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honeybcj · 11 days

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@jegulus-microfic april 19th | class | 764 words | nsfw (cw: undisclosed age gap [student teacher dynamic], edging, spit kink, minor daddy kink)

It’s not James’ fault. How could it have been? Ever since that first day when Regulus walked inside his lecture hall, it was a done deal. He had shown up in a godforsaken silk blouse, the top two buttons underdone to reveal the delectable curve of his collarbone. And the pants—don’t get James started on the pants. They hugged the curve of his ass; an ass that deserves to be worshiped.

There had never been anyone that made James question everything before, but then Regulus had to be in his class and all cares about professionalism and teacher and student dynamics flew out the window.

The lines blurred—fast. Regulus would stay behind or cast him these looks mid-lecture. It was enough to make James' brain short circuit. Much in the sense to how his brain was barely functioning right now, courtesy of Regulus on his knees with his lips wrapped around James’ cock.

It’s office hours, but no one ever comes. That always meant a challenge, one that Regulus definitely didn’t want to back down on. And how could James say no? Especially when Regulus looked up at him so prettily.

“Regulus, baby,” James groans, trying his best to stay quiet. He fists the hair on the back of Regulus’ head, tugging gently at the curls.

Regulus simply hums around his cock, slipping him further until the head is nudging against the back of his throat.

It’s wrong, but everything feels so right as James sits back in his office chair, knees splayed apart for Regulus to kneel between. And God—it is one of the prettiest sights James has ever seen. He’s close—has been for a minute, but every time he’s there, Regulus teases him by pulling off with a wet pop and squeezing the base of his cock. Much like he’s doing right now.

“Don’t you like it when my mouth is being put to good use, Professor Potter?” Regulus blinks innocently, lips swollen and slick with spit and precum.

James rolls his eyes, pushing Regulus’ head down in an attempt to get him to do something. “I have class soon, baby. Really soon.”

Regulus’ lips curl up into a taunting smile, head cocked to the side like a challenge is being presented to him. In the blink of an eye, Regulus is no longer kneeling before him. Instead, he’s perched on the edge of James’ desk, watching him with playful eyes.

“Since you want to play that game, daddy,” Regulus says, which only makes James groan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “I’ll let you go to class just like that.”

“Reg, baby—”

Regulus tuts, shaking his head. “Go to class. I just know everyone wants to get a good look at the professor.”

James sighs, defeated, as he tries to tug up his pants. He knows better than to argue with Regulus on the matter, no matter how hard he is trapped into the confines of his trousers. Despite this, James still manages to push up from his chair, shifting himself in his pants.

His hand takes purchase on Regulus’ chin, tilting his head back, so James is looking down at him. He’s met with a grin from Regulus, who then sticks out his tongue. He knows. James might be a little predictable, but god does it do something to the already noticeable problem in his pants.

“Good boy,” James murmurs before leaning down and letting a trail of spit drop from his mouth onto Regulus’ awaiting tongue.

The moan that leaves Regulus’ mouth is like music to James’ ears. He watches carefully as Regulus swallows, paying close attention to how his throat bobs.

“Think of your grandmother. Think of your grandmother,” James mumbles under his breath, which only makes Regulus giggle, kicking the toe of his boot at James’ knee.

“Alright, old man,” Regulus teases, licking over his lips. “Get to class, and I’ll be waiting right here for when you get back.”

James huffs, cupping Regulus’ cheeks in his hands and presses a deep kiss to his mouth. It takes everything in James not to carry on the moment, but Regulus is right, students are waiting for him. Good thing though, because Regulus pushes him off with expert hands, tugging his lower lip between his teeth.

“Go on, daddy,” Regulus murmurs. “I’ll be waiting.”

“You better.” James tucks a loose curl behind Regulus’ ear before picking up his bag.

“Wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”

James rolls his eyes again, willing the tightness in his pants to disappear. It was going to be a long lecture.

#i’ve always wanted to write something with an age gap #so here we are everyone!#jegulus microfic #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #james potter x regulus black #regulus black x james potter #the marauders #han’s microfics

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thefreakandthehair · 4 months

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⚾️ rounding third, sliding home: finale ⚾️

chapters eleven and twelve now live: here on ao3 -> or, start from the beginning!

Excerpt:

The Dodgers are at bat now, and Eddie loses track of the first two batters. Neither end up on bases though, so that’s disappointing. Tommy Hagan hits next, making it to first base comfortably. And then he hears it, the unmistakable reverberation of the guitar lead-in to Tom Petty’s I Won’t Back Down. Blood rushes to his head, all glee and overwhelm when Steve steps out of the dugout and the entire stadium cracks open. People scream, singing along and stomping their feet on the bleachers in such a way that it feels like the Earth itself is shaking. Eddie’s world certainly is. He’s only known Steve as the cute guy who needed a massage therapist, whose face scrunches up when he laughs from his belly, who falls asleep when you play with his hair, and who prefers his pasta just a touch underdone for more of a bite. Somehow, the Steve who’d held his hand the first time they had sex is the same Steve whose name and walk-up music sends a packed crowd into a frenzy. And for some reason, reasons that become more and more unfathomable the longer the crowd celebrates, Steve wants him. Or at least, wanted him. He’s still unsure of what to expect but even if that happiness is now in the past tense, to have been loved at all by Steve Harrington is miracle enough. “That’s your man, Munson! Cheer!” Robin reaches over Chrissy to smack him on the arm and he springs back to life. Your man is presumptuous but even if it’s one-sided, she’s not wrong. He cheers so goddamn loud.

holy shit! I can't believe this is it! I can't believe these are the final chapters! it was originally meant to be just one final chapter, but then it ended up being 15k words so, yeah. two final chapters! thank you all so, so, much for following along with one. it's been a blast! and I'm definitely not thinking about writing a sequel or anything.

@steddiebang @hbyrde36 @steddieasitgoes @sidekick-hero @sharpbutsoft @cuoredimuschio @kkpwnall @starryeyedjanai @scarcrossdlvrs @marvel-ous-m @pearynice @judasofsuburbia @fastcardotmp3 @shares-a-vest @hellion-child @pumpkinspicestevie @delta-piscium @perseus-notjackson @withacapitalp @hereforanepilogue @stevethehairington @tboyeddie @theheadlessphilosopher @imfinereallyy @hexiewrites @maxineholtzmann @starrystevie @steddieas-shegoes @goodolefashionedloverboi @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @hellfiredemon @wynnyfryd @vecnuthy @sungods-healingg @antithetical-dream-girl @stevespookington

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steddiebang23 #steddie big bang #st fic #myfic #rounding third sliding home

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theroguequeen · 4 months

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sometimes I ask myself how I got into this obsession about a stupid rogue prince but than I remember the moment he came on screen, casually sitting on the iron throne and slowly coming towards rhaenyra and saying "turn around" demanding but still with this raspy soft underdone and his fingers softly touching her neck and I knew in that moment that I was lost because my mind what's like? turn around? like how deep? on the iron throne? this indruction scene got it all, no hiding, and even in that very first scene the chemistry was just insane.

#daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra #daemyra #hotd #i hope this reaches the right audience #like daemon I can bark lol #matt and emma killed this one like #TURN AROUND #the voice #the look #like excuse me sir?

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steddiebang · 7 months

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Rounding Third, Sliding Home

Author: @thefreakandthehair l Artist: @sungods_healing l Artist: @oriarts Posting on Saturday, November 25

Steve Harrington is a baseball wunderkind and the star shortstop of the LA Dodgers. It’s his life, his purpose, his escape— so when he injures his UCL and has to return Indiana to recover, he’s not sure where to go from there. It’s here that he meets Eddie Munson, local massage therapist who soon becomes so, so much more. Over the several months he’s back home, Steve is surprised to find that Eddie’s tender, caring touch heals much more than his arm. Love builds a bridge between himself and this wonderfully ridiculous, gregarious man, but digs a mote between who Steve wants to be and who he is. When he heals up and goes back to his old life, can Steve and Eddie find a way to keep what they’ve built?

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

💆🏻‍♂️

Eddie still doesn’t care much about baseball, not about the sport itself at least, but watching Steve play almost makes him care. There’s something special about the way he moves, like his glove is simply part of his body, like he floats around the in-field rather than runs. He’s a fucking natural at this and Eddie has no doubt— not a single one— that this, right here, is what Steve was born to do. Painful though it still is, it’s hard to begrudge Steve for making the choice he’s made.

Something happens that Eddie doesn’t follow, but Chrissy cheers along with the crowd so Eddie follows suit. And then he hears it, the unmistakable twang and reverberation of the guitar lead-in to Tom Petty’s I Won’t Back Down. Blood rushes to his head, all glee and overwhelm when Steve steps out of the dugout and the entire stadium erupts. People scream, sing along, stomp their feet on the bleachers in such a way that it feels like the Earth itself is shaking.

Eddie’s world certainly is.

Beyond seeing Steve in his uniform, a treat in itself, it’s as though he’s seeing a wholly different side of him. As he walks up to the plate for the first time all season, bat in one hand and waving to the crowd with the other, Eddie sits silent. He’s only known Steve as the cute guy who’d needed a massage therapist, whose face scrunches up when he laughs from his belly, who falls asleep when Eddie plays with his hair, and who prefers his pasta just a touch underdone for more of a bite. Somehow, the Steve who’d held his hand the first time they slept together is the same Steve whose name and walk-up music sends a packed crowd into a frenzy.

And for some reason, reasons that become more and more unfathomable the longer the crowd celebrates, Steve wants him. Or at least, wanted him. He’s still unsure of what to expect but even if that happiness is now in the past tense, to have been loved at all by Steve Harrington is miracle enough.

“That’s your man, Munson! Cheer!” Robin reaches over Chrissy to smack him on the arm and he springs back to life. Your man is presumptuous but even if it’s one-sided, she’s not wrong.

He cheers so goddamn loud.

⚾️

It’s the first time in almost a year that Steve’s stepped up to a plate, and it should make him feel… something. Nervous, anxious, excited. The roar of the crowd doesn’t die down but he drowns it out and instead searches the bleachers behind third base, looking for a few very specific faces.

Robin makes herself known first, standing and waving the hand sign for I love you frantically. Dustin and Chrissy flank both sides of her, and then he spots Eddie whose hands are cupped on either side of his mouth in what he’s sure is a terrifyingly loud scream.

For him.

Steve can’t give himself the time to process or think, but he knows that having Eddie there for his first game back means more than the entire fucking stadium.

The crowd sings along to Tom Petty until the music fades out. Steve rolls his shoulders back and stretches his neck, just like Eddie taught him, before cranking the bat back into his stance. Feet hip-width apart, slight bend at the waist and knees, elbow up, eyes on the pitcher.

Just as he’s ready to swing, the Phillies elect to intentionally walk him.

The crowd boos at the anticlimactic decision almost as loudly as they’d cheered for his return as he drops his bat and jogs to first base, rolling his eyes at the pitcher who was too cowardly to pitch to him.

Coward.

#steddiebang23 #steddiebang23 upcoming projects

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chicken-fifi · 1 month

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To Be Loved By You | Lee Dongwook Imagine

Pairing: Lee Dongwook x Pregnant!Reader (established relationship)

Requested by anon: Paster

Genre: fluff and angst

Word Count: 1,092 words

A/n: it's been so long since i've written for him. i really hope you guys like them

Tunes: silent choir room in a middle school

Dongwook sat up in the bed, blinking the sleep away from his eyes. His eyes settled on you as you slept peacefully by his side. The thin sheet covered the swell of your bump as you lay on your side, having finally found a comfortable position to sleep in at some point during the night. Stretching his arms over his head, he hummed as his back cracked before he leaned over pressing a kiss to the top of your head, hand running over your bump lovingly, before rising from the bed. Giving you one last look before he left the room, Dongwook smiled as he saw you rustle in your sleep.

Making his way down the hall, he stretched his arms time and time again, before entering the kitchen, immediately working his way around the room to get breakfast going. He’d taken up the daily routine ever since you entered your second trimester - he would’ve taken it over earlier if you hadn’t been so dead set on sticking to your routine. The different scents of the foods he was making spread all over your shared home. Dongwook was focused intently on the food in front of him, not wanting any of it to burn or be underdone in the slightest and cause you or your little bundle of joy any harm. With his sharp focus he didn’t hear the footsteps coming down the hall nor the soft calls of his name coming from you.

“You should’ve woken me up,” he finally heard from directly behind him as your arms circled around his waist, face pressing into his back, your bump forcing much more room between the two of you than normal - although this had become the new normal.

“You looked so peaceful,” Dongwook voiced, hand going to your wrist and rubbing it gently as he stepped back and away from the stove, lest you get burned. “I couldn’t wake you up knowing how hard it is for you to rest properly during the night.”

You hummed, pressing a kiss in between his shoulder blades, “I’d still like to make breakfast for my man in the mornings regardless. You’ve been doing so much for me that I feel a bit useless.”

Your words alarmed Dongwook immediately, as he spun on his heel to face you, cupping your face in his large hands. How could you feel useless when you were doing the most taxing and important job anyone could possibly do? You were - growing a physical product of your joint love and union. Had he done or said something - anything - to make you feel as though you were useless?

“Take that back,” he urged. “Take that back immediately. You are anything but useless. I’m doing these things because I want to. I know very well that you are more than capable of doing them, but I want to do them for you so you can rest and focus on conserving your energy for when it really counts - for when I’m not here to do these things for whatever reason. Allow me to pamper you when I’m here and don’t feel bad about it.”

You felt your heart melt at his words, “Can I atleast make you dinner tonight?”

Oh, how could he say no to you, especially when you looked at him like that.

“Alright,” he relented. “But don’t even think about touching the laundry. I’ll take care of it when I get back later.”

~~~

You hummed happily as you sliced the vegetables for the stew you’d begun craving for dinner. Despite originally intending to make something else as a surprise for Dongwook, you had quickly reconsidered and began making the stew, knowing that he’d be happy with anything if it made you happy right now. Your ears perked up as you heard the front door open. The split second that your mind wandered was enough to lead to injury. The knife you’d been holding slipped over the carrot you’d been cutting and nicked your finger, causing a small yelp to leave your lips. Hurried footsteps made their way to the kitchen, a panicked Dongwook eyeing you from head to toe before his eyes settled on the bleeding finger.

“Are you okay? Is it deep? Did anything go into the cut?” he rushed out as he took your hand inspecting the cut for himself - meaning he would’ve gotten all of his answers regardless of whatever answers you would’ve given him. “What happened?”

“I got distracted. It’s just a small cut, it'll heal before you know it,” you reassured gently, attempting to take your hand back to find a bandage to wrap your finger.

“What if it had been further down your hand? Or your wrist? What if the knife had slipped and cut your belly? You can’t get distracted when you’re holding something dangerous, regardless of what it’s being used for.”

It was a simple and honest accident, but Dongwook had become so overprotective as of late that reasoning with him about this wasn’t possible. You could still remember the worry and panic he’d expressed when you bumped into the counter while carrying a basket of laundry early on in your pregnancy. Not that you could blame him of course, it had taken a while to get to this point, having struggled for a while to conceive, and now that you were finally pregnant - weeks away from full term, he was getting angsty, worried over every little thing that could possibly go wrong and destroy this little world the two of you were living and creating in.

“I’m fine, Dongwook. It was just a finger and it’ll heal. I promise, I’m fine that I’ll be more careful next time.”

Dongwook’s shoulder slumped as he let out a breath, “I’m sorry. I just-”

“I know. Trust me. I know.”

Without another word, he pulled you as close as he could, and hugged you firmly.

“How about I go get this bandaged up and then we’ll finish making dinner together,” you posed, pulling away to look at him.

He nodded, releasing you slowly, “I’ll help, just to make the bandage doesn’t bother you later.”

You smiled and nodded, allowing him to lead you towards the sink to clean off the wound. He uttered apologize whenever he saw you wince from the soap and water coming into contact with the cut, his eyebrows furrowed and lips in a focused pout. Gosh, you were lucky. There was no way this child wouldn’t know how much their father loved them and would forever protect them.

You were loved.

#kactor #kactors masterlist #kactor imagines #kactor scenarios #lee dongwook #lee dongwook masterlist #lee dongwook imagines #lee dongwook scenarios

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try-set-me-on-fire · 3 months

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Tagged by @lover-of-mine for wip Wednesday! Back to your regularly scheduled doom and gloom, sorry Buck!

Chris takes the phone and Buck goes back to make more waffles, the first one slightly underdone and already cold on the counter. He throws it in the trash. He tries not to listen to Chris’ murmured conversation. He should give him space — really, he should have taken the other phone calls in the hall, not made Chris listen in to the mundane logistics of losing his father — but he thinks if he goes too far away from the kid he’ll lose his mind. Buck imagines himself as several pieces of thin cloth in a strong breeze, Christopher as a long pin stuck into the ground, the only thing keeping him from blowing away. So, he makes waffles — dizzy, dizzy — and clatters around enough not to eavesdrop, and tries not to let the smell make him nauseas because he needs to eat something so he can take the antibiotics so he won’t rot away and die. Chris finishes the call, they each manage about half a waffle, Buck takes the pill. His chest hurts. Still drowning. He watches Chris and thinks about a confession in a hospital room, Eddie’s grand backup plan to keep Buck alive. And- and he’d never begrudge him for it, he’ll never resent Chris, he’ll fight as hard as he promised, but he sits there pushing syrup around with slowly disintegrating food and thinks that he didn’t have enough to give in return to keep Eddie here. The deal went only one way, and Buck alone wasn’t enough to stay for. And all of that is so unfair to Eddie, to Chris, to himself, that Buck has to hide his face in his palms for a little while and take deep breaths. It makes him cough, which makes his chest hurt worse, and the whole world is so terrible Buck doesn’t know what to do with it.

Tagging @eddiebabygirldiaz @wildlife4life @rewritetheending @burins @chronicowboy @iinryer @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @shitouttabuck

#the going water and the gone #again eddie isnt actually dead but buck is going to think he is for most of it #if you want to not get tagged for snippets of this fic let me know ahshsh #feel free to block the fic tag (first in on this post) too #wip wednesday #tag games

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

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Topsy Turvy Days in Heartslabyul

Oops, off to a late start with the prompts 😅 Tumblr queue didn’t work as intended, rip

The Queen of Hearts, and her Spirit of Strictness.

Kalim Al-Asim…

… really looks up to his fellow second-year Riddle, so he promised him that he’ll do his best to live up to Heartslabyul’s illustrious legacy! (Both Riddle and Jamil were highly concerned in spite of his words, and they each provided Kalim with their checklists and reminders on what to do and what NOT to do.)

He tries his darnedest to study up on the rules of the Queen of Hearts!! Problem is, memorization’s never been Kalim’s strong suit so he gets all the rules mixed up. What was he supposed to do after a hedgehog sneezes? When does he have to hold tea today? Was it herbal or lemon tea he's meant to have after dinner? (Oh well, he thinks, deciding to just wing it with his best efforts and a big grin on his face. Jamil will be proud of him for trying, right?)

It's clear that Kalim's not the same kind of a leader as Riddle is. He's very lenient with the rules and expectations, both on himself and on others. If anyone's running late or struggling with an assignment, chances are that Kalim's right there with them. He doesn't let that get him down, though! When he notices someone else in trouble, he's the first to extend a hand and a smile (“Hey, I’m late for a really important date too!”), offering to walk with them to class so they can be tardy together, or asking if he can study with them.

Kalim greets his temporary dorm mates Rook and Ruggie with aplomb. “Let’s do our best together, you guys!!” he says, willing to once again fully place his trust in others. Truthfully, he’s heard discouraging things from others about Ruggie and Rook—about how Ruggie’s a thief and how Rook invades people’s privacy—but he doesn’t let those words cloud his own notion of them. He wants to get to know those two himself, then discern their character… because to Kalim, everyone has some good in them, and he intends to find that ray of sunshine and bring it out!

The flamingos and hedgehogs love him, holy crap. Kalim's not exactly proficient in Animal Languages, but he's somehow able to communicate with them by reading their body language and guessing how they're feeling. The flamingos follow him in a conga line-esque formation, while the hedgehogs nestle in his cardigan and other nooks and crannies. There's just something so warm and comforting to them about this friendly newcomer! (Kalim spends his time with them cuddling instead of using them to play croquet.)

Organizing anything? Don't count on it to go smoothly. Kalim's so used to having servants (and, well, mostly Jamil) handle the logistics, he doesn't know what to do on his own! The other Heartslabyul students look to him for guidance, but he tends to be carefree and extravagant about what he thinks would work for an unbirthday party. "Some bright, shiny streamers would look good here and there! How about silk with gold thread and rubies?", and, "Oooh, let's get some music going so make some happy feet! Should we fly in an orchestra?" Ideas pile up in excess for the dorm to execute, and it becomes incoherent and difficult to juggle at times.

Kalim's habit of excess bleeds into other areas as well. He takes his tea strong, and practically clears the Heartslabyul kitchen of its milk and sugar, plus whatever other add-ins he can find in the cabinets. It's not as though he selfishly brews for himself though! Kalim's more than happy to put on a pot of tea and to summon snacks to share with all of his Heartslabyul dormies! He serves them himself, and, as the gracious host, he keeps the conversation and the laughter flowing as he piles their cups high with cube after cube of sugar.

Even though Kalim may not have the planning down, he makes up for it with heart! Sure, the decorations may not match, the music is all over the place, and the food’s overdone (or underdone), but the garden is still filled with happiness as he flits from guest to guest, encouraging them to eat, to drink, to dance, to be merry!! Kalim doesn’t leave anyone unattended to, he wants to see them all have a good time!

“Gahahah! Heartslabyul’s so lively, I can see why Riddle’s so proud of his dorm!! When everyone comes together like this… it reminds me of the banquets we throw in Scarabia, but it’s also different somehow. The atmosphere, the energy!! Maybe it’s just a special kind of chill magic that only Hearyslabyul has! It’s a kind of party that doesn’t need a reason for celebration. We can just celebrate that we’re here today, hanging out with all our precious friends!! There’s no amount of gold or jewels that’s as valuable.”

Rook Hunt...

… is positively brimming with excitement for what this new experience will bring! He made sure to bring his camera and a fresh scrapbook to document every waking moment of his time in Heartslabyul—as well as every waking moment of the lives of his new dorm mates. Fufufu... Why, they won't even notice he's there!

Rook's super into trading his Pomefiore threads for Heartslabyul ones. In fact, he went on a long spiel about fashion being a form of self-expression (nay, ART!!) and how he feels as though he's a great tree shedding its leaves in the autumn and reemerging in the spring with a shiny, spectacular new set of leaves. ("Er... glad you're so fired up about this. Just try to make sure the dorm isn't on fire by the time I'm back, okay?" Trey pleads of his clubmate.) Rook promises—as he slips on his own version of Trey’s fedora, complete with a biiig black feather in place of the clover.

Memorizing the rules is a cinch for him—but even though Rook tends to them as dutifully as Riddle would (Vil would never forgive him if he didn’t), Rook also goes out of his way to lend his assistance when he can, particularly with Kalim. The huntsman is there to gently coax, encourage, and guide his underclassmen… but sometimes he’s just as content observing them fumble or ignore the rules entirely. That, too, is something he finds to be beautiful, in its own clumsy way.

He has no trouble navigating Heartslabyul’s long, twisty hallways. They actually offer a lot of interesting avenues of exploration if one is willing to poke around (which, as you can imagine, Rook indeed does to sate his curiosity). It has made him far more dangerous than it already is, allowing him to quickly move all around the dorm. He sometimes teases his juniors about this, asking “Is it this way? Or perhaps it is that way. Who’s to know, fufufu… Every adventure requires a first step, so why not take it? You may just find yourself pleasantly surprised with what awaits at the end of that path.”

The rose gardens have become his new “hunting grounds”. At any given moment, an unsuspecting Heartslabyul student could be painting the roses, only to startle when they realize that it’s not the green leaves of the hedges they’re staring at, but a pair of keen green eyes in the hedges staring back at them. “Bonjour. Lovely weather we’re having today, wouldn’t you agree?” he’ll ask, emerging from his hiding spot like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Rook’s zest for life cannot be ignored. The Heartslabyul students can’t ignore it, even if they wanted to. His speeches and soliloquies practically reverberate in the corridors, overpowering the various clocks tick-tick-ticking on the grounds. He’ll comment on the smallest thing, finding joy in the flowers that the dorm has worked so hard to cultivate (he actually talks to the flowers like they’re real people) to the energy everyone puts in to have a dazzling show (unbirthday party).It’s annoying at first, but some students come to appreciate the weird morale boost? encouragement.

While there aren’t many fairies, beastmen, or merfolk for Rook to observe (at least not compared to the other dorms), he marvels at the animals that Heartslabyul has raised! Such healthy, happy little creatures! Oh, and how they flock so adoringly to Kalim!! How Ruggie so expertly converses with them!! Rook thanks the Great Seven that he’s able to bear witness to these candid moments.

People swear up and down that the laws of physics somehow bend to Rook’s whims. For some Great Seven forsaken reason, roses seem to follow Rook wherever he goes in Heartslabyul. He’ll appear out of nowhere, and suddenly he’s accompanied by a dramatic gust of wind, sparkling sunshine, and a shower of crimson rose petals. “It literally only happens with him,” Hearslabyul Mob Student A-kun reports to the school newspaper. “I don’t sense any magic when it happens, but he MUST be intentionally fucking with us.”

“The kingdom that Roi des Roses oversees is a beautiful one, brimming with whimsy and blossoms. There is not one second where I do not find myself entranced by its wonders. However, what I find most enchanting about Heartslabyuls is, above all else, the effort with which the Queen and her card soldiers put forth to maintain the beauty we see today. It is thanks to their dedication that we, and many future generations, can enjoy the fruits of their labor. Marvelous, no?”

Ruggi Bucchi...

… breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that he’ll get some time away from being run ragged by Leona. A hyena’s got other things to tend to! He fully intends on taking advantage of his time at Heartslabyul to pack away at anything they might have to offer him!!

He sticks out like a sore thumb in Heartslabyul—his mischievousness and rough-around-the edges personality doesn’t initially mesh well with the more straight-laced and meek, obedient members of the dorm. That’s fine by Ruggie, since he’s aware he’s not here to make friends. It’s just pragmatic overall, and at least everyone has a mutual understanding of it. (Buuut if anyone messes with him, nothing’s stopping him from pulling a little prank or a wallet or two… They’ll never see it comin’—)

Ruggie’s mildly (okay, a lot) salty about having to be in the same dorm as Rook for a while. He does whatever he can to avoid being in the same general vicinity as the huntsman (in spite of Kalim’s efforts to help everyone get along). If they have to be in the same room, you’ll find Ruggie hugging his back to the wall and glaring at Rook from across the room. He knows from experience that if his eyes move off of that guy, Rook will suddenly be centimeters away from him and talking his ear off about something stupid.

He doesn’t care to look at the rules. If he gets caught red-handed, so what? He’ll find a way to cleverly smooth talk or sneak his way out of suffering the repercussions. It’s debatable whether those same excuses would work on Riddle, but they’re at least effective with Kalim (who expresses nothing but empathy for Ruggie and immediately lets him off the hook). “Nishishishishi! It’s true what they say, there’s a sucker born every minute.”

Screw the rules, Ruggie has money (… making to do. He has money making to do)! It starts with offering his services to fill in for the busy Heartslabyul students’ chores! There’s a lot of them who would rather goof off or focus on other work, so he ends up turning a considerable profit doing their part of unbirthday party prep for a premium. (Since all the work is concentrated in one area, it’s very time efficient too!)

While Ruggie’s mostly looking out for himself, that doesn’t mean he offers nothing to Heartslabyul. He has a lot of knowledge that ends up being of use to the dorm, from new unbirthday party recipes using ingredients freshly sources from the gardens to new ways to reuse or to repurpose common everyday items. “It’s like that DIY and life hack stuff Cater-san goes on about, ‘cept unlike him I had to learn all this stuff myself, not on Magicam,” as Ruggie describes it.

As an expert in Animal Languages, he's the first person the Heartslabyul students go to when they need help handling their hedgehogs and flamingos! Ruggie grumbles about lending his help for free at first, but he very quickly turns around and starts cozying up to the animals. (It later becomes very apparent why; some Heartslabyul students found him picking up eggs in the flamingo hutches with a sheepish grin.)

Speaking of food, there’s tons of good (and free!!) eats in the Heartslabyul gardens! You might catch Ruggie there picking up whatever looks edible and tossing them into a basket. (Admittedly, it has led to just many stomachaches and weird trips as it has to satisfyingly drowsy food comas, but it hasn’t stopped him from going back for more.) He also brings plastic containers to unbirthday parties to shovel uneaten food in for later. If there’s leftover tea bags or leaves (either is fine, he’s not picky), he’ll also save those to reuse.

“I used to think Heartslabyul would really cramp my style with all of its rules. They make no sense, no matter how you think about it!! But it’s actually not so bad here. Actually, it’s kinda cozy. Nice vibes, plenty of food and sweet, consistent stream of money… I don’t wanna be anywhere near that weirdo that’s always after my tail if I can help it, but for the most part… Nishishishi, I guess I could get used to livin’ this lifestyle!”

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nicolos · 9 months

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rocky aur rani thoughts

it wasn't at all what i expected actually? like I'm not sure what I expected but it wasn't that

rani chatterjee let me raid your wardrobe

they really just promoted tum kya mile and jhumka because there were like no other really memorable songs--

I sound a bit mean but I had a blast, I laughed a lot, did tear up at least once, and didn't want to pull up 2048 at any time during the film

(spoilers under the cut)

the film had some real 2011 style feminism moments mixed in with more genuine things? the interview at the start made me want to die but there were some almost - ALMOST - coherent points in there

bollywood is not the place to make statements about fat shaming etc etc but there was almost smth valid in seeing any jokes about what whatshername ate clearly coming from ...people were not supposed to like?

rocky and rani were actually quite sweet, despite the ...extraness

i think the film kind of rolled over this as rocky was supposed to be wealthy, but there's a great deal of elitism in the sort of attitude Rani and her family have towards Rocky. It makes me wonder what this film would be if he didn't ... colour coordinate his cars to his clothes and live in a replica whitehouse. like on one hand it's arguably his wealth that makes him able to be the way he is, but on the other hand, the traditional/modern divide that they were showing is typically also a class divide. there's no reason for rockys english to not be good as he is now - and nothing apart from personal taste and "traditionalism" for them to critique, even though rocky isn't actually that traditional in comparison to his family, and even if he was, they - esp at the start - didn't know that

on the other hand I don't know a lot of Bengali people or a lot of Punjabi people so it may just be like a culture shock thing they're going for. idk. i understand it, i just think it's a little bit of a miss for a genuine criticism on their laughing at him

the grandparents element was funny lmao. like what's going on THERE. but it was almost kind of sweet, too, the way they just ...liked spending time together I guess

keh diya na... bas keh diya

^ half the cinema actually echoed this line with her. icons only

the film did pretty often pit men against men and women against women. this worked! when alia or her mom were yelling at men... this worked a little bit less? idk. i think sometimes it ends up feeling a bit mouthpiecey, and some of it was weirdly phrased and ...strongly delivered, to say the least. i understand that they're both from an environment in which they feel safe voicing their opinion, but I was nonetheless going - would someone actually say that? so openly? so maybe that's on me

everything about the alias dad storyline was just chefs kiss

i do think rockys relationship w his mom and sister needed a bit of work for the big fight scene to work. it sounds weird to say since so much of the film was abt the randhawas but ranveers mom's dynamics w everyone were a bit underdone

the guy playing young granddad was so hot. hotter than the real actor actually was back then tbh

all I could think during the ranveer dance routine was how much time did it take him to learn that dbdndndjdjf but that was excellent

idk. i think in some senses the scale of the movie interfered with its effectiveness, but I don't want it to be any smaller in the ayushmann khurana sense, if that...makes sense? idk. it did feel very kjo production, and I like that about it

tum kya mileeeee,,,, tum kya mileeeee,,,, hum na rahe hummmmm,,,, tum kya mileeeeee

ranis "i am speaking" was hot though the whole of that non-confrontation made me want to yell, though maybe because it was happening in public

SPEAKING OF when she crashes her car into his in the middle of a four lane road and then they just fucking stand there and talk and kiss for 10 minutes and all the other cars just go around....lmaoooooooo

still think the more obvious solution was for them both to move out of their family homes but ok

#jui speaks #rocky aur rani ki prem kahani #bollywood

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veilantares · 1 year

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Sky Tyrant

Whose feet would dare to touch the ground, when wings erupt in flare, a tyrant rules without a truth, there in the knight time glare

Something from the part of the year where I was still really into plane people and aircraft features on characters, this one is probably one of the better ones among those, and I think as a result it really helped with nailing down some techniques to use for drafting characters with these proportions.

Admittedly one of my big regrets at the time was that the wings were underdone, compared to the rest of the figure, but now I realised it helped add to the flair i its own way as well.

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purefandomonium · 3 months

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It's The Thought That Counts-Chapter II

***Thursday Afternoon, 3 weeks later***

What does this mean?

As he sits in his office, a tray of freshly baked lemon squares atop his desk, Vincent Charbonneau ponders Rody’s recent devotion to bringing in baked goods. When the waiter had said he would keep bringing stuff in, Vince hadn’t fully expected him to mean it. The hug seemed more out of excitement than anything else and he really thought the cookies would be the end of it. There’d been a part of him that thought he was bluffing. Even now, three weeks after the fact and with each new dessert being better than the last, he still can’t quite believe Rody is the cause.

If his constant tiredness is anything to go by, Rody’s been spending a lot of sleepless nights trying to get the hang of baking. A part of him is annoyed at the waiter’s suffering performance, but—and perhaps it’s just an effect of his recently increased sugar intake—he simply can’t stay mad at the guy. For whatever reason, when he sees the messy-haired idiot whose eyes may as well have sleeping bags beneath them, the only emotion that arises is one he’d rather not acknowledge, let alone admit to feeling.

Dammit. Even thinking about him makes Vince’s stale heart stutter. Either that, or the cigarettes are finally catching up to him. He isn’t smoking as much now, the slew of lemony delights his new stress reliever. Absently, he picks one up and takes a bite, thoughtful.

He can’t deny the noticeable improvement in the waiter’s baking. It’s become something of a routine for them these past few weeks. Every Tuesday and Thursday Rody brings in a new tray of goodies. The first few are cookies, each better than their predecessors though still lacking refinement. The following week is muffins—a little underdone at first until he gets the hang of it. Then this week, with the lemon squares.

Unlike his past attempts, these are already perfect. Either Rody’s really got some hidden talent in the kitchen he’s just unlocked, or he’s pushing himself more and more to practice in his limited free time. Vince picks the latter because he’s pretty sure he knows Rody well enough to say the idiot would work himself to death on something so benign. And, well, the bags of bags under his eyes are a dead giveaway.

Vince nudges the tray aside and glances over some of the papers on his desk. Front and center is a review from a well-known critic whom he can’t stand. Fortunately, the asshole has nothing but good things to say about the restaurant and its food. Unfortunately, the man is still an asshole and takes extra time to mention Rody’s lackluster performance the day he visited, as well as his ‘disheveled appearance better suited to a local bum than a waiter.’

Vince clicks his tongue. As much as he enjoys Rody’s gifts of dessert he’ll never be able to taste, he’s going to have to do something about this. Glancing at the clock, he figures now is as good a time as any.

“Lamoree.” He observes the way the man in question loses balance for a moment upon turning and internally sighs. Why exactly did he not do something sooner?

“Yeah, Chef?” Rody holds back a yawn as he moves over to the kitchen door where Vince stands. He hasn’t forgotten to refer to him by his title while out on the floor after the tongue-lashing he got over it his first week there.

Vince knows he told the waiter to refer to him only as ‘Chef’ while in the presence of customers. He remembers the way he lit into him when he was still new for calling him by his nickname when he had to handle a disgruntled patron, the harshness of his tone that would ensure the warning would never be forgotten. Rody hasn’t forgotten, and Vince suddenly finds himself wishing he would’ve. While Chef normally would be fine, it somehow feels too formal given the events these past few weeks.

Does he… consider Rody to be a friend after all that’s happened?

At the lack of response Rody leans in, worry decorating his features. “Um… Vince?” He’s too late to correct himself.

The soft query snaps him out of his daze. He blinks, takes a look at how many customers are currently there and tries to guess how many will be there after before refocusing his attention on the waiter. “Sorry, I was just figuring some stuff out.” It isn’t anything to do with the restaurant, not that he plans to say that. “You should… head home for the day, Lamoree. You look exhausted.” He keeps his face neutral despite his concern for his employee.

Rody lets out a nervous laugh and internally freaks out at what this can mean. Is he in trouble or something?

Seeming to read his thoughts, Vince supplies, “You aren’t in any trouble. You just look like shit. I can see it, the cooks can see it, and the customers can see it.” He leaves out the fact that obnoxious food critics can see it too, and that they’ll write reviews about it. “Assuming you own a mirror, I’m sure you can see it as well.” A bit harsh perhaps, but he does still have a reputation to uphold. He can’t afford to show favoritism in front of the cooks and he certainly doesn’t want the public to notice.

Ah… Well, he supposes he can’t really argue with that. He feels like shit too, if he’s being honest. His back is stiff, his legs are tired, and his arm is sore from holding the damn wine tray. He’s yawned like a hundred times in a corner in the hopes no one would notice. Going home to crash on the couch sounds like a dream. Still, he feels like if he leaves now, he’ll be letting Vince down. “I can at least finish waiting on these tables…”

Vince is already shaking his head. Voice softer than before, he says, “Get some rest, Lamoree. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He takes the tray from him just in time for the party of four to grab his attention. “If you can, come in the same time you did today. I need to discuss something with you.” With that, he takes swifts strides to the table, leaving the other man alone.

Rody’s insides tighten as he clocks out and heads out back to get on his bike. Though nothing about his demeanor suggests it, he can’t help but think Vince is angry with him again. This feels just like the ‘discussion’ they had regarding his food theft. Only, as far as he knows, he hasn’t done anything wrong this time.

If he weren’t so damn exhausted, he’d be more upset at Vince for calling him out about it. Doesn’t he know how much time he’s spent practicing his baking? Can’t he see how difficult it is for him? Does he ever think about how many hours of the night he spends making attempt after attempt after attempt until he finally gets it right? Not to mention the money spent on ingredients that mostly go to waste on his screw ups…

What is he saying? Of course Vince doesn’t know. He only sees the successful batches of desserts, the ones that aren’t all burnt and gross. From Vince’s perspective, he’s just not taking good care of himself.

‘Well,’ he thinks as he pedals down the street, ‘I’ll just have to tell him. Vince is a pretty reasonable guy! Usually… If he hears why I’m so tired then maybe he won’t be so annoyed about it.’

***Early Friday Morning***

“Hey, Vince!” Rody calls as the door shuts behind him. Although he plans to argue about it, he’s still thankful he got sent home early yesterday. The extra shuteye was desperately needed.

Vince emerges from his office to find Rody standing ready near the back door. He looks much livelier today; his hair and clothes are neat and his eyes are bright. He nods in greeting. “You’re looking well-rested.”

“Yeah! I slept like a rock yesterday. I don’t even remember getting changed; one minute I’m walking through the front door and the next—bam! Out cold on the couch. I’m honestly surprised I woke up on time.”

Does he… not have a bed? Ah, no not the point. That can be a discussion for a different day. For now, “About this recent exhaustion of yours…”

“I know, I know! I can explain.” His hands subconsciously wave with his words.

He lifts a brow at the sudden burst of energy, wondering why he’s so worked up about it. “I’m sure you can, but that’s-”

“It’s not on purpose, I swear. I just haven’t been sleeping as much.”

“Yeah, I figured that-”

“It’s not because I don’t care about my job or anything, I just haven’t had a lot of time lately-”

“Lamoree!”

Rody shuts his mouth with a click of teeth. His eyes are wide and he wonders where he screwed up.

Vince lets out an exasperated sigh. “I can tell you haven’t been sleeping well. Or at all, as is the case. What I wanted to talk to you about was why.”

They stare at each other, surrounded by an uncomfortable silence.

“It wouldn’t happen to be because of all the baking you’ve been doing, would it?” The look he receives in response is the only answer he needs. Muttering a curse under his breath, he continues, “I… I appreciate all you’ve done. Truly.” No one has ever been so kind as to make him anything, let alone desserts so lemony it makes other people’s eyes water. Not to mention triggering their gag reflex, if the cook he allowed to try a lemon muffin is anything to go by.

Rody’s never been good at looking or thinking ahead, so the point Vince is trying to make is lost on him. “Glad you like them,” he says, although he feels anything but happy about the way this is all sounding.

The nervous look the waiter wears pulls on his heart. ‘What an oblivious fool,’ he thinks, fully aware Rody isn’t the only one present. “Lamoree, I’m not upset with you in any way so please stop looking like that.” He doesn’t think he can stand it anymore. “I just don’t want you ruining your health for me.” It isn’t like he’s particularly worth it; he’s simply Rody’s icy boss and the stuck up owner of the restaurant. He’s done nothing to deserve such kindness in the first place, much less from him.

Rody sputters at the statement. “I’m not… I wouldn’t say I’m ruining my health,” he argues, missing the true implication of the words.

Vince doesn’t let Rody’s ignorance get to him. Instead, “Not getting enough sleep is bad for you. That’s a fact. If it means you’re going to wear yourself out to such a degree, maybe you should quit baking for a while.” He moves around the waiter to begin getting the kitchen in order. It absolutely is not because he’s too afraid to see Rody’s sure-to-be-heartbroken expression.

“But I’ve made so much progress! I can’t quit now!” He turns to face Vince’s back, indignant. “Besides, who are you to talk about health? You smoke like a chimney all day.” Oops. Well, the words certainly aren’t going to come back into his mouth no matter how much he holds his breath.

Vince snorts out a half-assed chuckle before turning to glance at the offender. “I suppose that’s a fair point, Lamoree. Although these days I’d say my vice is sugar. I wonder whose fault that is.”

Rody finds himself grinning at the banter, relieved he’s not upset. If he were more self-aware, perhaps he’d stop and wonder why Vince lets him get away with things no one else can do. It’s not often one can steal from their job, show up looking like a zombie, and insult their boss without getting fired.

Despite all these glaring signs, Rody continues to tell himself it’s because Vince is secretly just a softie. It helps keep the awkward questions from bubbling up.

“Well, it seems to be keeping you in a good mood, so it must be working,” he laughs as he heads out front to get the dining area ready.

Rody’s smile is bright, pleasant, and good at hiding his true age. Vince often forgets that the waiter is older despite being his underling. He stares a moment too long as the older man takes easy strides to the dining area while he works in the kitchen, before he realizing he should just be working in the kitchen.

It doesn’t take him long to get the tables ready, so Rody heads back to see if his boss needs any help. He finds Vince staring at the pristine stove, frowning. “Everything alright?” he asks as he joins him in inspecting the appliance. It doesn’t seem to be broken, but then again it’s much nicer than the barely functioning one he has in his apartment, so what would he know?

Vince glances at the source of his troubling thoughts before humming an affirmative. “I’m fine. I’m just… thinking…”

“What about?”

It figures he’d be so inquisitive the one time he doesn’t want to talk. He needs to decide on what he wants to do in the next five seconds. Either he makes the offer or not, but he doesn’t have much time to decide. It’s risky and his cynical nature is telling him it’s stupid. Although it’s still just the two of them and it’s early; if things go wrong he’s got plenty of time to figure it out.

“Rody,” he begins, praying to whatever’s out there this isn’t a mistake, “I can tell you’ve come a long way with your baking.”

He blinks at the odd use of his first name, unsure where this is going. “Um, yeah. I’ve been practicing a lot.”

“At the cost of sleeping.”

“…Yeah, a bit.” He’s reluctant to admit just how much sleep he’s lost despite that being his original goal upon coming in.

Vince sighs, more at himself than anything else. “Since you seem so determined to get it right, I figure the least I can do is help you.” He suddenly finds the adjacent wall more interesting. “If you’d like, you can stick around after hours and I’ll teach you more complex recipes.”

He’s seriously offering his guidance on the matter? Vincent Charbonneau is actually willing to use his years of experience on someone like him? He can’t get too excited. He can’t let Vince see how thrilled he’d be to work alongside him. It would make things weird and he might even rescind the offer.

The disbelief soon overpowers him anyway. “But I’m just a lost cause,” Rody says, rubbing an arm. “I mean, yeah I guess I’ve learned a lot but I don’t think I’m good enough for you to waste your time on.” Because that’s surely what it would be: Vince wasting his time out of pity. He can’t seriously see any potential in the improperly cooked desserts he brings in. It takes him three to five tries to get a single recipe done right. They don’t look anything close to one of Vince’s desserts with the fancy toppings and stuff. Shouldn’t he be spending time working on his menus, or budgets, or something else more important?

“Trust me, Lamoree,” he says, hoping his face doesn’t betray him. “It’s no waste of time to me.”

“If… If you’re sure…?”

“I am,” he says, finding the strength to meet the waiter’s nervous gaze. “Just let me know which nights you’d like to stay and I’ll get things ready.” Needing something to do with himself lest he slip up from his nerves, Vince remembers the full ashtray in his office. He goes to empty it.

Rody’s isn’t sure he can contain his ecstatic joy. He tries his best anyway. “Well… Ok! If you really don’t mind I’d love to! Can we do something tonight?” He watches the chef’s movements, hopeful.

A startled cough escapes him at the fast agreement. He hadn’t fully expected Rody to say yes. Part of him figured the other man would laugh it off and decline before finding something else to do that didn’t involve speaking. He can’t help his smile as he taps the stubborn debris into the garbage. “Sure, why not?” he says as he straightens out his desk. The tray of lemon squares catches his eye. He takes one. “How about lemon pie?” He takes a healthy bite as he waits for Rody’s response.

His eyes widen and he loses what little hold he had on his excitement. “That’s the one thing I just can’t get right! I’d love to learn how!” He’s practically bouncing with glee.

“Then it’s settled,” he says as he finishes off the treat. “I’ll get some stuff prepped, and then after closing we can start.” He grins at Rody’s boyish excitement. Truth be told, he’s looking forward to it himself.

The two of them chat amicably about random topics as they continue the opening routine. Eventually, the cooks arrive and head to their stations. If they notice anything unusual about the chef’s and waiter’s demeanor, they keep it to themselves. One thing people are quick to learn working at La Gueule de Saturne is that gossip will get them the door. Despite the environment, they’re much too fond of their jobs to risk that.

#dead plate #fanfic #my writing

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ladytesla · 4 months

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The Great Faerun Baking Show (part two)

I've decided I'm going to run with this anyway. It is a beautiful day in Faerun and I am a horrible goose fanfiction writer. There are several things I need to get done today, so obviously I'm going to not do them and write this instead.

For those of you who are just stopping by, I had a horrible idea a while ago and this is the result. I have no idea what's going to happen or who's going to win. I’m just going to roll a D20 ‘bake check’ for everyone and write out the results, including what everyone rolled so y’all know I’m not cheating just so my druid boyfriend can win. The person with the lowest total score (out of a possible score of 60) goes home.

We've got the main 6 companions, Jaheira, Halsin, Minsc (and Boo), Minthara, Dammon, and my tav Medora (who y'all can just pretend is Alfira if you don't want someone else's tav in the story, since they're both female bards)

Week One, Cake Week: Star baker was Karlach, Minthara went home

Week Two: Biscuit Week, or "Viconia's Walking Florentine"

Signature Challenge: Sandwich Biscuits

Astarion: Bourbon biscuits. He and Shadowheart took a shot right when the bake started. He took a few more shots after that just because he could, and ended up making a bunch of vampire jokes with Noel Fielding. Despite the alcohol handicap, his biscuits turned out quite nice.

Dammon: Dulce de leche and banana biscuits. The dulce de leche overpowered the banana a bit, but the texture of the biscuits themselves were great.

Gale: Tara's coffee biscuits. He really wanted to bring back the memories of caffeine-fueled all-nighters at Blackstaff Academy. He also used a cat-shaped cookie cutter. The biscuits weren't exactly identical, and the coffee cream was a bit too runny.

Halsin: Lavender and vanilla biscuits. He used a duck-shaped cookie cutter because he likes ducks. They were all perfectly identical and the flavors were incredible. He got a Hollywood Handshake for them.

Jaheira: Malted milk biscuits. She wasn't able to get them as identical as she would have liked, and some of the biscuits were a bit underdone.

Karlach: Peanut butter and jelly sandwich biscuits. She was determined to have Paul like something with peanut butter in it. Unfortunately he still doesn't. They were also a bit messy. They were adorable in their messiness though.

Lae'zel: Pistachio custard creams. They were messy, and the dragon cookie cutter she used was a bit too delicate, resulting in some dragons missing their tails.

Medora: Raspberry and almond linzer biscuits. They had a lovely classic flavor profile, and were nearly identical.

Minsc: Coconut biscuits. He tried to use chocolate designs to make them look like tiny coconuts, but it wasn't completely successful. The flavor, however, was nice.

Shadowheart: Blackberry and earl grey biscuits. She tried to shape them like night orchids, colored with activated charcoal. However, the color made it hard to judge whether or not the biscuits were overcooked, and several of them were burned. The earl grey was so faint it was overpowered by the blackberry and the, well, burn.

Wyll: Empire biscuits. He grew up sneaking them from the kitchen as a boy, and wanted to stick to his 'classics done right' style. Unfortunately the biscuits weren't as crisp as Paul and Prue would have liked. Noel still stuck one in his pocket for later though.

Technical Challenge: Coconut Macaroons

(I think I'm going to list them from worst to best from now on)

11. Dammon

10. Shadowheart

9. Medora

8. Karlach

7. Lae'zel or Wyll (they both rolled a 9)

6. Wyll or Lae'zel

5. Halsin

4. Astarion

3. Jaheira

2. Gale

Minsc (honestly how does he keep doing so well idk man)

Showstopper: Gingerbread Showpiece

Astarion: To keep with his Brand, he decided to make a graveyard with several little gingerbread mausoleums and monuments. His, of course, was the biggest and fanciest one, with the door open and a little paper cut-out of himself coming out. Very tongue-in-cheek. Some of the monuments were sloppy, because he had so many he didn't have time to make them all super polished.

Dammon: He did his best to make an anvil, a hammer and a little piece of pulled sugar as the metal to be forged. He then discovered that despite working with molten metal on a regular basis, molten sugar still burns just as much when hitting the skin, and dropped it. He spent so much time on a backup sugar piece that the presentation on his anvil and hammer suffered a tiny bit.

Gale: His scene was an open book with a little wizard casting Fireball standing on the pages. There were huge cracks in the gingerbread book, but the wizard and his fireball were nicely detailed. He wasted a lot of time because he needed the spell piped on to the gingerbread to be ACCURATE DAMMIT.

Halsin: He created a peaceful woodland scene with trees, a family of bears, and some mushrooms. The largest bear broke, but he was able to fix it somewhat and prop it up against a tree. Bears lean against trees all the time. He hoped the judges might think it was purposeful. They saw right through him, however.

Jaheira: Years of helping her children with various projects has paid off. She somehow in the time limit created Wyrm's Crossing and just for show a poured-sugar River Chionthar. That earned her a Hollywood Handshake.

Karlach: She made an impressive replica of her tent, complete with a small army of teddy bear cookies. She even took the time to make little bears shaped like her friends and the judges. When asked if she hadn't wanted to make something more badass, she shrugged and said she could like cracking skulls and teddy bears at the same time.

Lae'zel: Her red dragon looked more like a guinea pig, unfortunately, so she changed her answer last-minute and said it was a giant space hamster. Due to its red color, though, the judges saw right through her story.

Medora: She attempted to create a lute, a mandolin and a drum. The neck of the lute broke and the piping on the drum was far from precise, but it wasn't a complete disaster.

Minsc: He made a treasure chest mimic. Originally he'd wanted the lid to open, but the hinge broke. It was still beautiful regardless, and quite big. It nearly took up the entire counter.

Shadowheart: Her little gingerbread cottage was already precariously lopsided, and when she turned to grab another piping bag it fell completely off the bench and onto the floor.

Wyll: He replicated his favorite park in Baldur's Gate out of gingerbread, even sculpting a statue with modeling chocolate. It was very impressive.

The Results

Our star baker this week with a total of 45/60 is Halsin!

And unfortunately, with a score of 9/60, Shadowheart has to leave the tent.

Feel free to play along, roll bake checks, and comment with what your Tav would make! Yeah I can't be stopped we're on to bread week next.

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