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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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hi! could you please do Steve teaching shy!reader how to suck him off cause it's her first time and she really wants to but has no idea how to?

18+

“You don’t have to.”

You shrugged, nerves showing in the way your brows hiked up in the middle, the way you chewed at the corner of your lip. You sank to your knees anyway, delighting in the way Steve let out a groan and a curse.

“I want to,” you told him, sounding more confident than you felt. You let your palms lay on his thighs, hoping he couldn’t feel how clammy they were through his jeans. The bed squeaked as Steve shifted, his eyes trained on your wide ones. “I just— I don’t… Can you tell me what to do? Can you teach me?”

Steve’s eyes shuttered closed, lashes blinking, cheeks rosy and he looked pained. You wondered if you’d done something wrong.

“Baby, if you’re gonna start saying stuff like, I won’t get a chance to.”

You blinked, mouth falling open as Steve’s cock kicked up beneath the zipper, as if to prove a point. You swallowed, bare knees pressed to his bedroom carpet and you smiled, shyer than ever despite the jab you still managed to deliver.

“You’re filth, Harrington.”

Steve punched out a soft laugh, more breathy then he wanted it to be, ‘cause your small hands were busying themselves with the button of his jeans. “Yeah? Hard not to be when you’re on your knees like that, babe, shit.”

You smiled at him again, the picture of innocence despite the way your fingers were wrapping around him, pulling out his hard length with a small gasp. You’d seen it before - fuck you’d touched it before. Hands pumping around the size of it, eager to get Steve to fall apart for you, touch stuttering as he curled his own fingers into the spot that made you keen.

Steve had expected that today, too. Had been looking forward to it, actually, thinking about it all through his shift, wondering if you’d make the same noises for him as last time, when he sucked a bruise into the side of your hip when you came for him.

He hadn’t expected this.

Doe eyed and cheek pressed to his thigh, looking up at him as you waited for instructions. His heart bounced in his chest, a bone rattling beat that made the blood rush to his cheeks, his neck, his cock. His nostrils flared, lips parted and he let his head hang back, hands braced behind him as he fisted the sheets.

Yeah, this was going to be a quick lesson.

“Stevie?” You squeezed him gently, pulling a throaty moan from him and you licked your lips just as he looked back down at you. “Should I just—?” You squirmed, shuffling in your summer dress, thighs pressed together as you brought the head of to your mouth, cherry flavoured lips parting.

You tried to take too much of him, back of your throat burning at the invasion, the way he filled your mouth, hips jumping up from the mattress at the sudden wet heat on him. Steve grunted, gasped, a hand flying to cradle your jaw as you pulled yourself off of his cock with a choked noise.

“Baby, baby, shit.” Steve’s chest was heaving but he was soft with the way he soothed a thumb over the apple of your cheek, running it under the wet that had gathered at your lash line. “You okay? Fuck, too much huh?” A laugh bubbled from him, not unkind, not at you, but self consciousness still clouded your face.

“I— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, god…” you pulled away, nose scrunched in defeat, brows furrowed but before you could get too far, Steve caught your chin.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, yeah?” Steve bent a little to get closer to you, hands cradling your face, eyes kind and patient. “Do you wanna stop? It’s okay if you do. Or you can come look pretty for me up here and I can take care of you for a while, how ‘bout that?”

The offer was tempting but that’s what Steve did all the time. Take care of you. So you shook your head and pushed back into the space between his knees, hand wrapping around his half hard length with a new vengeance, you felt him twitch under your touch, a new interest piqued at your determination.

“Shit, honey,” Steve breathed out, head lolling back again, neck taught and jaw tense. He blinked down at you, pupils blown wide. “Just go slow, okay? Take your time, you’re gonna make me feel so good, no matter what.”

His confidence in you bloomed in your own chest and you smiled, palm slick as it pumped him up and down, precum and your own saliva making it an easier job for you. “Yeah?” You asked.

Steve nodded, already gone on your touch, the way you looked. Ass perched back on your heels as you knelt, lips glossy, eyes wide, one dress strap slipping indecently down one shoulder.

“Fuck, yeah,” Steve assured, and with that, you edged forward, lips carefully wrapping about the head of his cock, tongue flat underneath it as you sucked cautiously at the tip. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, that’s it, baby, shit.”

With each breathy moan, each gasp and wine, stuttered swears and whispers of affection, you gained more confidence.

“That’s my girl, yeah, just take the tip, baby, feels so fucking good.”

You hummed, pleased with yourself when your mouth was wrapped around half of him, the heavy feel of his cock slowly slipping in and out past your lips as you bobbed your head. It was a stretch to take him like this, jaw protesting and knees shaking beneath you but Steve was losing it, and that was worth it all.

One hand on his thigh, curled around the band of his shucked down boxers, the other wrapped around the part of his dick your mouth couldn’t reach, you pulled off of him, tongue licking over his head like a lollipop.

“S’good?” You asked quietly, voice a little hoarse. You blinked, eyes wet with the way you’d lost yourself in it, nearing closer and closer to the point where his cock brushed up against the back of your throat again. “Am I doing it right?”

Steve could hardly speak, chin tucked to his chest so he could watch you, his cock slick with your spit, his lips chewed raw from how he’d bitten at them, knuckles white as he gripped at his sheets, doing everything he could not to grab at your hair and buck up into you.

“Yeah, baby, yeah yeah yeah— fu-uck,” another breath was punched out of him, a rough gasp as you leant into to lick another wet stripe up the underside of him. “Yeah, s’good, you have no fuckin’ idea.”

He was overcome with adoration when you smiled, proud, lips swollen and reddened from your efforts. “Will I keep going?” You said it softly, politely, as if you weren’t pulling his soul from his bones from the way your tongue was curling around his cock.

He swept a thumb over your cheek, a soft push to the skin there that felt like an ‘I love you,’ and he nodded, neck bared once more as he let his head drop back when your mouth slid back over him.

…

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve baby blurb

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in-flvx · 10 months

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Flavour

@prongsfoot-microfic @amrut-aa

James is aware that he is making a spectacle of himself. He had opted for both short shorts and a crop top today. His left football sock is sitting firmly on his knee, but the right one has artfully slid down. His brand new aviators aren't all that thick, even with his dioptres, and he is very sure that the cherry flavored lollipop is staining his lips. In front of his teammates he was able to play off the love bite on his inner thigh as a bruise from training, but Sirius should be well aware what really caused it.

James shoulders his trainings bag and bids his teammates goodbye, fully aware that sirius will be already waiting for him outside the training center. James bounds outside, the training not nearly enough to tire him out. If anything it had given him more energy.

The sun bites into his eyes, despite his shades, but it's nothing to the sight of Sirius. Leant against his sleek Bentley, smoking, in black clothes that could be painted onto him. He is a piece of art, the strands of his hair that have fallen out of his bun manage to somehow still move with wind that is not existent for the rest of the world. His full lips form into a flawless o-shape for smoke rings, even as he eyes James. His eyes rest on the bruised thigh for a moment, before they find James' eyes, and Sirius' expression melts into this world-ending, blinding smile of his. Small, cherry flavoured shards scatter in James' mouth - he must have bitten down on his lollipop.

Sirius, the very reason James wants to make a spectacle of himself. He loves to work him up. Sirius, whose expression typically ranges from haughty to bored unless he finds something to truly engage him. With his grandiose ideas, sharp mind, and the most biteable arse the World has ever seen... James bounds up to him and they share a very heterosexual, very manly hug. James has a hard time not to bite into the free shoulder Sirius presents to him like it's nothing, and then has to scramble quickly into the passanger seat, just to hide his hard on from what Sirius whispered into his ear: "that bruise on your thigh looks lonely. I'll make sure there will be more to keep it company"

Whatever sweat James had broken into in training, it's nothing against the drive back to their flat, with Sirius' hand on his thigh, absentmindedly stroking and petting it while driving. Driving the car, and James mad in the meantime.

#sirius black #marauders #james potter #Muggle au #Prongsfoot #prongsfoot microfic #July 11 #Flavour

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weird-an · 6 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

@sanguine-tenshi You sent me that ask, too! Thank you.

I think I did one of these already, but well, some days you need to love yourself a little more and today is one of these days. I love all my fics. My faves depend on my mood. Here is today's selection:

A Study In Bruises - I love the exploration of the similarities and differences of Jonathan and Billy and also, how an outsider's POV shows glimpses of Steve's and Billy's relationship. It was so much fun to write and I love to revisit it.

Cross Road Blues - Billy selling his soul to Demon! Steve, wanting Neil to stop hurting him. I could imagine it so so well writing it. This whole AU is a movie in my mind! It was so much fun to punish Neil Hargrove, too (if I'm honest). Also, I loved the little joke about Steve sucking at math (because hey, he's a demon and has powers, but that doesn't solve your issues with algebra).

Mama Don't Preach - Billy's mom comes back, wanting to meet her son. Billy and his mom is another intriguing relationship. Also, Steve's POV hits differently in this one.

Swallowing The Truth - Heavy Angst is also a good flavour to write and I just love Billy getting out of Cherry Lane. And Jim gets to punch Neil.

Snake Charmer (Good Omens) - A little cracky thing about Aziraphale taken an interest in snakes and Crowley being jealous. My first Good Omens fic and so much fun!!

Spreading the love in other people's asks now! <3

#harringrove #self rec

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0nelittlebirdtoldme · 1 year

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7 Lines Game

Alright, I crumbled and gave in. Stealing this tag from @mikaharuka and tagging @udaberriwrites and @kayedium-writes, since they have been such great enablers for this ship those past few days. Leaving an open tag for anyone who feels like it!

A preview for the end of a oneshot, coming out as part of Whumpril next month 👀

Fight Club | Narrator/Tyler Durden

He flats his hand palm against me and I could have sworn my knees almost buckle at that. I sway lightly forward, towards him, our two bodies nearly pressed together by now. Never before have I been so close to him.

Don’t get me wrong; Tyler is my friend. He gives me a pat on my back, or punches me when I ask for it, or tugs at my clothes, to get me to pay attention, when he wants to show me something. But he has never been much of a hugger, and now, this, him, raking his hands over my flesh, disguising it as a search for –

“A bruise,” Tyler simply says, interrupting my thoughts, and again, I just stare. “It’s just a bruise, man,” he laughs lightly and smiles, chewing on his gum. I can hear the wet sound of his back teeth playing with the soft piece of polyisobutylene, plastic, resin, artificial sweeteners and flavouring, and for a moment, I imagine what his tongue would taste like. Sweet. Hot. Alive.

“Your ribs are fine.”

Alright, I breathe, swallowing, still not daring to move an inch. My breath falters.

Tyler still has his hand on me, warm and strong against my stomach, lingering there. He flashes me another one of his trademark smiles.

I taste cherry.

#tag game #fight club #fight club 1999 #fight club book #tyler durden #the narrator #fight club narrator #soapshipping #my fic #birdie doing whumpril

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solkimcowell · 1 year

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Indigo Cheese Melt

Wrangle Hall is haunted at night. Or, not haunted, but close to it — half drunk ghosts wandering up and down, first year banshees gripping scuffed heels in one hand and gently smoking joints in the other. I didn’t work my ass off to get here just to throw it away on late nights and socials, but my roommate — her name is Cherry, after the icecream flavour from Baskin Robbins, and emphatically not the one from Ben & Jerry’s — seems to think it’s a great idea to spend all her time with her new boyfriend, which results in me being exiled more than I’d like.

I’ve told her about a million and one times that he’s only in it because he’s got a terminal case of yellow fever, but I think she’s still flying high on the thrill of being wanted. I’m just waiting for her to be replaced by a fresher with double lids so I can perform the ritual of talking her out of plastic surgery yet again.

Until then, I’m forced to stalk the hallways on my own. It’s fine, I was planning on an all-nighter anyway; essays don’t write themselves, but now I’ll be forced to do it sitting in the kitchen instead of the comfort of my own room. Which is okay. It really, really is.

I shoulder the door to the kitchen open roughly, headphones pumping Placebo into my ears, and am immediately greeted by a crowd of people bustling their way out. High, horselike laughter from a white guy with awful teeth pierces my skull and I plaster myself against the wall, because this is exactly why it’s not okay. But Cherry’s been tolerable, so I need to tolerate. An anorexic elbow knocks my binder free from my clawed grip and suddenly my notes are everywhere, all over the floor. Of course, the ghosts barely acknowledge that — they seldom have time for the living — and are swept away by the midnight airs, so I stumble to my knees and start to clean up.

“Need help with that?”

God, I jump about twenty feet into the air. I thought the kitchen was empty, but judging by the blue smile of the girl perched on the counter, I was sorely mistaken. Literally blue, as well; she’s eating some sort of sandwich that’s staining her fingertips purple, like bruises. Even if she’s trying to be nice, which the ghosts never are, I don’t want purple notes, so I do this twitchy motion that usually gets people to shut up.

It doesn’t work. She hops off the counter and shuffles over, squatting in front of me with one wrinkled boot cleanly situated on top of one of my pages.

“Never seen you around before,” she says, clearly prompting. When I don’t respond, she holds out one purpled hand and smiles wider. She introduces herself, but ghosts don’t have names, so I don’t bother paying attention.

I forgo the handshake. “I’ve got a paper due on Monday, so if you could…”

Up close, she’s got very pale blue eyes. I thought they were grey, from a distance, but I realise now that they’re more like a pair of mackerel sky marbles. Her pupils are big and dark, a stark contrast to her stringy white blonde hair, which seems to be her natural colour given that her eyebrows are nonexistent. She kind of reminds me of my pet cat back home, the way her eyes blow big and wide when she’s in hunting mode.

“Yeah, sure, dude.” Her teeth are pointy, little needles. She takes another bite of her weird purple sandwich and gets up. “You won’t even notice I’m here.”

Talking is tiring, so I just finish collecting the scattered sheets of paper and make my way to the corner seat, which is the only place I feel sane in this hellscape. My back has to be against a wall, preferably two, or I can’t concentrate because I’m too busy glancing over my shoulder. It very quickly becomes apparent that this girl is incapable of being quiet, but not because she’s making any noise in particular; no, her presence is insufferably loud. Cherry would have pulled some four letter acronym out of her ass — some MBTI drivel — if she were here. But she’s not.

I can’t stop noticing this girl — this ghost, and it’s severely interfering with the sanctity of my workflow. I don’t care about the ghosts. That’s why they’re ghosts to begin with. And I don’t care about her, but I don’t… not care. I’m not apathetic, is what I mean, and that’s already a step too far.

It’s then that the toaster pings. Shattered focus. I can’t do this, not here, not with her taking up all this space, not with this infernal toaster—

“Want one?”

A deep sigh. I shut my laptop with the restrained force of my very pent up frustration, and find myself turning to the girl and pushing my glasses up my nose reflexively. Nervous habit, my mother says, inherited from my dad. I don’t know why I’m thinking about that right now.

Nevertheless, I peer over at the freshly made sandwich in her hand. It’s messy, purple-blue goop dripping onto her hand, and the distinct pungency of mature cheddar radiates from it like a warning. Ordinarily, I would have declined. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have deigned to acknowledge her presence to begin with. This is not an ordinary night.

“What… is it?” I venture tentatively, clearing my throat awkwardly when my voice comes out hoarse. This seems to be the right thing to say, however, because she responds with a grin and slides into the seat next to me, her former perch on the counter abandoned.

“So glad you asked! It’s an Indigo Cheese Melt.” She says it like a proper noun, like it’s a landmark or the name of a person or an indie band. Indigo Cheese Melt, The Band! Her response doesn’t really answer my question.

“Okay. Okay,” I sigh again, just as deeply. And then, steeling myself, I say, “Hand it over.”

I’m expecting her to give me the new one, hot from the toaster, but she passes over the one she’s been munching on since before I entered the kitchen. Or, not really — she just holds it out in my direction, as if I’m going to eat out of her hand like an animal. And, really, this night is already so many things that I do not do, ever, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to stop.

I don’t do mystery food. Every time I go to a restaurant, I order the same thing. Every time I cook a meal, I have to measure out the ingredients with teaspoons or I’ll go crazy. I don’t share food, not even with Cherry. I can’t bring myself to share a straw, let alone a whole sandwich, with my own family. And I absolutely do not ever get this close to the ghosts.

Somehow, I find myself leaning forward and taking a bite.

Immediately, flavour bursts on my tongue. The goop is some kind of sweet and sour jam, I realise, and it has such a strong taste that it really doesn’t have any business being anywhere near something as powerful as cheddar. I don’t have words to describe how it tastes, though — in all the millions of years of humanity, this girl has created a completely new flavour. I didn’t think it was possible. I mean, look how batshit crazy the western culinary world went when they discovered that umami was a thing. I think this would break Gordon Ramsay’s mind like an eldritch horror in an H. P. Lovecraft book.

The filling oozes out between her fingers. It should be disgusting, but it’s not — in fact, some weird part of me is tempted to lick it off her hand. I don’t, of course, because I may be making some exceptions tonight, but I’m not insane.

Then, quietly, like a whisper: “Good?”

Suddenly, a thought comes to me unbidden. I wish I were having this strange, inexplicable moment with someone else. I wish I weren’t eating this enigma of a sandwich with a stranger whose name I don’t even know. Most of all, I wish Cherry’s asshole boyfriend would leave so I could go back upstairs and—

Too far. I shove my glasses up against my nose again, partly because they’re slipping and partly because I can feel myself shaking a little, the way I usually do before I start to cry. Usually, I don’t care what the ghosts witness, because they don’t care. Another thought comes to me: I don’t want her to see me cry.

I stand abruptly, gathering my things. She’s a little confused, but I’m too in my head to hear much apart from her asking if I’m okay, and that withered lonely soul within me for once doesn’t cry out in protest when I pull away. Everything’s blurry, after that: me mumbling something dismissive, me shoving everything back into my binder out of order, me fumbling with my laptop until it fits inside my too full backpack.

As I stumble out of the kitchen, heavy door swinging, I find myself wishing I had bothered paying attention to her name. Cherry’s not in our room when I get back, but her things lie strewn across both of our beds. The space is lived in — no, I’m lived in. I try to hate that she lives in me. The next day, after I’ve lulled myself to sleep on pills, I open my binder and see a crisp footprint on the first page — the only proof that anything happened that night at all.

[ Published in Powders Press, January 2023 ]

#skcwrites #fiction

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deathvisited · 5 months

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aesthetics tag -- verity williams

rules: bold all the aesthetics that your muse relates to

side a - the city

glittering lights, yawning skyscrapers, broken glass shards, street gangs, hip hop music, late night strolls, blinking stars, sleek cars, flickering neonsigns, glittery earrings, small tattoos, empty subways, dark eyeshadow, snapping cameras, cozy apartments, fried churros, silver necklaces, dyed hair, ripped jeans, bright lipstick, dazzling smiles.

side b - the book nerd

large glasses, steaming hot chocolate, thick books, lofi music, hot pastries, soft smiles, large sweaters, quiet libraries, small flowers, melting candles, sweetened coffee, messy hair buns, soft pillows, fairy lights, vanilla scents.

side c - the stereotypical girl

soft pinks, mini skirts, crop tops, romantic fantasies, love songs, strawberry milkshakes, lipgloss, high ponytails, candy hearts, nail polish, starbucks coffee, clear skies, hoop earrings, excited ramblings, stuttering heartbeats, rose bouquets, soft blushes.

side d - the stereotypical boy

arcade games, graphic t-shirts, baseball caps, chocolate milkshakes, messy rooms, acoustic guitars, chocolate chip cookies, multi-colored bruises, rap music, nightly escapades, stolen glances, pencil-drumming, chocolate milk boxes, low hums.

side e - the nature hippie

mini plants, cloud-watching, stars, damp forests, sandy beaches, ocean waves, wildflowers, hiking, iced lemon tea, gardening, hippie music, buttered toast, birds chirping, multi-coloured leaves, evening sunlight, fruit cups, sundresses.

side f - the rebel

cherry lollipops, devil hand signs, grape flavoured bubble gum, rock music, killer boots, dark make-up, horror movies, denim jackets, switchblades, handguns, stargazing on rooftops, glowing cigarettes, large headphones, skull rings, converse shoes, graffiti murals, glowing moonlight, rose thorns, fishnet stockings.

side g - the winter

busy cafes, oversized hoodies, drizzling rain, small snowflakes, marshmallows in hot chocolate, loose hair, sad music, reading a book, blanket forts, frozen lakes, crackling fireplaces, old movies.

side h - the summer

tank tops, lemonade, sunny days, dripping popsicles, short haircuts, tinted sunglasses, cotton candy, amusement parks, traveling, blasting music on the car radio, wagging dog tails, large sunflowers, snow cones.

side i - the autumn

pumpkin lattes, warm bakeries, warm colours, hair braids, soft sweaters, colourful leaves, purring cats, dark chocolate bars, romance movies, soft music, zen tangling, vintage cameras.

side j - the spring

floral scents, peach tea, mint shampoo, tinkling laughter, video cassettes, colourful paintings, excited smiles, lollipop sticks, blooming flowers, melting snow, action movies, singing in the shower.

#✦ — • aesthetic • verity williams •#✦ — • life things • verity williams •#✦ — • musings • verity williams •

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pickeatdraw · 2 years

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Chicken of the Woods Recipe

'Chicken', Leek, and Mushroom Pie

Chicken of the Woods (Laetiporus Sulphureus) is one of summer’s most exciting and unmistakable finds. With its distinctive bright yellow-orange colouring and characteristic globular shape, this is a great beginner mushroom for anyone just dipping their toes into mushroom hunting. It goes without saying though: never eat a mushroom that you haven’t confirmed the identity of using several sources.

Chicken of the woods is a bracket fungus that grows on trees and dead wood. Every specimen I’ve found has been on a beautiful gnarled old oak tree, but they can also grow on cherry, sweet chestnut, willow, and yew. Take care when collecting and pay attention to where they’re growing. Fungus growing on yew can take in toxins from this poisonous tree, and I’ve heard that the occasional specimen on old fence posts can have the same issue with substances used to treat the wood. Be careful and only collect specimens from deciduous trees and stumps.

When picking chicken of the woods, the younger the better. Small fans with bright yellow colouring and rounded edges are in their prime. At this stage, the fungus is a choice culinary delight, with a soft texture similar to chicken- hence the name. As they age, COTW grow into large fans with wavy edges, becoming pale and dry. Once this mushroom is past its best, it has a texture more akin to polystyrene than juicy chicken!

You can find plenty of recipes online for making meals out of chicken of the woods, often capitalising on its namesake as a veggie replacement in dishes traditionally made with white meat. Lots of recipes include breading and frying, which cotw lends itself well to.

The recipe below is another foraged play on a British pub classic- chicken, leek and mushroom pie. Though it seems a little excessive (this is actually a mushroom, leek, and more mushroom pie!) the addition of other mushrooms is important to the flavour. As well as having a texture similar to chicken, cotw tastes similar to chicken too- which is to say that it tastes of very little at all. You can use any other kind of mushroom you like, but the best would be those with a strong, mushroomy flavour. I’ve used dryad’s saddles, but some good foraged alternatives would be parasols, field mushrooms, or any kind of edible bolete. If you rehydrate dried mushrooms to use in this recipe, you can replace some or all of the stock with the mushroom-soaking liquid for extra umami!

Chicken of the Woods, Leek, and Mushroom Pie Recipe.

Ingredients

For the Pastry:

80 grams salted butter

80 grams lard (substitute with more butter to make this recipe vegetarian)

500g plain flour

1 egg, plus one for glazing

For the Filling:

500g fresh chicken of the woods mushroom

2 large leeks

200g other mushrooms (rehydrated weight if using dried)

3 cloves garlic

5tbsp plain flour

200ml chicken or vegetable stock

200ml full-fat milk or single cream

1 handful chopped fresh parsley, or 2 tbsp dried

1 handful chopped fresh tarragon, or 2 tbsp dried (optional)

1 tsp craked black pepper

2tsp mustard powder, or 1tsp English mustard

1/2 tsp paprika (optional)

White wine, white wine vinegar or apple cider vinegar for deglazing

Butter for frying

Method:

Make the pastry using a hot water crust method. Measure out your flour in a large heatproof bowl. Crack the egg into the centre and use a butterknife to stir it into the floure. Heat your fat(s) gently in a saucepan with 200ml cold water until melted. Allow the liquid to cool for a minute or so, then tip into the middle of your flour/egg mixture. Stir quickly with your butterknife to combine. Tip the dough out onto a surface and knead very briefly until smooth. Wrap tightly and place in the fridge to cool for at least an half an hour.

Heat a large knob of butter in a saucepan over a medium-high heat. Clean your chicken of the woods mushrooms and slice away any bruised or soft areas. Cut the rest into small bite-sized chunks. Slice your other mushrooms thickly (if using rehydrated, drain off as much liquid as possible). Throw everything in the pan and fry, stirring frequently, until thoroughly browned.

Thickly slice the leeks and mince the garlic. Once the mushrooms are browned, turn the heat down to medium-low and add the leeks with the garlic. Fry for a few minutes until starting to colour. Deglaze the pan with a splash of wine or vinegar, then add the mustard, pepper, and paprika (if using) to the pan and stir.

Turn the heat to low. Add the flour and stir through evenly, so all the filling is coated. Very slowly pour in your stock, stirring constantly, allowing the flour to absorb all the liquid you've poured in before adding more. Once all the stock has been added, pour in the milk/cream and stir again. Stir in the herbs and allow the mixture to simmer gently for ten minutes, stirring occasionally, until thickened.

Preheat your oven to 190 degrees (fan 170, gas mark 5). Lightly grease your tin. A large, flat tart tin works, but I've used a deep 9-inch cake tin to give the pie a little height. If making a deeper pie, split the pastry into two pieces of roughly two thirds (for the bottom) and one third (for the top). If making a flatter pie, split it roughly in half.

Roll out your bottom piece of pastry into a rough circle big enough to cover the bottom and sides of your dish. You shouldn't need to flour your surface, but you can do so if your pastry sticks. Place the rolled out pastry into the tin and gently press into the sides. Pour the filling into the pie crust.

Beat an egg in a small bowl with a splash of milk. Brush a little of this eggwash around the lip of the pie crust. Roll out the top piece, and place it on top. Use your thumb and forefinger to crimp the edge, then slice off the excess pastry with a sharp knife. Use the offcuts to decorate the top if you're feeling creative, and slice some lines to allow steam to escape. Then brush the top off the pie with more eggwash.

Bake for about an hour, or until golden brown on top. Let the pie cool for ten minutes or so after removing from the oven so it holds its shape better when sliced. Eat as it is, or try it with roast veg and a homemade mushroom gravy!

#foraging #mushrooms #chicken of the woods #chicken of the woods recipe #wild food #wild food recipe #foraging recipe #bracket fungi #recipe #laetiporus sulphureus #pie #vegetarian

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creepypastalover97 · 2 years

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Time for another creepypasta au headcannon.

Today’s headcannon is going to be on one of the favorite proxies. Ticci toby everyone!

Just to clarify. I know ticci toby is not a creepypasta anymore because kastoway said so, and I know he had his reasons. But ticci toby is low-key one of the posterchilds of creepypasta. In my mind he will always be one of the creepypastas. So that’s why I’m putting him in this au. Thank you.

Anyway. Time for the headcannon.

Here we go.

. Alright so he’s best boi. No cap.

. he’s very excitable, say one thing he likes and bam he’s super excited

. He enjoys to chase people, it gives him an adrenaline rush

. He can be a bit of a trouble maker and has a short attention span.

. He sneezes like a kitten as a result of always trying to be quiet when he lived with his parents.

. This guy is a total pyromaniac and loves setting off fires for the fun of it.

. Do not let Toby be in the kitchen alone, he could set something on fire; so far he has burned water, cereal, juice, and the stove.

. Toby have very violent twitches due to his tourettes

. He tends to get injured a lot and is very accident prone which makes older proxies worry a lot about him.

. He has cognitive insensitivity to pain (CIP) which makes him unable to feel pain.

. Since he can’t feel pain he has to get daily medical checkups with Nurse Ann to make sure that he doesn’t have any heath issues like broken bones, infections, cuts, burns, bruises, etc.

. He can’t tie his shoes, he never really got it.

. Toby is afraid of the dark.

. He loves a lot of very edgy music and he shakes his hips to Get Scared.

. He likes to play videogames particularly online competitive games *cough* fortnite *cough*

. okay but he’s a conspiracist and no one can tell me otherwise.

. Pansexual. Like to an extreme because of his constant attraction towards others without a thought,causing him to be easily flustered or admit to things without shame between stutters sometimes.

. Toby is cannibalistic.

. He's not much of a sweet tooth due to his habit of chewing the flesh from his fingers or his love for meat in general. But if you're asking on which sweet he craves for often,it would be Brownies.

. He loves anything cherry flavoured.

. He's a sucker for sweaters and hooded jackets. Long sleeved tops makes him more comfortable and easy for him to cover up his arms.

. His tone is more on sarcasm everywhere,assuming or countering that anything people would say is not gonna stop him otherwise.

. he makes clueless jokes all the time. masky and his sideburns are his number one go-to roast

masky gets pissed.

. He is Filipino-German and is Trilingual. His mother is of Filipino descent while his father is German. Though despite not being brought up in the UK, toby has a very British way of speaking. He blames this on the books he reads and the YouTubers he watches.

. He knows German

. He's adventurous. He enjoys strolling around the forest, looking through abandoned places to climbing up trees,traveling towards each one of them for fun or stealth purposes. He even has animal friends there too! Ask him which place to go and he'll show you a ton of places he knows around the woods.

. Will just bring home wild animals, wild animals that are practically tame for him. He’s just a Disney princess in disguise(he will put wild animals in someone’s room if they piss him off tho).

. Toby is a fan of animals. His favorite animals are Racoons and Owls. He reminds them of him,appearance-wise and personality-wise plus they're floofy than any other animal he encounters above trees. Not to mention he has a pet raccoon he named Spots!

. Watches clocks to calm himself or fall asleep. The tickings are soothing. He wears a watch to bed and puts his wrist near his ear so can fall asleep. ( or sleeps with clockwork.)

. Toby’s relationship with Clockwork is only allowed by Slender Man on the grounds that it never interferes with his work.

. Toby is Roman Catholic and constantly has rosary beads on his person.

. You know those people who can naturally lead others? yeah that’s not toby. he’s a follower, and does whatever he’s told.

. He was seen as a dog to others because of times he shakes his head everytime his hair is messy or wet.

. Terrible nicknames for everybody he knows? He’s got you covered.

. Has no sense of direction whatsoever. Often gets the other proxies lost on missions.

. He doesn’t get mad to often but when he does all hell breaks loose. It takes Jeff, EJ, Masky and Hoodie at least to hold him down .

. His mask and goggles serve as a comfort blanket due to his insecurity about his gash/his goggles are a piece of his childhood.

. He has dimples.

. He had an odd fascination with stars (because Lyra is a constellation).

. ya know dipper from gavity falls? and his forehead birthmark thing?

toby has that but it’s the lyra constellation

. I don’t think there was ever a clear canonical explanation for how he got that gash in his cheek so here’s my explanation for how he got it: Before he got his mouth guard he would chew on his cheek when he was stressed. Nobody realized anything was wrong until he managed to chew all the way through his cheek. It was EJ who suggested he wear a mouth guard to prevent this from happening again. Speaking of that gash in his cheek, ever since he got it he has to tilt his head slightly whenever he eats to make sure the food doesn’t leak out.

. One time the SCP Foundation captured him for questioning. Before Slender Man could “rescue” him though, the Foundation let him go after a couple of hours because he’s just so goddamn annoying and they didn’t want to deal with him anymore.

. Out of all the proxies his memory has the most holes. This is because he hit his head on a rock during the fire. Slender never caused his amnesia.

. He view’s slender as a father figure, and sees the other proxies as his siblings. Circe is his favorite because she’s the youngest, making her his baby sister.

. Is fucking terrified of moths. Aside of being terrified of moths, toby hates moths because he has trouble pronouncing plural of their name. He’s a firm believer that it should be something like “mothi”.

. Thanks to Toby's CIPA he can't sweat so overheating and passing out/having seizures becomes an issue so there's a little roster chart of who hoses him down after missions to keep him cool.

. He has a lot of trouble understanding his body since he can’t feel any pain. Sometimes he can break a leg, and when he can’t get up, he has to figure out what's wrong.

. He is obsessed with his hatchets. Toby cares for his hatchets like their his own children. Touch them and he’ll go ballistic. The one time Toby lost his hatchets, he just went out spray painting things like the proxy symbol and other things on walls out of frustration….

Turns out they were just stuck in his spine, hoodie had to point that out.

. Speaking of his hatchets. He’s really skilled at twirling them around like they weigh nothing! He’s also really good at twirling knives, machetes, just....any sharp weapon. Great tactics for giving people heart attacks.

. The power toby developed while being a proxy are stronger legs. They have great shock absorption. The farthest he has jumped was 29 ft. Like this boy has insane frog skills.

. Toby owns at least 3 easy bake ovens; the reason for this is simple: toby likes cooking, but slender doesn’t trust him near any source of heat for shit, lest his pyromania kicks up. So he got him a easy bake oven instead. The sad thing is toby became really good at using them, and now everyone secretly loves his baking more than slender’s cooking even though it’s done on an easy bake.

. He’s loved comic books from a young age, and this has followed him through his whole life. Chances are, if he’s not on a mission, you’ll find him chilling out somewhere, just calmly reading a comic book.

. He contacts Lyra via Quinta board and everyone thinks it’s aspect of his schizo but in reality it’s not.

. Toby has built a cardboard fort in slenderman’s backyard ( it’s really not a backyard, it’s just an area less populated by trees) more times than he can count. He knows it’ll get ruined by the elements, but it’s part of the fun for him; each time it gets distoryed he just builds a bigger and better one.

And last but not least here are some of Toby’s motor tics:

. I know he does the bras d'honneur often. Probably almost took his arm off with his ax doing it once ^

. He’ll pat his chest or whistle and then flip you off

. Patting, with the verbal comment “pat pat pat pat-”Could be his thigh, another persons shoulder, a table or counter, armrest ^

. Might chatter his teeth sometimes

. Wiggly fingers. That’s it. Just wiggly fingers

. Bites himself a lot- which I think is canon

. Jerks his shoulders up and head back, Sometimes happens while he’s repeating what someone else said ^

. He repeats things under his breath a lot, mostly short phrases based on what he’s heard or if something is stuck in his head

. So he will sit there and go “bugs bugs bugs bugs bugs” after hearing someone complain about a bug infestation

. Sorry people, but he will grope and go “honk honk” a pillow, blanket, someone’s face, breast, thigh, or rear. Also on the list of hated tics.

. Swats at his nose like there’s a fly

. Chattering his teeth

. Jerks his arms forward and grabby hands.

. Grabs whatever is closest and either yeets that shit or holds it, and you are not escaping if he grabs ahold of you ^

. Very quietly whispers “shwing” under his breath

. Sits up like he’s awake and then flops to the side

. Rolls eyes, No he’s not annoyed or being a shit, they just be rollin’

. Flashing. Sometimes he just grabs the bottom of his shirt and jerks it up, and that’s on the list of most hated tics

Verbal tics would include

. Whistling

. Repeating

. “Pat pat pat-”

. Chattering

. “Whore”

. “Look! Surprise!”

. “I’ll fuckin kill ya”

. “Oh look, its a cunt”

. “puussyyyy-”

. “Shwing”

. Gagging like he’s gonna vomit

. Screaming

. “I’m awake”

. “Can I have a water?”

. “I sware I’m awake”

. “Dandruff raaiiiinnn” as he proceeds to lean forward and scratch his head like he’s shaking all the dandruff from his hair

. Sighs a lot, annoys sigh, dramatic sigh, sad sigh, just sighing. a lot. Probably the least noticeable tic

Overall toby is no doubt an adorable edition to to the slender mansion, despite what some of the other pastas might say

P.s. none of this is canon, so don’t take seriously if you don’t want to so don’t hate if you do take it somewhere else.

P.s.s go check out Circe’s origin story on archive of our own. It’s called rabbits are not what they seen.

I hope you all enjoyed, I’ll see you soon. Bye 👋🏻

#ticci toby #creepypasta world building #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta

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goldstarcoffeeworld · 2 months

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Top 5 Health Benefits That Comes With Organic Certified Coffee Beans

Do you crave your daily caffeine pick-me-up but also aim to maintain a healthy diet? The good news is organic certified coffee beans offer noteworthy benefits beyond a satisfying taste and energizing jolt. What are the wellness perks of prioritizing organically grown coffee beans for health-conscious coffee lovers?

Antioxidants Protection from Disease

Coffee naturally contains powerful antioxidants called polyphenols which help neutralize cell damage contributing to various illnesses over time, like heart disease or cancer, when consumed regularly. But coffee beans grown using chemical pesticides and fertilizers contain lower antioxidant levels while exposing drinkers to unhealthy residues.

Sourcing high-quality Arabica coffee bean varieties like Blue Mountain or Tarrazu, which are certified organic by accredited bodies. It is like the Organic Crop Improvement Association (OCIA) provides assurance your java delivers the highest concentration of antioxidants.

Lower Risk of Adverse Reaction

Beyond health-protecting compounds, certified organic coffee bean regulations also mean the beans undergo far less processing using approved agents only. No contamination with mould, fungus, or mycotoxins.

For coffee drinkers with sensitivities, this greatly lowers the chance of adverse reactions to various additives or foreign substances triggering issues like upset stomach, rashes, or headaches after indulging in their favourite morning brew.

Better Taste Profile from Careful Cultivation

Growing coffee for certified organic labelling simply produces better-tasting beans. Why? Extra care is taken to enrich volcanic soil, shelter plants in ideal shade cover, pay workers fair wages, and hand-pick perfectly ripened cherries to naturally enhance flavour complexity and quality. No rushed harvesting or machine bruising of the beans.

And the regulated post-harvest processing keeps the true essence of the coffee intact for pronounced tasting notes.

Eco-Friendly Choice Protecting Local Environments

Making the eco-conscious decision to support organically grown coffee also benefits rural communities overseas typically depending on single crop economies. Using harmful synthetic chemicals and industrialized farming devastates local water supplies, etc.

Seeking organically and fairly traded coffee means you don’t have to give up daily caffeine while promoting healthier land use and protecting these delicate ecosystems for future generations. Thriving farms lift entire regional economies through steady organic certified coffee bean crop markets.

Conclusion

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#coffee #best coffee #goldstarcoffee #coffee beans #order green coffee beans #the best coffee #coffee bean #green coffee #the best organic coffee beans #organic certified coffees

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honkygay · 8 months

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heheheheh,,, wip

#honkygaydraws #fnaf #michael afton #elizabeth afton #evan afton #fnaf fanart #my au #cherry flavoured bruises #cfb #wip #work in progress

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thisislizheather · 8 months

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Summer Saturdays Vol. 8

EATING

Obsessed with Oikos’ Maple Syrup flavoured Greek yogurt. And these open-faced heirloom tomato sandwiches (below).

Above Photo: Toasted sourdough rubbed with garlic, then mayo, cheddar cheese, sliced heirloom tomatoes, sea salt & basil vinaigrette if you’re feeling fancy

DRINKING

Loved this Honey Soda I got from a farmer’s market.

COOKING

Tomato and fennel pizza with store bought dough (and added sausage) actually turned out pretty good. (And yes this sounds condescending, but you only think you don’t like fennel.)

Above Photo: Sausage & fennel pizza

BAKING

I used this great espresso cream cheese frosting with this vanilla cake recipe and it wasn’t spectacular, so that was depressing.

CRAVING

This bruised tomato and bread soup and only some of these insane CNE foods.

LISTENING

It happened. I downloaded a bird-identifier app. And you know what? I’m happier.

WATCHING

Detroit Rock City really holds up, still a great movie.

WEARING

The Urban Outfitters nail polish Cherry Iceeee (they have it in store at Square One in Mississauga) and tons of After Bite.

EXPERIENCING

All the public pools within a 10km radius.

LOVING

The Queue app to organize all the movies I want to see. There’s a spinner tool that makes it somehow more fun to decide, too? A smarter person might not admit that.

SHOPPING

The wild sales at The Bay right now (the customer service is atrocious since it’s a ghost town - but the deals, my god the deals).

GRIEVING

The end of the second season of The Summer I Turned Pretty. SUCH A FUN SHOW.

You can read last week’s Summer Saturdays Vol. 7 over here and you can see my summer highlights on Instagram over here.

#summer #summer saturdays #summer saturdays volume 8 #this is liz heather #Liz Heather #summer post

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fuzzysparrow · 1 year

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Which type of fruit is a Merton Glory?

Merton Glory is an English variety of cherry that was introduced in the 1940s. The fruit ripens in late June/early July, and has a sweet flavour. The cherry is often described as a white cherry because it is much paler in colour than most cherries.

Merton Glory cherries were initially grown in Cambridgeshire, United Kingdom, but they have never been grown commercially because the cherries bruise easily. They are self-sterile, which means they need a matching pollination partner in order to produce fruit.

The Latin name for Merton Glory is 'Prunus avium', which means 'bird cherry'. The fruit are often eaten by birds and mammals, which digest the fruit flesh and disperse the seeds in their droppings.

#Trivia #Cherries

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gargoyle-chronicles · 1 year

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The sky was ashen grey with the sun whisked away somewhere behind the mass of clouds. The silence lapped my ears, echoing waves that warbled the sound of cars sloshing through puddles on rain-slicked cement. The windows were propped open so the early Winter’s howls chilled the third story studio apartment, but the blinds were left closed. I pulled the blankets tighter, pressing as deep into the mattress as I could. It was cold, but the cold is a joy of mine. And I much prefer the cold to the bitter stench of my rotting corpse.

It was a strange malady. The kind that made the mind feel swollen, the world look sober after a heavy night, and all food taste like ash. The scent was near unbearable, it was sour and earthen. What one might imagine a gravedigger smells like after a night shift. It stung my own nose and left unsavoury traces in my mouth. My stomach clenched as if gagged by the smell. It was pure death. Bruises littered pallor flesh, a delicate shade of weathered maple. This sickness was the sickness that ailed the old king, The Creature— The Madman.

It had been 34 weeks since his passing. The sun breathed against the smokescreen, a soft yellow buzzing through the grey. I rolled over, only to see a mess of clutter. Clothes riddled the floor from the overflown basket to the bathroom door, and weeks old dishes filled the sink. Empty drink cans huddled by the door to be taken out with a few more strolled about the bed. My eyes felt smothered in some dry film, starved of moisture. I feld them shut again. There was nothing to see, nothing to know. The King was dead. There was nothing left.

“You can’t stay here, you know.”

The voice was soft, but stern, like flavour notes in coffee. Their skin was dark as cherry oak, with eyes the same, saturated with light. Tobacco shaded kinks bloomed from the left, the right of their head more or less shaved to a fade. A beauty mark signed the height of their square jawline. They locked eyes with me. If they were disgusted, then it didn’t show.

The hard red of their eyes softened. “How are you feeling?”

I rolled onto my back with a sigh, staring at the sand white ceiling. My chest rose, then fell. The relief weighed down against the sinews of my torso. It ached, everywhere. I didn’t want to move.

“Everyone is asking about you.”

“What of me?”

They blinked, their mouth lightly wavering in search of words. “What?”

“What is there about me to wonder? To inquire of?” I mulled, “What are they asking? What don’t they know— what do they need to? What more is there?”

What more is there?

The King is dead. There is nothing more. After months and months of mad ravings and nonsense, he was dead. He took my hand in his and told me what he saw— beauty beyond tangible things, a parade of creation in youth, a plethora of art and muses. All he ever wanted was to build a city like a temple, a place we could revere and love and call home. Somewhere we felt safe. He spent his entire life trying to repair everything the Leviathan destroyed. He led us, inspired us, cared for us. Now, he’s dead. There is nothing more. Not after that.

My heart shot. Its valves were nothing more than strings to be played by grief. All my organs felt used and fatigued; collapsed against linings and pallid flesh walls in slow rasping breaths, waiting to give in. This body was nothing but a corpse, slow crawling to full decay. I was soon to die. I had to be. What was this if not death?

And where would he be? After all is done, and I am left to some yard with a stone, some heartfelt scrawlings from those who were close and yet not close enough, and they gather with bowed heads and filter out the same, what then? He may not go to Hell, but would he accept Heaven? I doubt he’s lingering and, if he is, pray he never see me. He always seemed beyond death. As if he could overcome it and crawl back from the throes. He was immortal to me.

“When I die—”

They shook their head. “You’re not dying.”

“Can you bury me beside him?” I asked. The thought of it burned my eyes. Being with him in the end. I would die and there would be nowhere for me to go. Heaven and Hell mean very little to me. I doubt either would consider enlisting such a hapless soul. I could see it now, all my flesh flaking away like splintering wood in a hurricane. My body ravaged, pillaged for its matter, and subsequently returned to nothingness. And in nothingness I remain. But, if I could at least be close to him—

“Get up.”

#lore #house of faust #XVII #rip #The Creature #The Madman #writingcommunity #faustus #tragedy

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nandermoenthusiast · 2 years

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side a - the city

glittering lights, yawning skyscrapers, broken glass shards, street gangs, hip hop music, late night strolls, blinking stars, sleek cars, flickering neon signs, glittery earrings, small tattoos, empty subways, dark eyeshadow, snapping cameras, cozy apartments, fried churros, silver necklaces, dyed hair, ripped jeans, bright lipstick, dazzling smiles

side b - the book nerd

side c - the stereotypical girl

side d - the stereotypical boy

side e - the nature hippie

mini plants, cloud-watching, star gazing, damp forests, sandy beaches, ocean waves, wildflowers, hiking, iced lemon tea, gardening, hippie music, buttered toast, birds chirping, multi-coloured leaves, evening sunlight, fruit cups, sundresses

side f - the rebel

Cherry lollipops, devil hand signs, grape flavoured bubble gum, rock music, killer boots, dark make-up, horror movies, denim jackets, switchblades, handguns, stargazing on rooftops, glowing cigarettes, large headphones, skull rings, converse shoes, graffiti murals, glowing moonlight, rose thorns, fishnet stockings

side g - the winter

busy cafes, oversized hoodies, drizzling rain, small snowflakes, marshmallows in hot chocolate, loose hair, sad music, reading a book, blanket forts, frozen lakes, crackling fireplaces, old movies

side h - the summer

side i - the autumn

pumpkin lattes, warm bakeries, warm colours, hair braids, soft sweaters, colourful leaves, purring cats, dark chocolate bars, romance movies, soft music, zentangling, vintage cameras

side j - the spring

floral scents, peach tea, mint shampoo, tinkling laughter, video cassettes, colorful paintings, excited smiles, lollipop sticks, blooming flowers, melting snow, action movies, singing in the shower

#remember when these personal aesthetics things were all the rage?? i still had this one in my drafts from god knows how long ago #im trying more and more to empty my drafts and likes but there is just a LOT i accumulated over the years #me

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