the pancake of my mornings

In the mornings when he’d witness her awakening, with the sun’s rays shining down upon her face, he felt like this must be heaven and he was looking at an angel.❤️
Recipe for blueberry pancakes
Banana blueberry pancakesIngredients: ½ large ripe banana, 130 ml fizzy water or plant milk, 1 tablespoon chia seeds, 90g whole spelt flour, ½ teaspoon baking powder, ½ teaspoon baking soda, dash of...

I made these amazingggg blueberry pancakes for breakfast this morning and posted the recipe on my recipe blog! 

Okay, so Emma and Regina are going to get sucked into that mirror next week, leaving Hook with Snow and Charming.  Imagine all the messages he’s gonna have to pass between them as they constantly switch cursed places. 

Snow to Hook:  “Tell him I love him and that I’ve still got hope.  We’re going to be fine.  We’ll beat this.”

Hook to Snow:  “Of course, milady.”


Charming to Hook:  “Tell her I love her, too.  Oh, and tell her we’re out of nutmeg, so if she can make it by the store today, that would be great.”

Hook to Charming:  “Nutmeg?  What the bloody hell is nutmeg?”

Charming to Hook:  “It’s the secret ingredient to my pancakes.  I thought I’d fix you some in the morning.”

Fresh Start - Birthday Boy

A/N: Part 24 of my Fresh Start series. This is a Mechanic!Dean x Single mom!Reader AU. After this there is just one chapter left, and then I plan on doing an epilogue. I love making this story, and I love all the amazing feedback i’ve gotten. Thanks to my awesome  and ever patient beta @thorne93 for sticking with me through all of this series, you are the best.  

Characters: Dean x Reader, Beth, Sam, and a bunch others that are mentioned.

Warnings. FLUFF!!! And some drinking, but I think that’s it.

Wordcount: 1862

*Not my GIF*

Originally posted by hunterchesters

“I love the smell of pancakes in the morning.” Dean wrapped his arms around you from behind and placed a tender kiss to your neck.

“I know,” you smiled, turning around in his arms. “Happy birthday.” You raised up on your tiptoes and kissed his lips.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” Beth shouted as she came running through the kitchen. Dean crouched down and accepted the hug she offered him. “I have a present for you, but mom says I have to wait until later,” she pouted.

“We best listen to your mom then,” Dean said, lifting her up with him as he stood.

January had been a busy month so far, with Dean moving in and the construction starting on the gallery, so you were very much looking forward to all spending the day together. Almost all day. Dean had to go into work to confirm an order and sign off on some other paperwork and you were going to go shopping and make a nice lunch for all of you, even Beth was staying home from school.

“Maybe the two of you can set the table? Breakfast is almost done.”

It was nice to have a morning without any stress. Beth and Dean were involved in a hefty discussion about something they had watched on TV last night and you just sat back and enjoyed the moment, watching them grow closer together.

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Hmmm!!!! I usually eat whole wheat bread tbh! And partner it with eggs or whatever spreads are available haha (o 3 o)


My delish breakfast this morning 😉👌 hclf vegan pancakes with bananas, maple syrup, raspberry jam and summer berries!🍇🍌 also my cheeky Jasper dog is obviously captivated by the perfection of this meal haha

IG: amantterram

So maybe it was a weird thing to set him off, but really— was Tim in control of his life just now? No. He hadn’t been for several years, if he were being honest, and why change what worked? He was hardly ever an emotional wreck (once a week maximum), which was fine. One day in seven was fine.
Until it was one of those days, and he was standing outside his apartment, holding his key ring, trying not to scream or cry or punch a wall, or maybe all of the above. He hadn’t decided yet.
He was thinking about Bruce. Bruce didn’t remember him. Of all of the things the universe could have thrown at him, that was maybe the worst.
Most days, he just wanted to tell him— drive out to the manor, let himself in, lie down on a couch, and wait for Bruce to walk by. He could picture himself doing all of that, easily. It was the bit after that where he got stuck.
Bruce wouldn’t recognize him. Tim kept thinking about his eyes— they’d be empty, polite, “oh look, a stranger” eyes, and Tim wasn’t sure he could take that. He felt sick just thinking about it. It made it hard to breathe, so he leaned his head against the doorpost, still staring down at his keys (vehicle master, Jason’s house, apartment, manor). He could do it if he wanted. Turn around and tell Bruce. Maybe he should.
Bruce would want to know, wouldn’t he? He always did. The thought of Bruce making a such an important decision without all the facts was ridiculous— Bruce didn’t do that. And surely if he knew he was Batman, if he knew about his kids—
Anyway, Bruce deserved to know, and the rest of them deserved that too. Tim knew the others were suffering— Damian wasn’t allowed to go home, so he’d been migrating between safehouses for weeks. You knew he was desperate when he started showing up at Tim’s, and he’d been doing that a lot lately.
And as much as he wanted Bruce to be happy, well… didn’t Tim deserve to be happy too? It had been a while.
He didn’t blame Bruce for shutting them out. How could he? It wasn’t Bruce’s fault. It was just that Tim wasn’t sure what to do without Bruce. It was hard to explain.
Tim had a strange life. He was a secret— there were only about a dozen people who knew what he did with his time, and less that knew him personally, for real. There had been years when it was only him and Bruce, and now Bruce didn’t remember any of that— whole years that were just Tim now. By himself. It made him feel less, somehow, like he was disappearing. Even on the days when Jason was pacing in his kitchen and Damian was asleep on his couch, Tim felt horribly, horribly alone.
He just wanted Bruce to remember. It didn’t seem like that much to ask.
Tim could picture himself at the door to Wayne Manor, with the key that he’d had since he was thirteen. He could see his hands opening the locks (top turned right, bottom turned left, shove the door open with a knee when it stuck). He could imagine meeting Bruce again, and a couple of half-formed sentences he might say.
“Tim Drake-WAYNE. Your son.”
“You don’t have to be Batman if you don’t want to, but you’re kind of stuck with us.”
“Would it be okay if I came home?”
But after that, all he could picture were Bruce’s stranger eyes. The thought was enough to make him go cold all over again— he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t.
Tim unlocked his apartment and stepped inside, past the kitchen and a pile of blankets that was probably Damian camped out in his living room again. He pulled his manor key off of his ring and set it on the counter. Wouldn’t be needing that anymore.
After that, he went to bed. There was nothing else he could do.

anonymous asked:

Pancakes? Why not waffles. They are clearly superior to the pancake. Their lovely and very slightly crunchy exterior reveals an airy, soft, fluffy inside that is perfect in every way and their pockets hold syrup perfectly so it doesn't spill all over the plate and get as messy. Pancakes however, are just flat, and while they may be fluffy, they don't have that nice texture contrast that waffles do. Plus they can't hold syrup as well and they get soggy just sitting there in it.

Oh my gosh are we actually having a debate over pancakes vs waffles rn? Heck. You lead a very convincing case my guy, but I’ll have to stand with my stupid pancakes bc I love those flat cake things. I’m sorry pls but waffles are enjoyable too!


“do you like it?” Napoleon asked, watching you with concern.

“you should sit down and eat some.” you suggested, taking a bite. you practically melted, “oh my god this is sooooo good. can i hire you to cook for me like all the time?”

“well you see, my specialty is breakfast. so if by chance you and i are together in the morning, maybe when you wake up, you’ll get to try my pancakes. and every morning that we are together i will make you a feast fit for a queen.”

  • Ren: Nora?
  • Nora: Yes?
  • Ren: What is that?
  • Nora: It's a baseball bat.
  • Ren: Nora?
  • Nora: Yes?
  • Ren: Why?
  • Nora: Yang.
  • Ren: Nora?
  • Nora: *Groans* Yang poured hot sauce on my pancakes this morning.
  • Ren: And?
  • Nora: Hold on.
  • (Yang walks through door)
  • (Cracks Yang over the head with the bat)
  • Ren: Nora, she's bleeding.
  • Nora: I'm uh... sure it's hot sauce.
  • Ren: Nora.
  • Nora: Y-yes?
  • Ren: What the fuck is wrong with you?