#cakedivision

[scribbledbyhand]

Do you remember the Cake Division???

😋🤤

[scribbledbyhand]

A little Cake Division bedtime story and Kitson fluff

Women - The most insufferable things in the world are women! Why can’t they just do what’s demanded? Why all these endless explanations and discussions? What’s so damn difficult in posing nude, lost in heavy kisses, deeply entangled with each other that you can’t see where one begins and the other one ends, only legs, arms, tits, butts and hair, floods of hair? Hum? Captain Jackson shook his head. He eyed sceptical the marzipan sculpture in front of him and compared it with the sketches in his sketchbook. No! That doesn't look like ‘Sappho with her Muse’, more like a weird cross between an octopus and a garden plant. Jackson groaned annoyed. However, it was difficult to make one artwork off of two separate sketches. It would have been much easier if… but neither his on-off wife nor his on-off mistress were in the mood to inspire him with some same sex fiddling only that he could create a delicious cake for the profitable ‘WoLoWo* Society' order. The Captain's fists hit the soft mass and smashed it. He decided to try it later again. Now, he thought, it was better to take care of the filling. It had to be done too and it needed some time of cooling anyway, before he could construct the whole sweet with the tasty sponge layers that Drake had already prepared. Jackson collected sugar, spices and almonds, then, he walked in the cooling room to fetch the rest, berries and cream. Inside the room, he realised immediately the fallen over pot of cream. The white thick liquid was running down the shelf and built a lake on the floor. “Damn it, Reid, take milk for your tea…” He hadn't finished this sentence when he saw the spots around the cream lake. On closer inspection, Jackson noticed that the spots formed a line, a trace of somebody with very small feet that ended at a stack of boxes. The Captain couldn’t see anything, so he stretched his hand behind the stack. First he heard a weak but very annoyed hiss, then, he felt a pain in his hand. Jackson snapped and when he pulled his hand back, he found a fluffy piece of black fur in it. Jackson grinned. The trapped kitten in his hand fought with all its power, but was too weak to stand it for long, especially after Jackson had started to stroke it tenderly. After a while, the young tomcat purred satisfied and snuggled himself in Jackson’s arm. “Ah! You like that”, said Jackson, “me too, but sadly I’ve to work and my girls are angry with me.” The kitten mewed. “I see you understand me.” Captain Jackson went back to his work place, sat the baby animal down next to the destroyed figure and said to his new fellow who sniffed curiously at the stuff on the table “it’s your fault that I can’t make the filling now and must go back to this stupid mess, so you must help me. If this attempt fails again, then your cuteness must melt the ladies hearts that I’ll get my lesbian sculpture model. … And if this plan does not work, then, fuck it! I don’t need a woman when I have a cat?” --- *Women love Women

----

Inspired by the kitten drawings by @heymoon9 and the Cake Division recipes book cover by @soot-and-snide

[scribbledbyhand]

WE MUST CELEBRATE THIS!

[scribbledbyhand]

Cake Division at BOFTY* award

Finally, I did it, we have a Cake Division story ...

That was the most important day of the year. In preparation of this, Edmund Reid had pushed his men up to their limits until the very last minute. Today, all the deprivations and suffered pain should be paid off.

Reid pursed his lips. A last checking glance in the mirror, a last correction of his bowler hat and he was ready to face the world.

He left the house and walked straight through the streets of Whitechapel.

When he arrived, his men welcomed him forming a guard of honour.

The senior staff, Bennet Drake – master of smooth dough and hot ovens – and Captain Homer Jackson – creative genius of sugar and chocolate with propensity to erotic artworks - , escorted to the left and to the right little Samuel Drummond - secretary and general dog's boy of the bakery - who carried the silver tray with the special creation, of course,  securely covered.

Reid nodded towards his men as sign to follow him and the odd group marched in single file to the location of the day.

‘Mimi’s Café’ was crowded with people who didn’t want to miss the extraordinary spectacle – the annual BOFTY* award on ‘Biscuit Day’.

Hermione Morton, who fed the masses of onlookers, called it ‘Money Day’ as well as her cooperation partner Susan Hart of ‘Susie’s Blooms’, who provided the needed flower arrangements for the room decoration and the bouquets for the winner.

The assessment of the competing sweets was already in motion, but the Cake Division arrived just in time to submit their crispy dream too.

On the whole, the jury didn’t take long to find out the favourites and at the end, there were two possible winners left.

‘One of the audience will make the final decision’ said the head of the jury.

After he had looked around a bit, he noticed a blond lad who watched the scenery with big eyes. The judge pointed to him.

‘Young man, I’m sure you like biscuits. Would you like to help us?’

The boy went confidently to the judge’s table, took one nominee of each plate and bit into the first – the Cake Division’s caramel-rum-raisins composition.

Certain of victory, Reid grinned brightly.

Jackson shook his head.

‘We're behind the eight ball!’ he murmured to his boss ‘the last thing my boy likes to eat is something with drunken wrinkled pensioners grapes inside.’

* ’Biscuit of the Year’