Peggy can handle running a bakery, but a baking competition is a whole other level of stress.
“I thought baking was supposed to be relaxing?” Steve asked, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen and folding his arms.
Busy wrestling with icing, Peggy paused just long enough to spare him an annoyed glanced. Her hair was pulled back into what had been a neat knot several hours ago but was now streaked with flour and beginning to come loose, strands twisting around her cheeks and ears. Her face was flushed with heat from the oven, and both her apron and the kitchen counter were covered in chocolate stains, splashes of egg and hundreds of glittering sugar crystals.
If she hadn’t looked ready to skewer someone with a wooden spoon, sharpened or otherwise, Steve would have thought she looked adorable.
“It was,” she said, voice tight, “Until someone entered me in this bloody competition.”
Steve glanced down at his feet to hide the gently amused smile that tugged at his lips. “To be fair to Howard, you were the one who said you could win it with ease …”
“That was before I saw the theme. ‘Celebrating great literature through baking’. Who came up with that stupid idea?”
“I don’t know.” Steve puzzled over that for a moment. “Do you think that’s actually someone’s job? Deciding themes for bakery competitions?”
“If it is, I’m telling you right now that they’re being paid too much.”
Finishing what she was doing, Peggy stepped back and ran a hand across her forehead, inadvertently leaving a thick streak of chocolate. She didn’t seem to notice, tilting her head to critically view her creation.
“Well? What do you think?”
Steve looked at it. It was three tiers, each a different colour. The top layer was white, decorated with swirls and silver sugar balls, and what looked like a drizzle of lemon curd. The middle layer was bright red, with carefully piped white icing that looked like strings of pearls around the edges. The third and largest layer was chocolate, with shavings of milk and dark chocolate forming a nest around the base and decorating the top.
Each tier was beautifully made and precisely and delicately decorated. Unsurprisingly; there was a reason, after all, why the bakery Peggy ran was so successful.
What Steve couldn’t see was the literature connection.
“What is it … meant to be?”
“You don’t see it?”
Peggy sighed, setting her hands on her hips. “It represents the different realms in The Marriage of Heaven and Hell by William Blake. See? The top layer’s genoise sponge, for the ethereal realm of Eternity. The second’s red velvet, for Beulah, the realm of dreams and inspiration. And the third is Ulro, the material realm. So chocolate, for the earth.”
Steve blinked, looked again at the cake, and then nodded. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”
“You don’t see it.”
“I do! I’ll admit, I didn’t get it straight away,” he said quickly, coming fully into the room and moving around the counter to stand beside her. “But now that you say it, I don’t know how I missed it.”
It was amazing how much scepticism could be expressed with just the eyes.
“Steve, don’t patronise me.”
“I’m not! It’s very creative. There won’t be anything else any like it in the competition, that’s for sure.”
Peggy snorted even as her shoulders slumped. “Maybe I should just withdraw.”
“Don’t. Okay, so it’s not an obvious connection. But who cares? People are gonna be more interested in eating it, anyway.”
Putting an arm out he pulled her into him. She squeaked in surprise as he bent down and started kissing her forehead, licking up the smear of icing. As he moved to kiss down her eyelids and cheeks, she started giggling, and he could feel the smile curving her mouth when his lips finally reached hers. When he pulled back he was grinning himself, eyes bright and he licked his lips for emphasis before saying,
“And I can tell you with complete honesty that it tastes delicious.”
-Greenflame (Kai/Lloyd): Lloyd and Kai had just gotten back from a hard fight and Lloyd was traumatized by it so Kai kissed him deeply to try and calm him down
-Glacier (Cole/Zane): Zane had malfunctioned while making a cake for Cole and got some on his face, so Cole cleaned him up and when Zane rebooted Cole was kissing him
-Plasma (Kai/Jay): Jay had just saw Nya with another man and was very upset about it, crying and sobbing about it to Kai. Kai eventually got fed up with it and kissed him
- Lava (Cole/Kai): Cole was competing with Kai about who could make the better fight move and after a day of arguing Kai’s legs had given out and Cole kissed him
-Moss (Cole/Lloyd): Cole was training Lloyd on how to use his earth powers and when he tried to tone them down he hit Cole with a rock, causing Cole to bleed. Lloyd when to go bandage it but Cole tripped him on purpose to have him fall into his arms and he kissed him.
-Bruise (Cole/Jay): The two of them were arguing over Nya again and things were getting very heated until Cole yelled “Well maybe I don’t want you with her because I want you with me!” and Jay blushed really bad until he grabbed Cole’s collar of his shirt and kissed him
Harold’s hair isn’t naturally curly, just long, so it goes straight whenever he takes a bath, and he stole curlers from his mom to give it that special curl effect in the morning. He also doesn’t know how to put on lotion, he thinks you just sort of, smear it on and then go to sleep.
So you can imagine how funny George thought it was, when after tossing pebbles at Harold’s window, he saw Harold, in his blue pajamas, hair in curlers, and face caked with lotion, whisper-yell “Do you have any idea how late it is?!,”.
“Dude… your hair…*snrk* I… I can’t Harold that’s comedy gold”
“SHUT UP! These majestic curls just don’t hold by magic, you know!”
Summary: “Baby, we’re in your parents’ kitchen.” You muttered, squeaking softly, trying to push his arm away with both of your hands, but he just kept pressing those fingers into your core. “That’s what makes it so naughty.” He whispered against your neck before his mouth wound up back against yours.
The nice, expensive trail mix, with twelve kinds of nuts and the big sunflower seeds and dried fruits, the kind Tony only rarely left sitting on the common floors for everyone to get at, was gone.
Clint had been looking forward to that stuff all morning.
All the way through a hellish morning “jog” with Steve, all through Nat handing him his ass on the training mats, all through firing the same batch of misweighted arrows over and over so Tony could take scans and fix the design, he’d been thinking, when this is done I get to go upstairs and hang out on the couch and watch Dog Cops and eat the good trail mix, guilt-free.
And it was gone.
Clint was gonna shoot somebody.
Just as soon as he figured out who’d taken the trail mix.
yesterday i saw a sad duck in the park who kept getting picked on by the other ducks so today i brought some trail mix and we had a nice lunch together. also i think he might be the duck who pooped on sam last week. if so, he is officially my new best friend.
Happy Valentine’s Day to my lovely readers with a Happy Birthday one shot to him that is almost exactly two weeks late! Inspiration and time are funny that way – always against you, you know? ;) Enjoy, loves. xx
Anybody would have to be blind not to see it, and his mother
thinks he is and you are, too.
Her beautiful boy has always been a bit oblivious. He’s
incredibly smart, she’s proud to say, and very astute, but sometimes – only
sometimes – he can’t see past the end of his own nose.
He’s in love with you. She’s suspected it for awhile, but
tonight it’s painfully plain to see. Her son, her youngest, her baby, loves
It’s more than a passing fancy, because he would have
stopped lighting up in the same way when you walked into any room if it was as
simple as that. And it’s more than the love that comes with strong friendship,
because if it stopped there he wouldn’t look at you the way those thousands of
adoring fans look at him – like he just wants one chance, just the one, to show
you how good he’d be for you and to you.
None of his friends see it – they’re all too far gone into
the alcohol and guffawing as they have go after go at him in the name of good
fun, and he just laughs along with them with crinkle-eyed, dimply humor.
You don’t see it either. You don’t see it when he looks up
at you with adoration that shines, unbridled, thanks to the liquor in his
You don’t even see it when he leans his head against the
gentle curve of your hip while you stand next to him, one eye drooping just a
little more than the other as he listens to whatever story is being told before
giving in and letting them fall shut as you rake your fingers through his thick
curls and massage his scalp. He does love a good pet, but he doesn’t reward all
the people who comply by turning his head inwards and giving a little kiss to
the hip that’s been his pillow.
And her boy – her birthday boy – he doesn’t see it at all.
James Potter splattering cake all over his parents, and continuing to then face plant in the cake on his first birthday. James Potter giggling uncontrollably when his cousins put him on a toy broom for the first time on his second birthday. James Potter accidentally enchanting his own glasses and watching, fascinated, as they zoom out the window on his fifth birthday. James Potter being all smug on his tenth birthday because he’s reached double digits. James Potter’s three new friends: Sirius, Remus, and Peter, throwing cream pies at his face across the Great Hall at eleven. James Potter hopelessly pining for a certain redhead instead of doing a birthday prank with the Marauders at age fourteen. James Potter getting the best gift possible from his fiery girlfriend at seventeen (Sirius proceeding to tease him endlessly about it the next morning). James Potter walking up to his pregnant wife and kissing her senseless on his nineteenth birthday. James Potter throwing baby Harry up and down as Lily watches, taking photographs at twenty. James Potter standing at the alter as Sirius’s best man, watching as his two best friends promise to love each other forever when he is twenty two. James Potter tearing up when Sirius and Remus announce that they’re adopting a beautiful baby girl on his twenty-fifth birthday. James Potter laughing hysterically when Harry gets him a pranking kit for his thirtieth birthday. James Potter hugging Harry, Ron, and Hermione when they graduate from Hogwarts on his thirty-seventh birthday. James Potter conducting “happy birthday”, as his family sings to him at age forty. James Potter smiling and crying and laughing when he discovers he’ll be a grandfather at forty-five. James Potter having a quiet birthday with Lily, the love of his life, at forty-nine. James Potter nervously asking Lily to go out on a date with him on his fifty-fifth birthday. James Potter surrounded by the people he loves as they wish him a happy fifty-seventh birthday.
James Potter growing up to be an old man. James Potter living.
A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this! It’s the longest I’ve written on this blog and I’d really appreciate the feedback here
I’m most likely doing a Part 2 depending on how you all like it. Enjoy :)
Harry loved family reunions.
Amongst the bickering cousins and lurid pitter-patter of children, he often found himself feeling at peace as his folks filled him in on all the stories he’s missed out on. He’d laugh about his jittery uncle who nearly burnt his eyebrows off from an old barbecue, nodding approvingly as his aunt gushes about her eight year old who’s just won the flashy new title of spelling bee champion. He likes the way they treat him too. With adoration in their eyes, resurrecting from the years they’ve watched him as a young boy (instead of the usual gaze of stardom he’s used to). He almost, if not, especially enjoys the way they admire his success, not as an ego-booster, but as a way of praising Anne for his upbringing, despite the major gossip that briefly tainted his mother’s name around her first divorce.
But even in a house packed with his most favourite people, he would always feel relatively exhausted from the length of the reunion, a full four days he’d reckoned. It was unfair really, he loved his crazy family, but he always felt like he had to put on his best face, never getting his usual dose of solitude to rejuvenate.
So when Harry first invited you to join him, he hadn’t quite expected you to be so patient with his family.
“Yes, he is very handsome,” you’d chuckle, “but we’re only friends.”
“You’re sweet, love, but I think this little girl wins the beauty contest, hmm?”
“Right, he is very good with kids.”
“M’only in uni, ma’am, so I’ve got a few good years before settling down.”
Warnings: Swearing (guess it’s a little late for that though whoops I’ll just put that in the tags), food mention
A/N: Inspired by a debate between @botanistlester, @insanityplaysfics, and some anons on Phanfiction Catalogue about whether Dan or Phil would propose. I, um, might have been one of those anons btw (*cough* #TeamEliza *cough*). I hope this serves as an acceptable compromise.
Dan doesn’t bother to look away from the episode of Steven
Universe they’re watching, acknowledging his boyfriend only with a noncommittal
sound somewhere between a hum and a grunt. Phil’s using his ‘idea’ voice, and
as it’s barely past ten in the morning and Dan was up pacing the lounge until
nearly five, he has neither the energy nor the mental capacity to pay attention
to anything more complicated than cartoons right now. He pops another spoonful
of cereal into his mouth and hopes whatever Phil has to say is brief.
(He gets his wish).
“Marry me?” Phil says in the exact same tone he used last
week when he suggested that they go miniature golfing in the middle of a typical
I feel like Sherlock would be the husband to use his influence to invite John’s favorite celebrities to the flat to surprise him and then act like he doesn’t know who they are.
“Hello again Sir Elton, remember when I stopped those costume thieves for you? Listen, it’s my husband John’s birthday and he loves you a lot, so if you could stop off for a bit and surprise him, that would be great.”
And of course Sir Elton John would drop everything and come for Sherlock-Fucking-Holmes and they would both be chilling in the flat until John comes home from work. Sherlock will be like, “Quick! Sit in the client’s chair!”
And then John would come home all tired and stressed and like, “Oh, we have a…Oh. My. God. Elton John’s in my flat.” And drop his suitcase
Sherlock’s like, “Who? This is a client.”
John’s face would be like: :O “Don’t tell me you don’t know Elton John.”
Elton be there stirring his tea like nothing and Sherlock will be fake irritated. “What are you on about?”
John will keep trying to tell Sherlock who he is and even sing a few of his songs and his husband will just sit there trying his hardest not to burst out laughing. Then Sherlock will turn to Elton and be like, “Now, why are you here?”
And Elton will smile and be like, “To wish John Watson a happy birthday.”
And John will be like ( ﾟoﾟ) and then Sherlock will turn around with a big ass smile on his face and say softly, “Happy birthday, John.”“
And then maybe after Elton sings him a song or two and leaves, John kisses Sherlock a lot and says, "Thank you so so much love.”
And then the second part after the cake and the surprise is when they go to the bedroom ;)
They’re in the chilly fluorescent produce section, Neil steering the cart and Andrew catching it whenever he finds chocolate-covered berries or cartons of blended sugary juice to add to the pile. Neil’s got his old jersey conspicuously clashing with their new team’s red sweats, a dark bandana twisted up in his hair. It’s almost closing, and everything feels a bit cool and loose like no one’s really supposed to be awake.
When Neil’s busy bagging carrots Andrew gets his arms folded over the handle of the shopping cart, this stupid black t-shirt all stretched out at the neck, wire-framed glasses perched on his nose, mouth flat. Neil’s sort of fond of Andrew wearing his glasses in public, and he finds himself walking backwards in front of the cart as it’s pushed, openly watching him. Andrew picks the pace up just enough to bump heavily into his shins.
Neil smiles, looping his fingers through his end of the cart so they each have a side, rolling lopsidedly towards the opening of an aisle.
“Stop making things difficult.”
“Let me drive the cart.”
Andrew regards him, fair eyebrows raised. “You’re a control freak.”
Neil laughs, startled. “You let three people total drive your car. You wouldn’t even let Sir or King in our bed for the first three months we had them. You bartered for my secrets when we met, Andrew. ”
“And?” Andrew asks, examining a box of cake mix.
“I don’t think you should be talking about controlling personalities.”
Andrew ignores him, tossing the box in the cart and pushing it back towards Neil. “Go get your diet plan shit.”
Neil makes a face. “It’s our diet plan.”
“I am not willfully drinking skimmed milk.” Andrew crosses to the bags of jumbo marshmallows and Neil pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll put it in your hot chocolate.”
“You’ll die,” Andrew says simply.
Neil jostles the cart into Andrew’s side, and he drops the marshmallows back on the shelf, unimpressed. “Meet me at the front in five. I’m getting actual food to sustain actual people.”
Andrew shrugs and turns to wander out of the aisle, dragging the cart the wrong way behind him.
Neil coughs so he doesn’t laugh, senselessly thrilled. He jogs back towards the meat section, threading through coolers and displays until he finds the turkey bacon and lean chicken breasts that they live on. He’s frowning at an especially lifeless beige cut of fish when he’s wrenched around by the arm.
He’s written the spoiler right on the first page, like a shit, and he’s ghastly. He really is. Only- of course he isn’t. Quite the opposite. She uses the book to hit him in the chest. He laughs.
You’re the worst gift giver in the world, she informs him. He waggles his eyebrows, and she’d kiss him if Sirius wasn’t here. You two should kiss, Sirius says through a mouthful of crisps, looking on with mild interest. James shoves him sideways and then does, in fact, kiss her. He tastes like tea and mint.
The boys wear party hats all round London. Remus has five coffees, Peter loses his scarf to the wind and Sirius throws away a twenty pound note because he thought it was a very poorly made napkin. It might just be the best birthday she’s ever had.
Naturally she can never tell James this because he’ll just be unbearably smug, as opposed to the bearable level of smug he is normally. He buys her an ice block and then precedes to rip into her for picking lemonade flavor, which he has been told by Remus is the ‘most basic’.
Pathetic Lily, truly embarrassing, he says, and she reaches up and snaps the string of his party hat. Being eighteen feels no different to being seventeen, still being told by a choking James that she’d just ‘broken his throat’, still laughing when Remus says that it’s probably a blessing, still liking them all an inordinate amount.
Afterwards they go home, the two of them, back to the tiny apartment where they eat and sleep and make breakfast. When they’d moved in she’d used James’ wand to flick all the dead moths off the windowsill and to get her back he froze hers in ice. Sometimes when she can’t sleep and her brain is a blank wall she’ll get up, walk around, breathe. She can look at any surface of their place and think here. I kissed you here. I loved you here.
She goes through the door and there is a cake on their bench. The top slants to the left, lopsided, and the icing has melted all down the sides. She freezes, staring. James bounds past her and tries to prop up a drooping candle. I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to ice it while it was still hot, he confesses, guiltily.
She keeps staring. You made me a cake. She says, fumbling around the words. I don’t know if you can still call it that, he says, distracted, trying to even out the slanting top by shifting the icing. She cannot believe him- waking up early just to make her a cake. Her heart is swollen. She could break a rib.
Happy birthday Li- he starts, but she has surged forward and is kissing him instead. His hands are sticky from icing, on her face and jaw and neck and he made her a cake. In this kitchen, in this apartment, in her space, he was here. There has never been a better boy than hers, and here. She loves him here.
I just want to point out that Lars’s cake was in the waste bin even prior to Steven’s arrival at Sour Cream’s house. It makes sense that Lars was in the area even before Steven and Sadie, because he was pretty much already finished with his potluck offering.
And to me, this scene is really indicative of what we know about Lars. He’s really someone filled with self-loathing and self-doubt. He’ll be really gung-ho about something one moment and then back out the next.
It’s very similar to having a voice in your head always bringing up the worst-case-scenario or always reminding you the worst of things. It stops you from stepping out of your comfort zone for fear of failure.
We all have a little voice like that but it’s much louder and much harder to tune out in some people than in others. That the cake was purposely tossed in the garbage does show that he did this himself, and it wasn’t a result of getting nabbed by Aquamarine and Topaz.
It’s easier for Lars to tear people down than to face what he doesn’t like about himself. And I think for the longest time his relationship with Steven was tinged with envy. Steven loved himself, and his self-love caused everyone to gravitate towards him and love him in turn.
I think Lars never believed Steven knew how he felt until The Good Lars. When he asks Steven, “When did you get so mature?” He means it in a way that implies, “When did you know how I felt?”
In that episode, Steven said exactly the things Lars needed to hear. And admittedly, it’s taken a while to get there. Steven has grown a lot in the series, beyond just meaning well for his friends.
I have some more things to say on Lars and Sadie, but I’ll leave that to a Some Thoughts post in the near future.