the cheese is not even melted

the world is incredible. there are girls in this world, and there are also dogs. you can put melted cheese on any type of potato.  sometimes flowers grow even when nobody is there to water them. right now on this same planet where we live there are people who are in love with each other kissing each other on the nose. emotions and colours are both things that exist. everything is so great

Hasetsu headcanons

-Yuri dragging Otabek to that small shop selling tiger sweatshirts and buying one for him. Otabek initially feels awkward but Yuri gives him that Smile™ and Otabek decides that he is willing to protect the shirt with his life. 

-Yuri deciding what Otabek is going to eat before Mari even hands the both of them a menu. “KATSUDON EXTRA LARGE FOR BEKA PLEASE!”

-Yuri watching with glimmering anticipation in his eyes to see how Otabek reacts after taking the first bite of katsudon heaven. 

-Otabek feeding Yuri a mouthful of katsudon (even though Yuri just ate) because he can highkey tell that his best friend wants more. 

-Yuri and Otabek training together at Ice Castle. Otabek casually brings up the Onsen on Ice event out of the blue and just casually says “you looked really beautiful skating here, Yura”. 

-This causes Yuri to trip and fall face flat on the ice. The heat of his blush melts the ice around him and he tells Otabek to stop being a fucking cheese.

-Yuri, Yuuri, Otabek, and Victor in an onsen together being so extra and attractive that all the other customers just watch from inside the shower room (again).

-Yuuri and Victor secretly snapping pictures of their son and son-in-law and sending it to the 9000+ existing fan accounts.

-Yuri and Otabek walking along the beach, hands grazing softly once in a while.

-Yuri and Otabek initially plan to sleep in different rooms but Yuri falls asleep in Otabek’s room after complaining, eating junk food, and playing video games. Otabek paces around the room gently freaking the fuck out before he decides to just not sleep (lol) and watches Yuri sleeping until he eventually blacks out sitting by a corner. 

-Yuri finding Otabek sitting in a corner sleeping when he wakes up and putting a blanket over his smol bae so that he won’t catch a cold. 

Torisho, Tokyo

Sure, yakitori tend to get all the buzz in Japan these days, but when it comes to chicken dishes, there are myriad Japanese preparations one can enjoy if you know where to look. And one such place you should be looking is at Torisho in Tokyo…

Torisho is a small restaurant not far from Roppongi that those “in the know” consider one of the city’s best palaces of poultry. Yes, they have yakitori, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg here. It’s cozy, it’s quiet, you usually don’t need a reservations, and their food is as good as it gets. They get their chickens daily from a few specific farms around Japan and only serve limited amounts of a certain number of their most popular dishes, so while they are open late, it’s best to get to Torisho early if you want to feast on their freshest fowl!

Here’s a look…

There’s always a small amuse bouche when you sit down, this night it was fried eggplant and poached chicken breast with umeboshi plum sauce…

One of Torisho’s house specialties, grilled white liver skewers…

Their most popular dish, melt-in-your-mouth foie gras-like chncks of inner chicken goodness painted with a secret sweet glaze…

Their deep-fried chicken karaage, where unlike other standard Japanese preparations, they cut the thigh meat into strips, spice it before frying, and serve with a house-blend curry powder…

Grilled breast meat covered in melted Hokkaido cheese and grated parmesan…

Another of their house specialties, and not for the faint of heart, Torisho’s chicken sashimi platter…

This particular platter is all breast meat, composed of five separate cuts in order to showcase the different tastes and textures of the chicken’s largest part…

To ensure maximum freshness, Torisho uses asabiki (”morning cut”) chickens, which are freshly killed at the crack of dawn in the southern state of Kagoshima then trucked directly to the restaurant before they open each and every day…

You even get a little of the chicken skin, oh so lightly grilled…

Much like you see with seafood sashimi, the chef here makes a succulent soy sauce that’s mixed with raw chicken liver. It’s amazing and if you don’t finish it, keep it to use on your other dishes!

A grilled rice ball and Torisho’s famous chicken soup; literally one of the best chicken soups you will eat anywhere on the planet! Trust me.

The fact that the staff here are all Star Wars fans only adds to my love of Torisho…

Jidori yuuke, which is a type of tartare made from chicken…

With raw thigh meat, a raw egg, chopped scallion and the interesting inclusion of grilled cashews for crunch…

Grilled fava beans, which were in season…

We needed some sort of vegetable… :)

Jidori kazeboshi, which is smoked chicken “jerky”…

Made in-house by hanging strips of chicken from the ceiling…

Then letting the smoke from their binchotan charcoal grill works its magic…

And the coup de grace, Torisho’s renowed oyako donburi

Grilled chicken and fresh eggs, cooked into a loose omelet, served over a bowl of rice… with the skin left on the chicken, which you rarely see, this is one of the best preparations you will find anywhere in Tokyo!

And a closer of chicken soup as it’s just so damn good…

The term “farm to table” gets thrown around so much these days that its lost a lot of meaning, but here at Tokyo’s Torisho, every chicken dish lives up to that label.

TORISHO

Oyama Building B1

3-1-19 Nishi Azabu

Minato-ku, Tokyo

106-0031

Japan

+81-3-5771-4194

wonwoo; days in the sun

Originally posted by visual-17

part 1/? of svt!disney au inspired by this thread

feat. beast!Wonwoo x bibliophile!reader (FINALLY WROTE A WONWOO!!)

genre: beauty and the beast au, fluff/romance, slight flangst

word count: 2123

Snow dipped between the crevices of the hand-painted French windowpane, thousands of scintillating diamonds icing against the frosted glass. The snowflakes further out melted instantaneously upon meeting the cobblestone of the castle. She briefly wondered how exactly warm this castle was from the inside, considering from the outside the tower much resembled a memento mori in their iota of a desolate kingdom.

Her nails dragged away with a subconscious slowness from the glass as she backed away from the window, turning her head to her sleeping patient.

Keep reading

Breathless

Title: Breathless

Pairing: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff

Warnings: Morning sex, sinful acts involving oranges, Byun Baekhyun, thin white shorts, not-so-timid erections

A/N: Inspired by the song by Shayne Ward (You should listen to it!).


Originally posted by chanyeol-ie


Byun Baekhyun awoke with what felt like eyes leaded with dust and a head full of sand. He stretched comfortably against the sheets, his soft skin melting deeper into the cotton. His tongue was laden with a tangy, unfamiliar taste. He blinked, staring past a long, pale arm to the sight of his beloved beside him, sleeping soundlessly.

He watched as your chest gently rose and fell beneath the duvet, your breasts and shoulders hidden beneath the pale sheets. Sunlight slanted through the thin curtains, giving the room an amorous, white glow. Your cheeks were warm and pink against the pillow, soft from the tranquil herbs of sleep.
Gently moving as not to wake you, Baekhyun slowly slipped from beneath the covers. His morning erection rocked expectantly against his thigh, but he ignored it, snaking across the floor with the gentle treads of a butterfly. He bent to the floor, replacing his naked legs with the familiar, silky cloth of his white pajama shorts, and listlessly shrugged on a white dress shirt, not bothering to button it closed. He escaped quickly to the bathroom where he carefully cleaned up, brushing his teeth until they gleamed a blinding, pearly white, and washed his face. When he was done, he shifted down the hall and towards the kitchen where he gathered a clean, wooden tray, a sturdy pitcher of orange juice and a food hamper from the cupboard. After pouring two glasses of orange juice and a cold jug of milk, he placed the food hamper on the counter and carefully ripped it open, removing a wrapped set of toasted muffins, four plain bagels, six slices of bread, a fresh wedge of cheese, two handfuls of grape and apples and a round, bumpy orange. He placed a sturdy, china plate in the middle and carefully glazed it with the food, keeping the orange locked in his hand. When he was done, he turned to regard it sturdily.
It was cold and stone in his hand, yet felt like it could easily melt into a pool of runny, warm juice if pinned under his gaze long enough. Shaking away any further thoughts of perplexity on trivial, piddling fruits, he fixed it calmly next to the stash of cheese and turned to pluck the slices of bread into the toaster.
While he waited, he gently garnished two of the bagels with some sweet cinnamon spread and sliced the cheese into limp, even pieces. When the toast was ready, he tossed them readily onto the tray, which he took steadily into his hands, and started out of the kitchen and back along the hall, starting to recognize the familiar taste lingering on his tongue.
Your taste.
When he returned, the bedroom was still worn with the familiar albescence of waning dawn and his erection was now fitfully jerking against his thigh. He set the tray nicely against the bedside table, careful not to make too much noise with moving things around, and bent down so he was level with your peaceful sleeping figure. Brushing a loose strand of hair from your eyes, he admired the slip of bare shoulder peeking from the heavy coat of duvet. Seeing you like that made him want to hold and protect you even more and he fretfully hoped he’d showed you that last night.
A smile tugged impatiently at his lips as you began to stir, your hair moving to splay across your neck. He knew how much you hated that and moved it slyly, carefully studying your face as you wearily came to consciousness.
You twisted your head, turning to look at him. He was beautiful—the way the white light fluidly fell around his exquisitely lean form, his shirt parted around his nude front, the smooth dips in his stomach and sharp angles of his pectorals greeting you smugly.
“Good morning, princess,” he brushed a strand of dark hair from your eyes, smiling warmly.
You giggled, almost childishly. “Shouldn’t a princess receive a kiss the moment she wakes up?”
“I thought a kiss was what woke a beautiful princess up,” he mused, leaning forward. His nose brushed yours and a blush bloomed in your cheeks. He smiled, eyes flamed with compassion, and closed his lips over yours. It was a warm, sweet kiss and you fretfully bit back a groan as his tongue gave you a wet, warm greeting. The taste of sweet fruit and tea exploded into your mouth—the taste of Byun Baekhyun. You cupped the back of his neck, tugging him closer as his tongue gently lapped against yours.
He shrugged a hand beneath the covers, skimming his fingers across your hip as he pulled from your lips. “Breakfast?”
You furrowed your eyebrows as he gestured soundlessly towards the tray on the bedside table. You smiled, suddenly aware of how unbearably hungry you were as Baekhyun took the tray into his hands and perched next to you on the bed.
“Good sleep?” He grabbed the knife from the tray with one hand, fixing a bagel on the plate with other. You nodded as he began to garnish the bagel with warm cinnamon spread, occasionally licking his thumb and fingers free of it.
“You?”
He nodded enthusiastically, and you watched as both his eyes and hands fell in concert across the blanket covering your breasts. You emitted a shaky gasp and Baekhyun’s eyes lit above his smug sneer. He gently lowered the duvet, exposing your chest. His eyes glittered as he marveled at your rounded breasts, his fingers reaching to dance over the curved rosebuds tipping the flesh. He brushed your nipples softly with his thumb, the air swirling around them becoming blissfully warm. He quietly hummed and straightened himself again, seemingly in a freshly good mood, and took the handle of the knife once more between his delicate fingers and started the blade along the edge of the orange. A blush bloomed in your cheeks as you remembered how those fingers had sinfully worked you to euphoria.
“Oops.”
You quivered as you felt a drop of wetness hit the top of your chest. You looked down to see a strip of orange-colored liquid snaking almost languidly down to your nipple. A chuckle sounded from your right, brimmed with immorality, and you turned your head to look down at him. He was grinning nefariously from the pillow, but you noticed his hands had moved. They were now tipped almost purposefully over your breasts, the juice from the knife seeping freely to your skin. He pulled the knife back and sank the tip between his lips, coaxing the tangy-flavored stickiness into his mouth. You remembered how he’d poised his lips just like that when he’d been in between your legs the night before, his eyes and tongue flickering wickedly.
He divested his mouth of the knife, driving it deep into the orange until the hilt was perfectly damp with yellow-orange liquid. His eyes roamed over your body, vigilant and watchful, and he gently plucked the knife from the base of the fruit, moving it so the flat end of the blade suspended just over your right breast. He lowered it slowly and you swallowed a gasp the moment the cold blade touched your skin. The flesh became doused with streams of bright, runny liquid and you watched as several drops swirled around the mounted bud of your nipple.
“Mmm,” he reached to gently cup the underside of your breast, his fingers dipping into the full, soft flesh. “What a mess, I’ve made. Guess I’d better clean it up.
You watched as he dipped his head forward and took your breast into his mouth, humming against you. He drew on it lightly, pulling softly, almost tentatively, at the nipple, measuring your reaction carefully.
"You’re killing me, Byun Baekhyun.” He reached up, tenderly cupping the bottom of your other breast as his lips closed around the nipple, suckling sweetly. When he was done and faintly assured all his “mess” was cleaned up, he looked up at you, flicking an excess strand of hair off your bare shoulder.
“Wouldn’t that be such a sweet death?” he murmured, lower lip grazing your nipple.
You shivered, unable to meet his eye. His breath grazed your neck and you sank your teeth into your lower lip, concealing a moan.
“Don’t be shy with me, sweetheart,” his hand ran up your bare thigh, which softened against his touch. He closed his lips around your nipple again, feeling it peak even further in his mouth. His pride seemed to swell as you finally released a soft, shrill whimper and he moved a hand down beneath the duvet to caress your hip.
“So beautiful,” he gently pecked the other breast, the nipple mounting almost immediately at his touch. He smiled, reaching out a single finger to graze the rosy bud. You shivered, sharply taking your lip between your teeth as his finger ghosted across your nipple, sending tuffs of heat swirling around in the flesh. “So sweet.” He leaned forward, drawing it into his mouth whilst reaching under the duvet to grab your thigh. He gently pulled you from under the sheets and placed you gently on his lap, paying homage to your breast all the while. You cupped the back of his head as he stared up at you, running careful fingers along your skin with one hand. You heaved the tray off his lap and leaned across his legs, planting it firmly on the bedside table. The orange juice quivered with disappointment on the wooden surface.
“Are you sure you just want to discard breakfast like this, sweetheart?” he whispered, feigning concern as he ran a hand across your stomach.
“Oh, I’m sure,” you murmured, reaching below the duvet to slip a hand inside his shorts. His face immediately darkened as your fingers folded tightly around his erection, breath catching against you. You pressed kiss after kiss against the slope of his throat, stroking surely, but hesitantly. The incoherent growls in your ear propelled and coaxed you onward as you splayed your lips against his bare pectorals, nipping gently at the arched flesh. His soft, harsh grunts turned into pants as you quickened your speed, petting him definitely.
He suddenly arched up off the bed, wrist folding tightly around your hand as he wrenched your fingers free of his erection. Perplexed, you tried to study his face to see what was the matter, but he crushed his lips against yours, breathing harshly.
“Not now, baby,” he panted, stretching a hand between your legs. “I don’t want to come yet.” He began to pet you softly, latching the skin of your neck between his lips. He sucked, not to hard, but not gently either and a dark, purplish mark fused in his lips’ wake.
You drew your lip tightly between your teeth, shamelessly beginning to slide against his fingers. A smirk formed on his face again as he watched you, panting and beginning to slightly curve against him with need. His other hand splayed gently across your ass, guiding you forward as he leaned to press an earnest kiss against your heart.
“What happened to being shy?” he breathed against the muscle beating frenetically in your chest.
“I want you too bad to care anymore,” you whispered, reaching to draw the flesh of his neck into your mouth. He stilled, a groan spilling in your ear. You remembered how he’d groaned and quaked for you last night—sex with Baekhyun was absolutely nothing less than fulfilling.
“I can’t take it anymore,” he roused, reaching to grope you by the ass. His erection was sitting expectantly between the crevice of your asscheeks, twitching slightly against your skin. “I need you.” He pressed chaste kisses against the hollow of your throat and the supple skin of your neck. “Now.”
You groaned, feeling as he rocked against you. Driven by need, you took him into your hand, pinning him right up against your entrance. Then, making sure to poise yourself straight to attention, you drew yourself down onto him with a quick, sweeping motion. He groaned, loud and fervent against your throat and you cupped the back of his neck, pressing kisses all along the crown of his head.
“God, I love you,” he whispered against your throat. “I love moving inside of you.” He leaned back against the pillow, blonde hair spilling against snowy cotton. You watched as his erection slipped in and out of you, lined with gleaming licks of wetness.
“Damn,” he rasped, reaching to pet your clit. You gasped, fighting back the urge to grab his wrist. Your stomach flamed with something tight and unbearable and as you fought it back, he began to quicken his movements, rubbing you in time to his thrusts. “Damn, you’re so wet.”
You ran your hands across his chest, mapping the surface, painting the warmth of his nipples with your fingers and coloring the flesh of his hips with your palms. He caught your waist firmly with his hands, edging you onward, bucking to meet every single roll of your hips. He was slow, yet passionate, his face a mask of free euphoria as you moved in blissful concert, his mouth slack with ecstasy, his eyes deep and loving. The twinges of the sensation seemed to swirl and jet around you, catching you in its blissful halo as you rose and dropped against him.
“Look at me,” he grated as your head began to lull back. He cupped a comforting hand around the back of your head, long, delicate fingers bringing you back to eye level. It was too much—too intense—swirling in his eyes was a hazy collection of emotions: love, affection, lust, concern. You bent forward, brushing your lips with his, but you didn’t draw them in completely, just grazing them lightly. He tugged you forward, trying to ease your mouths together, but you remained still, all the while still moving sinfully against him.
Desperation filled his eyes as he pulled at your hips in rebuttal, locking his lips together in earnest.
“Please,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and throaty, his eyes locked on yours. “Please—if anything — let me kiss you.”
You swallowed, feeling your dominant facade slowly crumbling beneath his soft gaze. You drew his lips slowly into yours, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him melting into you. He lifted up and his bare chest slid against yours, his arm folding around you. You watched, mouth aloft, eyes burning with bliss as he heatedly rocked into you, his hips pouncing from the bed with each thrust. Your head fell back, your eyes closing as pleasure wracked every inch of your body, overtaking each particle, twisting it into a tight knot of ecstasy. He held you close, his mouth planting searing spots across every space of skin. You struggled against the strong, overbearing hands of orgasm tugging freely at you, coaxing you forward into its hot, smoky depths; you wanted to hold on—you didn’t want it to end yet, you didn’t want to let Baekhyun go.
“Look at me, love.”
It was like lifting the heftiest load of lead from your eyelids: your forced open your eyes, looking down into the sea of rust-colored oblivion. His eyebrows were narrowed and nudged together, his whole face crinkled with pleasure. You could tell he was close, not just from the sound of his heavy, ragged moan, increasing in volume, but from the sharpness of his movements, the dutiful charge of his hips, the snapping of his pelvis, the tight drawing of lower lip between teeth. You arched against him, reeling and tightening, as he leaned forward, lapping and sucking at your breasts. His hands went to cup your ass, guiding and gently mapping your movements, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy.
And then the knot that had been binding you tightly, concealing you from the face of pleasure, had suddenly been set loose. The world seemed to tumble around you, a blinding haze of white, brown, and orange, and at once you felt that time seemed to let go of you. You were suspended in mid-air, poised like a rocket sent to space, frozen in a period of free, scorching lust.
Something tightened again, deep in your stomach, and you finally, gloriously fell.
And then hands were slowly bringing you back to reality, grabbing and pulling you towards a wall of soft skin. Your head fell against a damp, clothed shoulder and the smooth skin of cotton seemed to slowly lull you from your daze. You felt Baekhyun’s hand gently smoothing out the curves of your back, rising and falling rapidly against his fingers. With the other hand, he carefully lifted your face, bringing you up to face him. His hair was a bright, tousled mess, blonde threads falling in loose heaps all along his temples and forehead. A trickle of sweat fell smoothly between each of his pectorals, which were rising and falling rapidly against your own chest.
God, he was beautiful.
“Are you okay?” He reached to cup your chin with the other hand, regarding you peacefully. “Y-You looked like you were about to faint. You were all flushed.”
Instead of responding, you reached forward, breathlessly splaying your lips across his, kissing him with every last ounce of energy you had. You smoothed his face with both hands, mapping your fingers across the angled curves of his cheeks, sailing the point of his chin with your thumb. He groaned against you, pulling you closer and you folded your arms tightly around his neck, never wanting to let go.
Unfortunately, he broke away.
“Gosh, that was amazing.”
You sniggered, a blush blooming in your cheeks. “We really should—have breakfast in bed more—often.”
He squeezed you tightly, smoothing the curve of your chin, drawing sensual patterns along the skin of your hip with his other hand. “Catch your breath first, sweetheart. And yes, we really should.”
You leaned forward again, dragging his lips into yours as he melted into you again, the tip of his erection probing your asscheeks. “Can I at least say one thing?”
He nodded, his hair bobbing wildly against his forehead.
“I love you.”
He smiled, his eyes sparkling with warmth. He kissed you, a nice, light peck as his hands glided along your hips. “I love you too.”
And then you were leaning into him again, drawing him inside, and with a soft, hoarse groan, the cycle started all over again.

Under The Volcano

Americans love Mexican food. We consume nachos, tacos, burritos, tortas, enchiladas, tamales and anything resembling Mexican in enormous quantities. We love Mexican beverages, happily knocking back huge amounts of tequila, mezcal and Mexican beer every year. We love Mexican people—as we sure employ a lot of them. Despite our ridiculously hypocritical attitudes towards immigration, we demand that Mexicans cook a large percentage of the food we eat, grow the ingredients we need to make that food, clean our houses, mow our lawns, wash our dishes, look after our children. As any chef will tell you, our entire service economy—the restaurant business as we know it—in most American cities, would collapse overnight without Mexican workers. Some, of course, like to claim that Mexicans are “stealing American jobs”. But in two decades as a chef and employer, I never had ONE American kid walk in my door and apply for a dishwashing job, a porter’s position—or even a job as prep cook. Mexicans do much of the work in this country that Americans, provably, simply won’t do. 

We love Mexican drugs. Maybe not you personally, but “we”, as a nation, certainly consume titanic amounts of them—and go to extraordinary lengths and expense to acquire them. We love Mexican music, Mexican beaches, Mexican architecture, interior design, Mexican films.

So, why don’t we love Mexico?

We throw up our hands and shrug at what happens and what is happening just across the border. Maybe we are embarrassed. Mexico, after all, has always been there for us, to service our darkest needs and desires. Whether it’s dress up like fools and get pass-out drunk and sun burned on Spring break in Cancun, throw pesos at strippers in Tijuana, or get toasted on Mexican drugs, we are seldom on our best behavior in Mexico. They have seen many of us at our worst. They know our darkest desires.

In the service of our appetites, we spend billions and billions of dollars each year on Mexican drugs—while at the same time spending billions and billions more trying to prevent those drugs from reaching us. The effect on our society is everywhere to be seen. Whether it’s kids nodding off and overdosing in small town Vermont, gang violence in LA, burned out neighborhoods in Detroit— it’s there to see. What we don’t see, however, haven’t really noticed, and don’t seem to much care about, is the 80,000 dead—mostly innocent victims in Mexico, just in the past few years. 80,000 dead. 80,000 families who’ve been touched directly by the so-called “War On Drugs”.   

Mexico. Our brother from another mother. A country, with whom, like it or not, we are inexorably, deeply involved, in a close but often uncomfortable embrace. Look at it. It’s beautiful. It has some of the most ravishingly beautiful beaches on earth. Mountains, desert, jungle. Beautiful colonial architecture, a tragic, elegant, violent, ludicrous, heroic, lamentable, heartbreaking history. Mexican wine country rivals Tuscany for gorgeousness. Its archeological sites—the remnants of great empires, unrivaled anywhere. And as much as we think we know and love it,  we have barely scratched the surface of what Mexican food really is. It is NOT melted cheese over a tortilla chip. It is not simple, or easy. It is not simply ‘bro food’ halftime. It is in fact, old– older even than the great cuisines of Europe and often deeply complex, refined, subtle, and sophisticated. A true mole sauce, for instance, can take DAYS to make, a balance of freshly (always fresh) ingredients, painstakingly prepared by hand. It could be, should be, one of the most exciting cuisines on the planet. If we paid attention. The old school cooks of Oaxaca make some of the more difficult to make and nuanced sauces in gastronomy. And some of the new generation, many of whom have trained in the kitchens of America and Europe have returned home to take Mexican food to new and thrilling new heights.

It’s a country I feel particularly attached to and grateful for. In nearly 30 years of cooking professionally, just about every time I walked into a new kitchen, it was a Mexican guy who looked after me, had my back, showed me what was what, was there—and on the case—when the cooks more like me, with backgrounds like mine—ran away to go skiing or surfing—or simply “flaked.” I have been fortunate to track where some of those cooks come from, to go back home with them. To small towns populated mostly by women—where in the evening, families gather at the town’s phone kiosk, waiting for calls from their husbands, sons and brothers who have left to work in our kitchens in the cities of the North. I have been fortunate enough to see where that affinity for cooking comes from, to experience moms and grandmothers preparing many delicious things, with pride and real love, passing that food made by hand, passed from their hands to mine. 

In years of making television in Mexico, it’s one of the places we, as a crew, are happiest when the day’s work is over. We’ll gather round a street stall and order soft tacos with fresh, bright, delicious tasting salsas—drink cold Mexican beer, sip smoky mezcals, listen with moist eyes to sentimental songs from street musicians. We will look around and remark, for the hundredth time, what an extraordinary place this is.  

The received wisdom is that Mexico will never change. That is hopelessly corrupt, from top to bottom. That it is useless to resist—to care, to hope for a happier future. But there are heroes out there who refuse to go along. On this episode of PARTS UNKNOWN, we meet a few of them. People who are standing up against overwhelming odds, demanding accountability, demanding change—at great, even horrifying personal cost.
This show is for them. 

Fractal

First things first. sorry for taking so long to update! This chapter came out longer than expected. I promise the next is going to be shorter.

Also thanks to @lunalocura for being my Beta! She is an amazing person who has been helping me a lot.

Gotta mention here @eloctromagnetic too for helping me with the akuma!


Summary: Chaos, besides its own natures, has a little order on it. Chaos, without order, leads to destruction itself. When the object holding the chaos of the world is damaged, maybe a little more than order is going to be needed to fix it. Abomination! AU

AO3


Chapter 3

“Alright. This is definitely not okay.”

“You think??!!”

Adrien was very close to losing his nerves. He tried to keep himself calm, walking quickly around his room with big and steps: screaming would only get him discovered by Nathalie or, even worse, by his father.

Plagg, on the other hand, was sitting relaxed on Adrien’s desk with a half-eaten piece of Camembert by his side. The amount of melting decreased after Plagg ate a bit, but the black substance continued to drip off the kwami.

“Kid, stop walking in circles, you are making me dizzy,” Plagg said with a lazy tone, taking a small bite off of the smelly cheese (which looked even creepier with Plagg’s new appearance).

“How can you be so calm about this?” Adrien directed a bewildered look towards his kwami. “First, you didn’t tell me about the ring being damaged after Shockwave’s attack and t-then the detransformation almost killed me and you!” He pointed an index finger towards the little god, “you were sleeping all day and now you are melting and you just don’t car-“

“Hey! I do care!” Plagg shouted. “Just because I don’t look worried doesn’t mean I don’t care about what is happening around,” leaving his food behind, he flew towards Adrien’s direction, stopping mere millimeters away the boy’s nose. “Especially,” he narrowed his eyes, which were more frightening than before, “if a chosen of mine is being hurt because of it,” he finished, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at a now ashamed Adrien.

“Sorry,” Adrien whispered. Being lectured by Plagg always reminded Adrien that no matter how lazy and cynic the kwami was, he was still a powerful being with 5000 years of experience.

Plagg only huffed.

Keep reading

3

Triple Coffee Cheesecake

Prep Time:180 Minutes 
Cook Time:60 Minutes
Difficulty Level:Medium

Ingredients:

For Kahlua Cheesecake:10 chocolate graham crackers, about 1 ½ cups (130g) cookie crumbs

¼ cup (57g) melted butter

16 ounces (453g) cream cheese,
softened

2 eggs

½ cup (100g)
white granulated sugar

¼ cup (62ml) sour cream

½ cup (113g) mascarpone cheese,
softened

¼ cup (60ml) Kahlua, or strong espresso

1 tablespoon instant coffee

For Coffee Mousse:

1 cup (236ml) heavy cream

4 ounces (113g) mascapone cheese

½ cup (118ml) sweetened condensed milk

¼ cup (45g) chocolate chips, melted

¼ cup (60ml) espresso

2 to 3 tablespoons (45ml) Kahlua

2 teaspoons (6g) unflavored gelatin

For Coffee Whipped Cream:

8 ounces (226g) cream cheese

½ cup (88g) chocolate chips, melted

¼ cup (60ml) Kahlua

pinch of salt

2 cups (473ml) heavy cream

Instructions

1) Prepare the Kahlua coffee cheesecake layer first. Wrap a 9-inch spring form with foil in preparation for a water-bath. Preheat oven to 325F.

2) Place chocolate graham crackers into a food processor and pulse into fine crumbs. Add the melted butter and pulse again until crumbs are well coated. Transfer the crumbs into spring form pan and press firmly into the bottom of the pan, creating an even and firm crust; set aside.

3) Place the softened cream cheese into a mixer bowl with a flat beater attached. Mix for 5 minutes, until cream cheese is light and creamy. Add the eggs, sugar, sour cream and softened mascaprone; beat again for a few minutes until mixture is smooth. Scrape down sides of mixing bowl periodically to ensure no clumps of cheese remain. Dissolve the instant coffee in the Kahlua liqueur, then pour into the cheesecake batter. Mix for a few more minutes.

4) Pour the cheesecake batter over the prepared chocolate crust. Transfer the cake onto a baking sheet and fill the pan with hot water. Bake in preheated oven for 1 hour and 5 to 15 minutes, just until the top is set. Once cheesecake is baked, remove from oven and allow it to cool for one hour before adding the next mousse layer.

5) Prepare the coffee mousse layer. Pour cold heavy cream into a mixer bowl and whisk until stiff peaks form; set aside. In a separate bowl, cream together the softened mascarpone, sweetened condensed milk and melted chocolate. In a measuring cup, combine the espresso, Kahlua and unflavored gelatin. Heat this mixture in the microwave for about 1 minute, or until the gelatin is completely dissolved; cool for 5 minutes.

6) Pour the gelatin mixture into the creamed mascarpone and stir until combined. Add the whipped cream and fold gently with a spatula until well-combined. Fold as gently as possible to keep the whipped cream airy. Pour the mousse over the cooled cheesecake and set into the refrigerator to set for 30 minutes up to 1 hour. The top of the mousse should start to firm up before adding the last layer.

7) For the coffee-chocolate whipped cream, place softened cream cheese, Kahlua, and a pinch of salt into mixer bowl. Whisk for a few minutes until creamy and smooth. Pour in the cold heavy cream and whisk until a thick and fluffy whipped cream forms.

8) Transfer the whipped cream into a pastry bag; I used tip #4FT - French star tip. Pipe the whipped cream in layers over the mousse. Alternatively, simply spoon the whipped cream onto the cake and smooth the top. Place the cake into the refrigerator and set overnight. To remove the cake from spring form, run a flat spatula along the edges to release the cake. Keep cake refrigerated until ready to serve.

Servings : 8-12
Course : Dessert

Happy Birthday uniquepizzacollectionblog!

Originally posted by asdarknessfell

Posting this possibly early for you @uniquepizzacollectionblog (it’s May 16 in Australia), but we at @everlarkbirthdaygifts wish you a happy birthday :) We present you with a lovely fic by @booksrockmyface that she has written especially for you! Enjoy!

Title: Let the Light Illuminate these Hopeless Places

Rating: M

Author’s note: Happy birthday!! I hope it’s the best day ever and that this meets your wishes. The title comes from a line in the Paramore song Idle Worship.


Katniss was always early to everything. Even dragging her feet she still arrived at the high school gym a couple minutes after seven.

Delly, their class president, was sitting at the entrance with a table full of nametags. “Oh, Katniss!” Her smile was as bright as ever. “I’m so glad you came.”

Keep reading

rhiorhino  asked:

DEAR DRUNK DOC what's your Here!Mac recipe?

I’M DRUNK SO BEAR WITH ME

OKay so you’ll need: 

-a box of noodles, make sure to buy a high-quality pasta like dececco or something. It doesn’t have to be macaroni! I like orechiette (LITTLE EARS) and jill likie shells, whatever. just a short noodle with sauce holding spots. 

-5-6 tbps butter (NOT MARGARINE)

-3 cups milk/half and half/cream (I usually use milk, but whatever’s on hand) 

-2 cloves garlic, minced or diced

-flour….I don’t honestly know how much, really, like…5-6 tbps? We’ll tlak about this

-breadcrumbs

-CHEESE about 4 cups. Use what you have on hand. I like cheddar, obvs, but a lot of cheese work really well for this. I use what’s in the fridge. 

-seasoning! I use mustard and cayenne and smoked paprika and pepper and salt, but experiment! I don’t even use the same thing all the time. 


So melt you butter in a sacuepan, and then add some flour, whisking it in one spooonful or two at a time. we’re making a roux: a thick paste that’ll bring together our sauce. Now, when it becomes a paste, you’ll stir it over heat for a little bit until it becomes a light light brown. Don’t worry about makingit too dark, we’re just going for extra flavor here. 

IN the meantime, cook your noodle according to the package. (make al dente, like, really al dente) 

When your roux is toasted, add in the milk and seasonings. KEEP IT ON LOW, let it come to a boil slowly. Not even a real boil, more like a simmer. PATIENCE is the name of the game here. Boil broccoli to add to the mac. CHicken. PLay on tumblr. Just be cool. 

slowly add you cheese, once it’s come to your low boil, stirring a bunch. 

finish seasoning to taste. Pour over your noodles in a casserole dish. Top with breadcrumbs and bake at 375 for 30 minutes or so, with it uncovered for the last 5 or 10. 

You can also freeze this and bake it straight from frozen! (this is what I do for jet) just give it like an hour. 


-

The Sex Sandwich

Okay so that title might not be precisely right for everyone, but that’s what it means to me so ANYWAY HERE WE GO.

This is a recipe for grilled cheese in honor of National Grilled Cheese Day! I know, I know: we all know how to make grilled cheese, or at least how to look it up, but my grilled cheese has gotten me laid before. I’m not even joking. So I figured I’d share my recipe/technique!

Ingredients:
- 2 slices white bread
- extra virgin olive oil
- your cheese of choice. I go with sharp or extra sharp cheddar because I like my cheese strong.

Instructions:
Heat a frying pan to a medium-low heat. You don’t want it too hot because then the bread will burn before the cheese can melt. While the pan is heating up, take the olive oil and spread it on one side of each bread slice. Place one slice in the pan, oil side down. Put the cheese on the bread and cover with the other slice, oil side up. Let the cheese melt just enough to keep the bottom slice from slipping when you flip it. The bread should be toasted to a golden brown color. Cook the other side to the same color and remove from heat.

Let cool for ~30 seconds, and eat!

Magical attributes to this sandwich can be anything you wish! You can draw sigils in the olive oil before you cook it, use the cheese as a binding agent to cement things you wish to come to pass, or do what I do and use the heat of the cooking to heat up your relationship with someone ;D

Happy cooking!

😊#Yougotstoodup (Grayson x Reader)

Summary: The reader is a famous youtuber herself and does a collab video with the twins where she  does their makeup and the twins ask questions. One of the questions is ‘Who is your secret crush?’ And Gray claims he doesn’t have one, but E outs him and says that Gray has been crushing on her since they met at a meet up. He asks her out on a date, but he doesn’t show and she gets mad but he ends up making up for it. 

Warnings: None

A/N: Y/R/N- Your roommates name. Sorry this took awhile to post, I just finished with my finals, but now I’m home and I’m excited to work on the Ethan series next week! Thanks for reading you guys! ALSO: If you’re the anon that requested the wedding with Gray, I got your request, but I’m thinking of another mini series with it :) will be posted after my E mini series!

Originally posted by thedolangifs

“Ethan hold still.” You said as you were trying to apply eyeliner to Ethan’s eyelid.

“Ow shit Y/N that hurts.” He groans as he pulls away from you. “Gray what’s the next question?” Ethan asks as tears started to well up in his eyes.

“Okay okay how did we meet Y/N?” Grayson asks which catches my interest.

“That’s easy. We met at Playlist last year. Ethan thought my sister was hot so he tried to do some sort of dumb pick up line which he got shut down real quick.” I laughed with Grayson as I tried to fix Ethan’s wing. “What’s the next question?” I asked leaning against Grayson looking at his phone. “Who is your celebrity crush? Oh that’s easy! Mine is Ryan Gosling! The Notebook is by far my favorite movie.” I said applying blush to Ethan’s cheek.

“Okay can you paint Grayson’s face now. I’m done.” Ethan whined which sent me into a fit of laughter. I turn around to face Grayson who was hiding his face from me. “My celebrity crush is Nicki Minaj. I mean have you looked at her? Like yes please?” Ethan laughs.

“It’s not like you have a chance with her. She’s a Goddess and you? You’re just some kid online. Why would you go for Edward when you could have Jacob?” Grayson laughs which Ethan just scoffs.

“Some people are team Edward.” Ethan argues as he crosses his arms.

“Gosh I love Nicki Minaj! I would be team Edward. I get what you mean.” I giggled as I applied some foundation to Grayson’s cheek. “Who is your crush G? I feel you’re an Ariana Grande kind of guy.” I laughed which sent Grayson to roll his eyes. I started using my beauty blender to blend the foundation in.

“I don’t really have a celebrity crush at the moment.” He says looking away from Ethan and I. Ethan busts out laughing.

“Okay Y/N he’s lying to you. You’re actually his crush tbh.” Ethan says which Grayson snaps his head our direction.

“Ethan! That was a secret!” Grayson groaned which caused me to start laughing. Ethan was still laughing. “And we’re still on camera oh my God!” Grayson stands up and walks away from us as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“Gray calm down.” I said trying to be as calm as possible.

“Yeah that’s what you get for saying I have no chance with Nicki. She might actually like me unlike Y/N. She followed me on instagram remember?” Ethan gloats at which Grayson just groaned.

“Hey hey hey now. No one ever said I didn’t like Grayson back.” I giggled which Grayson snaps his head towards me.

“What?” I heard Ethan ask completely confused.

“Yeah what?” Grayson asked smiling. I chuckled and looked to the camera.

“I’d rather not–” Grayson immediately caught onto what I was about to say and he rushed to turn the camera off.

“So what you’re saying is if I asked you out on a date you wouldn’t say no?” Grayson’s smile grew which made me start to laugh.

“Yes Grayson I would love to go on a date with you.” I answered which his smile lit up. Ethan’s mouth was left agape in shock. “Now come on let me finish the rest of your face.” I called Grayson back over as we asked and answered a few more questions before the boys did the outro. I stood up and I dusted myself off. I started to pack my make up tools as I handed the boys make up wipes.

“Hey Y/N?” Grayson asks and I turned around. He started wiping off his face which I helped him a little bit since he was struggling with the eyeliner. “So would you be up for a date tonight? If it’s too soon I understand.” Grayson closes his mouth so I can wipe the lip stain off.

“Yeah tonight is good. I have to go to the store first with my roommate, but let’s say seven?” I asked and Grayson nodded.

“Yeah seven sounds great. Yeah seven.” He repeats which has me laughing. I checked my phone to see the time.

“It’s almost three. I’m gonna go get ready. Where do you wanna meet up tonight? How does Olive Garden sound?” I asked grabbing my makeup bag and phone charger.

“Olive Garden sounds great! I’ll see you at seven.” Grayson says giving me a wave goodbye as I step in my car and drive back to my apartment.

***

I decided to wear a light gray jacket with a white beanie, blue skin tight jeans and knee high brown boots. I lightly contoured my face and painted my lips a rose pink. I texted Gray letting him know I was on my way to the restaurant and I even tweeted out to my fans.

@Your_username: Hey I’m going to Olive Garden with @Graysondolan make sure to come say hi :)

I started my car and I drove down the highway. I finally pull up and I see the restaurant is slightly packed for a Thursday night. I walked inside and immediately fans recognized me. I took a few pictures and signed a few things before I checked my phone. Still I had no text from Grayson. I sat down at a booth and I ordered a limeade and I texted Grayson again.

Me: Hey Gray I’m here :) I just ordered my drink and I’m kinda in the middle of the restaurant in a booth! I’ll see you soon.

After about 15 minutes I ordered my food and I still waited. I even texted Ethan asking him where Gray was and I still waiting for a text from him too. After thirty minutes I decided I would order my food and soon I got my order and even a complimentary dessert. I had obviously been stood up and to see #Y/Ngotstoodup was not helping the situation. I decided to take my anger to twitter.

@Your_username: I see #Y/Ngotstoodup trending and I felt I should come out and let all the ladies know @Graysondolan isn’t the one up for dates :)

I drove home and I was super pissed the entire time. My phone was blowing up with all sorts of replies and retweets. I was so agitated that Grayson acted all excited and then he didn’t even show up for the date. I get home and I see Ethan in my apartment. “Ethan what the hell? I tried texting you!” I shouted as my roommate walked out of the kitchen.

“Y/N now I know you’re probably wondering where Grayson is.” Ethan stands up trying to calm me down.

“Yeah I fucking am! Do you know how stupid I looked at the restaurant all by myself? Even after tweeting about Grayson going to be there? I mean seriously what the hell?” I was so furious right now.

“I know you’re upset, but just go to our apartment. I’m sure Gray can explain everything.” Ethan explains but I pushed him away.

“No I don’t–” Y/R/N interrupted me.

“Y/N could you stop being a drama guru for thirty minutes and go to the boy’s apartment and figure out why the hell he stood you up!” She sasses as she drinks some wine. Ethan and I look at her very confused at her outburst. “Look I’ve had a rough day and to hear you and Gray are finally going out on a date, my heart swelled for you! Then to hear he stood you up?” She sips her wine.

“Alright Alright I’ll go.” I grabbed my bag and rushed out the door. I drove to his apartment when I noticed a certain tweet.

@Graysondolan: I’m so sorry @Your_username. But I plan to make it up to you :)

I knocked four times hard. “Grayson! Open the door!” I shouted as I pounded again. I was irritated. I didn’t even want the twins to post the video of me in it at the moment. I was so angry. “Grayson!” Finally the door opened revealing Grayson, but before I could say anything I smelled the zesty aroma of chicken parmesan. “What is that smell?” I asked as I pushed past Gray when I saw the kitchen. There was a bouquet of flowers on the kitchen table, two plates, cherry cheese cake on the counter, and a smiling Grayson. “What the?”

“I’m sorry for standing you up Y/N. I was just so nervous to actually go out with you. Like you’re just so gorgeous and I’m just me. I film funny videos while you do makeup tutorials and meet plenty of guys all over. I guess I just got a little worried you wouldn’t want to see me again or even talk to me.” Grayson looked towards the kitchen. “Then I decided it wasn’t fair for me to just not show up and give not give you a date. So I decided to cook you one of your favorites, chicken parmesan with cherry cheese cake and fresh squeezed limeade.” I was in shock. All the anger and bitterness I felt earlier just seemed to melt away.

“Grayson…” This was the nicest thing anyone has done for me. I was completely speechless. “I–”

“Come on. Let’s eat.” Grayson says and I smile. “Let’s give this date one more shot.” He takes my hand and leads me to the table. We had a really nice dinner. Grayson told me about his awkwardness with girls and why he’s so cute and I told him about my career and about how I felt about him. I told him he was pretty cool even if he did stand me up. I didn’t care anymore. He was honestly such a great guy and I was excited for more dates with him.

After we finished our dinner and dessert I decided it was pretty late and I needed to go home. I didn’t want to leave, but I knew I would see him again real soon. “Dinner was amazing Grayson. Now I’m going to go sleep off my food coma since I’ve had two dinners tonight, but I had an amazing time tonight. Even if you did stand me up.” I chuckled and he just rolled his eyes.

“Well thanks for coming over, and I’m sure I can make it up to you.” He says with a smile which I giggled.

“Really now? How do you plan to do that?” I asked as he walked me out to my car. I then felt his lips press against my cheek and I started to giggle.

“Did that work?” He asked and I shook my head.

“Hmmm maybe a real kiss would? Or are you too nervous?” I asked playfully which caused him to start laughing.

“I was trying to be a gentleman, but if you insist.” He then pressed his body against mine and clashed his lips with mine. I could feel him smiling too which made me smile too. Our noses bumped which made us both giggle and pull away. “How was that?” He asks which I just shake my head smiling.

“I can’t wait for more kisses and dates like tonight in the future. Goodnight Gray.” I said as I pressed my lips to his cheek leaving a faded rose pink lip print behind.

Itzy’s oven pizza bread

So this month’s tiny adventure is to share a recipe! This is one I use often, so it’ll help me to write it out, too! And hopefully other members of @tinyadventureclub will like it as well!

You’ll need:

8 oz of tomato sauce

garlic powder

pepper

salt

basil

oregano

cheese (i use mozzarella with some sprinkles of cheddar)

bread (in slices or a loaf; I use white, wheat or french)

Steps:

Preheat oven to 350 F

pour your tomato sauce into a bowl to mix with the other ingredients

Get 1 pinch of oregano, 2 pinches of basil, a shake or 2 of salt, a shake of pepper, and a shake of garlic. Mix together before or in your tomato sauce, it doesn’t matter! Note: everything is really to your taste, so feel free to change the measurements of the dry ingredients or even add your own!

Spread the sauce on the bread evenly and cover with cheese. Set slices onto a cookie sheet and let cook for 10 minutes or until cheese is melted!

This makes over 8 slices depending on your bread and how you spread! I use my left over sauce as dipping sauce for my “garlic sticks”

Bonus garlic sticks:

take the same bread you used before, and put a thin layer of butter, shake on some garlic and set with your pizza! Sometimes i add a sprinkle of cheese to it too!

Bleeding Hearts

Summary: Emma Swan has spent a decade killing the soulmates of those willing to pay for immortality, but being suddenly given a partner makes her question whether her life is now the one on the line – either at the hands of her uncompromising boss, or at the hands of a stranger magic altogether.

also on ff.net and ao3

Big thanks to @nowforruin for stepping up to the plate on a rather last minute beta job (my fault) and for the excellent suggestions that got this where it needed to be.

I think I’d need another 18k to adequately describe how grateful I am to have @nightships in my life, but in the absence of that, let me just say that it has been an utter treat to get to write something for such a wonderful friend, talented writer, and birthday twin. Thank you for inspiring me on the daily to be a better writer and overall human being, and for giving me a reason to write about romance and murder. Happy Birthmas 2.0, fandom soulmate. I promise not to kill you.


The worst part was that they always looked happy.

Even through the scope of her gun, and even alone without their soulmates beside them, her targets all had that same sense of peace and belonging that practically made their skin glow from the inside out. If she caught herself at the right moment she could use that, sink deep into the part of herself that didn’t believe in love or happy endings, and breathe in bitterness until what she had to do became bearable.

Either that, or she reminded herself of everything that was at stake – and of how far the man she worked for was willing to go to keep her locked in this bargain of theirs – and did it.

Keep reading

Carbonara is an Italian pasta dish from Rome, based on eggs, cheese (Pecorino Romano or Parmigiano-Reggiano), bacon (guanciale or pancetta), and black pepper. Spaghetti is usually used; fettuccine, rigatoni, linguine or bucatini can also be used. The pork is cooked in fat, which may be olive oil, lard, or less frequently butter. The hot pasta is combined with a mix of raw egg, cheese, and a fat (butter, olive oil, or rarely cream), away from additional direct heat to avoid coagulating the egg. The egg should create a creamy sauce, and not curdle. Guanciale is the most commonly used meat in Italy, but pancetta and local bacon are also used. Recipes differ in the use of egg: some use the whole egg, others only the yolk, some a mixture. Cream is not common in Italian recipes but is often used elsewhere. Garlic in this dish is similarly found mostly outside of Italy. Other variations on carbonara outside Italy may include peas, broccoli, mushrooms, or other vegetables. Many of these preparations have more sauce than the Italian versions. 

As with many recipes, the origins of the dish are obscure. The dish forms part of a family of dishes involving pasta with bacon, cheese, and pepper, such as spaghetti alla gricia. It’s also very similar to the south Italian pasta cacio e uova, dressed with melted lard, mixed eggs, and cheese. The name may be more recent than the dish itself. Since it’s derived from carbonaro (Italian for “charcoal burner”), some believe the dish was first made as a hearty meal for Italian charcoal workers. It has even been suggested that it was created as a tribute to the Carbonari (“charcoalmen”), a secret society prominent in the early, repressed stages of Italian unification. It seems more likely that it’s an urban dish from Rome, although it has nothing to do with the Roman restaurant of the same name. The dish is not present in Ada Boni’s 1930 classic La Cucina Romana and is unrecorded before the Second World War.

7

Keto Chinese Takeout

Super easy “Krab” Rangoon

2 oz - cream cheese
1 - small container REAL crab meat
8 - slices of cheese
Soy sauce
Sriracha (if you’re wild!)

Put all ingredients but cheese slices in bowl and microwave in 30 minute intervals until melted and combined.

Place cheese slices on parchment paper and microwave for 45 seconds until bubbly.

Quickly add a dollop of filling and fold cheese while soft. It will quickly try to shape.

Once cools it is crispy and you can even reheat without cheese melting. Dayum!

Pair with some cauliflower fried rice for a Chinese style meal. Delicious.

anonymous asked:

i know this isn't really related to your art but how do you figure out when ship weeks are? like lol i don't know anything about them and then ur like haha kiribaku week y'all and i am confuddled please share your magic

… so you know how tumblr (the site itself, I mean) has that kind of one track mind for which once you start following one (1) blog related to Thing it’ll start suggesting you all the blogs about Thing? I’m the type of person to go “… why the heck not” and click on the follow button of every single one of those suggestions so now I kind of follow most of the blogs related to the ships I’m on, which means that the posts about the weeks are kind of bound to happen across my dash one or a hundred times in a row

👍👍👍👍 the magic is having no implulse control at all my dashboard is a magical disaster 👍👍👍👍

Anon said:  Why are scorpio people important? ♏

Boi, this ask confused me for a while haha but you’re referring to that old Futakuchi doodle, right? It’s because it’s my sign, anon~ I love all my signs a lot for unknown reasons, so when I find out a character is a scorpio I’m like oooooooohhhhhhhhhhh new child haha

Keep reading

Abuelita’s Appetizers

As always for @svu-stories to make her smile!!! Part of the Charity Event Challenge suggested by @yourtropegirl!!! Enjoy, everyone!!!

“They’re not done.”

“I know. I can explain.”

“They’re ice cold!”

Tossing a towel to the floor, you sighed at the sight of the bacon wrapped dates stuffed with blue cheese and charged past Derek in search of the oven. The dial showed that it was set to 375 degrees, but you could stick your arm in the stove without the threat of a burn. Falling to your knees with no care as to whether you stained your crisp black slacks, you peered behind the appliance and realized that the damned thing was unplugged.

“Heat makes food edible,” you groaned. “A fucking caveman figured that much out when he clubbed his meal to death and shit his loin cloth for two days straight with prehistoric salmonella. Because he didn’t build a fire!”

And it wasn’t just the appetizers. The crowned rack of lamb looked as if it was still packed in ice, and your eyes shot daggers at the staff as Derek simply scratched his head.

“I… the guy in charge said it just needed some time to warm up.”

“Great! If we were hosting a breakfast benefit we’d be right on schedule,” you scoffed. “But I’m pretty sure the invitation read dinner at 7:30. So unless every man, woman and child on the guest list is about to take fashionably late to a new level, we are screwed with nothing to show for it!”

Which in some ways was the story of your life.

Kicking the stainless-steel counter, you winced in pain and ignored Derek’s attempt to massage the moment. Not that you ever wanted to come up short when it came to a gig. But of all nights… this event was designed to raise funds for seniors in need of in-home caregivers. The cause was close to Rafael’s heart for reasons that still made him toss and turn and bolt awake with tears in his eyes. Soon he would arrive so that no other grandchild, present or future, would ever have to wrestle with the idea of letting their loved one down, and you wanted to put your best foot forward, to do right by the cause…

…and him above all else.

How the hell were you supposed to make that happen with uncooked fare? Not to mention the cookies that were little more than slimy batter. Maybe you could serve it with spoons and call it an innovation destined to take the culinary world by storm. If everyone drank enough champagne and chased it with tequila that might fly.

Who were you kidding? There wasn’t enough liquor in the world to mask your gross incompetence.

“Ah the calm before the storm.”

Startled while you looked out a long window, you caught sight of Rafael sauntering towards you in a sleek silver suit paired with a light blue tie. Of course he had to be the first to guest to show up, and you shook your head when he clasped your arms and placed a quick kiss of your brow.

“I know, I know,” he said. “Pay no attention to the goddess working her magic behind the curtain.”

“When did I ever say—?”

“The first time was when you wagered you could cook a tuna melt that would make me rethink the merits of fish and cheese,” he reminded you, and a picture from the past filled your mind. He mentioned sandwiches after you spent a lazy Sunday afternoon watching old movies and smiling as he told you that he remembered the first time he saw Bette Davis in this one or Cary Grant in another. Every viewing at his abuelita’s knee. So sweet to imagine him as a little boy getting a grand education in old-fashioned romance. And the quiet secret they shared, that wherever life took him, any time he viewed frames made more beautiful by black and white, his abuelita would also be watching and thinking of him.

How he had believed that she might accept the assisted living facility simply because they promised movies and they could stay connected through celluloid.

“I wish you hadn’t said that,” you muttered.

Biting down on your lip and blinking back a few tears, you turned towards the kitchen that might as well be a walk-in freezer and wondered if there was some way that you could escape out the back. Because wherever that sweet old woman was now, she wasn’t watching a movie. Only a farce that negated your ability to fashion that simple tuna melt when a banquet was about to come undone.

“What’s all this about?” he asked.

Stepping swiftly to cut you off at the pass, he centered his palms on your shoulders. You avoided his eyes and focused on the fact that your knees looked as if you had crawled through flour with not even a slice of bread to show for your efforts.

“It’s already a disaster,” you said. “The food’s not ready.”

“Well I am early.”

“The oven was never turned on, Rafael! Cheese and crackers won’t bring the donations in. I… I wanted to get this right. This especially.”

Why hadn’t you double checked? Better yet thrown in the towel altogether and let someone else write the menu. Cracks in your facades were showing from the moment the Georgia Peach passed on your cuisine, and soon the word around town would be that you were all washed up.

Mi amor?”

He waited, tightening his grip until your reluctantly found his eyes.

“I know what you’re going to say.”

“Oh?” he challenged. “Then tell me.”

You released a heavy sigh.

“That it’s not a big deal. That I can still fix it. God, I swear sometimes you must get so sick of telling me that I’m not a failure.”

Because it wasn’t just the meal. It was the fact that your application to adopt a child had yet to give Jingles a playmate. Even the kitty cat seemed down these days.

“I don’t think I can get sick of that,” he started.

“Wow,” you said, pulling away from him and finally meeting his eyes. “What’s that? Just haven’t said it out loud? Has it been playing over and over again in the dreams you don’t share with me?”

Maybe that was a low blow, but you were too tired to care and ready to leave Derek holding the ladle and passing off pink bacon and lamb as fine food when Rafael seized your waist and buried his head in your hair.

“I can’t get sick of it because I would never say that to you,” he murmured. “Don’t you know that?”

“Yes,” you meekly replied.

“I didn’t quite catch—.”

“Yes,” you repeated, your voice a little louder as you sank into his chest and found his fingers, locking your hands in his as your head came to rest in the crook of his neck.

“I wouldn’t care if you brought out a bowl of chips tonight, mi amor. I just want you with me so I can keep it together.”

His voice hitched on the last word, and you looked up to see him fighting back a few tears. Softly stroking his face, your sense memory took over. On the nights when he sobbed and woke with a start, kicking himself for the idea that he had let his grandmother down, you cradled him until his head came to rest in your lap, combing your fingers through his rumpled locks until he found sleep, hoping that some higher power could answer the smallest of prayers and bring him sweet dreams.

“I’m here,” you assured him, instantly rethinking the idea of running away. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” he said, lightly kissing your lips. “I need you. Forever.”

He fell into your arms, and you rubbed his back, wondering what his abuelita would do with a busted oven and guests already en route. You’d heard the stories of other ovens on the fritz. Rafael left in the other woman’s care, Lucia sick in bed on account of being smacked around when she’d fashioned an amazing dinner for a man who needed no excuse to form a fist. Abuelita rarely ventured out of her railroad apartment, but the woman worked wonders and always found ways to make little Rafael smile.

“I think I know what to do.”

Kissing him again, you started to run back to the kitchen when you whipped your head over your shoulders, stretching to the tips of your toes to claim his mouth and caress his cheeks.

“You’re really okay with chips?” you asked.

“I told you. I just want you with me.”

“Give me twenty minutes, and I’m all yours.”

The kitchen was in chaos, the oven finally plugged in as you ordered Derek to make a run to the convenience store on the corner.

“But they charge an arm and a leg for—”

“I’m about to be on a roll! Do not argue with me.”

He came back in record time with rippled potato chips and peanuts. Add that to the chips of the chocolate, peanut butter, and butterscotch variety, the cookies forgotten. Melting the sweets in a sauce pan and adding the salted savories so you could pour the concoction into a muffin tin, you peeked out to see the other guests arriving. At least there was an open bar, and Rafael saw you and rushed to your side.

“Do I even get a hint?” he asked.

“No. Not until it’s ready.”

Suddenly you were thankful for the chill. Derek was doing his best to right the lamb so that there would be something in the way of a main course.

“We’re starting with dessert?” he asked, wiping away a few beads of sweat as you smiled at your surprise.

“We’re improvising. It’s what she would have done.”

Arranging the treats on a silver tray, you took a deep breath and returned to the main room flooded with guests. Rafael was in the midst of a deep conversation with a couple and their daughter.

“I know,” he said. “If I had it to over I would have hired people around the clock.”

“But the cost is—”

“That’s why we’re here.”

He looked so sad again, smaller, and you cleared your throat. Fighting to still your trembling hands around the edges of the tray, you saw his eyes light up when you presented your grand idea and spoke slowly.

“I… I wan to thank you all for coming. Dinner is delayed. But tonight, I was reminded why we’re all here. We want to make this… every day a little brighter.”

You focused on nothing and no one but Rafael.

“See my… my husband knows how to do that. Because he learned from the best. And he lives those lessons every day. So in her honor… in his… these are Abuelita’s Appetizers.”

Everyone moved as if they were walking under water, surveying the strange sweets and sharing a few confused glances before tucking in. For one second your still feared that it would be a bust, but as soon as your attempt at Cuban lunch candies hit their tongues, far more than the chocolate melted. The room was awash in smiles and stories of similar treats courtesy of other abuelitas, of nonnas and jaddahs. Like the best food, like the movies that were meant to tie an invisible string from Rafael to his grandmother through the whirlpool that was infinity, the dead came back to life, assuring the survivors that no one was to blame, that fate had worked its course and they understood. It wasn’t as if they were looking down from above; they were in the air to make everyone remember, to know that no one ever really left if the recipe was right and all souls stayed strong.

Mi amor?”

Your tray was almost empty when Rafael guided you into a quiet corner, his face unreadable until you touched his cheek and let his tears stream between your fingers.

“She would be… she is so proud of you, Rafael,” you said. “Lots of love here tonight.”

Ever so slowly, his lips curled into a smile, and he kissed you, his tongue sweet with memories, his grin broad with the idea of tomorrow as he ended the kiss but still held your hands.

“Thank you,” he said. “For never letting me down.”

Requested by @blue-aviators! Thank you for the awesome prompt and I sure hope you enjoy it! :’) <333 

This lil fic is dedicated to John Laurens, who died over 200 years ago today. His death is, to me, one of the greatest losses in US history. Who knows what kind of impact he might have had had he lived. To honor him, here’s domestic fluff of him being super gay with his super bi boyfriend. If he can see us from wherever he is, I hope we’ve made him proud. <333

Person A is up late studying and Person B is worried about them so they force A away from their desk and put on some random TV show for them as they force feed Person A some food
-Is this not Lams in its purest form?-

Laurens normally didn’t consider 11 pm to be late. No, it was usually curl up with a good book time, or browse the internet time, or cuddle with Alexander time. But tonight it was just too late for one reason–– Alex hadn’t been in their bed in two days.

Sure, he’d fallen asleep at his desk and maybe slept a total of six hours out of the past forty-eight atop his stack of papers and laptop, but of course that was nowhere near enough. John had missed holding Alex close to him, too, but he was going to force him into bed because of his worries about his boyfriend’s health, not because of his own selfish needs.

John walked into the living room, where Alex’s makeshift desk (which was really an old table the Washingtons didn’t need anymore and had gifted the boys when they moved into their college apartment) was set up. Alex was hunched over his laptop, furiously clacking away at the keys.

“Babe?” John said, coming up behind Alex and wrapping his arms around the other boy’s shoulders. He settled his chin in the crook of Alex’s neck and pressed a gentle kiss there. “Bedtime, babe,” he said.

“Not done,” Alex muttered, not taking his eyes off of the screen.

“Hit ‘save,’ Alexander,” John said more forcibly.

“Not yet,” Alex said, clearly annoyed.

“I am going to shut your laptop in ten seconds. It’s in your best interest to hit ‘save.’” Laurens whispered into Alex’s ear, causing him to shiver.

“Bluffing,” Alex mumbled.

“Ten, nine…”

Alex hit ‘save.’ Before he could type another word, Laurens had slammed the laptop shut, Alex pulling his fingers out of the way just in time. When Alex looked up at him in surprise, Laurens simply winked.

“Now come on. First dinner, then bed.” He took Alex’s hand and pulled him up out of the office chair. It was a bit too easy to pull him up, making Laurens frown ever so slightly.

“Nooooo,” Alex groaned. “I don’t have that kind of time,” he said.

“You don’t have time to take care of your basic needs and stay alive?” Laurens said in a monotone. “Well I’m sure when you burnout you’ll have time.”

“John,” Alex grumbled, snatching his hand away. “John, I’m not a child!” Alex proceeded to pout like a five-year-old, bottom lip outturned, arms crossed tightly; he even added a little stomp for good measure.

John rolled his eyes. “God, I love you so damn much.” He caught Alex by surprise as he passionately smashed his lips against the smaller boy’s, Alex melting at the contact.

“I’ll always have time for that,” Alex said dreamily.

John grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the couch. “Wait here. I’ve got some leftover mac and cheese I’m heating up for you.”

“But––”

“No ‘buts,’ Alexander,” John said.

“What about your butt?” Alex said with an eyebrow waggle.

“Dear lord,” John said with a chuckle. With that he went into their tiny kitchen and heated up the bowl of mac and cheese.

When he returned to the living room, Alex had flicked on Netflix and was browsing the documentaries, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Whatcha searching for?” John asked as he set the bowl of mac and cheese down in front of his boyfriend.

“This documentary I have to watch for class in a––” John cut him off by grabbing the remote and flicking the TV off, giving Alex a dirty look.

“No homework.” When Alex opened his mouth to protest, John held his finger to his boyfriend’s lips. “Your entire life for the past two days has been homework. It’s time for you to take care of YOU, Alex.”  

Alex pouted again, and John had a hard time not laughing because his boyfriend looked like such a child when he did that.

John picked up the mac and cheese and handed it to Alex. “Eat this.”

Alexander looked disgusted. He looked at the mac and cheese, then up at John.

“What?” John asked, glancing at the mac and cheese then back up at Alex. Had he not heated it up enough? Or was it too hot?

“John Laurens,” Alex whispered. “This isn’t about me wanting to write right now, and it isn’t about me not wanting to eat right now. This is about Thomas fucking Jefferson and his goddamn––”

“Sweet Jesus,” Laurens muttered, picking up the mac and cheese and bringing it back to the kitchen. He pulled a can of soup out and began the process of heating it up, cursing Jefferson under his breath as he did so.

He grabbed a few packets of the soup crackers he and Alex were in the habit of pilfering from the school cafeteria and took the warm soup into his boyfriend. He set it in front of him and sighed. “Please tell me this doesn’t remind you of Burr or something.”

Alex grinned up at him. “Nope! Soup is unassociated with any of my political enemies.”

“How do you have political enemies when we’re only juniors in college?” John muttered, shaking his head bemusedly as he sat down next to Alex on the couch.

Alex stared at the soup for a moment.

“Alex…” John began to say.

“Okay, okay!” Alex open a packet of crackers and dumped them into the soup. He took a spoonful and shoved it in his mouth. “Mmm, stolen crackers taste much better than lawfully acquired ones.”

Laurens laughed, then leaned his head on Alex’s shoulder. He hadn’t realized how tired he was. He shut his eyes and rested as his boyfriend ate. He was awoken by Alex gently shaking his arm.

“Babe? Babe, time for bed,” Alex whispered.

“Wh-what?” Laurens mumbled, blinking his eyes open, taking in Alex’s grin. “Is Alexander Hamilton saying it’s time for bed? Is this still a dream?”

Alex laughed. “Well I can stay up, but I can’t let my darling boyfriend skip out on a good night’s sleep.”

“I can’t sleep well without you next to me, though,” John mumbled, blushing once he realized what he’d said.

Alex’s eyes widened. “Is that true?” he said so softly that John almost didn’t hear him.

John sighed. “Of course it’s true.” He nuzzled further into his boyfriend’s neck, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Then let’s go get some sleep,” Alex whispered into John’s ear.

John was shocked with Alex picked him up, bridal style, and carried him into their bedroom. He set John down on the bed and held a finger up. Alex got out some of their sweats and old t-shirts, quickly changing into his, then motioning for John to lift his arms up.

John obliged, and soon Alex had his old shirt off of him and was tugging the clean one over his head. John breathed in the scent and, realizing it was one of Alex’s shirts, smiled, relishing in its unique coconut and Alexander scent. He loved it.

Alex then shimmied Laurens’ jeans off and tugged the fuzzy sweatpants on in their place. He kissed John’s forehead and smiled, just taking in his boyfriend for a moment.

They wordlessly got into the bed, Alex turning the lights out, then jumping in next to John. He wrapped an arm around John, pulling him close–– a reversal of their usual position. John was almost surprised that he loved it.

Alex sighed into Johns’ hair, his warm puff of breath misting over Laurens’ neck. “You’re right, John,” Alexander said sleepily.

“Mmm? About what?” John asked.

“I do need to sleep in bed more often. And you know why?”

John yawned. “Why’s that?” His voice already had a faraway quality to it.

“Because you’re in it.”