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chubbology · 3 years

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Getting Big

prompt: someone discovering they're a feeder as their feedee partner gets bigger

Sometimes you’re both in bed, distracted and ignoring each other on your phones or laptops, when you notice. Your eyes lift from your phone and notice your partner’s relaxed belly, rising and lowering with calm breath, stretching the fabric of their shirt. Really stretching it now, not just with every inhale, but by default. Not just pushing the seams a little with chubbier hips, but forcing the cotton to bow out close to its limit, forcing the stitching to cave into a belly button deeper and softer-looking than you remember. And your eyes inevitably take in the rest: thicker thighs, more shapely chest, less defined arms, softer jawline.

You’re aware that your partner’s gained a little weight. More than a little, but it’s fine. Probably thirty or so pounds, not a big deal, and you absolutely don’t judge them for it. Have they mentioned it at all? No, they just keep tugging at their shirts and pants. And underwear. Their underwear is getting too small for them, with weight gain making them a bit of a pear and all, but you don’t say anything. You don’t say they need bigger underwear. You don’t tell them how much you appreciate the fact that they need it. As long as they stay mum on the subject of their weight and the fit of their clothes, so will you; that’s your rule.

Sometimes you’re both in bed, watching TV, and they’re eating their way to the bottom of a quart of appallingly flavored ice cream (super-caramel-quadruple chocolate-chunk type stuff), and you keep sneaking glances. Because you’re amazed they’re comfortable enough around you to eat freely like this—or so you tell yourself. Their eyes are so glazed with distracted pleasure that maybe it didn’t even occur to them not to gorge themselves tonight, right in front of you.

Not gorging themselves like some kind of pig—no, it’s just, you both ordered a lot of takeout just a couple hours ago, and then they snacked on chips for a while, and then there was that candy bar they ate on a whim while you took out the trash, and now it’s a whole quart of ice cream. A whole quart. The more glances you sneak at them, the more you notice how their budding second chin peeks out when they chew. The more you notice that their bites seem hasty, as if tinged by some kind of distant, unconscious desperation.

You lean against them as if too tired to stay upright, reaching over them casually, letting one arm rest against their belly. It’s soft. It’s bigger. Not a big deal at all, you tell yourself for the millionth time.

And yet, you ponder their weight more. You’ve been pondering it incessantly. You can’t stop thinking about how they went to the mall two weeks ago without telling you, bought clothes a size up, and already were uncomfortably tugging and pulling on on every tight band and seam again. You can’t stop your thoughts from wandering to the idea of them sizing up again any more than your partner can stop their hands from opening another package of cookies.

“Ugh, this stuff is so good,” they mutter, swallowing the last bite, then closing the lid on the carton and setting it aside.

“Mm. I’ll buy more then,” you say without thinking. It’s fine if they size up again, after all. You’ll love them no matter their body type. Their happiness comes first. “I’m going to the grocery store anyway.”

A couple months later, going to the grocery store is not a chore to you, but a fun outing. You never used to even go down the junk food isles if you were by yourself, but now you scour them carefully. You place things in the cart you know your partner will like, and consider new brands and products they might like to try. It’s all so colorful and thrilling to actually buy. You tell yourself you might even try some of it and ignore the intrusive thought of your partner sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night again to binge on half the goodies themselves.

What niggles at you isn’t that you’re buying way too much junk food for your partner, who’s a little overweight now. It’s not as if they’ve told you to stop, or have implied they want to lose weight, or have said anything about any of it at all. That’s the thing: you’re in uncharted waters, and they haven’t told you a word about whether they fine with the way the tide was turning or whether they were actually really concerned that they were getting heavy and a little jiggly and they didn’t know what to do about it, let alone have the wherewithal to say, Honey, stop buying junk food. I’m getting fat.

Just the thought of the word makes you blush at the box of Fudge Covered Twinkies you’re holding. You quickly set them back on the shelf. Twinkies were practically the poster food for getting fat, right? Surely, your partner would suspect something, even though there wasn’t anything to suspect. You just know that they like food, particularly food that’s soft and sugary and addictive, and what better, cheaper food to comfort them with than Twinkies? No, it wouldn’t be good for their waistline, but you can already see their eyes fluttering closed at the taste—which was probably not even good, but that was hardly the point, was it?

Compromising, you buy a limited edition blue-stuffed brand of Twinkies instead, preparing an excuse that you thought the novelty of it was amusing and wondered if it was good.

But later that night, your partner eats six of them while you play video games and doesn’t mention the novelty of it at all. Your character dies stupidly and your partner laughs at you, belly jiggling as they do. You swallow, eyes fixating on their fat thighs. There’s no other word for them—they’re fat. Their thighs have gotten fat, just like their belly got fat, just like their hips and chest and arms and even their neck and face has been rounding out with so much chub. They were fat and they did eat like a pig, and all signs pointed to more weight gain. They were going to keep gaining weight, and when was it going to stop? When you finally decided enough was enough? When their doctor told them to take control? Yeah, so, you could imagine them awkwardly saying, coming home from the doctor, I guess I gotta lose weight. Maybe they would be holding a pamphlet on obesity or something, looking ashamed.

And maybe they would try at first. You would help. They’d exercise a little here and there, maybe only eat one Twinkie instead of six, maybe not ask for takeout so often. But it wouldn’t last. The second their will broke, yours would too. And you’d both be in bed, distracted by nothing but endless waves of pleasure that your sex life hadn’t known in a while, them leaning back against the headboard, eating every fattening thing you had to offer, which would be many, many, as many fattening things as they’d agree to swallow down like they glutton they were becoming.

“Babe?”

You blink.

“You okay?” they say with that chubby face of theirs, a face that said, I’ve been gaining so much weight, and you’re really aroused.

“I’m glad you like those,” you stutter. You look at the Twinkies box, and so do they. Your mouth keeps moving without forethought. “I’ll buy you more next time. Any other flavors you like?” You set down your controller and push your hand into their hair affectionately. Since they’re slouched, they look up at you, and you lower your hand to the back of their neck, touching the bulge of the fat there. “Want me to get you your favorite ice cream? I know you had a long day at work.” You stand and head for the kitchen, ignoring your partner’s confused ums and wells.

You open the freezer and get one of many ice cream quarts. Thanks to you, the fridge and freezer have been stuffed to the gills with crap, but you can’t regret it, not when it makes your partner look perpetually stuffed to the gills too. You get a spoon and sit down next to them again, brain fuzzy with want. “You’ll feel better when you finish this. By the time you do, I’ll finally finish this damn level.”

“I’m—I’m not…” But the look in their eyes is conflicted. “I’m not that hungry, really.”

You laugh. Your body is buzzing. “Please. With you, when you eat and when you’re hungry are completely unrelated. Let’s make it a competition! Finish before I do. Go!”

“What?”

You’re already starting the level over, thinking to yourself What the hell? Don’t make them eat if they don’t want to. Even if they do want to, even when they’re full, because they’re greedy and addicted, gonna get obese soon—

A minute passes, and they’re sitting up, belly folded in rolls on their lap, looking poised to either stand up and put the ice cream away or rip the lid off and devour it all.

“Eat it,” you say innocently, or try to. It mostly comes out like a pathetic attempt at sounding not-horny.

You glance over, and they still look conflicted, so you lean over and kiss them on their tubby cheek. “Go ahead,” you say, quieter. You meet their eyes. “Don’t you want to?”

They look taken aback now, flushed. All at once, they seem aware of their blubbery, overweight body, and they shift on the couch. You forget the game and lean in again, kissing them on the lips, then deeper as they lean into you. “I know you want to,” you whisper. You cup their fattened hip, squeeze it gently. “I bet you really want to.”

They’re blushing really hard now, gone shy and speechless. So you move closer to them, and since their head is lowered to avoid your eyes, you land a sweet peck on their bulging second chin. Then you peel off the lid of the carton, tear the plastic off, and push the spoon satisfyingly into the over-processed sugar that has been fattening your partner out of their clothes so well.

Despite their air of reluctance, they eat the spoonful you offer as if on instinct. They squirm with pleasure, and your breath hitches when their plump hand twitches out to take the spoon away from you when you don’t use it quick enough. You scoop them another bite. Then another. The room is quiet except for the game in the background and your rapidly beating heart. Their eyelids lower, and you murmur encouraging words to them. That’s it. It’s good, huh? Big bite... The experience seems no less momentous to them than to you, and so you keep going. Their eyes drift shut and so you guide their mouth to open at the right times. Eventually, your cooing gets bolder.

“I know how much you like this. Like eating. Eating a little too much.”

Their mouth pauses around the spoon, but their eyes don’t open. They swallow and wait for the next bite.

“And I know you get up in the middle of the night sometimes, just to eat,” you say. “Eat and eat until your clothes feel tight and your stomach’s queasy, right? You always come back to bed so uncomfortable, tossing and turning, panting a little. Holding back little burps. I wake up and all the junk food I bought is gone.”

Your partner leans into to your next spoonful, then takes it from you. Without meeting your eyes, they start eating from the tub themselves, at twice your pace. You smooth your fingers through their hair. Then rub a hand down their arm, which was now sausage-like with so much fat clinging to it. But it’s squishy, when you pinch it. No firmness anywhere you can see.

“I’m sure you know you’re getting big, baby. You’re getting big. But that’s okay.” You rub your hands over their belly, their hips, their rolls of back fat. “You just keep eating as much as you like.”

And after another pause, they nod.

#weight gain #fic #askbox prompts #genderless #reader feeder #nonbinary gainer

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bethpeaches123 · 4 years

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Oh, it’s you.

So I had an idea rolling around in my brain for a little while, and then a real-life situation presented itself that was eerily similar to this, and instead of acting on it in real life, I’m acting on it in fanfiction form. Because it’s less risky, ha. Here’s some enemies to friends to luvers. I’ve also posted it on AO3 for your reading pleasure. :) Enjoy! I would love some feedback too!

“Thanks,” said Katniss Everdeen briskly to the Uber driver in the front seat of the red Corolla. He grunted his acknowledgement in response as her hand grasped the door handle and pushed the rear passenger-side door open, swinging her slender legs out onto the sidewalk. She leaned back into the car and grabbed the bottle of wine off the seat, then ducked out and straightened up, slamming the car door closed as it drove off.

Turning to face the towering brick townhouse belonging to her cousin Gale and her childhood best friend Madge, Katniss squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

“You don’t have to stay all night. Just a couple of hours,” she muttered to herself. “That’s like…four half-hours. Or...six twenty-minute periods…or 12 ten-minute chunks…or…anyway, whatever. Just do it. It’s Madge’s birthday, she wants you to be here, just suck it up.”

The night wind suddenly swelled, a gust whooshing past her, stirring up a pile of dead brown leaves around her feet that had fallen from the maple tree on their tiny front lawn. She realized with a start that she probably looks a little crazy to any onlookers, standing on the sidewalk in front of a picturesque townhouse after dark, staring up at it and muttering irritatedly to herself.

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’ve gotta get out more, you’re losing it being alone in that apartment all the time,” she muttered again, before stopping and shaking her head. You’re doing it again; quit talking to yourself already and just go inside, she thought.

She adjusted the crossbody strap of her clutch (the bright gold colour was out of character for her, but it was a gift from her sister and the nicest purse she owned) and curled the loose strands of dark chocolate hair that had slipped free from her side braid behind her ears. Smoothing her forest green shirt dress down over her slim frame, she tweaked the braided brown leather belt around her waist and absently brushed a piece of lint from the right thigh of her black tights, glancing down at her camel-coloured heeled booties.

She wasn’t entirely sure of the dress code of the evening, but at twenty-five, they were still at that age of being grownups, but not totally grownups, if that made sense; they were old enough to legally drink the copious amounts of liquor they downed at one of Gale and Madge’s house parties, but they were still young enough to thankfully not feel the full force of a crippling hangover the next day.

Hopefully this looks okay, she thought. Who are you trying to impress anyway? Stop. Stalling, she grumbled internally.

Irritated was her mood of the night and the night was only just beginning.

Clutching the bottle of wine with the golden bow on the neck, she pulled open the wrought-iron gate and proceeded up the short staircase to the house.

Leaning over and pressing the doorbell off to the right of the heavy black door, she glanced up at the night sky over her left shoulder and her eyes flickered to the wind blowing in the trees again. It was a warm night for the end of October – so warm she’d left her jacket at home and opted for just the long-sleeved dress. It wasn’t like she was walking anywhere. She’d take an Uber home later.

Katniss could hear the sounds of an upbeat indie tune floating through the open living room bay window off to the left. Her eyes flicked back to the front just in time to hear a voice on the other side of the door, where it swung open to reveal the guest of honour for the evening.

“Katniss! Hey! God, I’m so glad you’re here – Gale was wondering when you were going to show. Now maybe he’ll finally shut up,” said Madge, her smile spreading across her face and reaching her arms out to hug her best friend.

“Sorry I’m late,” said Katniss sheepishly, squeezing her back. “Carl the Uber driver wasn’t as prompt as the app said he’d be. He won’t be getting five stars from me tonight.”

Madge’s grin grew. “No matter – you’re here now, that’s what counts,” replied the pretty blonde. Her eyes softened as she looked at her old friend, hesitating. “How are you doing? How’s…everything? After…everything last week?”

“I’m okay. Really. It’s getting better every day.” Katniss said, quietly. She really didn’t want to go into details right here, right now. Or ever. The evening was supposed to be a happy occasion, for Madge. Katniss didn’t want to get into the depressing details of the collapse of her relationship with her long-time boyfriend Darius a few weeks before and the messy division of their things when he moved out of their shared apartment.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that...listen, I know it’s not the time or place, so I won’t pry, but please, let’s go for coffee again this week. You can bitch all you want about how much of a douchebag he is, and I’ll happily reassure you how you’re so much better without him,” said the birthday girl wryly.

“Deal,” replied Katniss, a small smile on her lips. “Here – this is for you,” holding up the bottle of Nova 7 that she knew Madge loved. “I know technically I should’ve gotten you champagne for your champagne birthday, but I thought you’d like this more.”

“Oh my God you’re my favourite person, you know that, right?” squealed Madge. “I mean, besides Gale, but whatever – where did you get this?! I’ve been trying all the liquor stores around town and they said they haven’t gotten a shipment in ages!”

“I had it specially ordered from their website! I’m glad you’re happy – I love you, but I’m never going through that hassle again. Customs are a bitch,” grimaced Katniss. Getting the white wine shipped from Canada seemed a bit much, but 25 was a big birthday and Madge had been Katniss’s best friend ever since they’d been paired together in Mr. Heffernan’s English Lit class in sixth grade. She deserved to be on the receiving end of a splurge.

“Well, you and I are going to drink this together tonight – no one else gets a drop,” beamed Madge. “Come on, I’ll stick it in the back of the fridge so no one can get at it before we do.”

She stepped over the threshold into the front porch and started to toe off her booties when Madge glanced down and stopped her. “No, no, leave them on, they’re part of your whole outfit. You look really good tonight, by the way,” she said, appraisingly. “I mean, not that you don’t usually, but, y’know, dresses are kinda rare for you. I’m babbling. Ignore me. It’s the wine. Come get a glass or three and start drinking with me please,” pleaded Madge as she turned back towards the kitchen down the hall and spotted her new husband. “Gale! Gale, Katniss is here! Get her a glass of Riesling, ASAP!”

“Hey Catnip! Good to see you – finally,” smirked Gale as he strode down the front hall towards them, but Katniss could see gentle concern in his eyes. He didn’t think you’d show, she thought to herself. She mentally huffed at her cousin.

“Obviously I’m here, it’s not like I’d miss my best friend’s birthday,” she said, somewhat shortly.

“Oh – of course not, I know that, I j-just...anyway, I’m glad you’re here. There’s a taco dip with your name on it so I hope you came hungry,” her older cousin stammered, glancing at his wife for reinforcement.

Both he and Madge seemed a little on edge at her presence, like they were afraid anything they’d say would set her off in some way. She knew they were only worried about her since the breakup, but it still irritated her to think that their shared glances probably meant they’d been talking about her before she’d shown up. Katniss hated being the centre of anyone’s attention or gossip.

It’s not gossip; they’re concerned about you because they love you, Prim’s voice popped in her head. Her younger sister was always her voice of reason and regularly called her out when she got in her own head and complained about people being interested in her personal life. With Prim on the other side of the country in medical school at Stanford though, she wasn’t here in person to call her out. But Katniss knew her as well as she knew herself, and knew it was exactly what Prim would say in this situation.

Steeling herself and wiping the scowl off her face, Katniss offered Gale a small, embarrassed smile and said, “I was really hoping you’d make your famous taco dip. I skipped dinner specifically for it.”

A flicker of relief passed over his face and Gale turned and gestured for her to follow him towards the dining room down the hall as Madge returned to the living room filled with guests. “I even covered it in extra shredded old cheddar, your favourite,” he grinned.

“Mmmm, hell yes. Where are the chips? I’m digging in right away,” she said eagerly, following behind him.

As they bypassed the living room and entered the dining room, she glanced back towards the front of the house and scanned the crowd. There was already a decent number of people here, some faces she recognized like old college pals Rue, Thom and Thresh, but others she’d never seen before. Gale’s work friends, probably, she thought absently.

“Is Joanna coming?” Katniss asked, turning her attention back towards the spread of food. “I haven’t talked to her all week. I meant to text her earlier, but I forgot.”

“Yep, she said she’s coming by once she’s finished at the office. Some big case she’s working on or something,” Gale replied. “Let me get you that Riesling, I’ll be right back,” as he turned towards the kitchen, leaving her to focus on the food. Grabbing a plate from the stack off to the left, she started piling taco dip onto it, her mouth watering in anticipation.

“Yeesh, Everdeen – leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you?” drawled a familiar voice.

Oh no. Not him, she groaned inwardly, the flush of annoyance rising up her neck and spreading across her face. She stiffened as she heard him chuckle softly and reluctantly turned to face the speaker.

“Oh, it’s you. Hello Peeta,” she said politely. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Why? Obviously I’d come to celebrate Madge. Besides, would you have stayed home and not graced us with your presence had you’d known?” Peeta smirked.

“Hmm, something like that,” she replied, pursing her lips before continuing reluctantly. “How are you? How are Delly and Connor? He must be, what, three now?” enquiring after his wife and son.

“…Yeah, he’s three now. Three and a half, actually, as he’ll tell you. Time flies when you’re having fun,” Peeta replied grimly, averting his eyes from her face. Confused at his response, Katniss was saved from having to reply by Gale appearing to their sides with her glass of wine.

“One Riesling for the lady. Hey Peeta, what can I get you? Beer? Liquor? Something to wipe that sour expression off your face?” asked Gale, wryly.

“Beer is fine, thanks Gale,” the wavy-haired blond replied. “I have to have something that’ll help wash down this taco dip, if Katniss doesn’t eat it all first.”

Katniss scowled at him. “Chill out, Mellark, there’s plenty there. I barely took any,” she retorted. Grabbing her plate and piling on a handful of nacho chips quickly, she turned and carried the plate and her glass of wine away from the irritating man before he could respond. Fuck, he’s such a dick, she stewed. Why does he have to be related to Madge?

Peeta Mellark and Madge Undersee-Hawthorne were indeed cousins, but he was also a former classmate of theirs from junior high and high school. It wasn’t like he and Katniss were friends though – they couldn’t have been further from that. Complete opposites throughout their early days, Peeta was a popular jock who seemed to get along with everyone. Everyone except quiet, kept-to-herself Katniss.

She had no idea why he never warmed to her – she’d sometimes catch him staring at her across the classroom or in the hallways, but he rarely spoke to her throughout their academic careers. She’d usually shoot him a puzzled look in return, because that’s exactly what he did to her – puzzled her.

Stupid Peeta Mellark. Why did he have to be here? And where was his wife, Delly? Katniss hadn’t laid eyes on the blonde bitch yet, but she was sure she’d know when she entered the room because the temperature would probably drop to below freezing, just like Delly’s chilly demeanour.

Katniss was never friends with Peeta, but she never understood what he saw in Delly. What was the title of that book she’d seen in Barnes & Noble one time? Why Men Marry Bitches? Maybe someone should’ve picked up a copy for Peeta Mellark because he could use some psychoanalysis as to why he married someone so horrible. Though, considering what she’d heard about the elder Mrs. Mellark while in school, maybe someone should pick up a book called Why Men Marry Their Mothers for him instead.

She moved through the crowd towards Rue and Thresh, when a flash of short brown hair caught her eye in the main hallway. “Jo! In here!” she waved to the petite brunette in a black pencil skirt and crisp white collared shirt. Johanna was her and Madge’s former college roommate-turned-other-best-friend who was currently kicking ass working at the hottest law firm in the city. She was fresh out of law school and had to article for a year before she could pass the bar and be a full lawyer, but the partners at her firm were already so impressed by her drive and her no-holds-barred attitude, they’d already offered her a position once she’d passed the bar in a few months’ time.

“Hey Kitty-cat, how goes it?” said Johanna, snaking her arm around Katniss’ shoulders in a side hug. “Ooh, gimmie that, I earned a big drink after the freakin’ day I’ve had,” pulling the glass of wine from her friend’s hand and taking a big gulp, then grimacing. “Ugh, never mind, I forgot you like girly drinks. I need something harder tonight.”

“Wine is sophisticated, thank you very much. Rough day?” Katniss asked sympathetically, taking the glass back and swallowing a mouthful of the cold, sweet liquid.

“Fuck me, it was brutal. This lawsuit is gonna be the death of me and I’m not even a lawyer yet,” Johanna groaned. “If I have to read through one more brief, I’m gonna stab my eyeballs out and shove them down the managing partner’s throat.”

“Graphic, but okay, sure,” winced Katniss. Jo was never one to hold back with her…colourful language. “Here comes Gale – give him your drink order, he’ll get you sorted.”

“Hey Jo, want a whiskey?” asked Gale as he approached, sizing up the brunette’s irritated expression.

“You read my mind, Hawthorne. Make it a triple? Or will we all judge me?” Jo drawled, glancing at her friends.

“Nah, the night is young. We’re celebrating!” Gale grinned. “ice, right?”

“Yep, thanks. So, Kitty, how are you? Finally feeling free of that douche canoe, Darius? Jesus, I’m so glad that’s finally over. You were way too good for him.”

“I can always count on you to not mince words. Jesus,” Katniss shot back. She knew Johanna hadn’t been Darius’s biggest fan, but now that they were broken up, she didn’t hold back on voicing her dislike of him.

“Well, at least you didn’t marry him. Divorces are messy. Though, you would’ve had me as your lawyer and I would’ve milked that fucker for everything he had, so maybe it’s a bit of a loss. I would’ve enjoyed that,” smirked Jo.

“God, you’re unbelievable,” sighed Katniss, but she said it with a small smile. Even though her bark was bad, Jo’s bite wasn’t. Katniss knew it was her friend’s way of showing concern and care for her.

“Whatever, you know you love me. Hey, is that Peeta? I saw his bitchy wife when I came in but didn’t see him,” Johanna said, gazing towards the dining room.

“Ugh, yes. What a tool. I was barely in the room when he started harassing me about taking too much taco dip. I’m pretty sure every one of our friends knows that taco dip was made with me in mind – Gale knows it’s my favourite.” Katniss grumbled.

“Well, maybe he needs a reminder. You can tell him yourself, because he’s headed this way.”

“Ugh, fuck me.” Katniss groaned, her eyes rolling back into her head.

“Sorry Everdeen, I’m a married man,” smirked Peeta, coming up behind her, a bottle of Stella Artois in his grasp.

Katniss flushed at his response, while Johanna smiled blandly at the young man. “I wonder for how much longer,” she muttered under her breath so that only Katniss could hear. Katniss’s brow furrowed at the comment, but brushed it off. Odd.

“Ah, Peeta. Everyone’s favourite prick,” smirked Johanna as she raised her voice, her eyes flicking between Katniss and the tall, brawny blond.

Katniss snorted. “What a lovely description, Jo. Very flattering.”

Peeta shot Katniss an irritated look before turning back to Johanna. “Nice to see you too, Jo. How’s life at your hot shot firm? Madge tells me your bosses love you.”

“Yeah, I think it’s more so that they’re afraid of me. Which I’m fine with. Men need intimidation a lot more than they realize.” Johanna replied, smugly.

“Well, you’ve got that covered then,” Katniss piped up.

“Speaking of intimidating women, Mellark, where’s your wife? Still got your balls in a vise or what?”

“Jo! Jesus.” Katniss blurted, her eyes wide and flickering to Peeta to gage his reaction. She didn’t like Peeta, but she also didn’t like awkward conversations about people’s relationships. Or any kind of conversation about relationships.

Peeta stiffened slightly at Joanna’s remark and drew his mouth in a thin line. “She’s over there talking to some co-worker of Gale’s. She’s fine.”

“Really? That’s not what Madge sa-,”

“Jo, I think Gale is waving at you – he’s got your whiskey,” Katniss interrupted. If there was one thing that could shut Johanna up, it was the promise of liquor.

“Finally, be right back,” Johanna threw over her shoulder as she strode towards Gale in the dining room.

Peeta glanced at Katniss, a slight frown on his face, which she ignored. She was eager to move away from the subject of his wife. “How’s Connor? How old did you say he was again?” she asked, nervously. She realized too late that by drawing Johanna’s attention to Gale and her drink, she was leaving herself alone with the person she despised the most at the party. Great. Just when I thought I’d escaped him, I land myself in another conversation with him. Good one, Everdeen.

“…Um…he’s three and a half…what was Johanna talking about? What did Madge say about Delly?”

Katniss pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it, stalling. “Oh, nothing. She just…she said Delly seemed a little off lately, that’s all. I think she was concerned.”

Peeta snorted. “Concerned. Sure she was. You’re a terrible liar, Everdeen,” he said, bitterly.

Katniss glanced at him again, thinking awkwardly about the conversation she’d had with Madge the week before. Madge had made a passing comment to her and Jo about Delly being bitchier than usual and said Peeta seemed withdrawn and moody. It wasn’t really Delly she was concerned about; it was her cousin. Peeta wasn’t a bitter person. But ever since he and Delly married a few months before Connor’s birth, almost four years ago, they’d all seen a shift in him. He was friendly to everyone (except Katniss, of course) but there was an edge to him that hadn’t been there before. It seemed to be getting more and more pronounced as time went on.

Why do you care if he’s out of sorts? She didn’t, really. She was just curious. Even though he wasn’t nice to her, he was generally nice to everyone else, so to see him so bitter confused Katniss. Not that she cared, though. Because she didn’t. Really.

“Yeah, well, ask her yourself then. Excuse me, I need a refill.” Katniss said shortly, turning and leaving him alone for the second time that night.

_________________________________

The night wore on, with Katniss managing to avoid Peeta for the most part, sticking to chatting with Johanna or Madge or one of their other college friends. When she noticed Madge’s wine glass empty at the same time as hers as they were both pleasantly buzzed, she said, smiling, “what do you think, Mrs. Hawthorne? Time to crack open the Nova?”

“Excellent idea, Ms. Everdeen. Would you do the honours?” beamed Madge, her eyes a little glassy by now. The two of them made their way to the kitchen, where a few other people were already gathered, chatting. Katniss pulled open the refrigerator door and poked her head in, searching for the bottle of imported wine, but didn’t see it.

“Where’d you put it, Madge? Did you forget to put it in?” she asked.

“No, it’s in there, I swear – you know I love it super cold.” Madge replied breezily.

“What are you looking for?” asked another voice.

“A bottle of wine I brought for Madge– ” started Katniss, turning around and stopping, her eyes on Peeta Mellark.

And the bottle of Nova 7.

The empty bottle of Nova 7.

“…what the fuck. Are you KIDDING me right now? Did you open and DRINK that?!” Katniss screeched. “Are you actually kidding me?? Fuck you, Mellark!! Do you know what I went through to get that for her?!” She could feel hot tears forming in her eyes, catching her off guard.

Peeta had started to smirk, but when he saw her face, he faltered and his mouth dropped open slightly. “I didn’t–I thought–Gale said there was white wine in–we didn’t–” he stammered, his eyes darting to his wife’s, then back to Katniss's. Katniss hadn’t noticed Delly off to the side, her hand clutching an almost empty wine glass.

“What’s the big deal, it’s just a bottle of wine, there’s plenty here,” said the blonde woman testily as she rolled her eyes. “Personally, I never saw the appeal of Canadian wines. There are so many better brands from Australia or Spain. Canada’s not even that foreign; they’re like, right next door.”

Madge groaned and launched into Delly and Peeta, shouting about the importance of the special birthday gift to the oblivious couple. Katniss tuned her out as she could feel the heat rising in her neck up through her face. She was already having a shitty day moping over Darius and didn’t even want to come to the party in the first place; she definitely didn’t want to have to deal with stupid Peeta Mellark and his stupid bitch wife; and the only thing she’d been looking forward to was sharing the bottle with her best friend.

And the two of them had ruined it.

She had to get out of there before the tears spilled over and she embarrassed herself in front of them. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room without a backwards glance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

#katniss everdeen #Peeta Mellark #everlark fanfiction #everlark fanfic #enemies to lovers

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onewfantaesy · 4 years

Text

Monsters in the Dark (Part 2)

(tw: ed)

He starts having dreams that he’s puking. He can feel the bile rising from his stomach, he can feel the gritty vomit getting stuck in his throat and the back of his nose, he can feel the way it makes him choke and squirm and heave. He wakes up shaking and clutching at his neck and gulping for air. Taemin hasn’t eaten anything for two days, but he stumbles to the bathroom immediately, tripping and falling over his own feet to gag over the toilet.

But he makes himself a coffee - black - and makes himself presentable to go to that day’s practice. His hair is combed to perfection and his face is washed and moisturized and his clothes don’t have a single wrinkle. He looks fine. He’s fine.

“Taemin, you’re looking really skinny lately,” someone tells him.

They’re lying, the voice in his head tells him. They just want you to eat and get fatter.

“I’m on a diet,” is all Taemin says in response. The smile on his face is tight, and he hides it behind the rim of his coffee cup. It’s almost empty. He needs more coffee.

Strands of hair come out in clumps when the stylist starts brushing it. She looks concerned. He tries to hide it behind a whine.

“You make me color it too much!” he complains. “Look what it’s doing to my hair!”

She sighs and styles it as best she can, getting him ready as quickly as possible. They’re running late. He sucks down a zero-calorie energy drink while she works on his hair. It makes his heart beat too hard and puts him on the brink of a panic attack for the rest of the day, but at least it keeps him awake.

When his parents come to visit him and see how his fridge is full of nothing but energy drinks, water bottles, kimchi, and low-fat cheese slices, they’re concerned. It’s understandable.

“I just haven’t gone grocery shopping in a while,” he tells his mother.

She comes back the next day with bags and bags of groceries. Puts everything away for him. Fully stocks his fridge and freezer and pantry. He thanks her and let’s her make dinner for him. He convinces himself it’s okay to eat it. He hadn’t eaten in two days, he can eat something his mother cooks for him.

And it’s a good dinner. He loves his mother’s cooking, no one cooks as well as she does, he firmly believes that. They laugh and smile and talk for hours, and even though Taemin tries telling her to sit down and relax afterwards, she insists that she can clean up for him too.

“I’ll wrap this all up for you, make it so all you have to do is take out a container and heat it up and you have a meal ready,” she tells him. She puts servings into individual tupperwares for him. There are six of them, enough to last him the entire rest of the week for dinner.

After she leaves, he cries on his couch and feels his whole body heaving and clutches a pillow to his stomach. He will not throw up, he will not throw up, he will not throw up. He refuses to throw up a meal his mother cooked for him.

But there were so many calories, the voice tells him. It will make you fat.

“Shut up,” he whispers, breathing too quickly into the pillow.

He makes it through two of the containers before the food his mother made for him spoils. Most of the groceries she bought for him rot in the fridge until he has to throw it all out, the stench of moldy food lingering in the kitchen.

But not before he had spent a night sitting on the floor of the kitchen with containers and jugs and boxes scattered around him, devouring everything he could get his hands on. He ate an entire meal of his mother’s all at once, plus extra kimchi and rice and bananas and dry cereal and juice boxes and Oreos and chocopies and hunks of cheese and chocolate bars and frozen waffles and whipped cream straight from the can. Everything and anything. He ends up vomiting all over his kitchen floor, and it’s horrible, he feels horrible. He’s doubled over and on all fours just puking his guts out, unchewed chunks of food he had swallowed whole getting stuck in his throat on the way back up.

Cleaning it up is worse than creating the mess. Almost makes him vomit a second time. He has to take the trash out at three in the morning when he’s done cleaning because the smell was making him sick. He passes a neighbor on the way to the trash shoot, and the older man gives him a funny look. Taemin just ducks his head and shuffles along and tries not to gag as he pushes the trashbag down. It makes him wonder if his neighbors can hear him when he pukes. The walls are thick and he’s never heard them, but what if?

Of course they hear you, the voice tells him. Because you’re a gross pathetic piece of shit.

“They think I’m disgusting,” he whispers to himself as he goes back inside.

His house still smells like vomit and lemon-scented disinfectant. He turns on fans and opens windows and tries going to sleep, but instead he lays in bed all night, staring at the way shadows dance across his bedroom walls.

Disgusting

Pathetic

Loser

Not good enough

Not skinny enough

Too fat

Too ugly

“Please stop,” he begs the shadows, clutching at his pillows. Then he mutters a Hail Mary, the prayer spilling from his lips in a shaking, whispered voice. Maybe it will make the demons in the dark go away. Maybe it will make his mind clear for just one night.

Your thighs are so big

A desperate whine is muffled by the pillow he holds to his face. Please, God, he just wants one night of quiet.

He spends his days off in the practice rooms anyway. He stares at himself in the mirrored walls, stares at the way his oversized clothes swallow him whole, stares at the circles under his eyes that he can’t seem to hide anymore even with the thickest concealers.

All of his shirts are too big. All of his hoodies are too big. All of his pants fall down if he doesn’t have a belt. Even his underwear doesn’t fit right anymore.

Good, the voice says as he stares at way his underwear hangs off his hips, daring Taemin to move the wrong way so they can go spilling to the floor.

He’s standing in a practice room staring at his reflection, his whole body swaying. He’s been practicing since dawn, and it’s almost two in the afternoon.

“No,” he says to his reflection, pointing a finger at the mirror. “We are not doing this again.”

His whole body is threatening to fall over, to collapse.

“We just ate this morning,” he says in a forceful tone. “I fed you! Start acting like it!”

It doesn’t matter that what he ate was a single 35 calorie rice cake with a tablespoon of peanut butter. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t even eaten 150 calories even though he’s been dancing for eight or so hours. He drinks more water instead.

“You can have dinner later,” he tells his reflection after gulping down half a water bottle. “After four o’clock. Not a goddamn second sooner.”

I’m so hungry, the other voice tells him. Just feed me. Just one little thing.

“No,” he whispers in a desperate voice.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s desperately tapping the buttons on a vending machine, his hands shaking. He eats an entire bag of chips in less than a minute, then buys another bag, and then some fruit snacks.

“What’s with all the junk?” An Exo member laughs as he passes by.

Taemin freezes, hating that he’s been caught eating, and he doesn’t even answer, just gathers all his empty wrappers and runs away. He misses the way the Exo member looks so confused, and he doesn’t hear about how he goes and tells the other Exo members about the strange encounter when he gets to his own practice room.

He falls asleep in the dance room, the wrappers and crumbs scattered around him. Jongin comes and finds him, laughs a little bit, and pokes him with a foot. Taemin groans and looks at him through bleary eyes.

“Want me to take you home?”

“No,” Taemin groans, and he flops over on his other side.

“Wanna sleep here tonight?”

Taemin grunts. Jongin laughs again, but he gets on the floor next to him and puts a folded up sweatshirt under both of their heads. Then he slings an arm over Taemin’s hips, hugging him close. Taemin hides his face in Jongin’s chest and does his best not to shake or cry. Jongin will keep the monsters away. He’s good at that. Good at hugging Taemin and making him feel better and just being his best friend.

“It’s like we’re trainees again,” Jongin whispers, laughing.

“I wish we were,” Taemin whispers. Wishes he was younger again. Wishes he was so innocent again. Wishes he could prevent this from ever happening to himself. To go back and slap himself for thinking that skipping meals was a good idea and that he could stop anytime he wanted, because it was a lie, it was all a lie, what was he thinking?

He falls asleep cuddled against Jongin’s chest, only shivering a bit from the cold. Jongin hugs him tighter. It makes Taemin feel better, even if it’s only temporary.

#taemin #shinee #kai #tw ed #monsters in the dark au

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jbbarnesnnoble · 4 years

Text

Something Wicked

Summary: Your hunt for Halloween pajamas is fruitless, until you stumble upon a shop you’ve never seen before.

Features: Fluff; Cameo from a character from an unrelated franchise

Prompt: Halloween PJs

Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes/Reader

Notes: For Day Two of @thefanficfaerie‘s OTP challenge. This has the first of a few planned cameos of characters from other popular series because I cannot help myself. I saw an opportunity and took it.

Word Count: 1273

You smiled as you watched people pass you by. A child holding her mother’s hand as she held an ice cream cone from the ice cream shop nestled between a Journey’s and a Claire’s. Teenagers laughing as they strolled past, spending their afternoon at the mall. You had just sat down with a pretzel from Auntie Anne’s, complete with dipping sauce. You were on a mission. Not a formal mission, but a mission nonetheless.

It was growing colder and you wanted new pajamas for the season. You’d been to J.C. Penney. Went through Macy’s and Boscov’s. You found a few plain pajamas to round out your wardrobe, and some cute tops and new jeans. But you had yet to find exactly what you were looking for.

You sighed as you finished off your pretzel and your drink, ready to toss in the towel, at least where the mall was concerned, and head to a Kohl’s instead, when a little boutique caught your eye. You’d never seen it there before, and it looked like it wasn’t busy at all. The sign read Wicked Comforts and it appeared to be a clothing store. You tossed your trash as you walked toward the store.

Entering the store, you were greeted with a scent that you could only describe as purely autumn. It brought a smile to your face as you found your way to a display of pajamas. There was an array of Avengers themed pajamas, but that wasn’t what you were focused on. No. You’d found a range of pajamas that were up your alley for the Halloween season and it seemed they had your size along with Sam and Bucky’s sizes. You could see it now, cold autumn nights cuddling with them in your new pajamas, cups of Bucky’s famous hot chocolate, extra whipped cream, and maybe a splash of Baileys for good measure. A plate of Sam’s homemade chocolate chip cookies, which were the best you’d ever had. You could see it so clearly.

You headed to the counter, your arms laden with Halloween themed pajamas. You had Nightmare Before Christmas themed pjs, along with some onesies that you were excited to have. There was something so nice and cozy about them. In a pinch, they could be a lazy Halloween costume, but you knew it wasn’t going to come to that, no. You’d been planning your Halloween costumes since June. You also had the typical pajamas with images of cartoon ghosts, Jack O'Lanterns, witches, and bats on them. You had big plans for the night.

On your drive home, you stopped by Ashton’s, a local ice cream shop. You had an order to place for the next week: their pumpkin ice cream that tasted just like pumpkin pie. While you were there, you picked up some ice cream to bring home for Bucky and Sam. Chocolate Chunk for Bucky and the new test flavor for Sam, who always insisted on trying the flavor of the month when the calendar changed and Ashton’s introduced a new flavor into the rotation beyond the seasonal staples. You settled for your favorite flavor, eyeing the flavor of the month suspiciously.

The house was quiet when you walked in, your arms laden with bags from your day out. You were suspicious until you looked in the living room. Bucky and Sam were asleep on the giant sofa the three of you had, with Bucky using Sam’s lap as a pillow. What caught you off guard were the outfits the two had. Bucky wore a pair of pajama pants decorated with wolves howling at the moon, while Sam’s had cartoon bats on them. You knew they had been planning a lazy day but you had no idea they had bought Halloween themed loungewear.

You quietly put the ice cream away before bringing the rest of the bags to your bedroom. Laid out on the bed was a pajama set just for you. The pants had witches on them, with a shirt that said ‘Something wicked this way comes’. They were a mismatched set, but so perfect. You put the bags in the closet before changing. You noticed the slippers too. They had little half moons and stars on them. You slipped them on your feet and headed to check on your boys.

You snapped a photo before heading to start on dinner. You couldn’t bring yourself to wake them up. Whatever they had spent the day doing, they were clearly exhausted.

Bucky was the first to wake up, smelling the food you were making. He got up as gently as he could, as to not wake Sam, before heading into the kitchen. He smiled when he saw you in the pajamas he and Sam had ordered. He knew you probably had a stockpile ready for the three of you, but he and Sam had found some online that they couldn’t help but buy, knowing your love of all things holiday. They had a set stashed away for Christmas. He knew you’d love them, even if they were mismatched.

“Evening doll, how was your day?” Bucky asked, his voice laced with sleep. You smiled at him.

“Good, good. I placed that order at Ashton’s for Wednesday. I swear we’ll be sick of pumpkin spice by the end of it all,” you said with a light laugh.

“You, tired of pumpkin spice? Who are you and what have you done with our girlfriend?” you heard Sam ask before he yawned as he placed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek before doing the same to you as he entered the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

“With how much of it we’ll be consuming? Even I have my limits,” you said. Bucky and Sam shared a look, before choosing not to comment.

“How do you like your new pajamas?” Sam asked.

“They’re comfortable. Thank you,” you said.

“Did you buy those slippers?” Bucky asked. You looked at him in confusion.

“No...I thought you did? They were with the pajamas,” you said, your brow furrowed. The three of you shared a look of alarm. A check of the security system showed nothing. You had no cameras in the bedroom, but all the access points had cameras trained on them.

When you returned to your room, you found a piece of what appeared to be parchment, with the words ‘enjoy your gift - L.L..’ written on it.

“Do we report this or?” Sam asked trailing off.

“It seems safe enough. These are the most comfortable slippers I’ve ever had. I swear it’s like I’m walking on air,” you said. The three of you agreed not to report it, at least not yet. After all, there had to be some kind of reasonable explanation.

“Maybe they fell out of your bag? You said a woman owned the store you were at, maybe she gave you a gift as a first time customer,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, maybe,” you said. The three of you were uneasy, but you knew you were as safe as you could be. A check of the house turned up nothing and Friday hadn’t sensed any presence from another entity at all.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Across town, Luna Lovegood smiled to herself as she closed shop for the day. She really would have to thank Hermione for her help with the enchantments on the shop that allowed muggles and wizardkind alike to find it when they needed it most.

“Oh I do hope she likes my gift,” Luna said as she headed home, a soft smile on her face. If anyone deserved a small comfort, it was an Avenger, she thought to herself.

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breadthingslover · 3 years

Photo

BREAD THINGS BANANA BREAD ₱140 per pcs. Ingredients: 3 overripe/black bananas, fresh or freeze-thawed 1 cup sugar 1/2 cup butter (1 stick) - save wrapper to grease pans 2 eggs 3 Tablespoons milk 2 cups flour 1 teaspoon baking soda 2 Tablespoons each add-in Tools: Kitchen Aid mixer (or a bowl, and electric beaters or a spoon and strong arm) rubber spatula 1 or 2 loaf pans STEP 1: Freezing your ridiculously ripe bananas, preferably in groups of 3, means you're always ready for banana bread. You can thaw the bananas in your bowl on the counter, or microwave them. Don't worry about the pool of liquid they drop - the freeze-thawed bananas will actually taste better than the same bananas that haven't gone through the process. Just remember to peel your bananas before freezing them. STEP 2: Cream the stick of room-temperature butter and 1 cup sugar together with the 3 overripe bananas. I typically dump all three into my Kitchen Aid mixer, hit go, and wander off for a bit. Be sure to scrape the sides at least once, then mix a bit more. STEP 3 and STEP 4: Add in the 2 eggs and 3 Tablespoons milk, and mix until they're thoroughly incorporated. Again, scrape sides as needed between bouts of stirring. Add 2 cups flour and 1 teaspoon baking soda, and stir in gently until mixed. Scrape sides and mix again. The resulting batter will be a thin pudding consistency. STEP 5: If you're going to add nuts, coconut, chocolate chunks/chips, or any other extra bits, now is the time. I generally figure about 2-3 Tablespoons is the right amount to add in. If you're using big chunks of nuts or chocolate chips instead of more finely chopped, make them heaping tablespoons. There's really no way to go wrong - just add things you think taste good with bananas. Some things that go well in banana bread: - dark chocolate - milk chocolate - macadamia nuts - hazelnuts - walnuts - coconut shavings STEP 6: - Grease two loaf pans with the left-over butter wrapper. - Scoop half of batter into each loaf pan, and remove any drips from the edge. You may add any extras before or after filling the pans. Since I tend to leave one plain, I just dump the bits on top of the second pan and mix them in with a fork. It's a bit tidier to add them in earlier, but I'm lazy. You can also make this in muffin pans, or an 8x8 square pan if you prefer. Just adjust the timing a bit, and pay close attention because you'll be using the "cook it till it's done" method. STEP 7: Bake in 350F oven for 50-55 minutes until golden brown on top and a test poke from a toothpick or skewer comes out clean. Let the pans cool slightly, then while still warm (but no longer dangerously hot) use a silicone spatula or other flexible implement to separate the bread from the edge of the pan, and gently turn the loaf out onto a wire rack to cool. STEP 8:

Slice the bread and serve warm or room-temperature. To store, let the loaf come to room temperature then wrap in aluminum foil. I'm particularly fond of toasting the leftover banana bread and smearing it with high-quality butter, honey cream cheese, or Nutella.

Let me know how your banana bread turns out - post a picture in the comments if you can!

#readnow #easy steps #homemade

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starsgivemehp · 4 years

Text

Nibbling

Word Count: 1,301

Summary: Edge only seems to nibble on tiny snack foods, and you're determined to make him eat something else. It helps that you're tipsy.

Characters: Edge, Red, Reader

Warnings: alcohol mention

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24120040

- - - - - - - - - -

Munch munch munch.

Almost every time you saw him, he had a little packet of pretzels, or a sleeve of crackers, or something else crunchy and small. Only little snack foods. You never saw him eat anything else, he only nibbled, like he had nothing else. You supposed he might’ve truly had nothing else before, in his world. He never spoke much of it. You could probably glean more from Red, whom you hung out with at the bar, as he was looser-lipped when getting drunk. But you’d never thought to ask then, when they seemed so unwilling to share information when sober.

(Not that you’d ever seen Edge drink, he avoided the bar like the plague. You knew because you were there more often than you should be.)

“Hey. Heyyy.”

“WHAT IS IT, HUMAN?”

He still liked to call you that, even though you’d told him your name many times. You eventually just got used to it. He was sitting on the other side of the couch, newspaper in hand, and you crawled over to him, wary of tipping off the couch. Your ammo in hand, you unwrapped it a bit and then poked it against his cheek. He flinched like he’d expected a slap, and then gave you the stink eye. You ignored it, continuing to gently poke it against the side of his jaw.

“Eeeat it.”

“WHAT IS IT?”

“Issa chocolate bar!”

“NO THANK YOU.”

“C’mooooooooon! Eeeeaaaat iiiiiiit,” you drawled, deliberately letting your tipsiness become annoying. He huffed and snatched it away from you, then took a big bite as if he was only doing it out of spite. He paused, then chewed it more carefully. You beamed, settling back down.

“Chocolate’s good for you! And it’s tastier than pretzels.”

“...IT IS,” he admitted after a moment, and you mentally cheered. A victory for tipsy ideas! You then hopped up and went into the kitchen. “NOW WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“Making you nachos!”

“I DON’T WANT THEM.”

“Too bad~!” With that you dumped some tortilla chips on a big plate, then absolutely covered them in shredded cheese. A bit of chopped jalapeno, a bit of onion, a bit of ground beef were all tossed into a pan, while the plate of chips and cheese was popped into the microwave. Not ten minutes later, you presented the plate to him with all the fixings you’d provided, grinning wide.

Edge turned back to his newspaper when you returned, pointedly ignoring you. “NO THANK YOU.”

“But, but Edge!” you whined, gripping the plate with both hands, “I made it for you!”

“I DON’T NEED YOUR PITY.”

“It’s not pity! It’s… It’s… I just, you eat pretzels and crackers all the time, do you even know what nachos taste like?”

“WHAT YOU’RE SAYING IS PITYING.”

“Well, so what! I’m just trying to help!”

Oh no. The tears were starting to well up. You hated that you cried so easily like this. It was the downside to only drinking a little, staying at home instead of going out. You sniffled. Edge jolted a little, staring up at you. When you let out a pitiful little sound you hated, he stood and took hold of the other side of the plate.

“OKAY, I’LL EAT IT, ARE YOU HAPPY? YOU DON’T HAVE TO-” He struggled for words. You sniffled again and nodded, trying to put on a smile. You didn’t mean to guilt him. But it seemed to have worked anyway… Oops. You watched him sit back down with a sigh. He looked over the plate, trying to figure out where to approach this mess of cheese and chips and toppings. Finally, he found a chip with a nice clean corner, and tried to pull it free. It broke, only the clean part coming off. With a huff of breath through his nasal cavity, he bit the bullet and pulled on a piece covered with cheese. Slowly, he pulled it away. It seemed a good piece, with a bit of everything on it. He lifted it to his mouth and bit down. His eyes went wide. He coughed a little at the flavor. You rubbed your face.

“Sorry, I should’ve warned you about the jala-”

You broke off as he bit down on the next piece, eagerly starting to dig in. You could only stare in shock as he devoured the food like it was ambrosia of the gods and he’d been starving. Slowly, you smiled, sitting back down on the couch. The satisfying sounds of someone munching down on a treat you’d made them lulled you into sleep.

You woke up in the morning with a blanket tucked around you, one arm haphazardly off the couch that was now empty aside from you. This was typical. You spotted Red unceremoniously plopped face-first on the recliner, having either stumbled home or been dumped there by Edge. There was the smell of… burning…

You jumped up, rushing into the kitchen. Edge was at the stove, frowning down at very burnt meat and a very clumsily chopped jalapeno and onion, the uneven chunks blackened at the pan and raw above that. He looked up at you skidding in, and backed away from the stove.

“ER, I... “

“What are you doing? They’re all burnt!” You hastily shut off the stove and moved the pan, trying not to cough at the stinging smell in the air. Your eyes stung a little but you ignored it. Then Edge slowly opened the microwave, bringing out also-burned cheese on chips. He looked almost sheepish, holding it out. You took it, looking down at the overdone cheese.

“If you wanted more, you could’ve asked.”

“I WAS TRYING TO MAKE IT FOR YOU. IT WAS VERY GREASY, YOU SEE, AND RED HAS TOLD ME GREASE HELPS HANGOVERS.”

“Oh… That’s… So thoughtful of you! But I’m okay. I’m not hungover.” You smiled a little. Then the smile faded as you looked down. “Uh, I’m sorry I guilted you into having them. I didn’t mean to.”

“I FIGURED NOT. IT’S FINE. IT’S…” He went to sit at the table, where he’d been nursing coffee. That, he knew how to make right. “YOU WERE RIGHT. I’D NEVER HAD IT BEFORE. I’D NEVER HAD MUCH OF ANYTHING BEFORE. ALL OF THE FOOD WE GOT, WE STOLE. ALL OUR LIVES. SO IT WAS MOSTLY THINGS THAT WOULD LAST A LONG TIME. PRETZELS, CRACKERS, PEANUT BUTTER. I NEVER GOT TO COOK. I’VE HAD A CHOCOLATE BAR ONCE OR TWICE, AND MAYBE THREE HOT MEALS IN MY LIFE.”

You stared at him, slowly scraping the burnt mess off the plates and into the garbage.

“But… you’re here now. You live with me and you can have whatever food you want.”

“I KNOW. I SUPPOSE IT NEVER… CLICKED. THAT I COULD. THAT IT WOULDN’T BE RUDE. I COULDN’T BRING MYSELF TO STEAL FROM THE ONE PERSON WHO GAVE US A SAFE HAVEN, SO…”

“Oh, geez, Edge… It’s okay. I took you in when you were still threatening to shank me if I made a wrong move. Of course I expected to feed you.”

He looked away. “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW ODD IT IS TO US. YOU’RE REALLY VERY LUCKY WE NEVER KILLED YOU.”

You shrugged. “I get lucky a lot. And what was I going to do, leave you in that alleyway half-dead and knowing no one?”

“I HOPE YOU DON’T TAKE IN EVERY STRANGER YOU FIND HALF-DEAD IN AN ALLEYWAY.”

“No… just ones that look like my friends.”

“AH.” He looked down. “IN ANY EVENT… I AM SORRY I RUINED IT.”

“Nah, don’t be! It’s…” You flushed a little. “Thanks for trying. I’ll teach you… okay?”

“YOU WILL?”

“Yeah! It’ll be fun. I’ll teach you how to cook lots of things.”

“I WOULD… APPRECIATE THAT VERY MUCH, THEN.”

“You’re welcome, Edge.”

#fanfiction #my work #my art #my fanfiction #undertale fanfiction #uf papyrus #fell papyrus #underfell papyrus #x reader #reader insert #fluff

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tastesoftamriel · 5 years

Note

Any notable deep-fried dishes among the races of Tamriel?

There aren't particularly many examples of deep fried food in Tamriel, though everybody enjoys a greasy treat every now and then! Not all races are fans of deep frying, so here are a few examples that I know of.

My personal favourite is a traditional Khajiiti street snack: fried bananas. Whole small bananas or sometimes sliced bananas are dipped in pancake batter and deep fried to perfection, and are often served with a good drizzle of moon sugar syrup.

The Orcs are famous for their deep fried chub loon wings and drumsticks, which are zesty little meaty bites that are crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside, and are liberally coated in spiced batter that's absolutely moreish. You'll find fried chub loon in big buckets being devoured by hungry workers and warriors at most coastal strongholds, though inland Orcs enjoy chunks of horse meat (or chicken) fried in a similar manner.

Similarly, the Bosmer enjoy a mix of fried meats and edible insects that are usually served in bowls to nibble at parties, especially crickets, mealworms, and grasshoppers. Though it sounds grotesque, they're really very nutritious and delicious! Crickets in particular are wonderfully nutty in flavour, and rich in protein.

Speaking of fried insects, the Redguards are famous for their scorpions and tarantulas on a stick, which you can find at many street vendors around Hammerfell. The poison glands, carapaces, and hairs are removed, and the insects are then coated in a spice mixture, skewered on a stick, and deep fried until golden brown. Not for the faint of heart!

Imperials love deep fried dough balls, which can be sweet or savoury. Sweet dough balls are typically served coated in powdered sugar and cinnamon, while salty dough balls are served plain with a sprinkle of savoury seasoning. Some variants also contain fillings, like jam, cheese, or chocolate.

Of all the Mer, Dunmer are probably the best known for their deep fried foods, and for good reason! Thin and crispy ash yam chips are a staple at home and on the road, and like the dough balls, are either plain and savoury, or sweetened. They also make delicious wraps that are deep fried in their entirety, which are a gloriously oily treat (definitely not one for everyday consumption though)! Bread wraps are often filled with a mix of nix-ox meat, scuttle, hackle-lo leaf, and spicy saltrice, then dunked for a couple of minutes in hot oil until dark brown and crispy. A definite must-have if you're ever in Morrowind!

The Bretons make my ultimate guilty pleasure: deep fried gooey cheese sticks! Locally made mozzarella is coated in a mix of breadcrumbs and herbs, and flash fried. The end result is a divine, cheesy snack that I'll end up dropping more than a few Septims on.

As for the Nords, there surprisingly aren't as many fried dishes as many people would assume. The most famous deep fried food is actually from my hometown of Riften and can be bought in the market square: hot battered fresh fish from Lake Honrich, with a healthy portion of greasy fried potato wedges on the side. This is usually doused with a good slug of malt vinegar and lots of salt!

The Altmer and Argonians are exceptional in that neither race enjoys fried foods, let alone deep fried! The Altmer are extremely picky about oil and prefer their food to be cooked only as far as it needs to be- deep frying is viewed to be crass and a sign of poor culinary skills, as well as the excess oil being terrible for the skin (they're right about the last part). Argonians don't tend to enjoy oily food as their digestive systems simply aren't cut out for it, and they much prefer grilling their foods instead.

#Worldbuilding #Tes #The Elder Scrolls #Food #Lore #Nord #Khajiit #Dunmer #Breton #Redguard #Argonian #Bosmer #Imperial #Altmer #Orc

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imagine-your-party-hosts · 4 years

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Dearly Beloved, Ch.2

Word Count: 2,404

Pairing: OC x ?

Rated: T

Summary: "I promise I'll be able to make you happy again!" His voice was booming and clear, with no hesitation. He reached for her cold hands, clasping them tight in both of his, holding them to his chest where she could feel his pounding heart. Every part of her longed to believe it and to hold onto something as warm as his hand for the rest of their lives; how long would that be?

[Previous Chapter]

The three boys had been there for about a month now. Yukiko had been quiet; she was alone in the Flame Estate, finally taking a few steps outside when her brother came knocking. He asked her for a walk, and though she had not really wanted to, she agreed, if nothing else to get her mind off of Rengoku’s departure.

“They’re almost done with rehabilitation training with the butterfly girls right now. They say they’re a handful!”

Yukiko jumped, immediately turning away from the Butterfly Estate they’d been walking past, yanking on the sleeves of her haori. “I didn’t ask,” she murmured, while beside her her brother tittered.

“I can tell you’re interested. Why don’t you talk to them some more? You barely talk to anyone that isn’t me or Kyojuro-sama,” he told her, though she was already starting to walk away, her arms stiff at her sides.

“They look like trouble,” she said under her breath, and Yukiya laughed, following after her.

“No they don’t! They look like nice boys. I’m sure they’d like company that isn’t trying to give them medicine or dump tea on their heads,” he said. “The one boy with the big forehead, he’s even managed to do concentrated breathing all night!” She quickened her pace, though Yukiya had no problem keeping up.

“I am busy!” she huffed out, coughing to keep her breath. Beside her, Yukiya beamed.

“Doing what? I heard Kyojuro-sama got sent on a mission without you.” Yukiko kept walking, her head down, her hands clenched into fists. “I also heard those little boys’ crows talking. You know they’re getting sent to that train, right?”

Yukiko suddenly stopped, and Yukiya gently bumped into her back. Her shoulders were set, and the air around her was hot enough for their cheeks to flush.

“I’m going with them,” she stated, and behind her Yukiya laughed, clapping his hands.

“I figured you’d like that piece of information!” he said, though she was already moving again, a light jog that Yukiya only had to briskly walk to keep up. “I can go stall them, if you’d like?”

“Please!” she yelled out; it echoed through the whole headquarters, and from his estate, Sanemi glanced up into the air and could sense the trouble she was starting.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Yukiko had not baked in a very long time; the last time she’d slaved over cookies was when she was begging Rengoku every week to take her on as his tsugoku. He had no problem telling her yes, though every time she was getting dragged away by Sanemi for interrupting their meetings.

She hated him. She hated running, too, though here she was, racing towards the gates with a small pink box of chocolate chip cookies clutched towards her chest. She hoped she’d not missed them yet, and that she’d have to run to the train station alone; Yukiya would never let her down, she thought.

“Please wait!” she yelled out, skidding to a halt just outside the gates. The three boys were almost turned away, waving their goodbyes to the three small butterfly girls and to her brother, who stood against the gates with a smile.

She kneeled over, hiding her bright red face to cough and catch her breath while the boys hesitated.

“It’s that weird girl,” Inosuke attempted to whisper to the others. Zenitsu jutted his elbow out to hit him in his side, and Inosuke did the same.

“Hazuki-sama, right? Is everything okay?” asked the one with the big forehead, and she sputtered, taking a big huff before she shot up.

“Please let me come with you!” she said suddenly, jutting her hand out awkwardly, holding the small box of cookies to them. “I am not sure if you like them, but I baked cookies! Please accept them!”

“Cookies?” Tanjirou asked her, while Inosuke stepped forward and swiped them from her.

“Yes! Chocolate chip!” she chirped out, her brother covering his face with his hands from the wall.

“So many girls are cooking for us today!” Zenitsu sang out, stepping forward to take a cookie from the box, though before he could Inosuke took a bite, paper and all.

“Come on, are you serious?!” Zenitsu yelled, attempting to rip the box back from him.

“You’re asking to come with?” Tanjirou asked her, doing his best to ignore the two arguing behind him. Her face was still a bright red, both from running and from her outburst, and she stood straight as a board.

“Please!” she said, much too loud for how close they were all standing. “Kyojuro left without me, and I can’t stand for that. I have to be on that train.”

Tanjirou glanced down at her hands, clenched into fists. “He won’t be mad at you?” he asked her, and she suddenly grinned.

“He knows me. He knew I wouldn’t stay put,” she told him, and he couldn’t turn down her beam, smiling back at her. “Please,” she repeated, though Tanjirou knew already he wasn’t going to tell her no.

“You ran all this way, of course! We wouldn’t say no,” he told her, and Inosuke paused his arguing with Zenitsu to say, “We wouldn’t?”

“Thank you,” she said, bowing to them, though Tanjirou was waving his hands to tell her to stop.

“Hey, hey, do you have anymore?” Inosuke asked her, stepping forward, and she deadpanned, staring at the destroyed box.

“I made a dozen,” she told him, and he hummed in thought.

“Hmm. That does not sound like a lot,” he responded.

Her lips twitched, like she was going to say something, though she instead turned away.

“Thank you,” she repeated, bowing to her brother now, who instead laughed.

“Get up! It’s what siblings do. I’ll see you when you’re back?” he asked her, and she held her fists to her chest, standing back up.

“Of course!” she yelled, waving to him and the butterfly girls. “I’ll be back soon with Kyojuro! He’ll get an earful for leaving without me.”

She turned away finally, back towards Tanjirou, Zenitsu, and Inosuke. Her cheeks were still tinged pink, though she was rocking forward, finally taking a step towards them. “Let’s go!” she said, and after a pause she added, “... Please.” Kyojuro had been telling her to work on her manners to her elders, and she had no idea if they were older than her. They looked like kids! a voice inside her objected.

She walked in silence for awhile with them, while they were still arguing about the cookies with Tanjirou attempting to quiet them down. She wondered quietly what she was doing; what would she have done if they weren’t going? Would she have gone alone? She didn’t want to think about it.

“How long have you been in the Demon Corps, Hazuki-sama?” Tanjirou asked her, and she jumped slightly when she realized he was talking to her.

“I told you not to call me that!” she objected instead, glancing towards him, though she immediately turned away. “I’ve been training for three years under Kyojuro.”

“That’s a long time!” Tanjirou remarked, and she only nodded her head, wondering if she was getting made fun of.

“You’re a wonderful baker, Yuki-chan!” Zenitsu said behind them. He’d finally had a small chunk of a cookie that hadn’t been crushed by Inosuke, and was reveling, thinking of a small, stout Yukiko in an apron.

“Thank you. My parents owned a bakery,” she said, glancing back at him. She gave a tiny smile when she saw how content they looked, Inosuke with chocolate smeared across his boar head and Zenitsu still nibbling at the small bit he’d gotten. “I’m sorry you didn’t get any. I’ll make more,” she told Tanjirou, and blinked at the large box on his back. “And - for her, if she can have any.”

“Shoulda moved faster!” Inosuke snapped, his hands proudly on his hips.

“Thank you! I’m sure Nezuko would like that,” Tanjirou said, grinning at her, and she squinted as if she was blinded.

“That’s her name?” Yukiko asked him, pulling on the sleeve of her haori, tugging it further down off her shoulder. “Nezuko-chan?” When Tanjirou nodded his head, she paused for a moment, biting gently down on her lip. “I… am sorry for what happened. I know the pity is probably getting old, but it’s true. If that happened to my brother, I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t think I could be as strong as you.”

Tanjirou hesitated at that, glancing over to her, though she still would not meet his eyes, gripping her haori in her palm. “Thank you. I’m sure you could, though. You look like you two care about each other a lot.”

She didn’t respond, only shrugging her pale shoulders. She had the same strange freckles there, small triangular shapes that looked like constellations on her milky skin. Tanjirou opened his mouth to ask her something, though she suddenly looked up, pointing forward.

“Look, the train station!” she said, again too loud, though she was already taking a step forward and then back again. She looked at the three, almost like waiting for validation, permission to run forward; Zenitsu stepped forward, holding his hand out, and she actually took it, dragging him along.

Tanjirou had been so distracted he hadn’t even smelled the difference in the air. Inosuke ran forward with them, and after a moment Tanjirou took off as well, meeting up with Yukiko and Zenitsu. She was looked up to the steam billowing from the train engine with a bright grin, while Zenitsu was looking at her and swaying from side to side.

“Look! Kyojuro’s somewhere on that,” she said to Inosuke and Tanjirou as they caught up, pointing towards it, while Inosuke slapped her hand away.

“Don’t point at it!” he told her, while the same time she yanked her hand away and said, “What the hell?!”

“It’s the lord of land! Right now it’s asleep, but be careful!!” he said, and she hesitated, glancing away from him back to Zenitsu.

“It’s a steam train,” he said blankly.

“Maybe it’s the guardian deity of this place,” Tanjirou suggested, and she blinked from Zenitsu to him.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” she thought aloud, while behind her Inosuke took a running jump to the train.

“Stop it, you’re embarrassing us in front of Yuki-chan!” Zenitsu yelled, running forward to grab hold of Inosuke and pull him away. Her brow was furrowed, looking back up to the train in thought, again wondering why she was here, when she heard a whistle and jumped when Zenitsu grabbed her instead.

“It’s the police! Come on, run!” he told her, and she hesitated, though still let herself get pulled along with the others.

“I hate running!” she called after them, and Zenitsu yelled, “I’m sorry!!” back to her.

Once they’d rounded a corner and Zenitsu let go of them Yukiko huffed, falling down onto her bottom onto the ground.

“I’ve ran so much today,” she was panting out to herself, ignoring the three boys talking in the back. “This better be worth it, Kyojuro.”

When she heard the train whistle she glanced up, before turning back to Zenitsu looking for the police still, and after a moment she jumped up. “I have to go, I’m sorry!” she told them, though Inosuke was already running ahead of her to fight the train.

“We should go, too!” Tanjirou told Zenitsu, running after them, and he sputtered before taking off as well.

“You run so fast!!” Yukiko yelled up to Inosuke as he jumped on. She swallowed, before she sucked in a breath and did the same, grabbing hold of the railing and pulling herself over.

“You just don’t run fast enough!” Inosuke told her, reaching over with Tanjirou to help pull Zenitsu up as well.

“I don’t!” she agreed, and she finally laughed when she saw them tumble down together. She was grinning brightly as she reached down and helped them up, her eyes twinkling and dancing. “Kyojuro’s somewhere on this train! You’ll help me look, right?”

Her hair was getting blown in her face, even with her bangs pinned back with a bow, and Tanjirou couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. She shook her head wildly, reaching to grab her hair and pull it back, though she couldn’t hold it all back and it still swung wildly around, whacking Inosuke in his face.

“What is it? Don’t laugh!” she objected, though she herself was laughing loudly, even as Inosuke squealed and pushed her hair away.

“Of course we’ll help you look!” Tanjirou yelled instead back to her, over the wind that was whipping her hair back and forth. She hesitated, staring up at his pretty, kind eyes, before she smiled, reaching forward and placing a hand to his shoulder.

“Thank you!!” she shouted back to him, squeezing his shoulder. “You have pretty strong shoulders, carrying around that box all day, huh?”

She was close enough that Tanjirou could smell the firewood in her hair that was brushing against his nose. Even with everything around him, hickory was all he could smell, triangular stars were all that was in front of him.

“Thank you!!” he repeated her words; it was all he could think to say. She finally met his eyes; hers were an icy blue, blanketed by long, dark eyelashes that fluttered briefly when she realized she was staring. She lifted her hand from his shoulder quickly, reaching both her hands to hold her hair back, pulling it away from Tanjirou.

“Let’s go find Kyojuro!” she called to the three boys, stomping her feet. “... Please!!”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Where’s your sister?”

Yukiya glanced up from his book; he’d heard Sanemi’s loud footsteps long before he threw open the door, but he figured he might as well enjoy a few more quiet moments before he was disrupted.

“Isn’t she a little young for you?” Yukiya asked, leaning back in his chair to look at the Wind Pillar, who only rolled his eyes.

“I don’t like that brat in any kinda way. There’s a reason she was told to stay.” Sanemi told him, folding his arms across his chest, and Yukiya shook his head, turning away back to his book.

“And there’s a reason she went. A piece of advice, you probably shouldn’t actively be pissing off your healers. Is that all you want? Because I’m not giving you my blessing to date my sister.”

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny #demon slayer x oc #kny x oc #tanjirou kamado #inosuke hashibira #original character #my writing #read the kny leaks and had to put out my feelings

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autisticandroids · 4 years

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2, 6, 12, 14, 27, 47.... foods questions

2. Grilled cheese or PB&J?

pbj, always. i like grilled cheese, sometimes. there are some truly delectable grilled cheese sandwiches out there. and it’s hard to beat a grilled cheese with your tomato soup on a cold night.

but peanut butter is the forbidden fruit.

my mother is allergic to a great many things. this has influenced my taste in two ways. some of the foods she can’t eat, i have developed a serious distaste for. shellfish, salmon, most preparations of eggplant, etc. even some things which she dislikes because even though she’s not allergic to, it seems that she ought to be, like coconut, i hate.

but sometimes it went the opposite way. some of these forbidden foods - tamarind, pumpkin seeds, sesame, cherries - i covet. peanut butter is in this second category.

though i must say, i don’t usually go for jam on my peanut butter sandwiches. i tend to go elvis style, banana slices and honey. occasionally i will treat myself to a fluffernutter, a monstrosity which, if you have never lived in new england, i gleefully invite you to google.

6. Top three cuisines?

okay. i’m officially declaring that this will be americanized versions only. i’ve traveled a lot, over the course of my life, and i’ve always eaten like a king, even in countries whose national cuisine is universally reviled. but i feel like it’s unfair to compare that way, you know? so this is gonna be just for stuff i eat in america, or make at home.

- italian food, but only the way they do it in new haven, connecticut, and surrounding areas.

- chinese food because if you told me right now if i could never eat another bao i’d die on the spot, actually. this is also cheating a little because some of the chinese food i cook myself is a lot more like chinese-chinese food than americanized chinese food, since i’ve actually been to china and stuff, but even if i were to never cook my own chinese food again and only ate at american chinese restaurants it would still be on here.

- third is hard. third is hard. thai food? polish food? indian food? vietnamese food? it’s hard. i think i’m going to have to go with japanese food. i would be a hypocrite if i didn’t, because i just spent two hours making a passable imitation of takoyaki, with vegetarian fish chunks.

i feel kind of odd about this, because i’ve always had the sense that americanized japanese food is even further from japanese-japanese food than most americanized cuisines, because it’s so limited in scope. like, american japanese food is pretty limited to either sushi, or trendy street food/ramen places.

i always had the impression that, for example, while american chinese food is very americanized, and really only reflects the cuisine of guangdong, it might at least have something to do with what immigrants from guangdong were eating at home during the early waves of chinese immigration. i have similar impressions with other immigrant cuisines. but i do not have this impression with american japanese food, since it was really limited to sushi and whatever side dishes sushi places sold, and the expansion of things like ramen shops and street food in the last few years seem to be driven less by immigration and more by a rising trend of mainstream western culinary orientalism and weeabooism. so i feel like it’s probably incorrect to claim japanese food is one of my favorite cuisines since the american version of it is so limited.

also, just realized that i would die for a good banh mi right now so i’m changing my answer, vietnamese food.

12. What do you get on your bagels? What WOULD you get if you had access to anything you wanted?

you can’t go wrong with a good egg and cheese. i nearly always get an egg and cheese. they’re unbeatable.

sometimes, in a certain mood, i will get strawberry cream cheese instead. sometimes, in a very certain mood, i might get just plain cream cheese, but that’s unusual.

it really does not matter what you get on a bagel. what makes or breaks a bagel sandwich is not the filling, but the bagel itself. a good bagel could make sawdust and coffee grounds delicious, and no filling on earth can save a bad bagel.

there are, of course, mediocre bagels in the world, but those are best treated with the same respect as ordinary sandwich bread, and filled accordingly.

14. Favorite mug you own

i don’t own a ton of mugs, but since, i’m home with my parents right now, and they have a whole collection, i’ll give me favorite of theirs, which is my mom’s spock mug.

what makes this mug special is that it’s as big in terms of volume as a cappuccino mug without actually being one. instead of being as wide or wider than it is tall like a cappuccino mug, it has the same proportions as a normal mug, just scaled up. this makes it easier to hold, and easier to drink from, while still being fucking huge. plus, the wide mouths of cappuccino mugs when compared to their height mean that anything held in them goes cold in five seconds flat, while this mug has the upright shape of a traditional mug and so holds heat longer.

also, this mug has spock on it.

27. What section do you immediately head for when you walk into a bookstore?

i’m not a huge bookstore person? i’m very hesitant about acquiring new material possession which have a finite term of usefulness, even moreso if i have to actually pay for them, and i am well aware that i will read most books only once, and some not at all. for actual reading material, i tend to prefer libraries or ebooks, to keep from adding more unmanageable clutter to my disastrous living space. libraries especially, since they’re free, and also i have a deadline to either read the damn book or give up on it.

in libraries, i tend to head for either the y.a. or adult genre fiction sections, since that’s what i go for, though usually when i come into a library i already have a book in mind. i also tend to head to audiobooks. i love audiobooks, they’re wonderful, i’ve gotten through so many books that way.

however, when i do go to bookstores, i don’t go to the stuff i would normally actually read. in more chain-y, new-book bookstores, i tend to go to the novelty books, the kind of stuff libraries don’t have. coffee table books with pictures of cats, comic collections, joke books. and i tend to check out the displays, see what’s up.

i’m also way more likely to go to the nonfiction sections of these kinds of bookstores than used bookstores or libraries, for two reasons. first, because i tend to think nonfiction makes for good gifts. if you give someone a book it comes with strings attached, no matter what, but those strings are different for different kinds of books. a novel comes with an obligation to read it cover to cover, and not just read it, but enjoy it, or at least come up with an interesting opinion on its contents. a nonfiction book does not have to be enjoyable, merely informative, and it’s a lot easier to be informed by a book than to like one. plus, most of the time you don’t actually need to read the whole thing, because although they do tend to have overall arcs and maybe overarching arguments, a lot of nonfiction books can be informative even if consumed in small chunks. second, because in chain-y, new book bookstores, the nonfiction section tends to be glutted with the sort of fun, digestible pop-nonfiction that i tend to read if i must go for nonfiction, while libraries and used bookstores run more towards the drier, probably more informative but less enjoyable sort.

in used bookstores, i tend towards a different pattern. what i look for in used bookstores is stuff that’s interesting because it’s old. cookbooks, art books, fifty cent science fiction novels. i especially like very old history and social science books; near my college there was a used bookstore that had an entire shelf of psychoanalysis books, and another of histories of like, medieval european art and design, all written in like the forties. the kind of stuff that’s out of print so wouldn’t be in a new bookstore, but is probably outdated, inaccurate, useless, and unpopular, so it isn’t in too many libraries either.

47. How do you top your ice cream?

i’m not a huge ice cream person? like, ice cream gives me a stomach ache pretty much uhhhh always. if i’m having it in my house, scooped into a bowl, i don’t generally top it with anything, ditto with stuff i get from an ice cream shop, but the most common way i eat ice cream is actually in like, bar form? like you know those dove bars, like a bar of vanilla ice cream dipped in chocolate. does that count?

i definitely like stuff mixed into my ice cream, i’m a fiend for cookie dough and brownie chunks. maybe my favorite ice cream flavor ever came from a local ice cream shop which has tragically since shut down. it was called kettle crunch and it had chocolate covered potato chips mixed in.

i guess i always get toppings at like, those trendy froyo places that go by weight and have a buffet of toppings? but honestly, when i go to those places, i rarely get any actual froyo. usually i just fill my bowl with popping boba because they always have it and i love it. i get some fruit too, and sometimes i get some of the candy, like a few gummy worms or a kit kat. but the popping boba is the star of the show.

ok now i’ve gotten distracted researching buying popping boba online. apparently it’s not hard, but it seems like a lot of the time it comes in seven pound bucket. like i could get a small amount of the common flavors, but i have just now right now discovered that there is such a thing as chocolate popping boba and i’m losing it because it only comes in seven pound buckets but i need it.

also, chilli pepper popping boba, which has the same problem, but also holy fuck.

#food //#asks #jazzypizzaz

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rabbitcruiser · 14 days

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National Chocolate Chip Day

We might not know which came first — the chicken, or the egg — but when it comes to chocolate chips and their namesake cookie, the history is well-documented, and it might not be what you think. Chocolate chips actually came after the chocolate chip cookie, and despite their ubiquity, are likely younger than your grandmother (they were first marketed in 1940!). Legend has it that the chocolate chip cookie was a happy accident, born when baker ran out of baker’s chocolate and opted for semi-sweet instead.

The recipe spread like wildfire, and after a few years of selling their semi-sweet chocolate bars with a chopping tool (for easy chunking of the bar), Nestlé went one step further by introducing chocolate “morsels” to the world. With such a history, and with so much mass appeal, it’s no surprise that this kitchen delight deserves celebration, and that’s why, on May 15, we’ve got National Chocolate Chip Day.

National Chocolate Chip Day timeline

1938 Creation of Chocolate Chips

Ruth Graves Wakefield creates the chocolate-chip cookie by accident.

1963 Going Commercial

Chips Ahoy! hits the shelves in U.S. supermarkets.

1991 A Sensation Like No Other

Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream creates waves of excitement around the globe.

1997 Official State Cookie

The chocolate-chip cookie is named and recognized as the official state cookie of Massachusetts.

National Chocolate Chip Day Activities

Hack The Kitchen: Chocolate For Dinner

How Big Can You Bake It?

Art You Can Eat

Most chefs know how to use tried-and-true flavor combinations to great effect, but the best chefs create new combinations altogether. Try using chocolate chips in a dinner recipe for a real challenge. If you’re looking for a place to start, you might consider trying the mole recipe in the section below!

You probably won’t approach the world record, but National Chocolate Chip Day is the perfect occasion to try your hand at baking the biggest chocolate chip cookie possible.

With a mix of chocolate chips, M&Ms, and some other similarly-sized chocolate candies, you’re well on your way to a kid-friendly edible art project! This can get messy, though, so it’s probably a project best suited for the kitchen!

Why We Love National Chocolate Chip Day

Chocolate Chips Are Everywhere!

The Choices … oh, so many choices!

Big Or Small — We'll Eat Them All!

They might have been created with one purpose in mind, but chocolate chips have branched out since their early days as cookie-fillers. Nowadays, it’s hard to think up a confection that hasn’t donned a chocolate chip cap, whether they be pancakes, muffins, or ice cream sundaes.

The chocolate chips that eventually found their way into the classic chocolate chip cookie are made of semi-sweet chocolate, but in keeping with the times, they now come in a plethora of options — ranging from white chocolate, to dark chocolate, and all the way to caramel — ensuring that, no matter what you’re baking, there’s a place for a chip!

Everyone loves chocolate chip cookies, no matter the size. They could be small (so long as there’s enough to have more than one!), or they could be massive, as in the case of Immaculate Baking’s 40,000 pound Guinness Record breaker, but regardless of size, they’re sure to draw a crowd. The fact that chocolate chips were used to break the record of world’s largest cookie is only a testament to their universality, and it’s safe to say that they’ll always have a space on the shelf of any baker.

Source

#Double Chocolate Chunk Muffin #Chocolate Tuxedo Cream Cheesecake #USA #White Chocolate Raspberry Truffle #Chris' Outrageous Cheesecake #travel #Death by Chocolate Pudding Cake #Canada #Oreo Cheesecake #Chocolate Chip Cookie Cheesecake #Chocolate Thunder from Down Under #White Chocolate Raspberry Truffle Cheesecake #OREO Dream Extreme Cheesecake #National Chocolate Chip Day #NationalChocolateChipDay #15 May #original photography #vacation #Chocolate Caramelicious Cheesecake

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alliswell21 · 5 years

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@duckpotatodandelion’s Prompt: “I do love me a coffee shop au.”

Rated T

This was writen last night and edited this morning before I had to run errands, so my apologies for any errors.

Also, since @duckpotatodandelion had that post about hot chocolate, I may have deviated her Prompt a bit... 😳... fine! a bunch... 🙈 don’t tell anyone!!!!

☕️ ☕️ ☕️

I walk into the Starbucks and wrinkle my nose in the first breath. I’m not a coffee person, the dark concoction loosens my stomach for whatever reason, but thanks to my boss, Plutarch Heavensbee, I have around $100 in Starbucks gift cards that only keep piling up for every occasion that requires management to give the employees recognition.

I’m guessing the man thinks coffee shop gift cards are the hip thing to do, and say whatever you want about Plutarch, that man is still trying to stay relevant.

One look at the line and I quickly realize I must be the only soul in this planet that doesn’t care for coffee. I sigh to myself, stepping in line with the rest of the morning rushers, wondering how does the son of a baker could’ve develop such an aversion to coffee, when it’s perhaps the hot drink most served in my father’s shop?

Since I’m number 2002 (fine, that’s an exaggeration on my part) in this line, I decide to spend my time people watching and trying to guess what they do for a living for a bit, it’s not like I can see the menu from where I stand, though the baristas seemed to be pretty proficient at their jobs, dispatching drink after drink like caffeinated fairy godparents.

The first customer in line is a severe looking woman with straight, gray hair that falls into a perfect curtain down to her shoulders; she’s wearing a gray power suit and gray comfortable shoes; when she turns around with her distinctive paper cup in hand I realize her eyes are the same hue of gray as her hair and outfit. It’s like all color has been drain from her. I’m going to call her Madam Monochrome. Or maybe Coin, since she reminds me of silver change. I wonder if she lives down in an underground bunker and only came up to surface because coffee is banned in her secret lair, that would explain the monotone colors. If that’s the case, she must be the president of the underground community, otherwise I don’t see how she was allowed to leave.

Next, is a guy with a wiry frame, ashen skin, balding. His glasses keep sliding down the bridge of his nose, so he pushes them back up with the middle finger of his hand. He’s carrying a laptop briefcase, the padded kind you don’t have to completely open in the TSA line at the airport for the x-ray machines. I’m going to call him Beetee, because that’s what the logo in his case says. He’s probably a genius, working for the next iPod nano device that may fit 3 gigabytes of music into chip as big as a grain of rice. Then again, he could be plotting to overthrow some totalitarian government, by breaking into the TV transmission with well placed anti government propaganda… he’d call them Propos for short, because he doesn’t have time to say the whole word. He’s too busy inventing weapons to chat.

Next, is a man tall, dark and very handsome. The kind women swoon after. I’m sure when he was in high school, girls giggled about him behind their notebooks and commented on how cute he was. He turns his head my way, probably feeling my gaze on him; he only spares me a glance and turns back to stare at the baristas impassively. Good looking Jerk! I bet he’s the military type. Fancy job at some highly rated base, with a huge family that adores him and look up to him. He also looks the type to own hunting gear. He’s probably a sharp shooter too… I can already picture him bringing home a twelve point deer he shot through the neck and a handful of dead, fat rabbits hanging from his belt, he caught in his snares, because what do you know? he’s also a whiz with snares! I should move on from his rigid form. For some reason I don’t think we would ever be friends, him and I. I bet we are total opposites. I’m gonna call him Gale, because he probably has a temper that would wreak havoc, like a strong willed gust of wind.

Behind Gale, there’s a little old lady I’m gonna call Mags, because she looks like she could be a Mags. She seems kind, but there’s something about her face that looks almost like one side is sagging. It saddens me. Maybe she had a stroke at some point, in which case, the mere fact she’s standing in line to get a hot beverage in a busy shop shows her resilience and strength. Good for Mags! I hope she gets to live a hundred more years. She deserves it.

Then, my eyes find two young women. One is blonde and blue eyed, while the other is a brunette with smooth olive skin. Both have matching braids which is strange. Most women don’t wear the same hairdos unless they’re in some kind of play, or maybe they’re twins… there have been cases with twins that physically aren’t even the same race. The two ladies are standing shoulder to shoulder. The blond keeps talking and gesturing with her hands animatedly, while the brunette looks on with rapt attention, nodding and smiling at the blonde. Brunette laughs out loud and I’ve never heard anything as musical as that before.

While pondering on names and imaginary backgrounds for the women, I try to lean on a display of collectible mugs, to disastrous results.

The whole shelf uppends under my weight and sends every single mug careening to the floor with a loud crash, with me, following closely. To say I’m embarrassed would be a gross understatement.

“Oh my gosh! Are you okay?” Asks Blondie, blue eyes dripping with concern. “Your hand is bleeding, sir.” She states looking down at my hand, just as a barista comes to help me up from the floor, where I’m sitting on my ass surrounded by the broken pieces of the mugs I just murdered.

“I’m okay. Thank you.” I say trying to save face.

“Nonsense! Katniss, help me here!” Blondie calls to Brunette who’s looking at me with pity and apprehension.

“Prim…” Brunette sighs more than says, but comes closer all the same, “I don’t think I’ll be that much help. Sorry.” She says locking eyes with me, like she truly is chagrined she can’t help.

“I’m okay, really.” I say finally on my feet. I nod to the Starbucks employee. “I’m sorry about the mess. Talk about a bull in a China shop, right?!”

Brunette fights off a smirk at my self deprecating joke and I swear my heart swells in my chest.

Looking back at the young man helping me, I address him. “You wouldn’t be able to give me a veteran discount to pay for the mugs I broke, would you?”

He just stares at me for a second, “I- I’m not sure, dude. Are you cool? Do you need me to call 911? Your hand has a pretty big gash.”

“I’m a registered nurse, I can help him and take him to my hospital if he needs extra care.” Says Blondie… Prim, Brunette— Katniss— had called her.

“I really am alright—“ I stop talking when I lift my hand and see for myself the gnarly long cut in my hand. It goes from the side of the palm, to right under the thumb, like a jagged smile on the heel of my freaking hand.

I go woozy for a moment, and find myself sitting in a chair with Katniss pressing a cup of water to my good hand. “Drink this. My sister is gonna take good care of you, and then we will drive you to the ER so you can get a note from her boss telling your employer why you’re late.”

“Okay,” I say simply staring at her. She’s got the most amazing gray eyes ever, with specks of blue all over the iris. She’s gorgeous from this close.

“What’s your name?” She asks.

“Peeta Mellark.” I say automatically.

“Hi Peeta Mellark, I’m Katniss Everdeen. What else can you tell me about yourself?”

I think she’s trying to keep me distracted while her sister cleans my cut at the very back of the coffee house, where we can still hear the clinking of ceramic pieces being swept into a dustpan and then chucked into the trash. The silver lining is that they’re taking all my gift cards as payment for the broken cups!

“I’m a painter on a TV production company. I truly am a veteran. Lost my leg somewhere in Iraq. I came in here just for a cup of tea without sugar, how lame is that?”

“I’m sorry about your leg, but thank you for your service.” She says wincing a little. She recovers quickly. “I don’t like coffee either, this is more of Primrose’s addiction. The stuff makes me jittery and jumpy. I’m more of a hot chocolate kind of person.”

“Ditto!” I exclaim. “Dip some chunks of bread into the chocolate for a homier experience, and you’re in hot cocoa heaven!”

“Gotta try that, so much better than coffee!”

“Sure, hate on the drink all you want, but imagine the stories I’m going to tell my grand nephews and nieces about how their grandparents met!” Sing-songs Prim still wiping my hand with some rubbing alcohol infused gauze she apparently carries in her purse. “How romantic will that be?! They met at a coffee shop I dragged grandma Katniss to!”

“Prim…” Katniss mutters half hearted under her breath; both sisters glare at each other for a bit.

I have the distinct feeling this is a conversation they’ve had before and disagree upon.

In and effort to break the siblings staring contest, I dig around my brain for something to say, but instead of wit and charm, I come up with, “What’s your favorite color, Katniss?” Like a fifth grader or something.

She smiles and I feel all warm and tingly inside. “Green. How about yours?”

“Orange. Soft, like a sunset…”

“Mmm! Pretty.” She cocks her head, “What’s your biggest pet peeve?”

“Easy!” I say, “Starbucks microwaves all their pastries! That’s sacrilegious for guy who grew up in a bakery!”

Katniss laughs at that and I hope I can keep her laughing. We keep talking quietly until Primrose declares me ready to go. The cut is mainly superficial, and I won’t need stitches if I keep my injury from re-aggravating.

“So… how can I repay you ladies for the first aid care?” I ask them both smiling.

Primrose opens her mouth with a sly smile, “Take my sister out for a coff—“

“A burger!” Katniss cuts in. “I’ve had enough coffee for the day, but a burger with a chocolate milkshake would be awesome.”

I feel the smile unfurling slowly on my face. “I can do burgers and milkshakes.” I hope Primrose is a good storyteller, my grand babies deserve this story to be told epically.

#duckpotatodandelion #writers block prompts #everlark fanfiction #my fics

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everythingcollided · 6 years

Text

Even Spider-Man Needs Coffee [Peter Parker]

Summary: Peter likes espresso a little too much.

Word Count: 1,629

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: this is for @starksparker ‘s 10k writing challenge! it’s late, but my inspiration left and whoops it took a while to come back, but here we are! hope you like it! also thanks to my sorta-kinda-really beta @beautiful-writings .

“Hey, that espresso guy is back.”

She turns her head from the steaming cup of black coffee she’s just finished placing the cap on, to her co-worker. Jake’s face is settled in a way that she’s classified as hesitance in the three years she’s worked with him. “Peter.” She corrects with a roll of her eyes. Jake knows his name. “What about him?”

“He ordered his coffee with eleven shots of espresso. Eleven.”

“And?” She hands the finished cup to a waiting customer who offers her a timid smile. Poor girl looked so confused when ordering from the plethora of selections on the menu, and so grateful when she learned that just black coffee was available.

She then turns to Jake, who gestures wildly with his hands, as per usual. “And that’s totally insane! We’re not even allowed to give someone that much! How is he still alive?!”

There’s a fond smile on her lips as she searches for the boy in the relatively empty shop. People sit at dark wooden tables typing on computers or staring out of the large windows at the front of the shop, snuggled in the sunlight that streams happily through the glass in the morning. And then Peter, sat at a booth with his back to the rays, hand squished against his cheek and lashes fluttering as he tries to keep awake.

The sight squeezes at her heart. He’s clearly exhausted but still as gorgeous as ever.

“Peter’s...a special case.”

“Because you’ve been thirsting after him since he came in the first time?” He says with raised eyebrows. There’s a smug air coating him as he leans his hands on the wooden counter.

She purses her lips and narrows her eyes at him. “That’s not the point. Why are you bothering me?”

“Someone has to tell him we can’t make him coffee without getting fired unless he subtracts three shots of death juice.”

“And why can’t you?”

“Well,” he starts, plucking a coffee stirrer from a jar and grating on her nerves. “I thought that’d you’d be a better candidate.”

“Why? You’ve got a big mouth, can’t you tell him?”

Jake grins, eyes flitting over to the door a second before the tinkling of the bell rings. “I’ve actually got another customer to tend to. If you would be so kind to take over?”

“I despise you.”

“Just make me the honorary uncle of your first child and I’ll forget you said that.” He pats her head on his way to greet the customer and she has to remind herself that she needs this job when the thought of how easy it would be to break his arm crosses her mind.

Why does she have friends, again?

After taking a substantial amount of deep breaths and giving herself a pep talk, she walks over to Peter. It’s not a big deal, they talk when he orders almost every day and she likes to consider them friends, but still. Anxiety curls up inside her chest.

He straightens when she slides in across from him, bright eyes nearly taking all the attention away from the bags under them. “Hey.”

“Hey, Pete.” She murmurs back. Her fingers tap against the table, click click distracting her just the right amount.

“What’s up?” His voice is scratchy and slow. He clears his throat.

She regards him with concern. His worn college sweatshirt is crooked along the line of his collarbone and showcasing a chunk of his right shoulder. A freckle dots the skin and she stares at it for a little too long. With his messy hair he’s the epitome of a lazy and tired boy who just crawled out of bed and why is it so alluring?

It takes a questionable call of her name to get her back on the right track, shaking her head and cursing at Jake in her mind.

“You ordered eleven shots?”

The tone she uses is scolding and it gives her a jolt at how much it reminds her of her mother.

Peter cringes and rubs a palm against his neck. “Um, yeah?”

She simply raises her eyebrows.

“I, uh, didn’t sleep.”

“You don’t need that much espresso for one night.” A frown creases her lips.

He runs a hand through his hair, shifting his eyes down to the table. “It’s...kind of been three nights.”

“Peter.”

“Well, technically not three nights cause I have taken some thirty minute naps? Like when I shower, you know? So it’s not that bad cause I’m getting some sleep right but you’re glaring at me so you don’t agree?”

She rubs at her eyes and tries to ignore the drop of her heart into her stomach. “No.”

“I’m sorry?” He tries.

“You know how stupid you’re being?”

Peter offers something between a smile and a grimace, fusing into a light pink. “Yes.”

“We’ve talked about this before.”

“I know,” His expression crumbles as he collapses against the padding of the booth. “I know we have. It’s just...this crime ring going on around the city, all of the break-ins and muggings. They’re stressing me out.”

A pit forms in her chest as she analyzes the crease in his forehead, the faraway look in his dark eyes. Peter’s never been this...vulnerable. Usually tired, yes, always tired, but never quite like this.

The whole city’s been on edge with the rise in criminal activity. Shops have upgraded security, there’s been talk of a curfew being solidified. Some have even refused to take any cash, scared that they’ll lose it to a few thugs trying to make some money.

She almost reaches out to him, opting to play with a string of her apron instead. “We all are. But the cops have it handled. Even more, Spider-Man’s tearing it up out there. I have faith that he’ll stop it.”

Peter looks even more upset; if that’s possible.

“You don’t have to lose sleep over it, you know.”

He stays quiet and she purses her lips.

“Are you okay, Pete? I mean, you’ve always inhaled caffeine in an unhealthy way, but you haven’t ordered over nine shots since you came here the first time. And I’m not allowed to ask your business as an employee, but I care about you as a person and not just as a customer so I have to ask because you’re really starting to worry me.”

Peter smiles shyly. “I-I’m good. Fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Part of her doesn’t believe him, but she needs to. “Just try to get some rest. Even Spider-Man has to sleep, after all.”

Peter jolts and his eyes widen. “What?”

“Spider-Man,” She says it slowly, confused by his reaction. “I’d assume that under that suit, there’s a human being that still has to go through bodily functions. He eats, he uses the bathroom, he sleeps. Just like all of us. To have all that energy, he has to sleep, even if that means leaving crime to the cops for a few hours. He finds a way. If he can do it, you can too. Without eleven shots of espresso.”

He leans forward with a smile that looks almost secretive. “What if Spider-Man needs eleven shots of espresso, too?”

“I’d hope that he’d be smarter than to operate like that.”

He regards her curiously. “You’re a Spider-Man fan aren't you?”

“Who isn’t?” She shrugs.

Peter chuckles. “Fine. I’ll try to sleep.”

“Good.”

“Can I still have my coffee, though?”

She sighs with a fond shake of her head. “Nine shots.”

He pouts and she manages to maintain her eye contact and not let his looks get to her. “Okay, yes. Whatever. Nine shots.”

“We need to work on your coffee intake, seriously.”

He sends her an unimpressed look. “Nine shots.”

“Fine,” She stands. “Die, then.”

His laugh rings through the place as she heads back to make his order.

“That went well,” Jake sidles up next to her as she’s pulling the shots, leaning against the counter smugly. “I’d love a thank you and a big, warm cordial batch of chocolate chip cookies.”

“I still despise you.”

He hums. “That’s not how you treat your wingman.”

She turns to him with a gummy smile and with the sweetest voice she can muster, says, “Thank you so very much, Jakey. I’m not making you cookies.”

He scoffs and walks away, muttering about rude people under his breath.

It gets so busy in the next hour that she doesn’t even have time to chat with Peter some more when she delivers his coffee. She doesn’t notice the napkin laying behind on his table until she goes to wipe it down.

Thanks for the advice. Maybe I could return the favor?

P.S. Remind me to sleep? End my caffeine addiction? Help?

-Peter

His phone number dances near the bottom in messy scrapes.

She laughs because it’s Peter. Adorable, dorky, Peter Parker. Giving her his number.

Giving her his number.

Shit.

She folds the napkin and stuffs it into the pocket of her apron, trying to keep her smile at bay when she tells Jake that she’ll bake the cookies he’s been obsessed with since she’d made them for their manager’s baby shower.

He squints suspiciously. “What happened?”

She pulls her best innocent face. “What, can��t a girl congratulate her wingman?”

“Maybe a girl that isn’t you.”

“Do you want cookies or not?”

Jake doesn’t say anything more about it.

Later that night, she sits in bed for hours, staring at the style of his writing, pondering. It’s eleven when she types the number into her phone.

I think you can return the favor right now, actually.

Peter responds a nail-biting thirty minutes later. Really?

Yeah.

How would you go about asking someone who loves killing their body with espresso out?

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azurexalacrity · 5 years

Note

Care Package: A red scarf, some blueberry muffins from Tattletales along with a thermos filled to the brim with her homemade hot chocolate, a drawing Bails had done from school, and a photo. Wasn't just any photo though; a polaroid, in Abadat. With a little light gaia in the foreground... and a werehog in the background. Written on the back? 'I've been hanging onto this cuz I didnt want u to throw it away since its past tense now and all. Call it a souviner. H.Z. 🔥'

Send me “Care Package” and include items you would give my muse to cheer them up! | @kildriia

The door to the apartment room opened with an uneasy creak, but not one to show of some intruder waltzing in the place (or, at least, a harmless intruder). Sneakers were dragged across the floorboards, not caring in the slightest for getting leaves and possible grains of dirt to coat the flooring. Normally, this visitor would have the common courtesy for that, but oddly enough, he didn’t for this particular day.

His sneakers were kicked off to the side, now having their straps hang loosely off the sides of them. They were placed right beside the couch. The same couch where the hedgehog flopped right on top of it and buried his face into a nearby cushion.

All ten of his fingertips drilled into the cushion, beginning to poke tiny holes into the fabric and cotton. They shake slightly as the hero facepalmed himself with the pillow before just allowing his body to lay flat. The grip on the pillow eventually loosened and the usually proud hero became quiet. Quiet enough to raise some eyebrows, that’s for sure.

It was a rough day. A rough day that was nothing more but a discussion about his mental health. About his consistent nightmares, about his sudden spike of anxiety, and probably plenty of other things that he didn’t want to talk about. He knew he had to, though. He knew he had to talk with somebody about this. He knew it could get him to feel better.

But… he didn’t understand. Why isn’t he getting better?

He flipped to where his back is now on the couch. His hands clasped together as he stared at the ceiling and seeing all the dust that’s on it. He would rather watch that than to constantly have his thoughts nag him.

An irritated sigh emitted from him and he rammed his forehead against the couch. He curled himself up. Arms around his legs and legs close to his chest. He was now just a blue spec on the couch. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to be bothered anyway, and keeping himself hidden this way was the key to that.

“I thought I was gettin’ better…” he muttered; his voice barely audible and raw with emotion, “Why… aren’t I gettin’ better? I made it this far… so why aren’t I gettin’ better?”

Tears started pricking his eyes. He always hated that about himself; becoming emotional no matter what is thrown at him. If he can nearly break down at the expense of having a bad day, then… he’s not so sure how on Earth that he will get better.

He’s not so sure how he can be as strong as people make him up to be.

Before he knew it, he passed out on the couch. He was still in his curled position, just like a harmless little hoglet that’s snoring almost as loud as a bear’s roar. His feet twitched from time to time, antsy to move, but unlike his said feet, he didn’t respond to that movement. Instead, he was kept on the couch. No sleepwalking or sleep running involved.

Despite that, however, he still heard things outside of his dream world. There were faint whispers, the noise of handling objects, and Sonic could have sworn his nostrils caught something sweet. Whatever it was, he cannot tell.

He didn’t let it sit there, though. He wanted to find out what was going on. Bad day or no bad day.

His eyes, now raw from whatever tears he spilled from earlier, opened in a heartbeat. Slowly but surely, he pushed himself up from the cushions, rubbing one of his eyes as he raspily yawned.

“Mmm… guys? Wha… what’s goin’ on?” He questioned in between another yawn, stretching out his stiff limbs, “Don’t tell me ya made all da goodies without… me?”

No one was there to answer him. No one was there to tell him what was happening. The only thing that gave him any answers… was the box that sat on the table.

It was covered by about a wad of scotch tape. It taped the corners, the sides, everything except for the flaps that will open the box. It made Sonic tilt his head to the side, squinting in suspicion.

That’s odd. He didn’t ask for a package today. Heck, he didn’t even order a package. Maybe Harper did, but he doesn’t see why it should be on the table and untouched. If anything, it should be opened.

Sonic blinked. His fingers gingerly took a hold of the flaps of the box, eagerly waiting to open the darn thing.

Well… it couldn’t hurt to take a little peek, now wouldn’t it?

And like a child opening a Christmas present, Sonic opened the flaps and poked his head into the box.

What he found inside was anything and everything he didn’t expect to come from an ordered box. Nothing like all those weird little styrofoam-like thingies that he used to play with when he was little. What was there instead of that was a whole assortment of things.

A red scarf was stuffed in the corner. It was made of wool and it looked brand new. Brand new as in someone knitting it pretty early. Alongside it was a paper bag filled with muffins. Blueberry muffins. His favorite muffins. The kind that made his stomach rumble.

Okaaay, what’s going on here?

He brought out the scarf and took out the muffins. Of course, he bit a chunk of it before getting through the rest of this box. And Chaos, it’s a big box.

He attempted to be extra careful when grabbing the thermos. It steamed with that rich scent of chocolate and reminded Sonic of the coldest days of winter. If it wasn’t beginning to warm up right now during the season, he wouldn’t have minded it one bit. Now to say that he would mind it now, but he can’t help but wonder what brought this on.

Usually getting care packages like this weren’t common (unless they’re from Amy… or a fan).

The one thing that didn’t make him question was the drawing. A drawing that was made entirely with crayon. It almost reminded him of Cream in a sense, and he can’t help but chuckle fondly at the thought. He kept the drawing close to him and make sure it won’t get stained by hot chocolate.

He’s not sure where to put it up, but he’ll definitely keep it in mind.

And just when he thought he was done… a photo was the last thing in the box. A photo that came from a polaroid. It was kind of old-fashioned, yet colored in a way that looked like it came from this day of age. And without a moment of hesitation, Sonic grabbed it.

He leaned back against one of the cushions, using it as support in case he would collapse from spiraling emotions. He held the photo close to his chest, blinking. He blinked so many times that he’s not so sure that he can even blink anymore.

Small huts and wooden flooring was what surrounded the two individuals in the photo, with them staring out into the distance of the island. One of them was what Sonic recognized the most: His nocturnal form. The werehog. The werehog that stood there, taking in the view of the night. Sonic wasn’t sure what he was exactly doing that night. He guessed that maybe he was just taking in the scenery, but that wasn’t what was important to him right now.

Nope. It was the little chihuahua in the picture. The one who would flap around with those ridiculously short wings and would offer bars of chocolate at the most sudden of times. The one who created a golem out of the Gaia Temples and did whatever it took to defeat his counterpart: Dark Gaia.

Not once did Sonic look away from the photo. He didn’t even take a glimpse at the amulet he’s wearing. The same amulet that Chip had. Rather, he reached a hand to the photo, touching it and dragging his fingers across it.

“Chip…” His voice came out in a way that was foreign. Soft-spoken, light, and nearly choking from tears. He sniffled, keeping the photo as close to him as humanly possible.

He didn’t break down, despite how he looked he was about to. A smile adorned his muzzle and he stared at the photo fondly, finding something special about this photo. Something special that was the words imprinted on the back of it.

He… didn’t know what to say about it. Heck, he didn’t know how to respond to all of this. He didn’t know what to say to his freckled friend who helped him out on this rough day.

But what better way to do it then to show it?

Show it by having that Polaroid photo framed up in his room.

It was one thing that the speedster will never forget. Not in a million years.

#kildriia #( This is pretty long so... hold on to your starship! )#( Ngl this boi is touched by this )#( He loves all of it sm <3 )#✪ ᵀʰᵉ ᴬᶰᶳʷᵉʳᵉᵈ : Answered✪#✪ ᵛᵉʳᶳᵉ ⁰ : Main Universe✪#/// trauma tw ///

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consulting-celiac-in-the-tardis · 6 years

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A Celiac's Top 7 Oat Free Gluten Free Snack Bars

New blog post!

*Some of the brands mentioned in this post sent me samples of their products to review and consider for editorial coverage, but I only share products I really love and all opinions and photographs (unless other credit is given) are my own*

What’s the best gluten free snack bar on the market? If you’re new to a gluten free diet, you might think that’s an easy question to answer because you don’t have a ton of gluten free granola bars to choose from. Nowadays, though, new gluten free energy bars are being released every year...and many of them are insanely tasty!

That’s why I thought I’d write a post all about the best gluten free snack bars I’ve gotten to taste since my celiac diagnosis over five years ago. All the gluten free granola bars I’m including below are also oat-free, as many celiacs like me don’t do well with oats, even if they're gluten free. And if you’re looking for gluten free snacks that are packed with protein, stay tuned. I’ll be sharing another round up of my favorite gluten free and vegan protein bars within the next few weeks! Until then, though, let’s dig into my top seven gluten free, oat free energy bars, listed in no particular order. Many of these snack bars are also vegan and some are paleo, too. And keep in mind, I’ve tried a LOT of granola bars over the years but there are still tons I haven’t. So if your favorite gluten free granola bar isn’t on the list, be sure to tell me all about in the comments!

1. Lara Bar

Lara bars are actually the first gluten free snack bar I bought in bulk after my celiac diagnosis. I love that all the ingredients in Lara Bars are simple, whole foods like nuts, dried fruit and spices. For years in college, I’d eat one Lara bar every day during my morning break between classes. My ultimate favorite Lara Bar (Cashew Cookie) is just two ingredients: cashews and dates. I also love Cinnamon Roll (probably my second favorite flavor of all time!), Blueberry Pie, Cherry Pie, and Chocolate Chip Cookie when I want a chocolatey treat.

Because they include so much dried fruit and dates, Lara Bars are pretty sweet. However, if you’re looking for a gluten free, dairy free, soy free and vegan energy bar that doesn’t have any funky ingredients and tastes really good, Lara Bars are a solid choice!

2. Enjoy Life Foods

If you’re a long-time of my blog, you already know I’m addicted to all of Enjoy Life Foods’ products. But when I want a sweet late night snack, their gluten free granola bars are one of my go-to’s. Like all of their products, Enjoy Life Foods’ granola bars are free of the top eight allergens. They come in a variety of flavors, with my favorite being Cocoa Loco (which tastes like a super dense, super chocolatey brownie to me) and Caramel Blondie (which is crunchy from puffed rice but deliciously chewy at the same time).

Enjoy Life Foods also recently released grain-based snack bars that you might enjoy if you can tolerate gluten free oats. To be completely honest, nothing I’ve ever eaten from Enjoy Life Foods has let me down, so you really can’t go wrong with any of Enjoy Life Foods’ snack bars or other goodies.

3. Thunderbird Real Food Bars

Think of Thunderbird like Lara Bar’s slightly more sophisticated older brother. They also use super simple ingredients like dates, nuts and seeds and have a chewy, chunky texture. However, Thunderbird offers even more exciting flavors. Case in point? When I got to try Thunderbird’s granola bars for the first time last year, I was blown away by flavor combos like Hazelnut Coffee Maca, Pecan Goji Pistachio and - my ultimate favorite - Texas Maple Pecan.

An image from their Instagram since I already ate all of my Thunderbird bars...oops!

The Thunderbird snack bars are pretty big in size and very filling, so I often only eat half a time and save the rest in a snack bag for later. But if you love snacking on nuts, seeds and dried fruit and want to shake up your daily eats, I highly recommend giving Thunderbird a try!

4. Elemental Superfood

Raise your hand if you’ve ever wished you could find a slightly chewy, slightly crunchy granola bar that actually doesn’t have oats. If your hands wavin' in the air, prepare to be super excited to try one of my newest gluten free granola bar finds: Elemental Superfood's Seedbar. Elemental Superfood actually reached out to me to ask if I’d like to sample their products...and as soon as I saw that they make certified gluten free energy bars and granola using buckwheat instead of oats, I couldn’t say yes quickly enough. As an added bonus, their energy bars are also raw and packed with superfoods (hence the name!).

So far, I’ve tried two flavors: Cranberry, Almond + Lucuma and Mulberry, Cacao + Spirulina. The bars are drier and crumblier than most of the other granola bars I’ve tried (especially if you eat the bars straight from the fridge, where their packaging suggests storing them). The cacao can also taste bitter if you’re used to more processed varieties. However, I love the unique flavor combos and the mix of chewy fruit with crunchy buckwheat and nuts, and for the past few weeks, I've been addicted to eating one of these bars every night as a sweet snack. Elemental Superfoods Seedbars also have a finer texture than many other nut-based snack bars, so if you don’t like huge chunks of nuts in your bars, you’ve found a winner. Sneaking some extra superfoods into your diet doesn’t hurt either!

5. Freedom Bars

Meanwhile, if you live for big chunks of dried fruit or nuts in your gluten free granola bars, you’ll love Freedom Bars. These are gluten free, soy free, vegan, kosher, non-GMO, free of added sugar...and pretty dang delicious! Right now, Freedom Bars only come in four classic flavors: Apple Cinnamon, Chocolate Cocoa, Peanut Butter, and Raisin Almond. You know what they say...if it ain't broke, don't try to fix it!

These gluten free bars are quite dense and chewy, but the crunchy nuts break up the chewiness and add some variety. I also thought the spice level in these bars - particularly in the Apple cinnamon - was perfect. Not overwhelming but definitely strong enough to make the bar taste like apple pie!

6. ZEGO

If you're looking for the ultimate allergy friendly snack bar, you need to check out ZEGO. Their products and facility are free of the top eight allergens, plus celery, mustard and more. Plus, they intentionally avoid using ingredients that can mess with people's stomachs, so all their snacks are also free from oats, chicory root, artificial sweeteners and alcohols. ZEGO just recently released this sunflower date flavor, so when they reached out to offer samples, the sunflower-butter-lover in me couldn't say no.

ZEGO offers a variety of different energy bar types, including Just Fruit bars, Fruit and Chia Bars and Seed and Fruit Bars. I've tasted the last kind of bar in the Sunflower Date flavor...and, guys, it is crazzzzy tasty. The texture is smooth and slightly crunchy, and the flavor is pure sunflower butter and dates. If you want a naturally sweet treat that still tastes like dessert, ZEGO is one delicious option!

7. Health Warrior

The last gluten free snack bar I’m talking about is actually one I’m an ambassador for (use my code "collegeceliack30" for 30 percent off at check out!). Health Warrior offers three kinds of gluten free bars: vegan chia-seed-based ones, larger superfood protein bars, and pumpkin seed bars. Personally, Health Warrior’s Chia Bars are my favorite gluten free snack bar to throw in my backpack for school or my fanny pack on a long hike. They’re smaller than a lot of other bars on the market, which makes them the perfect sized snack for me. They’re also the only bar I’ve ever tasted that is based on chia seeds, which are high in omegas, protein and fiber. (Read more about why I love chia seeds here!)

I haven’t tried their new flavors (which include flavors like cookie dough and salted caramel), but my top picks so far are açaí (a superfood that tastes kind of like a tart blueberry) and coconut. I was also surprised at how much I enjoyed mango, and the nutty chunks in the almond flavor break up Health Warrior’s usually dense and chewy bars. Health Warrior's pumpkin seed bars are just as tasty, though the pepper in their turmeric flavor is too overwhelming for my palate. The Chocolate Pumpkin Seed bar tastes a little like a lighter, crunchier Kind Bar, so if you love those bars, you might like Health Warrior’s pumpkin snack bars too. Most of those pumpkin seed bars use honey and are not vegan, but Health Warrior just released a new vegan dark chocolate coconut almond pumpkin seed bar as I was writing this post!

The Bottom Line of Gluten Free Snack Bars

Like I said earlier in this post, there are certainly still many oat free and gluten free snack bars I haven’t tried that are probably just as good. Right now, though, these seven are some of my favorites...and I think they do a good job of showing just how diverse gluten free snacks can actually be! Whether you need a big snack and prefer eating granola bars made of whole foods or prefer an allergy friendly granola bar that reminds you of your childhood favorites, there is a gluten free granola bar out there for you. And giving up gluten free oats doesn’t mean you have to give up convenient snacks or flavor.

So the next time you’re having a super busy day at work or school or around town, I hope this list gives you some ideas of gluten free snacks to take with you. And stay tuned for my round up of the best gluten free and vegan protein bars sometime soon! What’s your favorite gluten free granola bar? Tell me in the comments! via Blogger https://ift.tt/2QkX3sF

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