brick ovens

[Tear You Apart] • 1


[Summary: A married Negan takes an interest in his neighbors young daughter]

Pre-Apocalypse Negan x Anastasia 

A/N: *OC is of legal age/23* (Her name is pronounced like Ana-stah-seya not ana-stay-sia). I was inspired by a lot of the themed one shots and wanted to try doing one based on the Types of Love! It’s not the literal definition of each type of love, but more based on their broad meaning. Eros: is an erotic or sexual type of love –  SOO I know said I’d post my Jason chapter before this, but I am having such a struggle trying to finish it up & this was already done – will get Jason posted soon promise! The first few parts are super smutty, enjoy :D

Warnings: 18+, cheating, uhh swearing? the fact that it’s Negan smut? lol please respect the age tag **

(gif by @mypapawinchester)

The clear, blue sky enticed the people living in this small town. They all desired to dip into the cool atmosphere just as long as they were away from under the ruthless fist of the unforgiving sun. It’s been like this for a week now. Children ran around, jumping through sprinklers while their laughs echoed across the neighborhood. Women walked around in their sun hats covering their delicate skin with porcelain cream to shield their beauty from the heat’s grasp. The men hid away safely inside, lazily relaxing on their leather recliners while they sat in the comfort of their cool living room caves.

To be indoors was all Negan could think about as he sat outside replacing old parts of his motorcycle. He didn’t know that the weather would open up the ninth circle of hell when he decided to fix up his Harley. “Sweetie” he looked up to find Lucille walking over to him, holding a silver tray in her hands, wearing her favorite pale blue sundress which emphasized her glowing face. “I brought you some lemonade” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.

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anonymous asked:

My school is built like a brick oven, it's literally a 100+ year old bomb shelter of a building. We have no AC except in this one leader of the hall monitors asshole dude who is retiring this year, his office has two. Our school starts in August now, and they still lose their minds when girls where spaghetti straps and shorts. Funny thing is Guys don't wear shirts a lot and nobody bats an eye Guess which is actually distracting

men be popn’ a titty while girls cant even show shoulder

Warhammer 40K Pizza AU
  • Space Marines: The equivalent of Pizza Hut: nothing truly outrageous, but a variety of flavors and combinations so that you can find your desired favorite.
  • Imperial Guard: Mass-produced but affordable while still being tasty. They have some specialties that most people don't order anymore but a few still like them.
  • Adepta Sororitas: Strictly orthodox cheese+sauce+crust and maybe a topping or two. Pineapple is considered heresy.
  • Deathwatch: Started off like the Space Marines but along the way someone gave them sriracha sauce, ghost peppers, pineapple, and exotic sausages. Now they're the place with odd combinations that somehow are really tasty.
  • Eldar: Super-artsy artisanal pizza with white sauce, olive oil drizzle, six kinds of goat cheese, and herbs baked into the crust.
  • Dark Eldar: Every sauce is actually maximum-strength sriracha. They do bizarre "acquired taste" specialties involving stuff like stuffed peppers and organ meats and ingredients that nobody knows how to pronounce.
  • Orks: Massive deep-dish monstrosities that are more like meat pies than pizza. Nobody complains though because the owners are boisterous and friendly and always give you tons of food.
  • Tau: You go in and order and they give you not one pizza but five mini-pizzas, each with a different topping. Eating each one individually tastes alright, but if you combine them they make really interesting and delicious gourmet combinations. The hipster pizza place.
  • Chaos: That one scuzzy-looking place that you're pretty sure is a front for something but the pizza is still good. Really likes their meats, and everything comes smothered in red pepper flakes. SAUCE FOR THE SAUCE GOD!
  • Necrons: The oldest building in town that stone-grinds its own flour, bakes everything in brick ovens, and ages its own cheese. Still somehow manages to crank out huge quantities, but they don't do specialty stuff.
  • Tyranids: Literally just sauce and a pile of toppings dumped on a crust, thrown in the oven, and devoured as messily as possible.
Sidney Crosby #2 - Homecoming

@habs-girl-31 asked: If the requests are open, (I can’t see the description because my computer if having a fit), could I request one with Sidney Crosby, where the reader has just come back from 3 years in the arm, and the Pens have won the cup, but Sid was sad that the reader wasn’t there to see it, but low and behold, the reader turns up and surprises Sid. Also, the team knew about it, but kept it a secret for Sid. Thank you!!! You are awesome BTW!! I love your stories

Yes my requests are open! I don’t have much to say in preface to this piece which seems to be a first for me. I hope you enjoy this! 

You had done a total of three tours in Afghanistan, each one longer than the last. The most recent had been three years long and even harder knowing you had someone to return home to. Your long term boyfriend Sidney Crosby had been planning to propose the same night you were planning to break the news to him so by the end of it there were lots of tears.

“Are you sure about this?” you had asked, “three years is a long time to wait.”
“You’re it for me,” he had confessed.

The two of you did the best you could with the distance and he kept you up to date on what was going on in Pittsburgh. He had dinner with your family twice a month when his schedule permitted and made sure your parents were doing okay.

On one of your most recent video calls he informed you that they had made it to the playoffs for the second year in a row. You had missed the previous season playoffs as well so you had to miss your fiancé hoisting the cup over his head. He sent pictures of course but it wasn’t nearly the same as being there for him.

You hadn’t noticed you were crying until he asked, “what’s wrong?”

“I’m just sad I don’t get to be there for you,” you sniffed.

“Don’t be sad. Please,” his voice grew hoarse as he tried to will away his own tears.

The end of the tour was set to end in mid-August so there was essentially no chance of you making it back in time.

Flash forward to game seven of the playoffs against the Nashville Predators. You were situated up in the Luxury Box with several of the important members of corporate watching as your fiancé and his team dominated the ice. He had no knowledge of you being in attendance and you had only gotten in last night. Due to an unfortunate incident with a mishandled firearm you had been honorably discharged but not before undergoing intensive surgery. You hadn’t told Sid as you didn’t want to him to worry as none of your injuries had been life threatening.

The score was tied 2-2 at the bottom of the third period and appeared to be going into overtime when Evgeni Malkin with an assist by Sid managed to sneak it past the Predators’ goaltender and win the game. Everyone around you began exchanging hugs and high fives when you felt a tap on your shoulder. The Penguins PR manager gestured for you to follow and took you down to where you could enter onto the ice. The team was currently huddled around their captain and watched as he was the first to lift the Cup. Even from this distance you could see the joy on his face. Just as soon as he passed it off to another teammate, reporters swarmed with cameras and microphones. Your fiancé’s face was broadcasted onto the Jumbo Tron and the entire arena turned to watch. Sid talking was your queue to walk down through the Penguin’s bench to the edge of the ice.

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Another year has come and gone
Full of consequences and heartache
I should have matured enough by now
To stop wishing upon the vomit of meteors

Still, everytime the stars start to dry heave
My knees instinctively lose all their strength
Crashing into the pile of bones and sinew
A bulldozer that is well equipped to destroy

So I have done just so
Through my violent, careless swaying
I have collapsed the rooftops of others
Taking away their refuge from the storms

This home of sticks and spit has collapsed
As it does after just one strong wind gust
Oh if only I could craft an oven for bricks
Then maybe my pain can manage a season

A year of loneliness and silence
Trapped inside the quarters of my thoughts
Lucid dreaming of narrowing landscapes
This neverending maze of excruciating pain

What have I learned from all this pain
Do I even fucking know anymore?

Nobody (Part 7)

Originally posted by alejandraacasasc

Plot:  Reader has been held prisoner by Hydra and is discovered by Nat and Bucky.  Post CA:CW (Bucky’s on the team, no one hates each other) Slight AU

Warnings: Mentions of torture, detailed injuries/deaths, cursing, some pics might be slight disturbing

Words: 1567

A/N: I finally had some inspiration.  I hope you like this part.  I try to put out only what I think is good for where I want to take my work so I apologise for the delays, I just want to put my best work out there.  Thank you for sticking around for more of Nobody.

*italics = flashback/memory *bold italics = report writing

18 hours later

Bucky’s POV

As Bucky sat in the stiff armchair in the hospital room and gazed down at X-25493’s unconscious form. Banner and Cho had spent the last 14 hours in surgery and X looked somehow even worse for wear.  He ran his hands through his hair for probably the thousandth time causing it to stand up at odd angles.  He had a hard time coming to terms with the information that had been dumped on him. This girl—this girl—had done…that.  Memories of the photos Natasha had shown him, Steve, and later Tony several hours before flashed across his minds’ eye: bodies—horribly mangled bodies strewn about in red snow.  Dead faces frozen in agony and terror.  And a campsite torn to shreds as if a demonic wolf pack had descended upon it.

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Looking at food differently

I work at home most days, only going to the office about once every other month.

One of my favorite things about going to the office is our awesome cafeteria. They have amazing food. My favorites are the Indian foods and brick oven pizza.

Needless to say, most of those foods are no longer options for me. I’m at the office today and I expected to be disappointed at lunch…. But I’m really not.

I’m starting to see food more as fuel and less as entertainment and that’s huge for me.

anonymous asked:

Could you pleasssseee post some family (Jamie/Claire/Brianna or Jamie/Brianna) quotes. I love to read about the family interactions. I have read the scene where Jamie finally meets his daughter but are there more cute/emotional scenes? Thanks in advance and love your blog!

Yes! The first ones that came to mind were Brianna telling Jamie she is pregnant, Brianna giving birth, Jamie taking Brianna hunting and then I thought of Claire making cookies with Jem which turns into Brianna and Jamie too, which is what I’m sharing here. Hope you enjoy!

Jem put his elbows on the table, chin on his fists, following the path of the spoon through the batter with the intent expression of a lion watching an appetizing wildebeest on its way to the water hole. 

“Don’t even think about it,” I said, with a glance at his grubby fingers. “They’ll be done in a few minutes; you can have one then.” 

“But I like ’em raw, Grandma,” he protested. He widened his dark-blue eyes in wordless pleading. 

“You oughtn’t to eat raw things,” I said sternly. “They can make you sick.” 

“You do, Grandma.” He poked a finger at my mouth, where a smudge of brownish batter remained. I cleared my throat and wiped the incriminating evidence on a towel. 

“You’ll spoil your supper,” I said, but with the acuity of any jungle beast, he sensed the weakening of his prey. 

“Promise I won’t. I’ll eat everything!” he said, already reaching for the spoon. 

“Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of,” I said, relinquishing it with some reluctance. “Just a taste, now— leave some for your daddy and grandda.” 

He nodded, wordless, and licked the spoon with a long, slow swipe of the tongue, closing his eyes in ecstasy. 

I found another spoon and set about dropping the cookies onto the tin sheets I used for baking. We ended in a dead heat, the sheets full and the bowl quite empty, just as footsteps came down the hallway toward the door. Recognizing Brianna’s tread, I snatched the empty spoon from Jemmy and rubbed a quick towel across his smudgy mouth. 

Bree stopped in the doorway, her smile turning to a look of suspicion. 

“What are you guys doing?” 

“Making molasses cookies,” I said, lifting the sheets in evidence, before sliding them into the brick oven set in the wall of the fireplace. “Jemmy’s been helping me.” 

One neat red brow arched upward. She glanced from me to Jemmy, who was wearing a look of sublimely unnatural innocence. I gathered my own expression was no more convincing. 

“So I see,” she said dryly. “How much batter did you eat, Jem?” 

“Who, me?” Jemmy said, eyes going wide. 

“Mmm.” She leaned forward, and picked a speck out of his wavy red hair. “What’s this, then?” 

He frowned at it, crossing his eyes slightly in the attempt to focus. 

“A real big louse?” he suggested brightly. “Reckon I got it from Rabbie McLeod.” 

“Rabbie McLeod?” I said, uneasily aware that Rabbie had been curled up on the kitchen settle a few days ago, his unruly black curls flowing into Jemmy’s bright locks as the boys slept, waiting for their fathers. I recalled thinking at the time how charming the little boys looked, curled up head to head, their faces soft with dreaming. 

“Has Rabbie got lice?” Bree demanded, flicking the bit of batter away from her as though it were indeed a loathsome insect. 

“Oh, aye, he’s crawlin’,” Jemmy assured her cheerfully. “His Mam says she’s gonna get his daddy’s razor and shave off ever bit of his hair, him and his brothers and his daddy and his uncle Rufe too. She says they got lice hoppin’ all over their bed. She’s tired of bein’ ate up alive.” Quite casually, he lifted a hand to his head and scratched, fingers raking through his hair in a characteristic gesture I had seen all too often before. 

Bree and I exchanged a brief look of horror, then she seized Jemmy by the shoulders, dragging him over to the window.

“Come here!” 

Sure enough. Exposed to the brilliant light bouncing off the snow, the tender skin behind his ears and on the back of his neck showed the characteristic pinkness caused by scratching for lice, and a quick inspection of his head revealed the worst: tiny nits clinging to the base of the hairs, and a few reddish-brown adult lice, half the size of rice grains, who scrambled madly away into the thickets. Bree caught one and cracked it between her thumbnails, tossing the remains into the fire. 

“Eugh!” She rubbed her hands on her skirt, then pulled off the ribbon that tied back her hair, scratching vigorously. “Have I got them?” she asked anxiously, thrusting the crown of her head toward me. 

I ruffled quickly through the thick mass of auburn and cinnamon, looking for the telltale whitish nits, then stepped back, bending my own head. 

“No, have I?”

The backdoor opened, and Jamie stepped in, looking only mildly surprised to find Brianna picking through my hair like a crazed baboon. Then his head jerked up, sniffing the air. 

“Is something burning?” 

“I got ’em, Grandda!” 

The exclamation reached me together with the scent of singeing molasses. I jerked upright and banged my head on the edge of the dish shelf, hard enough to make me see stars. 

These cleared just in time for me to see Jemmy, standing on tiptoe as he reached into the smoking oven in the wall of the hearth, well over his head. His eyes were squinched shut with concentration, his face turned away from the waves of heat coming off the brick, and he had a towel wound clumsily round the groping hand. 

Jamie reached the boy with two strides, jerking him back by the collar. He reached into the oven bare-handed and yanked out a tin sheet of smoking cookies, flinging the hot sheet away with such force that it struck the wall. Small brown disks flew off and scattered over the floor. 

Adso, who had been perched in the window, helping with the louse hunt, saw what looked like prey and pounced fiercely on a fleeing cookie, which promptly burned his paws. Uttering a startled yowl, he dropped it and raced under the settle. 

Jamie, shaking his scorched fingers and making extremely vulgar remarks in Gaelic, had seized a stick of kindling in his other hand and was poking into the oven, trying to extract the remaining cookie-sheet amid clouds of smoke. 

“What’s going— hey!” 


Roger’s cry coincided with Bree’s. Coming in on Jamie’s heels, Roger’s expression of bewilderment had changed at once to alarm at sight of his offspring crouched on the floor, industriously collecting cookies, and oblivious of the fact that his trailing towel was smoldering in the ashes of the cookfire. 

Roger lunged for Jemmy, colliding with Bree on the same course. The two of them cannoned into Jamie, who had just maneuvered the second sheet of cookies to the edge of the oven. He reeled, staggering off balance, and the sheet clanged into the hearth, scattering lumps of smoking, molasses-scented charcoal. The cauldron, knocked askew, swung and shifted perilously on its hook, splashing soup into the coals and sending up clouds of hissing, savory steam. 

I didn’t know whether to laugh or run out of the door, but settled for snatching up the towel, which had burst into flames, and beating it out on the stone-flagged hearth. 

I stood up, panting, to find that my family had now managed to extricate itself from the fireplace. Roger had a squirming Jemmy in a death grip against his chest, while Bree frisked the child for burns, flames, and broken bones. Jamie, looking rather annoyed, was sucking on a blistered finger, waving smoke away from his face with his free hand. 

“Cold water,” I said, addressing the most immediate exigency. I grasped Jamie by the arm, pulled the finger out of his mouth, and stabbed it into the washbowl. 

“Is Jemmy all right?” I asked, turning to the Happy Families tableau by the window. “Yes, I see he is. Do put him down, Roger, the child has lice.” 

Roger dropped Jemmy like a hot potato, and— in the usual adult reaction to hearing the word “lice”— scratched himself. Jemmy, unaffected by the recent commotion, sat down on the floor and began to eat one of the cookies he had kept clutched in his hand throughout. 

“You’ll spoil your—” Brianna began automatically, then caught sight of the spilled cauldron and the puddled hearth, glanced at me, and shrugged. “Got any more cookies?” she asked Jemmy. Mouth full, he nodded, reached into his shirt, and handed her one. She viewed it critically, but took a bite anyway. 

“Not bad,” she said, through crumbs. “Hm?” She held the remnant out to Roger, who wolfed it one-handed, using the other to poke through Jemmy’s hair.

- A Breath of Snow and Ashes