE HAD A FAMILY!!!

Hunter: Omega-

Hunter: It- it was just an ant-

Echo: Unfortunately, due to several experiences in my youth, I cannot just 'walk up and join a circle of people talking', but it does sound lovely, thank you.

CF99: I think it's time to start fucking some shit up.

Rex: Oh no.

CF99: More like "oh yes!"

Rex: Hardcase! Have you no dignity?

Hardcase: Of course not! How long have we known eachother?

Fives: *running towards Dogma with open arms*

Dogma: *moves out of the way*

Fives: Hey, why'd you move?!

Dogma: I thought you were going to attack me.

Fives: I was going to hug you!

Dogma: Why would you hug me?

Fives: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

Fives: Guess what number I’m thinking of.

Jesse: 420?

Fives: No, that’s really immature of you. Someone else guess, and please take this seriously.

Hardcase: 69.

Fives: Yeah it was 69.

Hunter: How petty can you get?

Echo: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

Tup: Fives, sir, I am questioning your sanity...

Dogma: I never questioned it, I knew his sanity was missing from the start.

Thorn: Your future self is talking shit about you right now.

Fox: Jokes on him. I'll ruin his fucking life.

Fox: I only have two emotions: exhaustion and stress. And I’m somehow always feeling both simultaneously.

Kix: Hi, I'm Hardcase’s emergency contact.

Counter Guy: You're here to pick him up?

Kix: I'm here to remove myself as his emergency contact.

Cody, confused and exasperated: Waxer, how do you plan on telling a bear to go vegan?

Waxer: Politely.

Hardcase: If you spell skeletons backwards, it still spells skeletons.

Kix, deadpan: Wow, I can't wait for Halloween to see some snoteleks.

Echo: You’ve got to learn to love yourself.

Omega: But don't you hate yourself?

Echo: Yeah, but this is about you. Stay focused.

Hardcase: Hey droids! The boys are here!

Fives: “That’s a guy I wanna share a cold one with." Is what Bigfoot would say. About me.

Echo, about the Force: I'm bad at feeling. I wanna be swept up in this. I really wanna believe in something outside the norm of, you know, physics.

Rex: I've lived my life by one adage, and that's don't fuck with Sith!

Jesse, talking abour an insectoid creature from a holofilm: I’m just saying that if I were a bug I’d boink him.

Tup: If I were a bug I’d do a little bug dance.

Fives: My shoulders hurt from being so charismatic.

Jesse on Naboo leave: Why is the toilet paper scented here. It’s like rubbing my ass with some fckn lilies.

Hardcase: Would you notice if someone’s ears were a different color than their face?

Kix: You are literally the dumbest bitch I have ever met I love you so much.

Hound: Guys I did it again i took one of Grizzer’s pills

Fang: how the fuck

Wolffe: I don't trust pears they're sensual for no reason and then taste stupid.

Hound: I suddenly got really sad at the thought of eating my dog.

Boost: The leader never stops leading in true alpha fashion.

Sinker: please never say that again or I’ll call mutiny.

Jesse: Not to be political but idk what the fuck oatmeal is either man

Hardcase: *wears girl ring on one hand and boy ring on other hand* im so gendr

Bly: I am like one inconvenience away from deleting all my emotions and replacing them with disco.

Fox: Don’t date me unless you have a sexual preference for walls.

Echo: Me trying to fit my scomplink in the scomp-port of a computer is the equivalent of a man trying to finger a woman’s clitoris.

Tup: My head hurts. I think I'm dying.

Jesse: I have a cheesing appointment with your mom in half an hour.

Cody, threateningly: Your mouth is a fancy ballroom and I am a bitter man about to spike the party punch.

Echo: Here are two pictures. one of them is your room, and the other is the garbage dump.

Wrecker: *points at a picture* That one is the dump.

Echo: tHEY'RE BOTH YOUR ROOM!

Echo: It smells like henway in here.

Tech:

Echo: Tech.

Echo, forcefully: Doesn't it smell like henway in here?

Tech: *sigh*

Tech: What's a henway?

Echo: OH ABOUT TEN POUNDS!

Hunter: We are not mad. We are just disappointed.

Echo: No, we are mad.

Hunter: Yes. We are. We are livid. But we are going to let this one slide.

Echo: No, we’re not!

Hunter: I am not a mind reader, Echo!

Omega: I did it! I memorized everything in the book! I'm gonna ace this test!

Hunter: Ok, Omega, I'll give you one more question before you go. What ended in 1918?

Omega: 1917.

Hunter: ...You're ready.

Obi-Wan @ Anakin: Why do you always have to insult the ghost of the place we're at?

Anakin: What’s up with Obi-wan? He’s been laying on the floor for like….an hour now?

Ahsoka: He’s just a little overwhelmed.

Anakin: Why?

Ahsoka: Commander Cody smiled at him.

Anakin: Is this a good idea?

Anakin: Probably not.

Anakin: Do I care?

Anakin: No.

#silly #tcw #clone wars #star wars #tbb #bad batch #incorrect quotes #giant post #shitpost #clones #sw anakin #sw obi wan kenobi #sw ahsoka

[persphonesorchid]

New Beginnings - myg x reader

Notes: You guys can thank @bangtansmauyeondan for this little idea! Just hooray for me getting a new job - finally!!! And also an excuse to write Yoongi being whipped af - hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Masterlist :)

Yoongi's phone vibrates on the nightstand, set that way so his alarm doesn't wake you too early. He's already awake, a full two minutes before it started, and he's sitting at the end of the bed, running a hand through the mess of his dark hair.

He turns the alarm off, it's 5am, and he's tired - still sleepy, wanting nothing more than to curl up in the warmth of the covers you stole and fall asleep again. But Yoongi knows if he did that, neither of you would wake on time.

You'd had a hard enough time falling asleep as it is, too excited to find rest before your first day of your new job. Quite a big day for you, Yoongi knows you've been waiting a long while to get something anywhere. Jobs are hard to find, surprising with the amount out there, it's either you're too qualified or not enough, and he's been there with you for each time you got shot down to help you hold out a little bit longer. He was right there when you'd gotten the call, he knew it was something good when excitement mixed your tone.

You shouted once the call had ended and Yoongi dropped his phone on the coffee table when you'd nearly knocked him off the couch when you reached for him. He's too happy for you to be bothered with the crack on his phone screen, a safekeep of your brightest moment that day.

You're wrapped up in the sheets, he could just see the top of your head. Getting up at five am is worth it for once, even though Yoongi's eyes are burning because he spent most of the night trying to get you to relax and get to sleep. He knows you well enough to know that you'd wake up late, despite being so excited to go out and start working again. You'd also skip breakfast to make it there on time, and Yoongi is not having that.

He takes one last glance at you before getting up and stretching, rubbing his tummy as he drags his feet out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He'd had the forethought to set things out last night, to make things a little easier for himself. He'd made your lunch while you were sleeping, already set aside in the silver lunch box on the top shelf in the fridge.

He takes out a couple of eggs and bread for toasting, and the leftover kimbap from last night's dinner. Turn on the kettle to boil because he'd be damned if he doesn't have coffee right now.

He moves as quietly as he can around the kitchen, getting breakfast together before he goes to wake you. Sipping on his coffee while the bread toasts and thinking about what he'd do once you're gone off to work. He's gotten so used to having you around all day, finding things to keep you occupied, letting you chat his ear off when you found something new and exciting and he'd pretend to be annoyed by your constant blabbering. Taking naps at ten in the morning because time is a construct and he's sleepy damn it.

He'd definitely miss you wanting to try some new baking recipe you found on the internet because you were bored and him taste testing it because he honestly has no choice but to. He'll miss cuddling on the couch, barely paying attention to whatever's on the tv in favour of getting his hands under your shirt.

It may be a bit dramatic, it's not like he's not going to see you when you get home later. A couple of hours may seem like an eternity right now, but he'll survive. He thinks.

Yoongi's eyes flicker over to the clock on the wall and run over his mental checklist as he makes his way to your shared bedroom. Just as he left you, you're still wrapped up in the sheets, he's pretty sure you haven't moved from that spot.

He walks around the bed, hands searching for an opening to your snug cocoon. The warmth of your skin meets his cold hand and he softly touches as to not startle you out of sleep.

"Hey..." the you shaped lump barely stirs at his soft call and he tries again, tapping lightly at your leg, "Baby."

"Hm?" Your reply was sleepy, soft, not quite awake yet.

Yoongi chuckles, tugging at the edge of the sheet and pulling it down past your head. You blink sleepily at him, looking a little confused even as you smile.

"What time is it?" It's a struggle to bring your hand up from where it was to rub at your eyes, Yoongi notices, lost somewhere in the folds of the sheets.

"It's five-thirty." Yoongi lifts a hand to brush away the hair that blocks your eyes from him, smiling at the way you groan and try to pull the sheets back over your head. "A crime, I know. But get up. Or I'll leave your ass to be late."

You grumble something he couldn't quite catch, kicking the sheets free from around your legs and lay still, glaring at him. You looked cute though, with your puffy face and eyes that just screamed I'm too tired for this.

"Up and at 'em, missy." Yoongi pats your leg and stands, waiting until you get out of bed before he moves. You lean your head against his chest, and Yoongi presses a kiss to your hairline, hand meeting the warm skin of your back to rub small circles. He knows you, you'd simply wait until he leaves the room to get back under the warm covers and fall asleep again. But as you pull away and sleep leaves your eyes, he sees the excitement light them and you do a happy little wiggle before you walk quickly out of the bedroom.

"Don't take forever in there." Yoongi says, following after you, but moving back down the hall and into the kitchen while you go to the bathroom.

"Yeah yeah."

He makes your plate while he waits for you, pouring your coffee in your second favourite mug that you think brings you luck when you need it. Taking the small bowl of fruit he'd cut up earlier out of the fridge and putting it down next to your plate of eggs, bacon and toast.

You come in, fresh faced and hair looking somewhat neater than it was a couple of minutes ago. Surprise colouring your features, "Oh...you know I was.."

"I know. Sit."

You snap your mouth shut, sitting opposite him and he slides your coffee over. You smile slightly at the cup he picked, reaching for his hand. Your hand is a bit cold, but Yoongi's is too, and his cheeks are getting warmer and he's trying not to look directly at you.

"Thank you."

"Yeah....I don't want you to pass out at work or anything because you didn't eat breakfast." He squeezes your hand softly, and doesn't let go, "Eat before it gets cold, you still have to get ready."

Luckily for the both of you, you'd picked out what you're wearing the night before, more at Yoongi's prodding because you'd almost forgotten. And you're sitting, a little tense while Yoongi starts his car, dressed casually but still work appropriate.

The drive seems too short, and Yoongi could see you're a little more than nervous, fidgeting in your spot as you stare out the window at your new workplace.

"Relax, you'll be fine." He runs his thumb over your knuckles, smiling softly at you. "I'll pick you up later, just let me know when you're done."

You take a breath, nodding to yourself, "Okay. I'll text you during lunch."

Yoongi grabs your handbag and your lunch bag from the back seat and hands them to you. You turn to open the car door and Yoongi stops you, "Forgetting something?"

"Oh!" You giggle, leaning over to him and Yoongi gives a caste kiss, and one more just for luck. "I love you."

"Love you too, now get going." He shoos you with a wave of his hand, and waits until you're at the building entrance before waving again. He smiles when you smile widely and wave a little frantically before entering and he watches until he can no longer see you. He could only hope that your first day goes okay, good enough that you'd smile like that every time.

Tags: @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @btsstan12 @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @hamsterclaw @xpeachesncream

#persphonesorchid #Danielle writes: New Beginnings #bts #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #myg x reader #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi imagine #bts drabble #bts fanfiction #bts fic rec #min Yoongi #min yoongi fics #suga x reader

[moorishflower]

Hello, I create food from fiction and fanfiction, and love your work! Although I follow many stories you write, I was leaving some to read later because I can't hold too many WIPs in my head and you are such a prolific writer! So imagine my delight when I decided to start your Little Histories because the premise was too interesting to not read right now, and there was an entire chapter titled food?!!! Aaa!! So this is me just saying that I plan on making some foods from this story and will tag you and your story too! I hope that's fine.

And my question was: what is a full English breakfast? Based on your story and Google, it seems to include at least sausages, baked beans, fried mushrooms, runny eggs (sunny side up?), and also bacon, toast, fried bread (?), toasted bread, grilled tomatoes (?), black pudding (is this mandatory?). What should I absolutely include for the sake of the story?

Ok thank you and I can't wait for more updates to this sweet story!

Hello my dear! Thank you for the ask and the message, and can I just say that people who recreate food from books and fic are WIZARDS like you have a power that fascinates and compels me and I cannot wait to see what you come up with when you do!!! <3

So a traditional Full English breakfast is a massive undertaking and there's a reason why it's called a FULL English lol. The absolute musts are:

Sausage (If you're making this at home, it's kind of whatever sausage you like to use best. Breakfast sausage is popular.)

Back bacon (Specifically back bacon, what we'd call Canadian bacon in the US -- I think streaky bacon i.e. iconic American bacon is used sometimes, but much more rarely and it's definitely not traditional)

Sunny-side up eggs

Fried bread (You'll see this sort of interchangeably referred to as "toast" when looking at recipes and I do the same in my fic, but it is specifically bread fried in butter or oil, though I prefer butter)

Tomatoes (Cut in half, seasoned with salt and pepper, and then seared flesh-side down until they get some color. They don't have to be cooked through, though it depends on your preference)

Beans (Beans are a MUST according to anyone from the UK. You need British style beans, which are different from American-style baked beans. I've been informed that Heinz makes a British style canned beans, but I will be really honest -- the few times I've made a Full English I did not add beans because I'm a filthy Yank loool)

Optional Ingredients:

Mushrooms (Some people will say that these are required, but if you don't like mushrooms, you don't need them. These get browned and caramelized in a bit of oil or butter, with s&p for seasoning if you want!)

Black pudding (Also called blood sausage. If you like it, you love it. If you don't like it, nothing on earth will make you eat it. Black pudding gets sliced and cooked the same way as sausage. It's much harder to get in America (though I've heard if you have a local butcher you can sometimes get it), so I've never actually had it.)

Potatoes (There are some people who will stab you for mentioning hash browns in the same breath as a Full English and there are some people, like me, who are filthy Yanks and prefer potatoes over beans. For those of us who are heathen barbarians, the frozen triangular hash browns are fine, lol.)

There are regional variants that I'm not getting into because they aren't mentioned in the fic (Scotland, Wales, and Ireland all have specific additions), but these are the core things that make up a Full English! Thank you so much for reading, I'm so so glad you're enjoying so far and I hope you're having fun and continue to have fun!!! <3

#ask response

[kitty-is-writing]

Happy Pride Month all!

This year I finally got around to finishing some of my LGBTQ+ themed shorts, based in the same world as my novels. All of these are canon to the Drenius books, bits of character background and slice-of-life stuff that I couldn't fit into the main storylines.

The first one focuses on Alex and Dan, two loving husbands who run a tavern in a remote village. Hope you enjoy reading about these two.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

It was always so quiet in the mornings, Alex thought. The only sounds were the faint chink of dishes in the kitchen, and a distant mumble of people outside. Of course, the lack of paying guests at the moment contributed to the near silence. When they had people staying in the upstairs rooms, there was usually some thumping and conversation as they got up, packed if they were leaving that day, and headed down for breakfast. He enjoyed having guests, for the company and the stories they shared more than any income, but it was also nice to have quiet mornings sometimes. It gave him a chance to get all the tables polished in peace, and spend some time with Dan.

“Lex, honey, did you want your eggs fried or scrambled today?” Dan called through from the kitchen.

“Scrambled please,” he replied. Dan made the best scrambled eggs, with a sprinkle of grated cheese and some spices mixed in. They’d talked about opening for breakfast a few times before, serving some simple meals and hot drinks early in the day, but always decided against it. The first couple of hours of the day were their own, and neither of them was willing to share that time with anyone else.

He had just finished the second last table when Dan pushed the rickety breakfast trolley through, loaded with steaming plates, crumbling pastries, chilled juices and the morning’s papers. “Here we are. A good breakfast for a good day,” said Dan, setting things on the last unpolished table.

Alex smiled and put the cleaning things aside. This was their little ritual, Alex cleaned while Dan cooked, and once it was ready they sat together to enjoy each other’s company in peace before opening to the rest of the village. “It looks delicious. Did you try something different with the bread? It looks a bit more golden around the crust than your usual recipe.”

“It’s a new glaze, just a thin coating of spiced honey brushed over the top before baking. I thought it might make nice toast,” Dan replied as he cut off a few slices. “Let me know what you think, I might add it to the menu.”

“Mm. It’s good, reminds me of that mead they make over in the next village,” Alex said. “Sweet enough for flavour without being over sweet, and just right on the spice. Clove and cinnamon?”

“With a tiny hint of ginger for warmth. I’m thinking it might work nicely on some cakes for the winter, too,” said Dan, opening one of the papers then immediately closing it. “Nope. No bad news for me today, thanks.”

Alex looked over. “What is it?” They had newspapers delivered from both Aglendale and Oakshire, via a small courier service that worked along the border.

“Looks like King Francis is being a bastard again,” Dan replied. “Have a read if you like, I’m not going to make myself upset with the details.”

One of the Aglendale papers, the Apex Gazette, was closest to Alex. “Foolish Frankie Forfeits Friendships? Nice alliteration there,” he said, pulling it over to scan the article. “Apparently he’s insulted one of Nakata’s Imperial Princes. ‘Lard-bellied snot goblin’, they’ve quoted here, that’s an interesting phrase.”

Dan snorted into his tea. “Which Prince? I know a few of them are slightly portly, but I wouldn’t say lard-bellied. Or snot goblin, whatever one of those is supposed to be.”

“The one who was engaged to Princess Alicia, according to this. Nice looking guy, at least in this picture.” Alex turned the image towards Dan.

“Not bad. Little skinny for me personally, but I can see the appeal. Oakshire’s papers are a bit less flattering of him, though.” Dan nodded towards the paper he had first picked up, its headline screaming ‘Princess Engaged to Deviant Foreigner’. “Not sure if that’s a smear campaign of if he’s really bi or something, but it looks like they’re pushing the whole pervert angle again.”

Alex dropped the Gazette on top of it, covering the headline. “Nice. I’m so glad we got out of there when we did.”

“Same here. I do miss the bustle of Falridge, though. Maybe we could take a break sometime, close up for a week or so and go visit some of the elves’ cities?”

“That’s not a bad idea. It’s usually quiet in late spring, maybe then? Sapphire Falls is supposed to have some amazing views, or there’s Agate Cove on the south coast, if you’d rather go for a seaside trip.”

Dan nodded thoughtfully. “Either is good. Maybe both, if you feel like a bit of a road trip. We could hire a car, spend some time sightseeing along the way as well. Or we could go mad and take a whole month, travel the length of the country. I hear there are some great hiking trails in Points’ End,” he said.

“Now there’s a plan I can get behind. We could get someone to take care of the inn if we’re going for that long, too,” Alex said. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone could step in temporarily. Or just close the place and hire someone to keep the rats away. It’s not like we do a roaring trade at the best of times, little village like this. I’m sure the locals can feed themselves for a month.”

They finished breakfast, and Dan disappeared back into the kitchen to start on the day’s prep work. Alex cleared away the plates and polished the last table, hanging the assorted papers on the rack beside the bar. Most of the Oakshire papers tucked towards the back, folded so that the headlines screeching about ‘deviants’ were not immediately visible. Neither of them needed to be looking at those words all day, having heard them more than enough throughout their lives. Hopefully tomorrow the press would have found something else to be outraged about.

#short story #my work #lgbtq+ #gay pride #lgbtqia #pride #pride month #queer #original writing #Kitty's short stories

[ask-majoko-and-pals]

It's Rye time.

I've decided to try make a top breads/bread dishes of the week thing (even if some of these aren't breads, but according to Majoko and Hack, are "bread-adjacent")

10: Atrocity Sandwich. Molasses, honey, marmalade, and peanut butter are very good at sealing in a sandwich stuffed with a gooey texture. Consider it payback for our school years, Lucibelle. 2/10, incredibly petty move on my part, but not particularly harmful.

9: School cafeteria whole wheat roll. Not super good, but not terrible. They're baked en mass as part of necessity. 5/10, average.

8: Majoko's gingerbread cookies. I know they're cookies, but she said it's in the name, which is why it's ranking so low. The cookies themselves were good, but the chocolate was discolored. Hack did say they were the only good gingerbread they've ever eaten, so that's got to account for something. 6/10, not bread, but still good.

7: Galatea's cucumber sandwich. Not too bad, but she cut them up really small, and the bread didn't hold up too well because of the wet things (cucumbers, mayo, etc) in the sandwich. 7/10, good but wet bread.

6: Curry with toast. A student from Galar told me about it. They burnt the bread a little, but it's the thought that counts sometimes. 7/10, the bitterness of the burnt toast added something I thought was good, but that's just me.

5: Dante's ??? Bread. Majoko said he found the recipe on KlingKlok, but he must've done something weird to it. It looked huge, and the crust was crispy, but the inside had giant air pockets in it. 7/10, better than it looks.

4: Homemade sourdough rye. My mom called from home and asked if I could come over the weekend and make some. Turns out she really did name me after the bread. 8/10 for the naming story.

3: Croissant from Patisserie Soapberry. Galatea and Majoko insisted I go along with them to try it even though I get a bag whenever I'm there. I guess they just wanted to see me rate it on this list. 8/10, Super buttery, but not the real thing from Kalos.

2: Banana bread from Majoko's grandma. All I can say is that I want the recipe. 9.9/10, the only downside is that it arrived frozen, but I'm frankly impressed it tasted that good.

1: SOURDOUGH RYE BREAD BOWL WITH CORN CHOWDER. This is the best bread bowl and soup combo of all time, and I will battle anyone who says otherwise. It is my favorite. Hack also loves it. I made it for lunch for them and I think I'm going to do it every week now. 11/10 best bread bowl and soup combo, made Hack smile.

#rotomblr #pokemon trainer oc #pokemon irl #ask blog #oc ask blog #trainer oc #pokemon original character #oc #pokemon oc #original character #ocs

[brostateexam]

More than any other recipe category, jam seems to bring out people who really really want to insist that they are making a jam or a jelly when they aren't. I've found people online with a recipe for strawberry jelly that uses whole strawberries (jelly is the juice of a fruit, not whole fruit -- that's literally the difference!) and used gelatin instead of pectin. You may be thinking "okay, but 'jelly' is UK/Australia English for jello. Maybe they meant that." Then why did they proceed to jar it and instruct people to spread it on toast?

There's also this persimmon "jam" recipe I mentioned, which called for chia seeds instead of pectin, cinnamon, and a whole vanilla bean. That sounds lovely, but it's not a jam! It's a sauce. Call it a sauce! You can add the word "jam" in the interminable, boring copy that is the SEO lifeblood of every recipe blog so that you still get hits from randos, and maybe some of them will choose to make a sauce instead. Lord knows I have so many fucking persimmons from my tree that I need all the uses people can provide.

I'm already making persimmon pudding this week, and persimmon bread, and persimmons anything else I can think of. I may also make more jam once I get more jars, cause I only have one quart jar left and that is not enough to make it worth doing another batch.

Relatedly, if anyone has a recipe that uses up lots of lemons, hit me up. Cause I have like 60 lemons to use up, too.

#the blessing of mature fruit trees is they make fruit #the problem of mature fruit trees is they make fruit

[female-malice]

hi! i saw ur post about not eating sugar and was wondering what a typical day of eating looks like for you without any sugar? (if you're comfortable sharing, of course)

I just cut out added sugars. I still eat fruits and grains and stuff that has sugars naturally in them.

I am also a person with a sweet tooth. I like desserts. But I also like problem solving and making things and experimenting with recipes.

I'm not eating splenda or honey or agave syrup or anything like that. That's added sugar according to me.

So instead of adding sugar to things, I just eat raisins. SO MANY RAISINS. I made raisin rice the other day which was very good. It's almost like a dessert. Sort of. Also oatmeal with raisins and peanut butter is good every time.

The other day I made fried bananas for dessert. The recipe for the batter has sugar in it. But I just figured bananas are sweet enough so I cut the sugar out of the recipe.

Mango is an easy dessert that I love. There's also cotton candy grapes. And pomegranate. I've researched all the sweetest fruits lol.

I'm a chocolate lover. And I still eat chocolate sometimes! I make what I call "almost hot chocolate." It's one teaspoon of plain unsweetened cocoa powder whisked into a mug of hot milk. And then maybe add some cinnamon or nutmeg or something like that. And no added sugar. It's not bitter at all! It's a very soothing warm drink.

Almost all cereal is packed with sugar. But I found some generic rice puffs with zero sugar added. They're pretty good with fruit! I eat a lot of plain yogurt with fruit. But I get whole fat yogurt to make it rich and tasty. I also put a LOT of butter on my toast. Do you see where I'm going with this? For my "desserts" and "treats" I just replace added sugar with added fat!

Almost every single American grocery product has sugar added. Even savory things like breads, cereals, and crackers. You really have to check labels. So I'll let myself get something with just 1g added sugar if I can't find anything with no added sugar. There's a kind of cracker I like with 1g added sugar. And there's cinnamon raisin english muffins. Those cinnamon raisin english muffins are AMAZING! And they only have 1g added sugar.

Cutting added sugar out of my diet was actually way easier than I thought it'd be. I did it gradually and not in a rigid or disordered way. It was a process of gradually changing food habits and learning a new eating pattern.

Without a large daily sugar intake, I'm hungry all the time! My stomach literally vacuums up all the fruits and vegetables and bread I buy. I eat SO much bread now. And I get so many new cravings all the time. I can't satisfy cravings with sugar so I have to think "okay what else can I do?" That's why I started putting raisins in rice and frying bananas lol. I think cravings are important. And a diet with a high amount of added sugar can mess with how you respond to cravings.

Also, like I mentioned in a previous post, I feel less groggy and foggy.