#new york crumb cake

[briantmarquis]

New York Style Crumb Cake

Crumb cake, coffee cake; what’s the difference? The crumbs. A thicker layer of crumbs is a crumb cake. So what’s a New York style crumb cake? It has even bigger crumbs. There’s a bagel shop in our town that sells crumb cake. It’s one of the best crumb cakes I’ve ever had. A thick layer of crumb sits on top of a moist sponge. It’s just perfect. I’ve been trying to find a recipe to make something…

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#coffee cake #crumb cake #new york crumb cake

[fullcravings]

New York Crumb Cake

#ny style #crumb cake #cake #sheet cake #brown sugar #food #crumb #crumble #dessert #breakfast #snack #american #smittenkitchen

[bonesandchalamet]

lessons in french- t.chalamet

pairings: timothee chalamet x reader

warnings: google translated French

a/n: first post on this account 😁 my main is @thatsdemko 🫶 feedback is always appreciated xx

“and how do I say ‘I love you’ again?”

“Je t'aime.” he says, mouth full of a buttery croissant you fetched from the bakery across the street. it’s your morning ritual, the boy who lives across town comes to your apartment and you get him “New Yorks finest croissants”— at least that’s how he puts it as.

your recent discovery was of his ability to speak a different language, French that is, and ever since you’ve been begging for lessons due to your upcoming trip to Europe. you could say New York public school systems failed you, as you barely remember a lick of the words he makes you repeat.

“and what about stop making a mess of my sofa.” you scowl brushing the pastry crumbs that scatter the cream colored seats. he mumbled a sorry as he finishes his last bite, a delighted moan escapes his lips.

“why the sudden interest in the language again?” he asks brushing his hands on his pants rather than using the crummy paper napkin that’s already wadded up and disintegrating from the butter of his hands.

“because I’m going to Europe in three weeks! I can’t look like an idiot.”

“certaines choses ne peuvent pas être changées.” he lightly giggles shaking his head watching your face scrunch up trying to dissect the sentence, but you fail. some things can’t be changed

you huff an annoyed sigh, arms crossed over your chest, “I wish I never bought you that croissant years ago.” you joke watching his acting skills come to life as he pretends to be hurt.

“now you’re just being straight up rude, amour.”

—

“so when a nice guy offers me a drink at the club what should I say?”

“J'ai un petit-ami.” the same buttery croissant fills his mouth, he watches you saunter across your tiny New York City living room. he admits, you not knowing any French is fun for him. it means he has all control of what you repeat back and what you write in your journal for the trip. this one might’ve just been the icing on the cake. I have a boyfriend

“J’ai un petit-ami? doesn’t that mean something else?” you question, head cocked to the side watching him shake his head in response as he swallows the pastry.

“nope.” he replies, reaching for the hot coffee you’ve provided him, he slurps the contents watching your pen move vigorously across the page. he thinks it’s cute how focused you are, he loves how close you hold the notebook to your face and how you spell out the words in a way only you will know what they mean.

“so are all French people assholes? I’ve been reading up on your people.”

he laughs, “my people?” he watches the red hue light your face, hands up in defense, “that’s what the internet says!”

he laughs once more telling you to never believe the internet, although he did play you into thinking the words “I have a boyfriend” mean something completely different, so maybe he is apart of that collective group.

—

“repeat it to me once more, amour.”

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?” do you want to sleep with me tonight

he chuckles a little to himself trying to find a serious tone, “that’s exactly what you should say to the cab driver.”

you chuck an orange at him watching his hands go up in defense as he allows the fruit to hit him the arm, two of you laughing, “this isn’t funny, Timmy! I leave in twenty-four hours!”

he watches you collapse against the cream colored sofa beside him, legs extending into his lap, “how am I supposed to order croissants for you across the world?” you bat your eyelids in an affection way, it’s your last hope to get help— the pastry was already the key to his heart. it gets him to do anything.

“what a dilemma that is.” he shakes his head, fingers tangling through his curls that fall in front of his eyes, “just don’t forget your notebook and you’ll be fine. do you remember how to order?”

“un croissant š'il vous plaît.” a croissant please

“tu est parfaite.” you are perfect

—

his phone buzzes in his pocket, it hasn’t even been a full day since you landed in Paris and you’ve been buzzing him like a mad woman. it’s his first time being in your place alone, he’s in charge of watering your plants. he notices you’ve left him money for his croissants and an extra key in case he misplaces the one you already gave him.

“bonjour mon ami how is Paris?” he picks up the phone plopping down onto your cream colored sofa and pressing speaker so he can listen and eat.

“did you know j’ai un petit-ami is I have a boyfriend?! you lied to me!”

he laughs, the familiar sound spreads a smile on your face despite your angry tone, it’s nice to hear him. even if you’ve been texting him, his voice is what you miss right now, “I guess you’re right my people are assholes.”

“damn right, chalamet! and I learned a little something from the bartender last night, tu es un connard!” you are an asshole

“Je t'aime!”

#timothee x reader #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet #timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee chamalet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #Timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothée chalamet #timothée x reader #timothée fanfic #timothee x you #timotheé chalamet #timothée x you

[harrysmimi]

Baby's First Dance

Synopsis: One where Harry and YN welcome their baby girl

CW: Mentions of child birth.

More of my work | Insta Promt

When one if the most famous Hollywood celebrity goes MIA the media goes on after them for weeks and everything fizzles out eventually. But when it's two, creates a huge stir on media and internet.

YN and Harry had been very lowkey about their relationship since the very beginning. They met in Japan when he was vacationing there and YN was there to promote her new album. It did not took either of them to fall for each other.

It was very easy decision to move into her flat in London during quarantine, everything made sense.

Though it felt rushed to get married but it was to respect her culture, honestly none of them would change a thing about it. As soon as the lockdown was lifted, it was the first thing they did. Got married with just their families present at Harry's villa in Italy.

It was amazing feeling.

Especially for Harry. Not having to explain himself that people might hate her just because she is with him, not having to explain to her that they might have to be on watch for lurking cameras. She's all too aware of it all. Being in the industry her whole life, she knew exactly what came with it. She could careless about what people think of her.

Though it is not very subtle with Harry and YN liking and sharing each other's posts and going to each other's concerts. Everyone just thought they're good friends.

YN found out she was pregnant with by the end of her tour. It was the best decision she had made to pull out of touring again and taking a long break when she has been working since she was six. It was only fair for her.

Harry was ecstatic to hear YN give him that news and surprise him in New York when he was due to perform at MSG.

"Oh my god!" He exclaimed a coo as he was sat by the edge of his hotel bed, "baby!" He pulled her close by her hips.

"You're going to be Baba, Harry," she announced again.

"There is our baby in there," he mumbled resting his hand on her lower tummy, but opted to instead hug her thighs snuggle his head in her belly and trap her in between his legs. "I can't believe this!"

"Well, it is true." YN chuckled softly, "I want to keep this baby Harry."

"Of course we're keeping this baby then," he pulled back his head to look at her, "we're going straight back home after these last few shows, yeah?"

"Mhmm!" She nodded leaning down to button their mouths together, as she proceeded to straddle his lap and settle on his thighs. "We're having a baby!"

"We're having a baby!" He repeated, nudging his nose against her softly into a puppy's kiss before he pulled in a warm hug.

And god how Harry was excited to be a Girl Dad when they found out they're having a little baby girl at 20 week. He wouldn't mind having a biy either, but he wanted a girl to spoil and dress her up in all the Gucci he can get in her tiny size. Do her hair for her.

"Do you wanna know the sex of your baby?" Doctor asked as he checked for the measurements of baby.

"Yeah, we would like to know now." YN nodded.

They weren't doing a big and elaborated gender reveal but Gemma asked to get it written on a paper and she would plan a little something for them. She is an amazing aunty to the baby Styles already!

It was the same weekend when Gemma invited both their families for dinner at hers. They had an amazing night together, with loads of games and amazing food. Until Gemma pulled out a cake.

"Okay, we're not going with traditional pink and blue this time. It is going to Purple for girl and Green for boy. YN and Harry cut the cake now!" She handed a wooden knife to the couple.

YN's brother was taking a video for them on his phone. YN was rather nervous, her hands were shakey until Harry wrapped his much bigger hand around hers. He gave a assuring smile before they cut into the cake. YN gasped seeing Purple crumbs on the knife, she didn't know how harry was so calm. Cutting up a small slice he picked it up to reveal a pastel shade of purple cake.

"It's a girl!" Everyone announced.

It was then when everything became so much more real for both of them.

It was a busy day for Harry at studio. He was trying to get his new album finished as soon as he could just so he can spend time with his girls until everything is all produced. He was not going to touch work for at least six months. He was just getting few of his backing vocals test run when he recieved a call from his wife.

"Harry come home now," she spoke as soon as he answered, crying, "my water just broke."

"Hey baby," he cooed, "I'm coming home now okay? You're going to be fine. I want you sit down okay?"

"Uh-huh! Just hurry please I'm scared and I'm alone!" She cried.

"I am darling, I'll be there in five." He assured her and rushed home. Surely running a couple of red lights. He can afford to get a ticket than to have his wife and baby hurt in someway.

"Hey, hey it's okay!" He reached home the exact moment she was having an contraction. "Are you bleeding?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Okay, we'll go to the hospital now yeah? I'll get the hospital bag and a chage of pants for you." He ran upstairs and gathered everything in one trip. He helped her change her pants, it's been something he have been doing since she couldn't bend to pull up her pants. He also put on a pair of socks on her feet and her flippers.

"Wait, wait, wait!" She stopped him, "another contrac—" she huffed feeling another shooting pain in her belly.

"Breathe, baby breathe," he did the breathing excercise with her as he hugged her, rubbing her back gently.

"It's hurts so fucking bad," she groaned in pain.

"I know baby, you're so strong for doing this. Just 20 minutes yeah? We'll be in hospital then." He assured her.

"Uh-huh!" She nodded. She made him rush to the car before she gets another contraction halting her movement and delaying their visit to hospital.

She rather calmer than Harry expected her to be. She was freaking out not even two weeks ago getting Braxton Hicks and rushing to hospital on a false alarm. But this was clearly not false.

"Oh my god this is so weird," she chuckled.

"Why so?" Harry wondered.

"We're going to the hospital and we'll return home with a baby, it's like we're going to baby shopping." She laughed but winced when another contraction hit. "It is like baby shopping, with all the bills."

"I can't believe you can joke whilst being in so much pain." Harry laughed.

Once in the hospital, YN was hooked to iv and monitors. She was just 7 centimetres dilated whivh was not enough so they had to stay longer. It was already eight at night, none of them have eaten anything and her progress was slower than expected.

"Did you call Anne and Gemma?" YN asked.

"Just called your parents first, going to call them both now." Harry informed her before called his mum and sister.

It was nearly early morning when doctor came in to check in on her, they were up all night waiting for their baby girl to finally decide to come home. Harry and YN were nothing but giggles and smiles.

"I've never seen first time parents as calm as you in my 30 years into this field." Doctor said, "it is nice."

"I am not, I literally saw my you ger brother being born at home when I was eight. It was traumatising, but I know what to prepare for." YN answer making Harry chuckle.

"Was your mum having a home birth?"

"No, she'd had four kids, so her fifth dilevery was pretty quickly. Very quick actually." YN said. She's had an epidural at this point so she could at least drink some water without being in pain.

"It gets easier with each kid." Doctor nodded, "you're ready, we'll get the labour and delivery room ready for you, yeah?"

"Yeah." YN nodded.

"It's going to be easier for our next babies." Harry smirked.

"Oh my god Harry, let's have this one first." YN threw her head back on her pillow in defeat.

He was raving about the idea of having twins as to how fast YN started showing. But turned out Baby Styles is just a chunky baby. She weighs over eight pounds and ten ounces already on their last ultrasound.

Baby girl was born safely and everything went so smoothly. Doctor put the baby on YN's chest, she was a crying mess. Showing off her vocals chords and already challenging her dad that she could potentially sing higher notes than him.

"4.32 am. 1st of February." A nurse spoke in the room as soon as rhe baby was out.

"Hi baby," YN chuckled the gorgeous girl lied on her chest who's cried fizzled down rather quickly, "you are so gorgeous."

"Hey pretty girl!" Harry cooed.

......................................................................

After baby was all cleaned up, YN and Harry got her back and she was also guided how to feed the little angel. She had a first big meal and dozed off to sleep.

"Are you crying Harry?" YN smiled seeing her watch the baby girl like she is made of moon dust and prettiest silver. Her cheeks were rosy and already chubby, she had a head full of hair unlike his when he was a baby but according to his wife she looks just like him. Jer lashes layed on her soft skin as she dozed off to sleep after a big first meal, puffs of soft air leaving her tiny pink lips, she lied there in her mother's arms wrapped in a green blanket and a sunflower beanie on her head.

"Don't you wanna hold her Hazza?" YN asked.

"She's so delicate, I, I don't want to hurt her." He said, like he's never seen a new born child in his entire life.

"You won't Harry, come and sit here." YN patted in front of he ron the matter of her bed, he sat there on the edge, "you just need to support her neck, she's the safest when with you."

He nodded, physically shaking away his nervousness away, as he forwarded his hands to take his baby in his arms for the first time. YN gently placed her in his arms seeing him visibly shudder and hitch. Her head perfectly placed in the crook of his elbow, she moved her head to make herself comfy in her deep sleep.

"Isn't she perfect?" YN mumbled.

"She is," Harry nodded in agreement, feeling his eyes well up with tears. "She is all ours. This is so real now." He brought her up to his face to snuggle her. The the same way he did when YN first told him she was pregnant.

"It is," YN said. She gave him a moment with their baby. Letting him soak in all of his feelings for her the best he could. YN even sneaked in a Polaroid picture of two of them for herself (she is sure he's going to steal it and put on his with a clear case). Luckily for her he posed for another one. A nurse was nice enough to take a family picture for three of them.

"Harry, it's your birthday!" YN realised. "Happy birthday!"

"This is the best birthday." Harry chuckled, looking at his baby sleeping in her cot now. "Thank you baby!" He went to hug his wife.

"I'm sorry I forgot Harry, I promise I will make upto it." She hugged him back.

"You don't have to, I wouldn't want to change a single thing now that I got a birthday twin." He mumbled, "thank you for the best present ever, she is the best thing."

"She really is." How could she not agree.

"Nurse gave us the documents to fill in, need our signatures on it." He informed her, picking up the notepad from the side table.

"Oh, can you fill it? I can't write with a needle in my hand." She suggested.

"Sure." He nodded and they filled up the documents together and wrote her name. He wrote her first and middle name which both of them settled on pretty quickly.

Juno Robin YLN-Styles.

"Harry, she is fine with just one last name." YN told him.

"She is also going to carry her mum's name with her." He said as he signed under his part.

YN didn't change her last name after getting married, she just added his after her maiden name. It was only fair for Juno to carry both their names. It warmed her heart.

"You can sign on it when they take this out yeah?" He kept the notepad aside, seeing her struggle tro grip on the pen.

Most of their families decided to go see the baby when she's at her home and safe to not overwhelm her, but only the Grandma's were going to visit the hospital as YN and Harry had so nicely asked for their help for this postpartum stage. It didn't look like it was anytime soon that they could get to go back home as YN was bleeding a little too much which doctor and nurses were taking care of. She just needed loads and loads of rest a bit was walking as her epidural wears out.

Harry leaned in to press a lingering kiss on her chapped lips, "thank you."

"For what?" YN feel him hold her free hand and lace their fingers together on her lap.

"For this." He said obviously pointing at their Juno, "my love for you only grows from here darling. I am so grateful you chose to give me a pleasure to be a dad. I always wanted that. Thank you for giving our Juno home to grow in your body for nine months. You're so strong for that."

"Harry's stop you're gonna make me cry." YN whined chuckled, he was already crying his happy tears. "I love you Harry. And it takes two to make a baby."

"Oh how I enjoyed every moment of that process," he said, his voise was low afraid Juno might hear him as he leaned in closer to nudge his nose against her softly.

"I bet you did." YN nodded. "I am hungry now. And it's starting to hurt now."

"You mum asked me to not to give you any outside food." He told her, "she's coming over with food for both of us. Apparently your confinement begins this very moment." He announces.

"No, I was going to ask you to sneak me some icecream." She pouted making a sad puppy face.

"I know, I will get you all the icecream you want baby, but after your confinement is done. It was your choice to go by the Indian Confinement for your postpartum time." He reminded her. "We're going by every word your grandma and mum says now. It seems so much better for you and out bean."

"I wanted icecream." She whined.

"I can get you ice for now, no ice cream sorry love." He felt bad turning her down but it was a better option than being killing by his mother and mother in law if she falls sick. Everyone seems to love YN a little too much for his liking.

He's a narcissist. But he loves her.

"You're lucky I love you," she huffed.

"And I love you more." He chuckled and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Are you hurting anywhere?"

"Yeah? I just pushed a 9 pounds and 6 ounce baby out of my vagina. But my legs hurt a lot." She nodded.

"You want me massage your legs for you?" He asked.

"Yeah please, thank you." She wasn't going to turn down a nice a massage.

"Try getting in some sleep yeah? I'll be here when you wake up."

......................................................................

YN's mum had just left, she brought in a tons of healthy food for YN and of course Harry got to have some too. She also showed YN a few trick on how to help Juno latch on better jf she doesn't sometimes.

Doctor on the other hand recommended baby to have a skin to skin time her dad too. Harry loves cuddles so he jumped to it. Juno was halfway awake by then again. The first time was her Nani was there and she had her second meal and a diaper change.

She blinked open her big doe eyes trying to adjust to bright lights in the room. She had his big green eyes which were super dilated now but a ring of ring around her pupils was enough to tell them she has his eyes too. She is very calm so far, she slept through her first diaper change.

Harry was much more comfortable with holding her now. He held her tiny hand in between his pointer and thumb gently to see long fingernails on her tender fingers. He was afraid she is going to scratch herself for sure and they have to clip those soon. There was so much to admire of her, her tiny wrist, she was already a Michelin Man baby, her little belly full of milk, the dimples on the back of her hands as she flexed her delicate joints around his finger to grab his hand.

In that very moment he made a promise to never leave her hand no matter what.

He didn't know he was swaying slowly until his wife pointed out as she came out of the rest room, "are you two having your first dance?" She asked.

"Mhmm, we are." He nodded proudly. "Proud to say, I am her first dance."

He started humming to Just The Way You Are by Billy Joel and he swayed Juno who was blinking her eyes softly, already trying to keep up with her dad's antiques.

Don't go changing to try and please me

You never let me down before, mmm

Don't imagine you're too familiar

And I don't see you anymore

I would not leave you in times of trouble

We never could have come this far, mmm

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times

I'll take you just the way you are

And that was the truth. No matter what she chose to be when she grows up he would encourage her and lover her for who she is. Like he does in the moment. He had made an unspoken promise that he's never going to leave her hand if she needs him, even if it's in bad times to come even though he wants from all the best this universe has to offer his girl.

Don't go trying some new fashion

Don't change the color of your hair, mmm

You always have my unspoken passion

Although I might not seem to care

He's for sure going to be one those annoying dads. Who seem not to care just to get under their kids' skin. He was going to have his fun being a father. But ahe wants her to know already that she doesn't need to change herself for anyone. As soon as they start is better, because she deserves the moons and stars.

I don't want clever conversation

I never want to work that hard, mmm

I just want someone that I can talk to

I want you just the way you are

This is far away in future, but he just wants her be there for him and have a conversation about the most random thing. Sit on his porch sip on tea as he's old and grey. With her or her siblings if he decides to have anymore kids with his wife.

I need to know that you will always be

The same old someone that I knew

Oh, but what will it take till you believe in me

The way that I believe in you?

I said I love you, that's forever

And this I promise from the heart, mmm

I couldn't love you any better

I love you just the way you are, right

Now he understands why his mum says he is her baby even though he's passed his thirties. He can never imagine to see her past this phase now. Here in the moment holding onto her tiny frame, protecting her from everything wrapped up in a blanket close to his heart. He whispered every night to her when she was in her mum's womb that he loves her, and he wants her to believe that.

I don't want clever conversation

I never want to work that hard, mmm

I just want someone that I can talk to

I want you just the way you are

He hums along just for the two of them, creating his own little bubble to realise he was crying, again, and Juno was fast asleep, again. He sniffled on his tears and looked her and brought her up to press a kiss on her cheek.

"I love you so much," he mumbled. He have never felt this love before for sure. He set her down in her cot and wrap her up in her blanket again.

......................................................................

It was the next morning when they got to take Juno home with them. YN was feeling a lot better and could walk around good, her bleeding was controlled and she was all healthy to go back home and rest with her baby.

"Welcome home Juno," he whispered to the baby in his arms who was a bit awake for her home coming.

"We're home." YN cooed watching her baby blink at her from her dad's embrace.

"I'm gonna give you a little home tour." He said, tapping onto her tiny chin and making her squirm.

YN sat on the sofa there watch him go around the house.

"Okay, were not going to live here. We have a new home being made right now. But whilst we here. This is where we make all the good food, it's mostly your Mummy cooking because I am shit at cooking." He went on from kitchen, "this is where we wash you poopy clothes." He said making YN laugh in the living room.

"This is meant to be your room but you're going to sleep with Mummy and Papa until you're a little more big." He showed her the empty room. Her nursery was being put together at their new house so they didn't bother to do anything to this flat, "this where you will be sleeping at night. You Mummy did an amazing job at picking out this cot for you."

YN heard him talking to Juno from their room, "we're going to move this to my side eventually. Your mummy says it's going to be on her side."

"I heard that Harry." YN called out.

He just laughed, "this is our balcony. We can't go out now." He continued, "this is the bathroom, it's not going to be interesting for you for sometime now. Just don't go playing into toilet water like your Mummy when you're a little big."

"Hey!" YN whined, "I still don't know why my mum told you that story!"

"Yeah, and how she washed you three times after that." He had a great laugh.

"I was two years old!" She defend herself.

"Sure."

He walked around the living room, showing her little nooks and bits. He definitely tired her out that she fell back asleep.

"Can I have her for sometime?" YN asked.

"I'm gonna go take a shower. Do you need me to bring you something so you don't have to get up?" He asked.

"No, I'm fine. Doctor has advised me to be up and walking." She shook her head, "I just want some time with her."

"You have about 20 minutes, I need to shave too." He said, glanced at the watch on the wall behind her briefly, "get all the time you can before I'm back clinging beside you two."

With that left Mum and Juno alone.

"You came on your Papa's birthday," YN told her, "we missed celebrating, didn't we? We should order a cake for him."

Juno let out a sleepy sigh. She is just two days old, it's turing to plan a last minute birthday celebration for her dad. But she agrees.

YN ordered a small Lunch box cake to go as it was just going to be him and YN. He took longer than he would and that was perfect as the cake in by that time. Their lunch and dinner was already made by her mother this morning before both of them came back home. YN had placed a frosting candle on it which came along so it wouldn't ruin the cake.

Harry came back downstairs all cleaned up, clean shaved though YN was in love with his stubble but she's sure he won't be able to shave it anytime soon again. He had changed out of the dirty hospital clothes into a comfy white shirt and grey sweats.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Juno's Papa. Happy birthday to you." YN sang to surprise him, holding the cake in one hand and Juno in other. She was still in and out of her sleep, she let put a other sigh, her small mouth shaped in a shape of O.

"Where did you get this one from?" Harry gasped taking the cake from her hand so she can hold Juno comfortably. They sat on the sofa and blew the candle making a wish. With the fork he scooped up a bite and brought it upto YN first. It was his thing since he has met her now, everything he gets she easts first, at least one bite. All the while Juno stared at both of her parents with big doe eyes as they shared the cake.

"You'll get it in a few hours through your milk." Harry chuckled looking at her, as if she wanted to have a bite or two herself.

"She has got your eyes." YN said, now her eyes appearing more and more clearer.

"She does." Harry agreed, admiring the girl they made together. Seeing her made his love for his wife grow even more, even if that was possible. "You want to go change up now?"

"Yes, please." YN agreed. "Can you change her up too, please?"

"Mhmm," he nodded, "you want me run you a bath?"

"Please. Thank you." YN agreed. "Can I have a bath though? Doctors had to put stitches up my hoohaa."

"Oh my god, you didn't had to say it like that." He shuddered.

"Hey!" She whined in defeat, "you said I can share everything with you. You're so mean."

"You can baby. But you didn't had to word it like that." He chuckled helping her stand up slowly. "Just take a shower for now, yeah? We'll as your mum or doctor tomorrow about it."

"Yeah."

It was going to be long momth and half staying at home for YN in confinement. It was going to be fun yet annoying to stay inside. But anything for Juno.

N O T E:

1. I loved writing this.

2. Please do lemme know how you like this. Leave a vote if you can. It really helps me encourage myself to write more.

3. Honestly I was gonna quit writing fanfictions now, but I had this piece half written so I finished it.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #husbandrry #husband!harry #dad!harry styles #dadrry #dad!harry

[clove-pinks]

A friend and I have a question about Georgian seed-cakes, and, having followed your quest for an authentic period seed-cake, I thought I would apply to you for assistance! All of the period seed-cake recipes we have seen seem to be light sponges, but we encountered a reference in The Lyon in Mourning to a piece of seed-cake being sent from Edinburgh to Rome around the 1760s/1770s, as a gift for Charles Edward Stuart from a Jacobite Supporter.

"Ay !" said he [Charles Edward Stuart], "a piece of cake from Scotland, and from Edinburgh too !" Then rising from his seat and opening a drawer, "Here," said he, "you see me deposite it, and no teeth shall go upon it but my own!"

Do you have any knowledge of a historical seed-cake recipe that might travel so well as that?

Thank you for the interesting question! I have only traveled briefly with seed cakes, so I don't have a specific recipe that I can recommend for that purpose. One of my cookbooks explores the historical background of seed cake, the excellent Setting a Fine Table: Historic Desserts and Drinks from the Officers' Kitchens at Fort York by Elizabeth Baird and Bridget Wranich.

Baird and Wranich adapt a recipe from 1755, "A Seed Cake, Very Rich" written by Elizabeth Cleland in A New and Easy Method of Cookery. They explain, "Early seed cakes were raised by the addition of yeast. Initially, eggs were added to enrich the cake and, as recipes evolved, they eventually replaced yeast as the leavening. In the 18th century, it was popular to serve seed cakes at harvest time." And they contrast its dense, moist fine crumb against airy commercial pound cakes of the present day.

I found a cookbook from the specific historical era you mention, The Compleat Housewife, Or, Accomplished Gentlewoman's Companion by Eliza Smith, published 1773. There are at least five different recipes for seed cake in this book, all over the place: "A good Seed Cake," "Another Seed Cake," "A rich Seed Cake, called the Nun's Cake." (I've never heard of Nun's Cake). The first one I found seemed pretty different from the recipe I use, although it does have the very metal verbiage "blood-warm."

Some of her alternate recipes are closer to what I make, using brandy for depth of flavour and just whipped eggs for leavening.

Every seed cake recipe I have made, including the not-very-historical one in The Fort George Bill of Fare that uses baking powder, produces a very dense, rich, butter-heavy cake. I imagine that if you tightly wrapped it it would travel well and stay moist, and the addition of more alcohol is also a possibility (some of Eliza Smith's recipes call for sack i.e. fortified wine).

Both Cleland and Smith specify using the hands to work the butter into a cream, and Baird and Wranich note that their museum staff and historical interpreters do this for visitors at Fort York. (I find an electric mixer much faster and easier).

#seed cake #recipes #culinary history #foodways #food #cakes #18th century #cooking with shaun #asks #lmk if you want pictures of the 'setting a fine table' recipe #it's very good but a bit of a production and needs parchment-lined cake pan hoops

[cherryplasmids]

───clueless to all the signs;

pairing: dewey riley x law student!reader

prompt: dewey's been in love with you since forever, but always believed you were out of his league. it takes you thinking he's dating gale for him to finally confess.

word count: 1.5k+

notes: beta??? we die like men always. pumped this out in a few days because i realized i hadn't written anything since june. uni is kicking my ass. ── check out my other works; horror movie masterlist & other masterlists

“Why didn’t you tell me they were coming?!”

Dewey scrambles to brush crumbs off his khaki uniform and tugs at his hair, using the reflection of a cake-stained small dessert spoon until Tatum takes pity and provides a compact mirror. No matter how much spit he uses, a patch of hair stubbornly remains upright. 

Of course, the one day he needs to look perfect—the Californian humidity ruins it. 

He asks Tatum for gel, knowing full well she carries a miniature beauty supply store in her school bag instead of notebooks. Naturally, because he’s done some unknown godforsaken thing that haunts him to this day, Tatum doesn’t have any.

Resigning at the state of his hair, Dewey shoves the bulky police cap onto his head in a huff. 

As a law student at a prestigious school, you’ve been too swamped to visit him—Woodsboro. If he had time to prepare, he would’ve glued his hair down and then applied hairspray to seal it. His uniform would’ve been ironed to perfection. He would’ve worn the only expensive and barely used cologne; the one you mailed him a year ago for his birthday. He would’ve picked you up at the airport in his police cruiser. 

Totally not to show off or anything.

Tatum shrugs, digging into his New York cheesecake, leaving her own dessert untouched. “I thought you knew.”

“Obviously not! Does mom know?”

“Relax, doofus. You kissed her with your massive Transformers headgear and totally barfed on her skirt in front of the whole school.” Dewey cringes and snatches his plate away. Tatum sticks her tongue out. “If she stuck around after that, what makes you think she gives a shit about a wrinkled shirt?”

At 14 years old, Dewey snagged a bottle of wine from his moms cabinet. It took only a few sips before Dewey got drunk-the ultimate lightweight-and began rambling. In the midst of his slurred rant about geometry class were compliments directed at you. You easily returned his awkward flirtations. Within seconds he was on you, headgear smashing into your mouth, busting your gums enough for them to start bleeding. 

He didn’t speak to you for over a week.

The next year, at 15, you and Dewey tried out for the school play at his behest. Unsurprisingly, you got the lead while he got an insignificant role with only a handful of lines. Still, Dewey was nervous because he shared a single scene with you. Right before the play, he chugged two lukewarm cartons of milk and scarfed down three slices of pizza from the school cafeteria to calm him down. 

By the time his scene arrived, his stomach twisted into knots, tightening at the bright lights and echoing voices. When he approaches you for the scene, dressed prettily in all white with a bright smile, he swears it’s reserved only for him. The pressure of his heart rapidly pounding in his chest mixed with the nausea bubbling in his stomach until it finally ruptured. 

All over you. 

Tatum does have a point, though. Even after those two events—and plenty of other embarrassing instances—you still stayed. Saw him through the headgear, through his early volunteering days as junior cop, and his disastrous anxiety-ridden senior year. Only leaving when Woodsboro couldn’t offer the extensive law program of your dreams.

But that’s what friends do. Right?

“Besides, who doesn’t love a man in a uniform?” Tatum continues, shoving her compact back in her cheerleading duffle bag. 

“My muscle mass in my upper torso area does help my boyish good looks.” Tatum mutters a soft gross under her breath. “Do you really think she might like me?”

“God, Dewey. You are helpless.”

He shakes his head, trying to shake off the confusing mixed messages Tatum is giving. “I won’t be seeing her, anyway. I’ll be very busy being your chauffeur.” 

“Righttttt, about that…”

Tatum gets out of her seat, a smile stretching on her rose-painted lips as she notices your car pulling up across the street to park. Just as you exit your car, another vehicle pulls up right in front of Tatum.

“I’m riding with Mia today. Stay out as long as you’d like.” 

With a wink, Tatum jumps into Mia’s car before Dewey can blink. 

He scrambles to stand up from his seat when he notices you, ripping his uniform hat off and pressing it against his chest. His voice is soft when he says your name. 

You giggle and he clenches his hat tightly, heart jumping at your bright smile. “At ease, officer Riley.” 

Okay. That was hot. 

You slide into Tatum’s seat and he immediately returns to his own. “You look really good, Dewey. The pictures Tatum sent me don’t do you justice.”

Dewey briefly ducks his gaze from you with a shy smile. “I could say the same about you, though. You’ve always looked very pretty.”

Your eyes briefly widen before settling into an eye smile. “Such a flatterer. Your new girlfriend helped you with that?” You tease, picking up a clean spoon, digging into the untouched dessert Tatum left while Dewey sputters out denials.

He realizes midway that you’re eating your favorite dish-meaning Tatum set him up knowing full well how flustered he would be. 

“Gale Weathers! As your first girlfriend?” You exclaim, bringing him back from his mental tirade, he’s preparing for Tatum tonight. “Very impressive, Dew. Very impressive.”

He ducks away from your gaze again and scratches his neck. “Gale is…nice.” 

She’s actually not, and only is kind when she wants the latest scoop. From a career standpoint, Dewey admires her no nonsense approach and adamant energy to finish an assignment-no matter how wrong the outcomes may be. 

On a personal level, Dewey dislikes Gale for using him to get confidential police information and to Sidney. 

Okay, so in the beginning he didn’t know he was being used, genuinely thinking that Gale was into him. It wasn’t until Tatum all but beat him to realize that the ‘soul-sucking snake’ was married to her job and not interested in dating a dorky dude who still collects Garbage Pail Kids. 

“It’s not fair that you’ve gained all this confidence after I left.”

“What do you mean?”

You swallow and shrug. “Well, you know, I’ve always thought we’d make a cute couple, but you were never ready for a relationship back then. Now I come back and you’re with a celebrity.” You hum briefly, tapping the spoon against your lips. “Makes a girl feel some type of way.”

Dewey short circuits, heart pounding so hard against his chest he’s surprised you can’t hear it. But he can. It’s the only thing he can hear besides the million and one thoughts rushing through his head like some Tron program. 

His head is starting to hurt, burdened with all the what-ifs. What if he confessed the day after the wine incident? Or kissed you at the local diner after senior prom? Would you have wanted him-shy, doofy, and weak- to go to college with you? 

Now he’s thinking about all the potential dates you could’ve had on campus. Coffee dates. Late night library study sessions. Movie nights at his dorm. Maybe a banquet dinner if he bravely trudged through various hazing sessions. Or a fancy one at one of your law events. 

“I’m such an idiot!” Dewey mumbles, slouching forward to press his forehead against the green translucent table. 

“Uh, Dewey? You alright? You’re like, really red.” 

It feels like he opened a hot oven and the heat bursts out against his satin skin. Sweat builds at his hairline or under his mustache or sideburns—he can’t tell. All he’s focused on is you. Your concerned expression, the way the sunlight highlights the bridge of your nose, a dessert crumb on your bottom lip.  

But, all the words he’s always wanted to say jumble in his brain, so he settles on “I love you.” 

Then he panics because his brain is catching up to his words—his life-changing, friendship-shattering declaration, and immediately jumps in to apologize. His eyes are darting around, hands waving into the air. His rambles are less than an apology and more of word vomit expressing even more embarrassingly his decade-plus affection for you. 

He sweats more. 

He immediately halts when he feels your hand gently grab his own. “Dewey.” He looks up to find a contented smile on your lips. “If you’re not busy with the Gale Weathers, I would really like to take you on a date tonight.”

His heart stutters. “Really?” You nod. “I get off at 6:30.”

Your lips stretch out more. “Great! I’ll pick you up at 8, Officer Riley.” You lean over to peck him on the cheek. 

He watches you stand and leave, only to turn around when you get to your car to wink at him. When you’re safely in your care and drive away, Dewey lifts his hand up to touch the cheek you kissed.

The what-ifs still swim in his brain. At least now, he has hope to finally achieve them.

general taglist: @empress-writes , @alexxavicry

horror movie taglist: @callmemeelah

#scream 1996 #dewey riley #dewey riley x reader #dewey riley x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher fic #scream x reader #scream fanfiction #x reader #x you #fanfiction #reader insert #🍒⚡ writes

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … November 16

42 BC – Tiberius, Roman emperor, born (d.37 AD); second Roman Emperor, from the death of Augustus in CE 14 until his own death in 37 AD. Tiberius was by birth a Claudian, son of Tiberius Claudius Nero and Livia Drusilla. His mother divorced his father and was remarried to Octavian Augustus in 39 BC. Tiberius would later marry Augustus' daughter Julia the Elder (from an earlier marriage) and even later be adopted by Augustus and by this act he became a Julian. The subsequent emperors after Tiberius would continue this blended dynasty of both families for the next forty years; historians have named it the Julio-Claudian dynasty.

Tiberius was the predecessor to Caligula and he was certainly the appropriate curtain-raiser. His sexual excesses were widely known, especially when he "retired" to Capri, governing Rome via correspondence, and becoming the patron saint of that future gay mecca. Suetonius reported that Tiberius trained young boys, whom he called his "minnows," to stay between his legs while he was swimming so they could lick and nibble him until he came. Suetonius reports that Tiberius can be credited with the "daisy chain" or spintriae - a conga line of people joined front and back in sexual congress.

1942 – Barton Lidice Beneš, born in Hackensack, New Jersey (d.2012), was an artist who lived and worked in New York City. He studied at Pratt Institute, Brooklyn, New York and Beaux-Arts, Avignon, France.

His father, the son of Czech immigrants gave him his middle name in memory of Lidice, the Czech town destroyed by the Nazis that year. He grew up in Queens with Czech-born grandparents, who instilled in him a dedication to the Roman Catholic traditions of reliquaries and memorials to the dead.

Barton Beneš' art incorporated shadow boxes filled with bits and pieces that revealed the myths and ironies of life. The fragments in Beneš' work often involved famous people and events, from a piece of Elizabeth Taylor's shoe to a crumb from the wedding cake of the Prince of Wales. His travelling exhibition series about AIDS, "Lethal Weapons," was the focus of an independent documentary film released in 1997. "Lethal Weapons" consisted of 30 vessels such as a water pistol, an atomizer, and hollow darts, all filled with the artist's or other people's HIV-infected blood.

Another work, "Brenda," was a wall relief carpeted with red AIDS-awareness ribbons and slathered with a coat of gray paste made from the cremated remains of a woman who had died of AIDS. "I absolutely hate those [AIDS] ribbons," he said, contending that wearing them did nothing more than assuage people's consciences.

Although galleries and museums refused to show this work, they were displayed without incident at the North Dakota Museum of Art in 1993. Beneš did not forget the courage and commitment to art of this prairie institution. When he died he left instructions to be cremated and have his remains placed in a pillowcase on his bed. The bed was the central part Beneš last completed and most personal work, his 850-square-foot home in Greenwich Village containing thousands of objects including masks and religious relics and the mementoes and remains of his loved ones. This enormous piece with its thousands of contents will be moved to Grand Forks, North Dakota, where they will be exhibited in a replica of the apartment

Among the museums that have acquired his works are the Chicago Art Institute, the National Museum of American Art, the National Gallery of Australia, and most importantly the North Dakota Museum of Art.

Scott Wittman (L) with Marc Shaiman

1955 – Born: Lyricist and director Scott Wittman, who, with composer Marc Shaiman, his partner in life and collaborator in theater, film, and television projects, has a long list of credits in the entertainment industry. Their work on the musical version of John Waters' Hairspray earned Tony and Grammy awards in 2003.

Both Shaiman and Wittman grew up in the vicinity of New York City, the former in Scotch Plains, New Jersey, and the latter in Nyack, New York. Both were fascinated with musical theater from an early age and dreamed of careers on Broadway. Shaiman played piano with local community theater groups from the time that he was twelve, and Wittman apprenticed in summer stock in his hometown. Such was their love for the stage that they both cut high school classes to travel into New York for matinees.

Wittman attended Emerson College in Boston but left after two years to pursue a career as a writer and director in musical theater in New York. In the city's East Village he crossed paths with Shaiman, who had quit high school at sixteen to join the New York musical scene. Wittman was directing a show at a club in Greenwich Village when Shaiman came in and started playing the piano. Wittman promptly hired him. They subsequently fell in love and have been a couple since 1979.

The two soon began collaborating professionally, writing songs that Shaiman describes as "full of anarchy and joy."

Since 1997 Shaiman and Wittman have contributed and directed music for the Academy Awards presentation show. At the same time Wittman, who humorously calls himself "a great diva wrangler," has directed concerts. In addition to working with Bette Midler, he has had a long association with Patti LuPone and has worked with Christine Ebersole, Raquel Welch, Dame Edna Everage (Barry Humphries), and Lypsinka among many others.

Shaiman and Wittman's greatest triumph thus far is Hairspray, an adaptation of the 1988 John Waters movie for the musical stage. Shaiman and Wittman wrote the music, and Mark O'Donnell and Thomas Meehan the book for the play.

The show dominated the 2003 Tony Awards, winning eight, including best musical and best score. At the end of their acceptance speeches Shaiman declared to Wittman, "I love you, and I'd like to spend the rest of my life with you." The couple then embraced and shared a long and tender kiss. News outlets around the world took note of this affecting moment.

1964 – Waheed Alli, Baron Alli is a British multimillionaire media entrepreneur and politician. He was co-founder and managing director of Planet 24, a TV production company, and managing director at Carlton Television Productions. He was, until November 2012, chairman of ASOS.com. He is the chairman of Silvergate Media, which purchased two of the media rights previously held by Chorion Ltd, where Alli was former chairman. He is a Labour life peer and is described as one of only a few openly gay Muslim politicians in the world.

In British political terms he is considered Asian, though both of his parents are from the Caribbean. His mother, a nurse, is from Trinidad, and his estranged father, a mechanic, is from British Guiana (now Guyana). His mother was Hindu and his father Muslim; he has two brothers, one of each faith. He was named one of the 20 most important Asians in British media in 2005. At the same time, he maintains ties with his Caribbean roots, both with other British-Guyanese politicians such as Valerie Amos and Trevor Phillips, and with President Bharrat Jagdeo.

Alli joined the Labour Party at the persuasion of his neighbour Emily Thornberry, to whom he remains close. He is also close to Anji Hunter, Director of Government Relations in Tony Blair's first government. Prime Minister Blair used him for years as a means to help him reach out to a younger generation (aka "yoof culture"), and as such he is considered one of "Tony's Cronies". He was made a life peer as Baron Alli, of Norbury in the London Borough of Croydon, on 18 July 1998 at the age of 34, becoming the youngest and the first openly gay peer in Parliament. He sits on the Labour benches in the House of Lords. The BBC summarised his appointment as "the antithesis of the stereotypical 'establishment' peer – young, Asian and from the world of media and entertainment".

Alli has used his political position to argue for gay rights. He spearheaded the campaign to repeal Section 28. He advocated lowering the age of consent for homosexuals from 18 to 16, equal to heterosexuals; this eventually became law as the Sexual Offences (Amendment) Act 2000. It was during a heated exchange with conservative opponents, led by Baroness Young, that he informed his fellow peers that he was gay. In April 1999, he said in a speech, "I have never been confused about my sexuality. I have been confused about the way I am treated as a result of it. The only confusion lies in the prejudice shown, some of it tonight [i.e. in the House], and much of it enshrined in the law."

In 2009, he spearheaded an effort to repeal clauses in the Civil Partnership Act 2004 which prohibited religious institutions from conducting the ceremonies on their premises. This campaign culminated in a bipartisan amendment, which became part of the Equality Act 2010.

2007 – Breakfast With Scot - In 2006, straight Canadian actor Tom Cavanagh began filming Breakfast with Scot, in which he plays a gay retired hockey player who becomes an adoptive father to a young boy. The film, released on this day in 2007, drew attention as the first gay-themed film ever to win approval from a major league sports franchise to use its real name and logo; Cavanagh's character formerly played for the Toronto Maple Leafs.

1989 – The Center for Homosexual Lifestyles was established in Berlin. It was the first time in Germany that a public office was established specifically to deal with the concerns of lesbians and gay men.

1995 – A directive was issued by the Canadian Government allowing workers in same-sex relationships to take time off in the event of a partner's illness or death.

1999 – The Rhode Island Supreme Court rules that all pending consensual sodomy prosecutions at the time of the 1998 legislative repeal must be abandoned.

[springgirlwaiting4fall]

You Distracting Eddie Kingston During a Yankees Game

Eddie was a sports guy, if New York had a team he was routing for them. Football was the giants, hockey was the rangers, basketball was the nets, and his holy grail was the Yankees.

You however were not a sports fan. You didn’t mind going to a basketball or hockey game every once in a while because you were able to eat all the good treats at the stadiums. Plus Eddie looked so good in his Jersey and baseball hats.

On Sunday afternoon games Eddie and you hosted football get togethers. He supplied the drinks and you were able to try out different recipes. Than in the evening you two would snuggle up and eat the leftovers during your movie pick.

Baseball however was so boring. Not only were the games so long, there was so many games. Sometimes there were games a couple days in a row and Eddie watched them all.

By July you have had enough of the Yankees and with limited time with Eddie you didn’t want to waste another Monday afternoon with him yelling at the tv (no matter how hot it made you).

You let him watch the 1st couple of innings in peace, before getting antsy. At first you tried to distract him by giving him a shoulder rub and hoped that it could turn into a full body massage. Instead the yankee pitcher threw some terrible pitches and when Eddie stood up to yell that he was never going to watch this awful team again, he accidentally head butted your chin.

You went into the kitchen to get some ice. After icing your soon to be bruise and ego you finished the homemade Ice cream cups cakes you made just for Eddie. You brought them out to him and tried to be cute and feed him one. He shoved it in his mouth. With crumbs in his beard telling you “you’re the best sweetheart,” his eyes never leaving the tv.

The frustration was building up to you especially when you looked at the score and saw it was only the top of the 4th. You were going to have step up your game.

Walking into the bedroom you changed out of your regular lounge wear and put on the super cute cheeky boxer briefs yankee underwear Eddie had gotten you as a joke gift for his birthday. You than found one of his yankee jerseys on threw that on as well, before going back out to the living room.

You could feel his eyes on you as you purposely walked in front of the tv to get into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” Eddie’s disdain in his voice made you paused. “Baby that’s a joley Rodriquez Jersey! We traded him to the Mets. You can’t wear that!”

He continued to go on about how you were possibly jinxing the whole season wearing that traders Jerseys as you walked back to the bedroom. You thew the Jersey across the room as soon as you got it off your body. Laying on the bed you took a couple minutes to collect yourself.

This time with your phone in hand you walked in front of the tv, in nothing but your yankee underwear. You grabbed the remote from the coffee table and clicked off the tv. Eddie looked up at you in shock, than his eyes darken when he finally noticed.

You used your phone to turn on the radio app that was calling the game. “Eddie Baby. I love you, but I am so over the Yankees today. So this is what’s going to happen. While you listen to the radio, I’m going to give you the best blow job you ever had. Than I’m going to take a long bath and when I get out. You are going to eat me out until I almost pass out. Next we’re going to fuck and have a late lunch. And not talk or watch the Yankees until you get home from Dynamite. Understand?”

Eddie had never seen you so assertive or bossy and he loved it, plus who could argue with a blow job while listening to his favorite team.

#aew #aew fanfiction #eddie kingston #eddie kingston fanfiction #mad king #our mad king #the mad king #yankees

[traditionalfemininewoman]

Pie Baking Advice

People have a misconception that because glass is a poor conductor of heat it doesn’t make for a good pie pan. But throughout my many decades of baking, I’ve found that not to be the case.

Although metal pans conduct heat better, glass more than makes up for that because it is clear, so radiant energy can pass through the pan and help the crust bake. Metal and ceramic pans impede this.

That means that although glass takes slightly longer to reach the same temperature as the oven, it cooks crusts faster and darker. This is why many cookbooks suggest lowering the oven temperature by 25 degrees when using glass, so the filling can catch up.

The downside with glass, is that it’s more slippery than metal, making it easier for crusts to shrink and slouch, even when secured with pie weights.

Easy solution: Add a touch of baking powder to the dough. It helps the crust expand into the pie plate, which is good no matter what your pie pan is made of.

Personally, I like glass because I hate guesswork. I like to see I’m getting the color I want. But, you can make a great crust in any pan as long as you start with a good dough.

So how to choose a pan? If you want more control and don’t mind a little shrinking (or if you are comfortable experimenting with baking powder), go with glass. If you would rather give up control of the color for a neater shape without altering your dough recipe, choose metal. Ceramic pans make the prettiest presentation, though they are the slowest to bake.

Maybe the better question is: what is your pie priority?

Pre-Baking Dilemma

Should you, or should you not, bake a pie crust before you slip the filling into it?

The question stirs up such a quandary that Dorie Greenspan, a prominent cookbook author and one of the owners of a newly hatched New York cookie company called Beurre and Sel, can’t quite figure out how to answer it. “This is a big issue,” she said. “It’s huge. This is really a problem issue.”

Purely from the standpoint of flavor and color and texture, the simple answer is yes: pre-baking a crust crisps it up and helps prevent it from going soggy when it comes in contact with the filling.

Then you’re ready to pour in the filling (which, in the summer of Ms. Greenspan’s dreams, would be blueberries). You add a top crust before a follow-up stretch in the oven.

But here’s the catch: In spite of all that, Ms. Greenspan usually does not bake her crust in advance. To affix that top crust, you have to use a sleight-of-hand, moistening the rim of the pre-baked bottom crust and getting the raw dough of the top crust to stick to it. “Somehow it feels like a trick and un-American,” she said. “It’s not the way American pies are supposed to be made. I prefer it pre-baked, but I don’t do it.”

Maybe, she suggested, a touch of sogginess is not the end of the world. What she’ll sometimes do, before filling the bottom crust, is to sprinkle an absorbent layer of challah pieces or cake crumbs along its top, to sop up (theoretically) some of the liquid.

The Right Thickener

You want to cut nice, neat wedges of that summer pie. The pieces of fruit must nestle cozily and close, thickly bound, and not run off into a soupy puddle. Do you reach for flour to bolster the filling? Cornstarch? Arrowroot? Tapioca? Nothing?

Ron Silver, an owner of the TriBeCa restaurant Bubby’s who co-wrote “Bubby’s Homemade Pies” and has held a pie social with home bakers for the last 10 years, said his thinking on thickeners has evolved.

He started using just flour years ago when he tried to enter the Pillsbury Bake-Off. (He was disqualified from the competition for amateurs because he did his baking at Florent, where he was the breakfast cook.) But now he prefers something along the lines of a butter and flour roux.

“I toss the fruit with flour and then add melted butter,” he said. “It’s classic and the most flavorful.”

“When you have very juicy fruit like raspberries or cherries, instant tapioca is also good,” he said. Tapioca turns clear and glossy, does not impart a starchy flavor and adds interesting little gelatinous beads to the texture.

But for a fresh blueberry pie, Mr. Silver’s favorite, his choice is cornstarch. He cooks half the berries to make a thick sauce with sugar, lemon juice and the starch, which has first been dissolved in cold water. He then folds this mixture into the rest of the raw blueberries to fill a cooked pie shell. He does not bake the pie further, but lets it set for about two hours before serving.

You might get away with no thickener (just sugar and melted butter) especially with denser fruits like figs, stone fruit, apples and pears. But thickened or not, it’s important to wait two to three hours before cutting into the pie, allowing the filling time to settle so the juices released by the oven’s heat are reabsorbed.

Choosing the Fat for a Crust

As American as apple pie, the saying goes. But according to the food scientist Harold McGee, our national identity resides specifically in the crust.

“As a country,” he said, “we value a macroscopic discontinuousness in our pie crust.”

To translate: A pie crust that shatters into large crumbs and shards when you press your fork through it is good. A crust that crumbles into sand or needs to be sawed through is bad.

Fortunately, that patriotic, macroscopic discontinuousness can be achieved with flour, water and almost any cool, semisolid fat such as butter, lard, suet or vegetable shortening.

But which is best?

When Mr. McGee wrote his magisterial study “On Food and Cooking” in 1984, he came down in favor of vegetable shortening, because its consistent proportions of fat, water and air make it easier to produce flaky crusts. But since then he has modified that position, leaning toward the savor that butter and lard add. (Also, the hydrogenation process used to make vegetable shortening was later found to produce trans fats, which are unhealthy when consumed in large quantities.)

For a truly ideal pie crust, you would need a fat with the flavor of butter, the water content of lard and the temperature flexibility of vegetable shortening. When temperature is an issue, shortening is the clear winner. While a crust is being mixed and rolled, the butter needs to stay between 58 and 68 degrees to achieve the right texture: shortening works at anywhere from 53 to 85 degrees.

“The Fourth of July brings a hot kitchen and hot hands,” Mr. McGee said. He said that not only the fat but also the flour should be chilled until the last possible moment.

Lacking that fantasy fat, Mr. McGee said the proper choice is a matter of technical skill and personal preference. Sometimes the flavor of butter can be too aggressive: just as many chocolate cakes and banana breads are made with neutral oil to let the flavor of the main ingredient shine through, a plain crust made with vegetable shortening can be desirable.

#pie baking #baking #baking tips #traditional femininity #baking tools #femininity #traditional feminine #traditional values #traditionalism #traditional gender roles #traditional woman #traditional wife #women in the kitchen

[kendalldimeglio]

An Overview of Cupcakes in the United States

Cupcakes were invented in 1796 by Amelia Simmons, who developed a recipe that described the treat as “a light cake to bake in small cups” in the book American Cookery. The first recorded use of the term “cupcake” can be traced back to a cookbook from Eliza Leslie published in 1928. Before the widespread use of “cupcake,” the desserts were alternatively referred to as number cakes, or 1234 cakes, because the basic recipe called for one cup of butter, two cups of sugar, three cups of flour, and four eggs, along with a cup of milk and spoonful of baking soda.

Cupcakes grew in popularity during the early 20th century, particularly after 1919, when the Hostess company began mass producing a variety of cupcakes and similar dessert food products, sometimes called snack cakes. Over the years, Hostess introduced numerous cupcake options, including orange-flavored and chocolate cupcakes.

There have been various surges in the popularity of cupcakes over time and trends within the dessert marketplace. Local New York City shops such as Magnolia Bakery gained national attention after being featured in episodes of Sex and the City in the early 2000s. Sprinkles Cupcakes opened in 2005 as the first bakery dedicated solely to cupcakes. The store has opened a second location and now produces upwards of 25,000 cupcakes each day. Crumbs, also in New York City, has reported over $23 million annual cupcake revenue.

The earliest examples of cupcakes were simple in design. Hostess mass-produced cupcakes for over a year before introducing frosting as a staple ingredient. Chocolate and vanilla frosting were standard cupcake toppings for many decades, but newer varieties include red velvet, coffee, pumpkin spice, and lemon, to name only a few.

While cupcakes have a long history in the United States, the popularity of the dessert option has hardly plateaued. Cupcake consumption throughout the US increased by 52 percent between 2010 and 2011. In 2015, 14 percent of respondents to a national survey named cupcakes their favorite dessert, just 5 percent behind cake. Less than 10 percent of respondents said they did not like cupcakes. In recent years, Americans have consumed more than 770 million cupcakes yearly.

Cupcakes are so beloved in America that they have their holiday. National Cupcake Day is observed by baking enthusiasts in the United States and a few other countries around the world on December 15. There are even sub-holidays for the dessert, such as National Chocolate Cupcake Day on October 18.

The largest cupcake ever baked belonged to GourmetGiftBaskets.com. They set the World Record in 2009 with a 1,224-pound cupcake that measured 4 feet tall and 10 feet wide. The giant cupcake contained 2 million calories. Indeed, while cupcakes are a popular tasty treat in America, it is important to remember they are a dessert item and should be consumed sparingly.

A standard cupcake provides little to no nutritional value. Unless a person is living with a specific medical condition, accepting a cupcake at a birthday party or after dinner is fine, but limiting the dessert to a single serving is best. Individuals planning a dinner or party can look for healthier cupcake recipes or mini-cupcakes.

#Kendall Dimeglio #cupcakes

[freeworldallahexecutivembaclass]

Sunday is always the best day of the week to check your watch , schedule , and calendar for the rest of the year while fixing your cufflinks in the back of my limousine as we cruise through the streets of Gotham New York City and I say thank you Mr . Nasir Jones and 50 Cent and then French Montana for providing me with a world class education , I got Joyce Meyer , Joel Osteen and Victoria Osteen on my book list and I am a world class political scientist economist and social scientist now a business student getting an IVY League education I own my own library and my own hospital with an even more brighter future ahead of me , thank you Prince Harry is a bother and a friend of mines I'm a King status now and I'm in the hospitality business after taking over the streets with my politics with Mayor Bill De Blasio and Former Governor Andrew Cuomo and patrolling the New York City streets as Gotham Batman Bruce Wayne and Savior of his people as Superman Clark Kent in front of City Hall to the streets and now I'm going for Madison and Park Avenue I'm in the hospitality business so it is all about how treat people first their is my list of accomplishments showing that I care now I'm going to commit to getting my education in big business in my city and hopefully get into other cities and countries in the world Im going international but first I commit to my education my library is my school my class and you should treat as such go there and get your mind right I'm civilized so my establishment are civilized I expect and give great great service because I believe in and love people they make life exciting all walks of people I love em they make me feel good , enjoy your sunday all these are in my plans now for the near future I plan to serve donut dough mixed drinks with reeases smores crushed crumbed cake thick mix with oatmeal milk with lid as a drink though and line of Im loyal to the Queen 👑 Hotels just dreaming out loud I'm young and confident and had a great career in like the political science and sociology fields that I made a star of myself and now I want go into business and I know it is hard work and it is easier said than done I'm just excited about it on this Sunday and I wanted share this with you and the direction I'm going in the future and with my future I'm commiting to a business education my business education set in play by Governor Andrew Cuomo he believed in me and help to redeem my character and self in the face and in front of the people thank you thank you so much he made a program of me helping to rebuild New York City in the science of legislature in law passing laws getting stuff done for the people , politics and what's goes on in this city thank you I'm honored and hope you have a great Sunday and afternoon .

You ever feel you tripped and fell into the wrong kind of people and their practices of evilness I wish I could talk to myself more than people that hate me I wish I was you I got voodoo a curse on me and a very demonic person or set of people is the voice in my head 24 / 7 Joyce Meyer speak on that in Battlefield of the mind the hood may need to return to God and really find out what being Christian , Muslim or 5 Percenter really mean it's the hood so it is aight not to do your part as a good person it just a theory until you put righteousness into theory until then you are undeveloped and evil and that make what you so called hate . Quick announcement Nicki took me on as a son of hers and I accept we don't look alike but she took me on and I said yeah she don't need anything from me but I'm learning the business and plan to open shops and hotels called I'm loyal to the Queen hotel with her and Cardi B and other stuff in business it is just a dream of mines you are going to love it when I finish learning it I will post it , it is going to be my plans and ideas and seeing who got the best pitch to them like I said they good it just something I want to learn and get it done and name it after my first women I'm going to go as far as I could in learning it and then drawing it and showing the world and hopefully she don't say no , wish me luck my behaviors is changing as far as doing things in an appropriate manner and sorry about the drama I may have caused anyone but everything is fixed and everybody is doing okay so let's enjoy the future together as New Yorkers and prosperity . Those ladies are free to live stress free over me they got their freedom from me they are free to go and is free to live their lives they are safe I will make it to the other side of financial success they ain't gotta worry about me and if they like me they will take my plans on , I'm a huge smash and success in the economy , politics and social science but I moved on and leave that to the professionals while I go enjoy my life and individuality , thank you it has been a blessing and great for me to help New York City and other places in the world and I wish the best for all communities in the world .

#Youtube

[skippyv20]

[jule1122]

RNM Fic - Little Green Cakes

A small ficlet for @rosaweekend22.  I’ve been wanting to write about Rosa decorating cakes for a while and this was the perfect chance to do that.  I think it works as a belated entry for Day 1: Arts & Crafts.

This is a gen fic, Rosa focused with no warnings.  Just a look a possible future.

Little Green Cakes on AO3

It starts like many of her ideas do - with a bout of insomnia.  Rosa’s been restless since she came back from New York.  After being gone for so long, she’s no longer needed in the diner, and that leaves her with too many hours to fill.  She stretches and paints, but it’s not enough.

Tired of staring at the ceiling, Rosa brings up Netflix and asks it to “surprise” her.  Netflix chooses The Great British Baking Show, a real surprise since Rosa’s never watched a baking show before, but she binges half a season before falling asleep.

The next time she can’t sleep, she hits “continue watching” on the Netflix menu, and makes it all the way to the finale.  Rosa learns quickly she doesn’t care about biscuit towers and themed pies, but the elaborate decorated cakes brought out as showstoppers fascinate her.  She starts watching other baking shows, seeking out ones that focus on cakes.  When she sees cakes that are painted like watercolors and airbrushed she goes from thinking “I could do that” to thinking “I want to do that.”

She drives an hour to a specialty baking store and buys piping bags, tips, and premade icing.  She replaces her late night Netflix habit with hours of youtube tutorials.  Rosa pipes onto parchment paper until her hands hurt, until she can create a garden of flowers, intricate lace designs and embroidered scenes.  Her next step is practicing on frozen pound cakes where she also learns about crumb coats and palate knives and icing scrapers.

When she finds out the baking store offers classes, she signs up.  First she learns to make her own icings - buttercreams and royal icing.  She sneaks into the kitchen at night with boxed cake mixes and whips up her own icing while her cakes and cupcakes bake.  She ends her next class with three solid cake recipes and rewards herself with an airbrush machine.  She almost cries the first time she uses it, and she can see her vision on the cake.

There is no way Arturo doesn’t know what Rosa is doing, but he never says anything.  He just orders extra eggs and asks Rosa to look over his supply list, never questioning the vanilla extract and high quality food coloring she adds on.  The first cake Rosa shares with anyone is for Arturo’s birthday.  She makes a Mexican hot chocolate cake with cinnamon cream cheese frosting that she airbrushes and decorates to look like the Crashdown sign against the night sky.

Arturo cries when she brings it out, and everyone fusses about it to the point where Rosa wishes she lied and said she ordered it from a bakery.  But she can’t help feeling a little proud when someone tells her it’s beautiful or it’s the best cake they’ve ever had.

She manages to avoid any serious one-on-one conversations for most of the night, but Arturo pulls her aside as they are cleaning up.

“Rosa, your cake was magnificent,” he tells her with a big smile.

“Thanks,” Rosa looks away.

“Now,” he stops her when she tries to start gathering empty plates.  “I thought there might be a little mouse in my kitchen at night.”

“Papi,” Rosa sighs.  They weren’t talking about this but now they are, and she’s not sure if she should apologize.

“The mouse,” Arturo continues as if Rosa had spoken, “is very sweet.  Always cleans up so no one knows they were there.  But if they wanted to leave something behind, maybe to be enjoyed by their father or even sold to hungry customers, that would be nice.”

“You want to sell my cakes?  You don’t even know if they are any good,” Rosa protests.

“Rosa, you just made me the most delicious cake covered in your artwork.  Who wouldn’t love that?  But only if you want to.  Thank you again, my beautiful daughter, for the best birthday cake ever.”  Arturo kisses her on the cheek and leaves her shaking her head and dreaming.

It’s another week before she’s brave enough to leave two cakes and a dozen cupcakes in the fridge when she goes to bed.  When Rosa peeks into the diner in the afternoon they are gone, and Arturo tells her they sold out before the lunch rush ended.  So she does it again and again, and each time everything she bakes sells out.  

Before Rosa knows it, she has a routine.  She takes over the kitchen once the diner closes and bakes until she’s tired.  The fridge is filled with her creations for Arturo to sell the next day.  One night she forgets to write down what she baked, but Arturo tells her he sold them as surprise cakes and charged an extra dollar.  He swears they sold out the fastest of anything she’s baked.

When Rosa comes back from a three day music festival trip with Maria, half the Crashdown’s counter has been replaced with a bakery case.  “Little green cakes,” the name she came up with on a whim, is burned into the wood trim at the top of the case in a looping script that looks suspiciously like her own handwriting.

“Papi!” Rosa gasps, hands cover her mouth as she stares at it.

“What do you think?”  Arturo beams at her from behind the case.  “Almost pretty enough for your cakes.”

“It’s too much.  You shouldn’t change the diner for me.”

“Who else would I change it for?  Your baking makes it better, I want to show it off.”

“Thank you,” Rosa knows there is no arguing with her father when puts his mind to something.  “I love it,” she adds as Arturo steps out to admire the case with her.  

“I know you would,” Arturo says proudly, pulling her into a hug and kissing the top of her head.

What Rosa loves best about baking is that she gets to do it herself in a quiet kitchen at night.  She doesn’t take orders or special requests, rarely even sees customers since her cakes usually sell out before she gets out of bed.  She bakes what she wants- sometimes filling the case with alien themed cupcakes or airbrushed cakes with desert sunsets and embroidered blooming cactus, in the middle of winter she covers dozens of cupcakes with bright, buttercream bouquets, and hand paints elaborate sugar skulls for weeks before Day of the Dead.

The first time Rosa walks into the kitchen and doesn’t want to bake, she panics.  She sits in the kitchen all night willing herself to just bake something.  Rosa is still sitting there when Arturo comes in, already smiling as he turns on the lights.

“Rosa!” he exclaims, surprised to see her.  “You’re still up?  You must have baked too much.”

“Papi,” Rosa throws herself in front of the fridge before he can open it.  “There’s nothing there.  I didn’t bake last night.”

“Okay,” Arturo shrugs and walks out into the dining room.

Rosa follows him and gestures to the empty bakery case.  “It’s not okay.  I didn’t bake anything and people expect. . .”

“That’s what this is for,” Arturo cuts her off and puts a “Sold Out” sign on the bakery case.  “The Crashdown is a diner. People can expect fries and milkshakes and alien antennas.  You cakes are a bonus.  If I run out of fries, they can complain.  You don’t bake, they can still get a milkshake.”

“Why aren’t you mad?”  Rosa can’t help asking.  “I let you down.”

“Rosa,” Arturo shakes his head.  “I ask you to bake because it makes you smile.  When it doesn’t make you smile, I don’t want you to bake.”

Rosa blinks back tears from her eyes and hugs Arturo tightly.  “I love you, Papi.”

“I love you too,” Arturo squeezes her tightly before shooing her out of the dining room.  “Now go get some sleep.  Maybe you feel like baking tonight, maybe you don’t.”

Rosa bakes more often then she doesn’t.  But she knows if she needs a break or is too caught up in a painting to want to stop, she doesn’t have too.  Most days the Crashdown bakery case is full in the morning and empty long before closing.  Rosa keeps a notebook of things she wants to learn - mirror glazes, tempered chocolate and spun sugar, but she doesn’t rush.  She smiles when she walks into the kitchen and bakes what she wants and sleeps better than she ever has before.

#rosaweekend22 #Day 1 Arts & Crafts #rnm fic #my fic #rosa ortecho #arturo ortecho #future fic #Baking as art #Arturo is an amazing father

[altairattorney]

[RUSSIAN DOLL] Yesterday’s Triumph

Whatever and whoever happens, Nadia decides, she will be taken care of.

[AO3 link]

When Nadia returns Nadia to her mother, she is not holding the same baby anymore.

Like all things of significance, she would usually see it – but not now. She has run out of attention to pay, so old and young and tired; all she wants is some decent sleep. She turns around and gets off the wagon without a second glance.

The Nadia who is left behind has nothing to say either. Too small and helpless to articulate her busy thoughts, she goes unnoticed for the first time of many. She is just the same to her distracted mother – same coos and wiggles, same subway baby on a subway train, homeward bound to the enormous past she has ahead of her to live.

Unattended, unbothered, the video of her change loops in her eyes. Tiny pupils come alight with skyscrapers and cocktails and rain that seems to bend towards wherever she walks. A blue glow crowns the edge of her vision, beginning and end of whatever it all means.

Her gaze follows as if in REM sleep, wide open to the neon lights above.

Just like that, Nadia learns. A seed is planted in the back of her tiny brain. Whether too easy or too complex to grasp – it will be both, several times – it is going to remain, impossible to uproot.

Whatever and whoever happens, Nadia decides, she will be taken care of.

She forgets all about it for a time. How could she not? Her first years are a whirlwind of attention, the intoxicating kind some young children demand and are given without restraint. She licks cheap palettes of overly sugary cake off her fingers, feeling like a princess in her own life-sized dollhouse. She is at the age where all excitement grows tenfold, and all bad things – the corners where her mother passes out, drunk or crushed by the weight of her own heartbreak – end up at the bottom of a very deep pocket, to be buried by dust and empty chewing-gum wrappers.

But her grandma, stern in hiding her own pain, teaches her all she can; and the lesson returns to Nadia at random one morning, brought back with force by one of her proverbs. All that sinks has to float back to the surface one day – that is what she says, causing an earthquake in her little heart.

The next third morning her mother does not come out of bed, her eyes glassy and swollen like those of a drowned animal, something profound diverges. Nadia cannot explain it, nor does she understand how she can possibly perceive anything like that; still, in some way, her instinct knows how to follow that lead. She climbs back into her sheets, seeking protection in their faded warmth, and rocks herself to calm in the circle of her own embrace.

The gesture means nothing to her at the time. Even so, she finds it keeps coming back. Each time her speechless anguish finds no response from those around her, her arms rise to envelop each other, seeking to light their own bonfire of security. And every time that happens – with every whisper she mutters to herself, with each self-promise that all will be okay – a crumb of reality falls gently on the tip of her tongue, all hers to taste, scrumptious and new and different.

She does not understand why it happens that way, or how. All she knows is that it feels normal. Better yet – it feels right.

Around the fragile cocoon she tries to build, the world bends and twists the smallest threads of its being to accompany her. Sometimes it changes the sway of cigarette smoke, farther away from her freckled nose; sometimes it moves warm sunshine to her forehead, with just a speck left to illuminate the golden chain around her neck. Sometimes she can almost hear the breeze sing with her laughter, barely above the noise of New York’s insomnia; sometimes, her reading light casts a protective halo on her curls, keeping her far from whatever tangled shape is sleeping on the couch.

That gift of gentleness flows throughout Nadia’s life like an ocean current. It is barely perceivable, sometimes hard to find; yet, even in the chaos of her life, she knows for a fact it is there. She uses its anchor to watch from a safe distance, while countless others drift away at sea. She finds herself relying on it throughout every mess she survives, to find one day – the most pleasant surprise – that not even the worst of her parent can smother it for good.

It even remains when Nora turns her back on her for the last time. It slides down her throat as she screams, lone drop of sugar in between gulps of of petroleum. The guilt is overwhelming, sure, and her mother’s words – I am trying, leave me alone, just be a good girl, what the fuck do you want from me – crawl back from the grave to choke her dead.

But even then, out of breath in the iron grip of their tendrils, Nadia recovers the last bit of her own voice.

“Fuck you,” she sobs out. “You leave me alone.”

It does not get any better over the years. On the other hand, Nadia grows to be sure it is getting easier. More frequent, gentler sensations soothe her rugged corners – the scent of normalcy inside Ruthie’s fancy teas, or the indulgent bubble baths she enjoys whenever too many hours of frenzied overtime exhaust her. The guilty ghost of her mother, wailing without rest about the life they never got to have, gradually sinks into haunting farther and farther layers of her soul.

And one desperate afternoon, as her tears fall onto Ruth’s sweater and she wonders aloud how she is supposed to carry on with this burden, the answer returns once more – it crashes on her consciousness with abandon, her like a faithful wave on the shore.

“You got this, baby,” Ruth whispers in her hair. “Only you can do this for yourself.”

She thinks of her words again and again when it is all over. They don’t quite come back until after her death is put on hold, and strands upon strands of knotted timelines unravel in the tunnels that witnessed her first birth. But in the half-light of Ruth’s wake, where the drinks that were her favorite spread their scent and those who loved her wind together in a circle, this Nadia – the one born of women past and future in a row, like a train, like a string of pearls – puts it together with electrifying clarity.

Only I can do this for myself, she understands at last. Well, maybe I already did.

The Nadia who walks to the bathroom is always Nadia, yet not the same at all. Tonight she is joined halves of a whole, the savior and the saved. She is the one who died and the one who lived; she is the baby whose eyes sparkled with neon, three decades ago on a subway train, and the one who was forced to let her go.

She does not care when it began or how. Nadia holds herself whole for the first time, and it is feels both like victory and vengeance. The damn baby – smart, cute, clever baby! is she giggling? – clung to a spark no one else but herself could have given her. She always was a winner, just like she is tonight.

Some things can change after all, she decides.

So it is that today’s Nadia, fusion of everyone she ever was, can turn away from the blue glow of the bathroom door. She can run free towards her own home, plagued only with chaos and gremlins of her choice. She can take a shower or a bath, have a drink or some tea; and in the end, when she lays down to find the rest she needs, she can follow her old self-made tradition.

Today’s Nadia will hug herself to sleep, and tell herself what she finally knows to be the truth. She is going to be just fine. *

So much was touching and personally relevant in all of Russian Doll, but what I love the most in season 2 is the heavy allusion to the therapy concept of parenting yourself to make up for the failures of dysfunctional parents. I loved the idea of leaving baby Nadia a spark of that drive, so that - while time is inherently unchanged in its driving events - a little ripple of her future self will help her heal and get some safety throughout her future-past life.

When you use this method in therapy, as I am currently experimenting myself, it feels like your time is fractured and non-linear, and your meditation is actually healing the broken parts of yourself that were left behind in childhood. What better show to test this concept in?

Additionally, Shine On is one of those songs that rocked my world and left me a different person after listening to it. It isn't just a musical masterpiece, but it has such a wonderful message (rock on, you gorgeous mess) that I found so fitting for the end of RD. When I heard the first notes kicked in I ascended. Masterpiece song for a masterpiece show.

#russian doll #russian doll season 2 #nadia vulvokov #russian doll fanfiction #russian doll spoilers

[rviner]

Name: Belinda 'Billie' Whitaker

Age & Birthday: 21 years old, September 10th

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Woman / She/her

Birthplace: Stanford, CA

Time in Hollow Cove: x

Species: Air-Witch, Covenless

Role: tbd

Positive personality traits: Self-Sufficient, Driven, Opportunistic

Negative personality traits: Evasive, Defiant, Mischievous

ABOUT

Jacqueline and Michael Whitaker were overjoyed to become parents after years of trying to conceive. Even treatments never allowed them to grow into a family. It was the Sinclair's that gave them the wonderful gift of a baby girl. Nameless, save from the last name which was quickly erased away and replaced with Whitaker along with the true story of how she ended up in an adoption agency in the first place. Even Jacqueline and Michael didn't know the truth or who the girl biologically belonged to, swiftly naming her Belinda and raising her as their own in the suburbs of New York.

Scattered through their colonial home were pictures of Belinda's happy childhood. Family vacations, the day Michael built a tree house in their backyard, birthday parties with smiles full of cake crumbs. An all round American family if there ever was one, but slowly, under the surface Belinda could feel a gnawing. Something that persisted as she grew older, a sense of not quite fitting into the Church Sundays or the bake sales. Gradually a defiance crept in, Billie as she insisted on being called grappled with teenage rebellion. But the adopted dark eye shadows and annoyingly loud music were a front for the real discovery she had made by accident about herself.

It had been windy in the backyard that day, she was sure of it but then just like that as if a swish of her wrist controlled the sweeping piles of leaves it all stopped into silence. Secretly and to herself, Billie spent the passing months trying to discover if it was just a fluke but she quickly learned it was not. It was as if she could control the very air around her. She never uttered a word of this discovery to her parents, instead becoming isolated from the two people who loved her dearly.

She was fifteen when her parents revealed about her adoption, assuming she must have stumbled upon the papers and was the reason for her change in attitude. Truthfully it broke her, but also answered more questions than Michael and Jacqueline even realized. Arguments ensued where Billie didn't believe that her parents knew nothing else, that it was a sealed shut adoption. And so, she left, disappearing completely without a word.

Billie had never lived life on the streets before, nor was she well equipped for it. She had no choice but to become a ghost in New York City while embarking on the seemingly impossible task of finding her biological family. The Whitaker's pulled out all the stops with a missing case, Billie altering her physical appearance as much as possible and finally leaving New York altogether. Life alone hardened Billie quickly, plenty of life lessons hitting her square in the face physically and figuratively and teaching her how to be evasive, avoidant and self-reliant.

In the end, searching for her biological family became less and less important in comparison to survival along with trying to learn the apparent powers she seemed to possess. Eventually, Billie became nothing more than a transient person, hopping couch to couch, jumping through states and friendship groups. She wasn't far off Colorado when the war began, and she had been a little too loud-mouthed with the humans she was staying with- showing off her airy skills when they were drunk. At first, they stowed her away and vowed to keep her safe and they did. Staying true to their word until 2022 when the crackdown against Supernaturals became too dangerous even for them.

Billie doesn't think she's mad at them for betraying her, but she wishes they didn't knock her out before passing her over to the military where she has been ever since. Passed between camps for several months, Billie now finds herself in a facility which is more brutal than even a homeless New Yorker screaming in her face for sitting on their cardboard bed. But Billie has somewhat accepted her fate and the fact this weird lady Doctor won't fucking leave her alone for some reason.

#intro.billie