#how to make garlic bread with regular bread | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sintiva · 1 year

Text

HOUSEHUSBAND!NANAMI (hc’s and regular text format)

contents: established relationship, gn!reader, fem!bodied reader, nanami’s a baker essentially, oral sex (r!receiving), hair pulling….. i wrote this in like 15 minutes so bate with me 🥹 and i haven’t wrote for nanami in forever 😭

૮ • ﻌ - ა

and here we are…

househusband!nanami is the type of man who comes to rub your feet after you’ve been on them all day. he just got finished putting a homemade kneaded loaf of rosemary parm flour in the oven (it’s your absolute favorite). it’s friday and he makes sure he puts it in the oven at 3:45 pm on the dot. by the time it’s finished your pulling into the driveway and further stepping in through the garage door.

househusband!nanami greets you with a hug and warm kiss to the cheek. he can tell you had a rough day when you slouch and whine as you hang your jacket on the coat rack. “rough day?” he’ll ask with his hands cupping your waist, and a bit of flour of on his arms. “you could say that.” you sigh and get on your tippy toes to wrap your arms over his shoulders. he’d give you a loving kiss and hoist you up on his body. you wrap your legs around his waist and nestle your face into the crook of his neck

househusband!nanami walks you into the kitchen and places you on the island; in perfect view of the freshly baked bread. your eyes light up immediately, but it’s no suprise you’ve grown accustom to this routine, but it still makes your heart ache with love and admiration. “what did i do deserve you?” you hum in delight and dangle your feet as you watch him cut you a slice. it’s so fresh the steam floats up from the precise cut he made, he opens the fridge and pulls out his tub of homemade butter; parsely, garlic and gouda have all somehow been manipulated together to make the spread. he spreads it across the bread with a shiny butter knife and walks over to feed it to you.

househusband!nanami who views it as a ritual, he makes you do absolutely no work when you get home from doing work. you nearly moan at the way the bread and butter melt into your mouth, and you offer many words of praise to nanami’s baking skills. “it taste so good, babe. how do you manage to make it better and better each time.”

“you know if you had just proposed to me with bread i would’ve said yes.”

“i bet you would’ve.” he chuckles and feeds you another piece and you can’t grasp how it taste so good. your eyes roll back into your head, it’s almost — almost better than sex, and that quite happens to be another thing househusband!nanami is good at. when you finish eating every bit he’s given you, you plead for more. “just one more slice, ken, please.” and he’s smiling giving himself a mental pat on the back, “just one more, honey?”

househusband!nanami didn’t even need you to beg for more because he was gonna give it to you one way or the other. not only because it makes him feel good when you like his treats, but it’s a turn on. a massive one. your words of praise and how you enjoy the bread turn him on more than it should, and he’s instantly dropping to his knees as he guides your calves over his shoulders. you’re used to it honestly, whenever ken gets like this he’s persistent.

househusband!nanami loves the way you enjoy his bread so much that your moans and praises of approval towards it; gets his dick hard. so hard that he’s pulling you to the edge of the counter and positioning your hips to hang off the edge so he can pull your panties off with ease. he’s so greedy he doesn’t even pay mind to the way it hooks around your ankle. he has his eyes set on one thing, and he’ll get it.

househusband!nanami gets embarrassed so easily, and you think that’s why he decides on eating you out as much as possible. it hides the blush on his cheeks and he gets to slurp and lap at your pussy without being embarrassed about it. he holds onto you tight, basically hoisting his arms over your thighs so you can’t snap ‘em shut. he’d lick and lick until his jaw grew numb and locked. but feeling you tremble from his tongue pleased him.

househusband!nanami is such a pleaser that he doesn’t mind when you start to rock your hips against his face and tighten your fingers in the blonde strands of his hair; it just makes his dick incredibly harder. you can’t even be upset because househusband nanami is such a pleasure dom. he’ll do anything, and i mean anything in his power to see you happy, stress free and feeling good, and all he needs is you cumming all over his face.

househusband!nanami twirls and nips at your clit eith his tongue and mouth, and soon enough thr breads long forgotten, and it’s nanami who’s enjoying his home fed meal. feeling your cunt throb and gush around his tongue is elating, tasting how good you are is even better. he’ll lick and take as much as you give him, and sometimes he’ll use his fingers to get a little bit more on his tongue.

#sin writes ೃ #nanami x reader #nanami x reader smut #nanami x you #nanami x black!reader #nanami fluff #nanami smut

593 notes · View notes

annalu86 · 1 year

Text

Lunch at Genny’s.

It’s nearly lunch time and Genny is stood at her kitchen counter preparing a meal for her family. She’s watching her boys throw a ball back and forth in the garden, which sounds idyllic but took half an hour of arguing and bribing to get them both to turn off their phones and games. She has some bright and breezy music playing in the background as she chops salad and prepares meat for the BBQ.

Tim, her brother, is coming over. He does this regularly, he’s kept to his promise of being more active in their lives and Genny loves it. From stepping in to coach little league, to Sunday lunches, to actually babysitting for the one, disastrous, date she’d dared to go on since moving to the city.

But today was a little different, today Genny was making a little extra effort. Today was the day Tim was finally introducing her to Lucy. His girlfriend.

Of course Genny had met Lucy several times already, in fact Genny was pretty sure she had already made up her mind what kind of person Lucy was. And she loved her! Anyone who could make her hard nosed brother squirm with a look, stop in his tracks with one touch and make him laugh, really laugh was worth her weight in gold.

Tim had always talked more about Lucy than any other colleague, she’d heard stories of Angela and his watch commander, but Lucy had quickly become a regular feature of their catch up phone calls. Then she had met Lucy and seen the shift in her brother’s behaviour, his desire to be around her. Once she had moved to the city, with Ashley out the picture, she had been amused to see the pair of them trying to hide their obvious affection for each other from her. Then the calls to look after Kujo had started, not just ‘can you drop in and take him for a walk’ during a shift but requests to have him over night. She new he had a dog sitter and only asked her as a last resort and she didn’t mind at all, the boys loved Kujo and it stopped them begging her for a pet for themselves. It was clear he was regularly spending the night away from home, on top of his normal shifts.

So when Genny had called to invite him over for lunch she had been keen to extend the invitation to Lucy but was a little unsure as to how her notoriously private brother would take it.

“Hey Tim, is this a good time?”

“As good as any”

“Perfect, how would you like to come over for lunch on Sunday?”

“Actually that works for me, as long as I can bring the dog?”

“Of course. Actually… as you’ve mentioned bringing someone…”

“Genny?”

“Is there anyone else you’d like to bring?”

“…”

“It’s just an offer, anyone you’d like to bring would be welcome”

“… thanks, I’ll ask.”

“Perfect. Let me know if she has any food preferences, see you both at the weekend!”

And she had quickly hung up the phone.

Genny heard Tim’s truck pull up outside but forced herself to stay in the kitchen and wait for the knock at the door, she was determined not appear too keen. After a couple of minutes she heard hushed voices outside the door and then, eventually a knock. As she swung the door open she was greeted immediately by Kujo’s nose pushing its way forward, she bent to stroke his head and then straightened up, first, into the beaming face of Lucy Chen and then looking up into the serious face of her brother.

Genny took in Lucy’s arm casually looped through Tim’s, the way the woman’s body was turn in towards his. “Hi! Genny thanks so much for inviting us over. I brought garlic bread”

Tim bent down and unclipped the dogs lead, letting him run off in search of the boys in the garden.

“Hi Genny” he lent forward and hugged her briefly, he moved back, placed his hand on Lucy’s lower back and ushered her forward into the house.

Genny welcomed them both in and led the way to the kitchen. She fixed them both drinks and they chatted about work, house renovations and the boys. Genny watched her guests move around each other. The way Lucy’s body turned in his direction as he moved about the kitchen, how his hands moved to touch some part of her whenever she was in reach. The way Tim smiled at Lucy’s endless gentle teasing, no sign of irritation just warmth and affection as he rolled his eyes and chuckled and in return Lucy’s constant good humour. She seemed to find his grumpy demeanour endearing, which Genny new from personal experience was a must if you were going to spend any real time with Tim.

Time had come to put the meat on the grill. Tim stood, passing a plate of kebabs to Lucy and picking up the steaks himself and the pair walked out into the garden. Genny watched her two buys walk over to the couple, they had both met Lucy at Tyler’s little league match and the four quickly struck up an easy conversation. After a few minutes of chatting, whilst Tim loaded up the grill, Lucy moved off into the garden with the boys and they all started playing catch. Tim watched them from the grill, fiddling with the heat before turning a walking back inside the house.

“That’s a mighty big smile you have there big brother” Genny ventured, somewhat bravely.

“It really is great to have you and the boys back”

“Riiight” she earns herself a sharp look from her brother “and it doesn’t have anything to do with your friend? The beautiful, energetic, witty woman, who hangs on your every word and chooses to spend her precious days off playing catch with your nephews?”

“Maybe” to her amazement the gruff exterior melts and she seizes her chance to push his boundaries a little.

“She it, isn’t she?”

He sighs deeply “without doubt.”

“Marriage?”

“If she’ll have me”

“Oh she will, she loves you”

“She does, doesn’t she” and Genny is shocked by the surprise in his voice.

“You’re a pretty great guy”

Their conversation ends quickly as Lucy runs back in to tell Tim it’s probably best he comes to turn the meat as things are getting a little smoky outside.

The rest of the afternoon runs like clockwork, they sit down to eat. Tim asks the boys about school and Lucy picks out their more child friendly adventures to share at the table. The boys practically beg for Lucy to come and throw the ball around with them after the food is cleared away but Genny sends them off. “Uncle Tim and Lucy want to spend some of their day off together boys”

The adults move inside, Genny taking the comfy chair, leaving the couple to the well worn sofa. Tim takes the corner, arm out along the back of the sofa until Lucy folds herself into his side and his arm automatically tucks in around her. Genny gets up to make coffee for herself and Lucy, from the kitchen she watches Tim dip his head and kiss the woman he clearly loves on the forehead. They talk quietly, contentedly. Lucy’s hand touches his chest and Genny turns away. It’s too sweet and innocent and she wants them to have their moment of privacy.

Genny’s guest stay until the end of Lucy’s cup of coffee. Genny offers to have Kujo for the night as thanks for Lucy doing a great job of wearing the boys out and Tim eagerly agrees. As Tim pops to the car to grab some of the dogs supplies Genny takes the opportunity to talk to Lucy alone.

“Thank you so much for having me over” Lucy hugs Genny warmly

“You’re very welcome, don’t wait for that brother of mine to invite you back. You’re welcome here any time. All the Bradford boys love you” and then because she can’t help herself “not just the oldest one” she adds pointedly. Her smiles widens as she watches the colour rise in Lucy’s cheek. “Maybe we could go for lunch?” She asks as Tim walks back through the door with an armful of supplies.

“Only if you bring pictures of teenage Tim!” Lucy playfully jabs him in the ribs

“No” Tim puts both hands on Lucy’s hips and pushes her out the door “it was nice knowing you Genny, sorry it had to end this way” he jokes crossly as Genny blows him a kiss and waves.

She watches them drive off, shuts the door and walks back to her comfy chair. She picks her laptop up off the coffee table and opens the website to her favourite clothes shop, selects dresses and starts browsing “I hope they have a summer wedding” she says to herself as she clicks on a floaty garment “this will be perfect.”

#chenford #chenford fanfic #tim bradford #lucy chen #the rookie #I got distracted #ramblings #directionless #I’m English so I use the letter u!

98 notes · View notes

vidaamour · 1 year

Text

Vegan/Vegetarian shopping list:

Pre Made salad bags (it’s a lot cheaper to just buy bagged salad and add to it, then buying a bunch of ingredients that will go bad if not used)

Make a list of fruits and vegetables that you like and get them (some times if you get the funky shaped ones you get a few cents off, even if you don’t that stops the funky shaped produce from being tossed)

Nut butters (most almond and peanut butters are vegan, jelly and Jams aren’t because they’re made with gelatin)

Bread, check the ingredients because a lot of breads are accidentally vegan/vegetarian ( Vegetarian/Vegan (link) Sandwiches will be your best friend)

Pasta (like bread a lot of pasta is accidentally vegan, CHECK THE INGREDIENTS)

Rice and beans are some of the cheapest things to buy, buy them dry and you can have them for a while in your pantry

Google vegan ramen, (if you’re like me and love spicy ramen then you’ll be happy to know Samyang 2x spicy hot chicken flavor Ramen in the red pack is VEGAN they use artificial chicken flavor rather then animal products. Vegan Kimchi regular and spicy is a lot easier to find then you may think just look for ones without fish sauce and shrimp)

Tofu (tofu is very versatile and it’s great source of vegan/vegetarian protein made from soy, it takes flavor beautifully and it’s relatively cheap firm/extra firm is best)

Cheese (there are so many vegan cheese options, for grated parmigiana follow your heart has both grated and shredded, Violife has a block. Violife has the best shredded substitutes, and singles. Daiya is a little weird in my opinion however they’re cheddar dairy free Mac and cheese is amazing (you just gotta use different pasta then it comes with)

Meat substitutes ( We’ve come a long way with decent vegan meat substitutes, beyond meat makes a whole variety of plant based meat substitutes that are very tasty especially if you’re still craving that meaty texture. Impossible meat substitutes also has amazing plant based meat substitutes, Impossible also has vegan chicken nuggets that tastes like McDonald’s and even have dino shaped ones. Light life has everything from vegan sausage crumbles to Bacon, the vegan bacon and hot dogs are amazing)

Eggs (just egg and simply egg are planted based substitutes for eggs, they’re liquid like an egg beater but can be used in place of eggs from a scramble to a baking ingredient)

Dairy (Vegan milk/coffee creamer you got options coconut, almond, soy, oat, pea protein. Pick what you like best. Personally California farms Oat milk in original and California farms oat vanilla creamer are my favorites. I’ll throw cream cheese and Yogurt in here as well Kite Hill regular and Strawberry cream cheese are my favorite, Kite Hill blue berry, and Strawberry vegan yogurt are my favorite. MIYOKO’S vegan butter)

Snacks (Lenny and Larry’s plant based chocolate chip cookies, Spudsy sweet potato puffs they have a million different flavors I like the hot fries. Vegan rob’s dragon puffs these are the vegan equivalent to hot Cheeto puffs but without the red dye 40. Vegan rob’s also has cheese puffs)

Sauces (Anne’s goddess dressing is very tangy, Diaya blue cheese and Caesar dressings are amazing, can be thick though, they also have ranch but I got a vegan homemade ranch recipe. Hot sauce, Franks, Cholula, Tabasco, and Tapatío are vegan. Ketchup& mustard are vegan. Hellmans and follow your heart have vegan mayonnaise,Sir Kingston’s and Follow your heart also have chipotle Mayo. Follow your heart also has vegan sour cream)

Seasonings (seasons you should have in your cabinet click here, the dollar tree sells all these for a dollar and most grocery stores sell adobo)

#HTFDICTIBASVV #vegan #vegetarian #plant based #vegan recipes #vegetarian recipes #low cost cooking #recipes #witchtok #baby witch #pagan witch #witchblr #witchcraft #witch #witch community #witches #witchythings #cottage witch

132 notes · View notes

pisspope · 1 year

Text

just got the order from my boss that i have to fill 600 bottles of olive oil in the next couple of weeks so here are some aot shitty job hcs

- Sasha works at Claire's and does those awful ear piercings with surgical precision. She's the only one working most days and she has one of those concealed carry purses just in case shit goes down

- Connie works at the Jimmy John's next door and he always reeks of garlic and yeast. He and Sasha became friends because she thinks he smells good. Sometimes he comes over after his shift and gives her literal bread crumbs and pieces of lettuce.

- Levi works at the DMV and Hange works at the library and they sit in the back and talk smack during government meetings

- Reiner works at Hooter's Reiner works at a big box store doing inverntory. he's home late most nights and his schedule is absolutely fucked. luckily he starts late enough where he can catch gabis softball games and falcos choir concerts. he's started smoking incense because the heady aroma helps him sleep during the day

- Marco works at a mall build-a-bear but he's so good at his job that his boss overworks him. tbh he's thinking about quitting to work with Jean at the starbucks in the mall cafeteria. but he enjoys the birthday parties and the smiles on the kids faces too much and just resolves to make the most of it

- Jean is the Token Man who works at starbucks and he's got regulars who come just because they have little crushes on him. he writes hearts next to their names on their cups and watches with glee as they slip more money in the tip jar

- Bertholdt works at one of those kids gymnasiums with the trampoline floors and the weird blocks you can drown in. No one knows how he got the job because he's clumsy as hell and visibly cringes when a kid starts crying

- Mikasa is in an MLM selling baby clothes or perfumes or something. She knows it's shitty but it pays the bills. If anyone asks what she does for a living she says she's a mma fighter and will give them a demonstration if they ask again

- Annie works at Spencer's and makes it everybody's problem. basically squidward at the krusty krab. "Buying some weed socks? Daring today, aren't we."

- Porco works at one of those vapor and e-cig stores. he loves to flaunt his knowledge about different cartridges and even experiments with his own mixes. he's ended up in the hospital from accidental nicotine poisoning at least three times

- Armin is the young guy at factories that they pay to crawl into the machines and pull out pieces of rubber and other hardware refuse. he's got a stack of random tools in the back of his car and he doesn't know what any of them do

- Eren works at the gas station and sells drugs by the back door. He likes to sit and watch the security cameras and pretend he's god. he goes home to his apartment with a basket of gas station chicken and he, armin, and mikasa just hang out. when the three of them are together, there's nowhere he'd rather be

- Pieck works at Ulta. she doesn't wear makeup, rarely brushes her hair all the way through, and her perfume is from the dollar store. she is by far the stores most popular employee. she's as baffled as everybody else

#attack on titan #attack on titan headcanons #cat thots #sasha braus #reiner braun #eren yaeger #etc etc #aot

97 notes · View notes

dontfeeltoohot · 1 year

Note

Sick Eddie in a bad mood, any AU?

Ahhhh thank you! I love this prompt 😭

This turned into MUCH more than I originally planned. This is a new AU (not sure what to call it yet), with modern Eddissy. Eddie is owner of Munson Automotive, Chrissy is a kindergarten teacher. Gareth, Jeff, Tim and Max all work at the garage, while Steve, Robin, Peter, and more work at the school.

TW: Brief mention of death/stroke. It is marked by ‘**’ before the paragraph!

I hope you all enjoy! And thank you @softsnzstuff for letting me babble about it and ask you opinions. I can’t wait to answer the prompts you’ve sent.

X X X

By the time Eddie’s making his way to his beat up van; and isn’t that ironic since he works on cars all day, he’s freezing cold, tired, achy, and wants to go to sleep. Tim had called out sick, though the manager hadn’t been surprised with how much he’d been coughing yesterday- uncovered. Gross. Jeff was still gone on vacation with his girlfriend, which left just himself, Max and Gareth.

Normally, they could handle it easily, the shop’s not that huge and most of their customers are regulars. But today Eddie’s tired, and he’d not been the best owner, letting the other two work on cars while he’d tried to get through paperwork. That had proved to be a challenge too, with the headache he’d been nursing half the day before Max had come in and shoved the tylenol bottle at him.

“You have that look. Just take the damn pills.”

Cranking the heat up and grumbling to himself, the mechanic shivers and reverses out of his usual parking spot, ignoring how Benny waves goodbye. Sniffles have been coming more and more frequently, and his skin feels oddly sensitive, as his jacket shifts against his clothes and rubs his arms uncomfortably. Brown eyes feeling heavy, Eddie rubs his face as he slows to a stop at the red light.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

Incoming Call: Chrissy 👸🏼

Eddie taps his answer button and Chrissy’s voice comes over the vans speakers.

“Hey baby!” Her voice is far too chipper, and it somehow grates on his nerves.

“Hey Chris, what’s up?”

“Can you run by the store? I was going to make spaghetti tonight but ran out of onions.”

Every fiber of the musician wants to say no. He doesn’t want to go to the store and deal with traffic and people.

“Can we just do something dif-“

“Eddie, no, Jake’s coming over, remember? It’s Tuesday…”

And fuck. It is Tuesday, which is the day Chrissy’s little brother comes over for dinner. But really, what makes him so special that they have to have spaghetti?

“I…didn’t forget. But why do we have to have spaghetti? We have stuff to make Pad Thai…” Eddie starts making his way to the next lane over, already knowing deep down he’s going to have to go to the grocery store.

“That doesn’t sound good, plus Jake asked if we could have it.”

“Right, ok, I’ll be home soon. Text me a list,” the words come out abruptly and he ends the call before she can get another word in.

The amount of cars in the Whole Foods parking lot is rather ridiculous for a Tuesday night. Eddie still doesn’t understand Chrissy’s determination not to eat crap, and to try for all organic stuff, but she’s his wife, and he backs her on everything. Even $10 juices, apparently. He feels his phone buzz in his pocket as he walks inside, pulling his ‘Munson Automotive’ sweatshirt tighter to his frame, the frigid air whipping against his cheeks.

Grabbing a shopping cart, the long haired man sniffles and starts making his way through the sliding doors, pulling out his phone to see the list.

Onions

Tomatoes

Basil

Bread - for garlic bread

Pick some ice cream, love youuuuu! ❤️

Blinking, Eddie swipes at his nose and sighs, feeling the headache rebuild at the base of his skull, throbbing into his ears. It makes his entire head feel tight and he moves his jaw around, hoping to release some of the uncomfortable tension. It doesn’t help. He gets through the first few items, then a call from his wife has him pause at the end of the spice aisle.

“What’s up?”

“Hey, can you grab some more of the coffee creamer too?”

Nodding and forgetting she can’t see him, he tries to move out of the way for a middle aged woman, who goes the same direction.

“Excuse me..”

“Sorry, was just trying to step out of the way…”

The woman rolls her eyes and Eddie has the intense urge to flip her off. Instead he’s interrupted by Chrissy on the phone.

“-die did you hear me?”

“Creamer, got it,” he huffs, rolling his eyes, hanging up once she does the same.

As he rolls through the aisles trying to find what they need, he once again runs into bitchy-lady (he’s decided that’s her new name), who gives him a pointed look when he coughs into his arm, wincing at the sudden sore throat he’s now sporting. She moves in front of him to grab bread, knocking her cart with his and scoffing. He knows it’s childish, but he hits her cart back, maybe just a liiiiittle to hard, and she whips around.

“Is there a problem?”

“I don’t know, is there?” His eyebrow raises and he stands a little taller.

Eddie’s not a true confrontational guy. Sure he talks a big game, but he hates when people are angry or upset with him, and he’s a peacekeeper between his friends and band mates. So the fact he’s getting snippy with this middle aged Karen isn’t a good sign, but in the moment he can’t bring himself to care. Bitchy-Lady huffs and rolls her eyes, before giving him the fakest smile he’s ever seen.

“Of course not.”

Nodding, Eddie leans in front of the woman to grab the bread he and Chrissy use, sniffling and ignoring the noise from next to him, when he blocks her view entirely.

“Maybe we’ll bump into each other again,” he smirks, voice laced with sarcasm as he drops the bread into the cart and heads towards the freezer section, white knuckling the long handle bar.

Looking at the ice cream only makes him shiver harder. His sweatshirt sleeves are down over his fingers, brushing his chains as he looks at his options. Jake doesn’t like chocolate, and Chrissy hates vanilla. His brain whispers that they’re too picky but he waves the words away, even if he wants to agree. He goes with cheesecake instead, knowing both of the Cunningham’s enjoy it, even if he himself doesn’t. Not like he’s hungry anyway.

As he’s walking back out to his van with the bags, his phone buzzes again, but he ignores it, hands full. When it pauses and the restarts, the musician rolls his eyes and yanks open the passenger side door, setting the food down in the chair before yanking his phone out of his pocket.

“Yeah?” Eddie winces at the irritation in his tone.

“Can you grab orange juice too? We’re all out.”

“Fuckin’...yeah, that’s fine, just have to go back in. The ice cream will probably melt.”

Eddie doesn’t mean to be so prickly and sensitive, but everything is grating on his nerves, his body hurts, and Chrissy forgetting things is making him want to scream.

“Ice cream will be fine honey, it’s not like it’s hot outside.”

“See you soon,” the long haired man grumbles.

Twenty minutes later, Eddie’s entering his and Chrissy’s small but cozy house, all but slamming the door behind him. His nose won’t stop running, and really he should have grabbed a thing of tissues, but Christ knows he wasn’t going to go back in for a third time to the hellish landscape of Whole Foods. Walking into the kitchen, he can vaguely smell something being made, though he’s not sure what since he’s got half the ingredients in his hands.

With another shiver crawling up his spine, he sets the bags down and looks at his wife who’s in the middle of browning meat in a pan. Exhaustion feels like it’s weighing the long haired man down, so he sniffles, swipes at his nose, and then leans over to press a kiss to Chrissy’s head.

“Hey baby, got your stuff,” he gestures to the island in the middle of the room.

“Great! Can you work on chopping some onions for me? I want to get this stuff cooking before Jake gets here.”

“Chrissy...I need to shower, I’m gross from work.”

Normally, Eddie doesn’t mind helping in the kitchen, even if he’s come straight from work. Today he’s ready to fight back and disagree with everything everyone says, and the thought of a nice hot shower only makes the feeling intensify. The blonde turns to look at him with a furrowed brow, eyes sweeping him up and down.

“What?”

“...nothing. Jeez you’re grumpy today, was work alright?”

“It was fine. Look...I’m gonna take a shower, then I can come back and hel-”

“It’s fine, I’ll do it, just go get cleaned up,” she offers, looking like she’s barely containing an eye roll.

Not needing to be told twice, Eddie books it out of their kitchen and up the stairs to their bedroom, already dreading taking his sweatshirt off. By the time the bathroom is steamy from the showers hot water, the guitarist is starting to tremble again, bare skin exposed before he steps in and lets the spray hit him. The moan that drops from his mouth is embarrassingly loud.

He loses track of time. After washing his hair and body; making sure he doesn’t smell like car oil and exhaust, he leans against the wet tiles and shuts his eyes, focusing on the feeling of the water running against his back. Eddie’s not exactly sure how long he’s been zoning out, but a knock at the ensuite door makes him jump, adrenaline releasing into his body.

“Jesus Christ Chrissy! What the hell?!”

“...sorry? Hurry up, Jake’s almost here. You’re taking longer than I do.”

The words make Eddie bristle, but he can’t place why, exactly. When she’s gone, the twenty seven year old coughs and rubs at his nose, harder this time, the steam knocking congestion loose. A tickle is teasing his sinuses, and his big brown eyes flutter while the water starts to grow cool.

“hhiiGkSH’ew! hihKTschew! snf! iiGhXshEW!” He doesn’t bother covering, instead just aiming his head down and away from his body.

Stepping out of the shower means the cold that’s been clinging to his bones; soothed only by the hot water, is now back, making him shiver. Eddie dries himself off, brushes his hair as well as he can, then heads to get dressed, towel low on his hips. Sweatpants and an old shirt of Wayne’s sounds the coziest, but with Jake coming, he begrudgingly slips into jeans instead, pulling a sweatshirt on over a threadbare Blue Öyster Cult tee.

Chrissy has her soft, pink sweater on she’s had for years, and when he gets close enough, the mechanic wraps his arms around her and rubs his face into the material. It’s warm and soft and feels unbearably comforting.

“Eddie baby, I need to finish seasoning the sauce,” she says, and though her tone is light and a giggle follows, the man drops his arms by his side, feeling like a scolded child.

“When’s your brother getting here?”

“Any second…are you ok? You seem on edge…or upset. Are you sure nothing happened at work?”

A strand of hair gets fiddled with as he shakes his head, swallowing and wincing.

“Tim called out, but it was fine. Mostly did paper work while Red and Gareth worked on cars,” he shrugs, rubbing at his septum with the crook of his finger subtly. “Jeff gets back in a couple of days, though he probably won’t shut up about Denv-“

A knock at the door interrupts him, and Chrissy beams, setting the wooden spoon she’s been using to stir the pot of sauce down. Eddie makes sure she doesn’t see the annoyed look he can feel his features make, not wanting to upset her or make her think he doesn’t want Jake around. He enjoys Chrissy’s little brother, even if he’s a bit loud and rambunctious. Eddie can’t blame him- if he grew up in a stuffy, pretentious home like the two of them had, he’d be far more of a terror than he is now, too.

Hearing the siblings exchange greetings, the long haired man rubs at his nose again, pressing it to the inside of his sleeve cuff, hoping to get rid of the itchy feeling. All it does is wipe up the slight mess that’s been accumulating around the edges of his nostrils. Now he’s going to need to wash his damn sweatshirt.

“Hey Eddie!”

“Hey man,” he nods at him, seeing the twenty three year old’s brought a bottle of wine.

The one time wine doesn’t sound appealing.

Rolling his neck around, an ache catches when he leans to his left, right around his lymph nodes. Pressing his fingertips to the area, he scrunches his nose up and wishes Jake was gone. Chrissy could give him a massage where he must have tweaked his neck while working.

Feeling chilled, he goes and fiddles with the temperature, bumping it up a degree. As if Chrissy has a second sense for anything to do with the thermostat (he swears she does), she pokes her head down the hall and narrows her eyes.

“If you’re messing with that it better be to turn it down!”

“One degree up won’t hurt you,” he shakes his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“It’s not even that cold! Put on socks if you’re cold.”

Eddie runs a hand down his face, trying to remember this is just one of her things, the temperature of the house. He’s always been cold natured, and while he’s normally ok being slightly cold, tonight he’s far too shivery. He walks back down the hall towards his wife, ignoring her look of indignation.

“Eddie!”

“Chrissy!” He retaliates in a mocking tone. “I’m cold as hell, ahhnd-snf! and I don’t want to freeze my balls off….” The last words linger in the air only half spoken, as his nostrils twitch and he brings the crook of his arm to his face.

“ihGkTSCHuhew! hih’IHTchew! snfsnf! Sohhr-ihKSHuhEW! God, sorry,” Eddie sniffles wetly, rubbing his nose against his arm quickly before dropping it.

“Bless you. Put another shirt on, it’s going to get warm soon anyway, now that we have an extra body taking up space.”

“Jesus Christ, Chrissy! It’s not that big of a deal!”

The words are louder than he means them to be, his body is tense and his muscles ache from the sheer stress of it all. He doesn’t understand why she can’t just let one degree go. He feels like an ice block, and maybe putting on socks or another shirt would help, yeah, but now this is about getting what he wants.

Chrissy’s eyes widen slightly, and her left eyebrow raises, her arms now crossing in front of her chest. She looks entirely too ‘mom ready to yell at her child’ but Eddie doesn’t care. Another shiver wracks his frame and he too folds his arms in front of him, though it’s more to try and preserve heat than anything else.

“Everything okay?” Jake’s voice rings out, then the man walks to the hallway, looking at them with a furrowed brow.

“Everything’s peachy, Jacob.”

A scoff from Chrissy has both men looking in her direction.

“Really? You’re going to put your storm cloud over Jake too? If you’re in that bad of a mood, why don’t you just take a few minutes? Because you’re putting me in a bad mood, when I’ve had a good day.”

Snapping his mouth shut and pulling his lips in a thin line, Eddie nods. Sniffling, he bites at his thumbnail and then after a moment he speaks, breaking the tense silence.

“Fine. Don’t wait up for dinner, I’m not hungry anyway.”

With that, the twenty seven year old turns around, then walks into their bedroom, shutting the door behind him. If it’s a little more forceful than usual, no one says anything, at least not that he can hear. Once he’s alone, the musician lets out a breath and his entire body sags, fight leaving him. His throat hurts, his head hurts, his entire body aches. He’s starting to not be able to breathe through his nose and his sinuses feel like they’re buzzing.

God damn it. If Tim’s gotten him sick he’s being banished from the garage, Eddie decides as he crawls into their bed, pulling the covers close to him. It’s dark enough outside in late November that the room is practically pitch black now, which makes the sleep that's tugging at him come easily. He’s asleep in minutes.

X X X

Chrissy knew something was up the minute Eddie walked through the door that afternoon, his entire demeanor wrong- pent up and prickly. It’s apparent now, that maybe she should have asked Jake if they could reschedule, like Eddie had suggested hours prior. She doles out two plates; making sure to give her brother extra sauce, and then sits down across from him at the table they have near the kitchen.

“Is…he okay? I haven’t really seen him act like that,” Jake frowns, glancing over at the now empty hallway. “He’s not like that all the time is he?”

“No! No, he’s not, he never acts like this honestly,” the strawberry blonde sighs and twirls a noodle onto her fork. “I don’t know why he’s so grumpy today. I asked if something happened at work but he said it was fine.”

“Maybe he’s just having a bad day,” the blonde shrugs back, taking a large bite of his spaghetti.

“Yeah, probably,” the teacher huffs, dragging her foot on the ground beneath her seat.

It’s quiet for a moment as they eat, and then-

“It’s just…he doesn’t get upset over stuff like that. Sure he’ll be dramatic, but usually it includes him playing up theatrics and grabbing a blanket to wrap himself in. Not getting genuinely annoyed.”

Jake nods, listening and thinking.

“When did his uncle die, again? Maybe it’s close to that time? And he’s upset?”

“Wayne died nine months ago. So yeah, he could be upset, but not more so than usual, I wouldn’t think. I’m gonna let him have some time, and after we finish I’ll go check on him.”

When they finish talking and eating, Chrissy feels less wound up. She goes to take their plates but her brother puts his hand on hers, shaking his head.

“I got it. You go check on the rain cloud,” he teases, making her smile. He’s good at that.

“Fine. But just this once. You’re still a guest.”

“I’ve never been a guest in this house. But nice try sissy.”

Laughing, Chrissy heads down the hallway and towards the closed bedroom door, pausing outside of it to listen and see if she can hear anything that’ll tip her off on what her husband is doing. She assumes he’s watching tv or maybe writing lyrics, but it’s silent on the other side of the door. Holding the handle, she pushes the door open and freezes, eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness, making out his silhouette.

Eddie is hunkered down under their sheets and blankets, his sweatshirt hood up around his face, curls falling out from either side. Quietly; curiously, Chrissy walks to the left side of the bed and peers down at the mechanic, then sits on the edge of the bed, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Eddie, baby?”

The brunette stirs and shifts, inhaling and exhaling through his mouth, a small noise making her heart swell at how soft he looks. Sometimes she forgets he’s not all rough and tumble, at least, she has the past few months. Wayne dying took a toll on him, on them, their marriage, the garage, everything. Her husband had shut down, stopped eating, stopped socializing, stopped doing anything but working.

And working, well…it had been Wayne’s garage. And everyone knew that it would be handed down to his nephew who’d worked there since he was sixteen, but no one expected it to be so soon. A stroke, the doctor had said, as she and Eddie stood in a quiet hallway, getting confirmation the fifty year old had passed. She’ll never forget the way her husband had gone white, how he’d grabbed onto her so tightly she thought he was going to actually pass out.

Rubbing Eddie’s shoulder gently, she gets the man to stir more, and as she leans over and turns the bedside light on, he opens his big brown eyes, blinking rapidly to adjust to the brightness. Now, she can see what’s going on, and why her husband’s been grumpy. His cheeks are flushed and there’s dark smudges under his too dull eyes, lips less pink than usual.

“Hey handsome,” she murmurs, pressing her palm against his forehead and then cheek, warmth pooling off of them.

“Hey.”

His voice is croaky, though she’s not sure if it’s from sleep or sickness. He holds in a cough, pushing it down, then sniffles and rubs his face with his hand.

“At least I know you’re grumpy because you’re sick, and not because of something that happened,” she says gently, fingers playing with a stray curl. “Scale of 1 to 10, how icky?”

It’s something Wayne used to do, when she; or once in a blue moon Eddie, would get sick, once he warmed up to her. With her own parents out of the picture, the older man practically adopted her as one of their own, even before she and Eddie were legally married. She can recall easily getting taken back to her husband's old trailer he still stayed in with his uncle- to watch over him of course, and how Wayne had come into the bedroom and asked her questions.

Eddie must recognize the words instantly when she asks them, because his eyes shut and he presses his lips together tightly.

“Seven.” His voice is wobbly, and when he looks at her again, there’s a wet shininess to his eyes.

“Ok, I’m going to grab the thermometer, and I’ll be right back. I love you Eddie.” Chrissy presses a kiss to his head, smiling when he nods.

“Love you too baby. Sorry I was such a jerk.”

“If you had told me how sick you felt I would have conceded just this once,” she teases, happy when she gets a tiny smile out of him.

“Thought I was tired. Pretty sure Tim got me sick.”

“Fire him.”

“Mm, thinking like a Munson,” he jokes, sniffling and swiping at his wrist.

“Thermometer and tissues. I’ll get Jake to run to the store for us. I’ll be right back ok? Just rest.”

“Guess for you I can do that.”

She giggles and heads back out to find her little brother, already planning on making soup and grilled cheese, making a mental list of what they’ll need.

#my fic #prompts #moderneddissyau

40 notes · View notes

notesfromthepalace · 8 months

Text

The Girls are mad!

And they can stay mad. If something doesn't sit well with me, not only am I going to say something, I am not going to subject myself to it.

Yes, its story time:

So a few months ago, I had went out with a group of people, both men and women, in downtown Bellevue. When I got the invite, I initially said I was going to drive myself - but oh no, they insisted that I ride with them, bad idea. Mind you, we were suppose to go bowling. When we got to the bowling alley, there was no reservation. We're in our mid-twenties, why are you not making reservations for when we go out?! We arrived at the bowling alley around 8pm and they said it was a two hour wait. I put my name and number down for them to call us when they're ready as we went to a restaurant nearby. The restaurant was cute, it was a little packed - but this is where the night became disastrous.

I love fine dining and I was raised well, so etiquette and class are my bread and butter.

"Hi how are you, a table for eight please?"

We sit, and while we're all looking at the menu the waiter informs us that any party greater than six will have only one check; We all said yes and agreed to the stipulations of the restaurant.

Or at least I thought so. Maybe they didn't hear because half of them showed up inebriated.

I'm already annoyed from the non-existent reservation for the bowling alley and my level of regret keeps growing by the minute.

For someone like myself who frequents high-class establishments on the regular, I know that if there is an experienced chef in the kitchen, as long as you can describe something (even if it's not on the menu), they'll make it. I ordered bread for the table and asked for a garlic butter vinaigrette (for the girls that get it) for myself. As I am ordering, one of the guys yells and says "Sarah can order for us because she knows how to talk like them" - WHAT!!!!!! The level of mortification.

Is "mortification" even a thing?

I was MORTIFIED!

I also know when people see something they haven't had before, they tend to want to taste it. So when the bread came out, I did not double dip into my garlic butter vinaigrette. One of the girls asked if she could taste it and I allowed her to. But then she double-dipped, into MY garlic butter vinaigrette.

I ordered another one. I am not the type to make a scene in public. She finished my original one and called the waiter over "Waiter, can I get that butter stuff too?" - loud as all hell. She didn't even get the proper name of it so he brought her a stick of butter and she was upset; Bombastic side eye *with Caribbean accent.

Besides the utter loudness and vulgarity of the night - the icing on this pineapple upside-down cake was when the check came and they saw the price that everyone would have to pay (only like $60 each by the way):

"I only had water" "I didn't order that much food" "My drink wasn't even expensive" "I need to speak to the manager"

M O R T I F I E D

I asked myself why did I allow myself to be out with people that I know don't know how to conduct themselves in public. And what's worse is Washington is a predominantly white state and that night we were the only Black people in the restaurant. Now whatever misconception they may have had about Black people or people of color in general, they solidified and reinforced every negative stereotype.

Since that night, I had never been out with the group ever again.

I almost had a rocky night like that again this weekend but I cancelled because I knew it was going to be a mess.

Pretty much one of the girls mentioned how we never hang out - and I don't. She mentioned this place in Seattle called MBar. Any place in the city that you want to go to needs a reservation made. She said she called and couldn't reserve a spot, interesting.

Ms. Princess Chanel called, and what do you know they answer and say that there is an opening Friday night at 6:30. I proceed with the reservation and they ask to put my card on file, you know, in the event I don't show up they can charge me - which is normal for nicer and more exclusive restaurants. I believe she didn't make the reservation because she did not want to put her card on file. It's giving I wanna be a "pseudo-pretty girl": someone who wants to act like this lifestyle is normal to them but it's not because anyone who knows anything knows that normal.

I let them know that the reservation has been made but then one of the girls was like they are unsure if they can make it - you should have said that before I made the reservation. Then it turned into a "can I ride with you" and "who is coming to pick me up" - excuse my French but who the freak did you think was going to be the designated driver to two drunk bozos who don't even know how to conduct themselves as ladies - absolutely the freak not.

I CANCELLED THE RESERVATION.

They can go out by themselves and that is exactly what I said.

They ended up at a local bar - which is fine if that's what you're into. But don't try to frequent the places that I go to bringing that bottom of the barrel behavior with you; People know me, I stop and say hello.

So the mad girls can stay mad and I will go out by my lonesome, with my African King or my girls back home - you know, the girls that get it.

And that's who this blog is for: the girls who get it, even though I know the girls that don't get it watch and read too. Maybe they might learn a few things.

But as always, with love from your soon to be Mrs. Haitian-African,

Sarah Chanel

xoxo

P.S.

I went to brunch with an adult the next morning at a restaurant where we made a reservation:

#black women #black women in luxury #luxuriousbw #black women fashion #black women in leisure #black femininity #luxury #blackwomen #class #etiquette #pretty girls #fine dining

10 notes · View notes

corpseprince · 9 days

Note

top 5 small daily pleasures?

ugh such a good q. in no particular order

so 1. my bed its glorious its gorgeous its huge.....sitting on it right now and it feels like a cloud. bed that chimes with the daily reminder of you literally live in a dream when you wake up in it

2. breakfast. realizing im listing these in chronological order but thats how i experience them everyday......idk toast is so good when the bread is the fancy kind. and garlic butter.....the best invention since sliced bread

3. lip gloss which isn't always sth i wear every day but it can be counted as a daily pleasure bc its worn w some regularity regardless. literally the most basic answer i could give but its fun to apply and a meaningless source of vanity yay

4. conversations with friends ! use of friend very loose here and primarily to fit the reference. but having a meaningful interaction is so nice when yr someone who's taken pleasure for several years in making the life of someone as contrived and nightmarish as possible

5. media <3 everyone hates that word and i understand why but i dont just mean art although that IS a huge part of it. art could be a separate category tbh but it does fall within media and it propels me onward like. emotionally

#r.💌#hi pres ty <3

5 notes · View notes

bonefall · 1 year

Note

I mean fermented doesnt necessarily mean alcoholic - after all kimchi is made with fermented cabage and bread is fermented too. So is yogurt and a ton of other things we eat. Theres even some meats that are fermented for dishes too.

This is very true! And I did look into a couple of other things that are fermented-- but the problem with cats having anything fermented at all is yeast.

(CW: I talk about yeast, fermentation, alcohol, and the horrors of what yeast can do to a cat's belly. Skip this one if medical discussion of a cat in pain upsets you!)

In fact it's good you mentioned bread, because I was just looking at different types of unleavened bread exactly for this reason. If a cat eats raw dough, yeast can actually ferment in their stomach! This does exactly what you think it would, it turns their body into a chemical nightmare, distending their belly and causing alcohol poisoning

(doing research for these projects is like taking a class on how DURABLE human being are, it's insane! This isn't even unique to cats! Pure carnivores are so fragile!)

The baking process would kill all the yeast inside of the bread, but I decided that I would just not work with it. Unleavened bread and alternate rising agents are cool so I decided to explore those instead. I even found this one really interesting tidbit about how apparently bannock from Britain and bannock from American Indigenous people in America may have evolved independently, down to the linguistic roots being different.

BUT ANYWAY back to yeast

So when I was looking at fermented products, I was looking for things where there isn't yeast present, but also checked off my other rules; namely, that Clan cats are obligate carnivores.

-Kimchi is fermented vegetables, a lot of work for a Warrior to get no nutritional value. Not to mention that without pepper, garlic, and fish sauce it's just... sad cabbage. (also go watch this cool video I found about one of the last traditional onggi pot makers left in Korea because this is actually a very beautiful craft and my life has been enriched by seeing how much care goes into this process)

-This also eliminates sauerkraut, which is a more region-friendly take on fermented cabbage. No nutritional value to the cats.

-Miso can be made from barley but it requires a region-unfriendly type of fungus (Re: The reason I usually start with British tech and work backwards, another example of this principle in action)

-Yogurt and Cheese are dairy products. Warriors are lactose intolerant to begin with, but also don't have an animal they can milk on a regular basis. I don't think a nearby sheep or cow would stay still long enough for a warrior to sit and milk them

What I DID find that we could make, though?

-Vinegar. As long as it's used sparingly and diluted, it can be used as a basis for other recipes including Worcestershire sauce. Though from what I read, cat aversion to the smell of vinegar is legendary.

But I will rule vinegar-based sauces under the 'Stronger Stomachs' exception.

In addition, vinegar is an EXCELLENT cleaning product and something I can keep in mind as an excellent antibiotic next to honey.

-Hard sausage. Pepperoni, chorizo, salami... aside from finagling with the spices I have access to, hard sausage is totally within my reach and sounds like a perfect ShadowClan recipe.

-Something that breaks down poison. I'm willing to be a little bit flippant about the biology of one type of insect or animal to make a Warrior Cat version of hakarl, specifically because I want to show off ShadowClan's crafty food culture and how good they are at creative problem solving.

This one will be in addition to "slug-purging", because I learned some really neat stuff about how to make wild gastropods safe to eat and it'll be a really really cool thing to include in a "How ShadowClan can eat things other Clans can't" type entry

Come to think of it, fermentation would definitely be a very ShadowClan-based activity...

And lastly,

Alcohol

It just feels... wrong to me that there would be a culture of sapient cats who don't use any alcohol at all. Getting tweaked on purpose is practically the mark of a species' intelligence. Dolphins, elephants, monkeys, crows... all recorded finding ways to turn their terrible brains off.

So I do want to make an entry on alcoholic fermentation too, it's just like I said though, it'll take a while to get to because I have dumb math brain and a To-Do list.

But for right now, I've got another ask to answer that will give you a good "basic" alcohol for your cats if you so choose

#TW alcohol #Alcohol #Fermentation #Medical discussion #tw animal illness #animal illness #Clan Culture #Clan Culture Mini Entry

50 notes · View notes

e-dubbc11 · 2 years

Text

Dance with Me

Pairing: Matt Murdock X GN! Reader

Warnings: None really….I don’t think. Reader has a bit of anxiety. There are a few tears but just Matt being sweet as can be and comforting.

Word Count: 1554-ish

Summary: Reader decides to cook dinner for Matt and it doesn’t go exactly how they planned. What may not be a big deal to others, is a big deal for them and Matt understands this so he does what he can to comfort you and make you feel better about….everything.

A/N: Well, when I started this one I had a different song in mind to use for inspiration, “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran BUT as I was writing it and the further I got into it, I realized that while “Perfect” is a great song, I wasn’t feeling it, I thought this whole idea was stupid and I almost scrapped the whole thing because it wasn’t coming together like I wanted. So I decided to use “Everything (Live In-Studio Version)” by Lifehouse. It completely changed for me after I decided to use that song.

And if I may digress for a minute, I’ve seen Lifehouse a handful of times live and in all the times I’ve seen them, they never played this song live. I think it was one of the last times I saw them, their encore song was “Everything” and can I tell you how excited I was, it is my favorite song by them. Then came the part of the song where the tempo starts to pick up, it’s probably the bridge of the song and I just started to cry, not full on ugly girl crying, but crying. That song is just IT for me, it hits me deep and I love it so much. I was just so happy they finally played my favorite song live, while I was there to see it. I don’t think I’ve ever told that story before, not even my friends I was with at the show know about it. So if you’ve never heard it or need a refresher, give it a listen and my full playlist of slow dance songs for Matt should be up soon. I hope you like it and this. Jeez Louise, talk about rambling…shut it, Ericca!! As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments are always welcome.

It was just a Tuesday, not a special occasion, not his birthday, just Tuesday. You thought cooking dinner for Matt sounded like a nice thing to do, as he had been working very hard lately and you thought this would be a nice surprise. However, you were not known for your culinary skills, baking was a different story, that came easy to you but you felt you weren’t the best cook. Mostly it was because you were a perfectionist and everything had to be just so or you were not going to be happy. You had planned it all out though, everything from the wine down to the dessert, what could go wrong? It turns out plenty could go wrong, and it did.

It was a bunch of little things that would definitely not be a big deal to most people, but you weren’t most people. The plan was to leave work early, however the paperwork on your desk needed to be finished so you were late leaving, and also the grocery store you usually go to didn’t have everything you needed so you had to go to a few places which ate up more time.

Tomato sauce from scratch also takes more time than you thought it would, which leads you to rush and that caused you to slice open your knuckles on the cheese grater. The chicken sausage you wanted, the store ran out of so you had to get regular. It’s not necessarily a bad thing but again, you didn’t plan for that so it elevated your stress levels. That’s just how your brain worked, it’s difficult to get out of your own head sometimes and you wanted everything to be….perfect.

The dish you were making was simple enough but very tasty, crumbled sweet Italian sausage, in a light tomato cream sauce over spaghetti with a Caesar side salad and garlic bread. Checking your watch, you realized Matt would be home soon, however the sauce still needed more time to simmer.

Even the fruit tart you had planned to make, again it should have been easy for you, but the crust was baked you thought, just a little too long. And you forgot that it takes 2-3 hours for the pastry cream to chill, you didn’t have that kind of time or a blast chiller! This is a disaster, nothing is ready, and you start to panic.

You weren’t happy about it but you start thinking about abandoning the idea of dessert because it wasn’t going to be ready in time. This was very frustrating because you had the fruit cut up and in the fridge already, even the pineapple was cut into little stars. The picture you had of it in your head was so pretty but than plan went right out the window when you saw what time it was.

It was 6:15, you knew Matt would be home in give or take fifteen minutes. Aside from tart, you sucked it up and pulled the rest of it together when you hear the keys in the door. Matt opens the door, puts all his things away and says “Something smells good in here. Are you alright, sweetheart, I can smell blood too…did you cut yourself?”

Damn that man and his bloodhound nose! You had forgotten about the cuts on your knuckles, it’s such a stupid injury and you felt like a complete idiot for letting that happen but you tried to control your anxiety anyway as you answered him.

“Um, yeah I got a couple of cuts on my knuckles, no big deal. How was your day today?”

Matt came up behind you, wrapped his arms around your waist, and kissed that sweet spot on the side of your neck. His response was, “Well I missed you, so it was terrible.”

“Oh really?” You tried to sound like you weren’t in panic mode.

Of course he could tell something was wrong.

“What’s wrong, my love? Your pulse is all over the place.”

Obviously, you knew you couldn’t lie to him, he would know so you threw up your hands in frustration, turned around to face him, and just told him everything.

“Matty, I wanted to do something nice for you so I planned it all out, I was going to leave work early and get back here in plenty of time to make a nice dinner for you.”

The look on his face was soft and he looked so touched that you would do something like this for him.

“But I got held up at work, the grocery store didn’t have everything I needed so I had to go to a couple other places to find everything, and the dessert I wanted to make you, I forgot that the pastry cream needs 3 hours to chill in the fridge before I could put everything together…”

Your voice started to crack because all that anxiety came back.

“And I just—“ You took a minute to breathe. When you regained your composure, you let out a big exhale and asked him “Do you want a glass of wine because I sure do.” You started to smile only to realize in the middle of running around all afternoon, you forgot to pick up the wine at the package store. That was the last straw, you burst into tears, and slumped over the counter with your head in your hands. “Oh no! I forgot to get the wine!!!!” Matt knew how important getting this all right was to you, he loosened his tie a little and rolled up his sleeves.

“Oh angel, please don’t cry. This is all so nice, you doing all this for me. It smells delicious and I’m sure it’s going to taste even better. Plus we have beer and whiskey, I don’t need fancy wine…you know that.”

He turned you around gently to face him and brushed the tears away with his thumbs.

“Look, I know it’s not exactly how you wanted everything to turn out but do you understand how incredible you are for doing this? Before you, no one has even attempted to cook dinner all for me.”

He could tell you needed more convincing and with his signature smirk, you could see Matt had an idea.

“Here…take this apron off and just stand right here for a second, don’t move.”

As you brush the tears from your cheeks, he walks to the bedroom and comes back holding your Bluetooth speaker, places it on the counter and disappears to the bedroom one more time. You’re standing there confused when you hear music start to play and recognize the song…”Everything” by Lifehouse.

You are the strength, That keeps me walking. You are the hope, That keeps me trusting. You are the light, To my soul. You are my purpose, You're everything.

He didn’t want you to hear him when he spoke into the phone to play the song, so that’s why he went back to the bedroom. Matt knows music hits you differently than some people, you feel it in your soul and at times have emotional reactions to it. He had a strong feeling this song would help you calm down…

He came back to the kitchen, and with his hand outstretched he asked:

“Dance with me?”

Your reaction was genuine surprise “What? Dance with you? Now?”

“C’mere…it will help you relax.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you gently placed your hand in his and rested your head on his chest as you two swayed back and forth to the music. Why does he always know what to do to make you feel better? The chorus comes on…

How can I stand here with you, And not be moved by you? Would you tell me, How could it be, Any better than this?

As the two of you continued to slow dance in the kitchen, he said:

“My love, tonight may not have been to your standards but believe me, I couldn’t have asked for anything more thoughtful.”

You were feeling a little better but still disappointed in yourself.

“Matty, my planning was all off and I just wanted it to be really nice for you.”

“It is, sweetheart…it is. Put your hand on my heart.”

You lay your palm flat against Matt’s chest.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, all of this is absolutely wonderful…YOU are wonderful. I couldn’t love anything more.”

Of course his heartbeat never faltered, he’d never lie to you. The song continues…

You're all I want, You're all I need, You're everything, everything.

“And listen, I know you have everything prepared for the fruit tart because I can smell all of it so tomorrow, I’ll help you put it together and we can have it then. How’s that sound?”

You had tears in your eyes but they were because no other man had gone to the lengths that Matt did to help you deal with your anxiety. You knew he couldn’t fix everything but it doesn’t mean he didn’t try and that’s just one of the reasons why you loved him so much. He tilted your chin up and pressed his lips softly to yours.

And how can I stand here with you, And not be moved by you Would you tell me, How could it be, Any better than this?

Would you tell me, How could it be, Any better than this...

You’re everything…

As the end of the song plays, with your hand still on his heart, you say “Matty, that sounds…perfect.”

Tag list: @freshabogados @skvatnavle @phoebe-danvers @moonlarking @shedaresthedevil @mindidjarin @matt-erialgirl @nelson-et-murdock @elgrandeavocados

Others that might enjoy: @1800-fight-me @sobachka-korol @mattmurdockspainkink @saintmurd0ck @wint3r-h3art

Please please tell me if you’d like to be added or removed from either list

#matt murdock #daredevil #charlie cox #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff

121 notes · View notes

johannestevans · 1 year

Text

Two Plates

Romance short. A crotchety bookshop owner receives regular visits from the sex shop-owner across the way.

3k, rated M. Just something short and sweet, with a grumpy old man reluctantly letting his neighbour in. Age gap, kissing, lots of banter and sharp back and forth. Note some mentions of past sexual abuse.

On Patreon / / On Medium

---

Ezra’s back aches, his eyes are dry even though he dimmed the lights an hour ago, and his head is a mess of overlapping thoughts and considerations – he needs to order in about twelve requests tomorrow morning, needs to chase up that fucking order of poorly-penned thrillers so that they actually arrive before their author’s reading on Monday morning, and it’s taken him half an hour to chase after the last irritating old woman out with a paperback in her hands.

He'd forgotten to lock the door, evidently, when he flipped the door over – he’s in the middle of tocking up tomorrow’s float when he hears the bell jingle, hears it shut and then hears it lock.

“Go away, Mr Black,” growls Ezra.

“Good evening, Mr Lovelace,” chimes Odhran Black without even the remotest bit of hesitation, and Ezra finishes counting out the ten-pound notes before lowering his glasses and looking across at Odhran, who has set aside a covered plate of something to go through the room correcting displays and setting them right, nice and neatly.

For all the young man fucking irritates him, Odhran’s got an attention to detail and knows exactly how to set a display, which is what he does now. He does have book displays in his shop, after all – the vast majority of them are for silicon cocks and straps and leatherwear and what-have-you, but he does have books on display, Ezra knows.

He's never actually been in the horrible little cave, but he’s seen through the door, caught a glimpse of a neatly arranged display of books beside the various DVDs on the other two shelves.

“Nothing very fanciful today, Mr Lovelace,” says Odhran as he flicks a cardboard box of Maeve Binchy out from behind a bookshelf and slots its contents into the cradle of his arm, proceeding to slot them into the gaps on the shelves in effortless, speedy title order, “just a chicken penne arrabbiata and some garlic bread.”

Ezra grits his teeth so hard he can hear his jaw creak, and focuses on counting up five-pound notes. He does not look over at Odhran as he flattens the box and tugs out another, taking out two last volumes before he does a quick scan and survey of the shelves surrounding him and then scoops up the plate.

“Go away,” he growls again as Odhran approaches.

How many times has he brought Ezra meals these last few months? Far too many times – four or five days a week, of recent, always just at closing, although he started six months ago when he took over the shop.

It had belonged to his aunt’s ex-husband, who’d died last year, a thoroughly average-looking man that Ezra had never even learned the name of, let alone learned about in any detail, only that he’d owned the sex shop and the flat across the road. Odhran’s cleaned the thing up, and it gets far more traffic these days, a lot of young, queer clientele that often stray into Ezra’s territory, too.

Ezra only wishes Odhran wouldn’t do the same.

Odhran comes to a stop in front of the desk with the plate in his hands, clasped in front of his belly. This close, Ezra can smell it, smell the tomato in the marinara sauce and smell the garlic butter on the bread even through the tin foil wrapping, and against his will, his stomach gives a rumble that makes his cheeks burn with how mortifyingly audible it is.

“You need to start closing the shop for lunch, Mr Lovelace,” says Odhran in softly superior tones. “It’s not good for a man to keep skipping meals like you do.”

“A man like me, you mean?” demands Ezra, his voice so sharp as to almost hiss. “A man my age?”

Odhran’s expression doesn’t change, his lips remaining curved slightly into a beautiful smile – he’s infuriatingly beautiful. A man who owns and operates a sex shop should, by all rights, look decrepit and unpleasant, should perhaps have some malodorous aura, should perhaps look moist with sweat at a glance.

Odhran is so young and attractive and shamelessly, openly gay as to be a sort of memento mori for a tired old man like Ezra, and his existence is somewhat infuriating in itself, even before he began this habit of insinuating himself into Ezra’s life, inviting himself over, tidying the shop, making him meals.

“You really aren’t that old, Mr Lovelace,” says Odhran, and walks past him, nudging the door open and ascending the stairs to Ezra’s flat. “And for a man of forty-nine,” he calls down behind him, “you really look quite well!”

“I’m forty-eight,” Ezra snaps back, and he sets his jaw when he hears Odhran’s laugh echo down the stairwell, an easy, joyful sound just before the door clicks shut. “For pity’s sake,” he mutters, finishing up the float and setting it down, then he takes up the tray of the day’s earnings and follows Odhran up the stairs, walking past him to his office and going for the safe. He can hear Odhran moving about in the kitchen, hear him taking out a knife and fork and a plate, it sounds like, probably to put the garlic bread on.

When Ezra comes into the kitchen, Odhran has set a place for him at the kitchen table, the penne set down on the plate with the bread on a side one, just as Ezra had thought, and he’s put the tin foil into the recycling bin.

The sauce is a beautiful red and smells of all the herbs Odhran cooks with, fresh from the garden on his balcony; the chicken is uniformly cut throughout, mixed in with the rest, and Ezra knows from experience with Odhran’s cooking that it won’t be remotely dry; there’s the perfect amount of cheese sprinkled on top, only the barest hint of it.

The pasta looks very good against the sleek black porcelain. It smells divine, and it looks impeccable, artfully arranged on one of Odhran’s handsome black dishes, which doesn’t at all match Ezra’s chipped yellow side plate.

Christ knows why he ever thought that yellow would be a handsome colour for dinner dishes – they’d been a bequest from Adrian Delaney when he’d died in 2007, because Ezra had always complimented them whenever he’d been at Adrian and Bevis’ home for dinner, which he had been all the time as a teenager, always in and out, but he’d been a young idiot with no taste, and besotted with anything from the 1970s.

There are photos of the two of them up on the wall, Adrian and Bevis, and sometimes of recent he finds himself standing in front of them and just staring at them, remembering dinners with the two of them, watching the two of them laugh together, wash the dishes, the easy companionship they’d had when they moved back and forth, how they’d looked as if they were dancing no matter what they did.

“Were you raised by your grandparents?” he finds himself asking, and Odhran looks back from where he’s wiping his hands on a tea towel, having just washed them in the sink.

“That your theory?” asks Odhran, looking amused at the prospect. “I was raised by my grandfather alone, spent long hours in his solitary company, isolated from peers my own age, and subsequently I find comfort in the presence of the elderly?”

“Were you?” asks Ezra, choosing not to point out that forty-eight is not, in any sense of the word, yet elderly.

“No,” says Odhran plainly, folding the tea towel and setting it aside. He turns to look at Ezra with his arms crossed over his chest, and Ezra looks at what he’s wearing – a pressed floral shirt under a surprisingly fashionable cardigan, a pair of jeans so tight they might as well have been painted on. “I was molested by my grandfather until he died when I was twelve – my maternal grandfather, that is. My father’s father died when I was four, I think, I scarcely remember the man.”

Ezra stares at him, his mouth abruptly dry, aware that his eyes have gone wide.

“I suppose I am comforted by the presence of older men,” says Odhran. “I’m more attracted to older men, in any case, and when I hook up, it’s normally with daddies. I haven’t really been cooking for you these past months as a sexual overture though, Mr Lovelace. I was under the impression you were celibate.”

Ezra’s stares at him, feeling heat bleed into his cheeks, the two of them abruptly blushing so hotly they feel as though they might well spark with flame. “I’m not celibate,” he says, amazed at how indignant he sounds, and Odhran raises two handsome dark eyebrows, tilting his head slightly to the side. He has black hair worn with a centre-parting swept back from his face, shaved in an undercut, and when he tips back in flops handsomely.

“Oh,” says Odhran softly, the pink tip of his tongue touching to his lower lip for a moment, tantalising, like a ripe fruit. Smirking, he goes to the door. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“It wasn’t an invitation,” says Ezra.

“Enjoy your meal, Mr Lovelace.”

“I’m not in the habit of robbing cradles, young man!”

“See you tomorrow! I’ll go out of the side door, save you locking the shop one behind me.”

And then he’s gone with no more word about it, and Ezra, infuriated and defeated, sits down at the table to eat.

He washes the plate, dries it off, and walks across the street, slipping into the alley behind the opposite row of shops and ascending the back fire stairs, rapping his knuckles on the backdoor of the balcony.

It’s a little after eight – Ezra’s hours have always been eleven to seven, because he’s never believed in getting up before nine – and Odhran answers the door still dressed, but wearing slippers instead of shoes, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and one of his cats, a sort of toasted marshmallow creature called Pachinko, is wrapped around his neck.

She’s purring audibly, and she gives Ezra a slow, affectionate blink.

“Who— Who is Pachinko?” he asks, because the words “thank you” die on his tongue. “Is she a character in something?”

“Pachinko’s a game, Mr Lovelace,” says Odhran. “It’s a gambling game – sort of like bagatelle crossed with a pinball machine?”

“Oh,” says Ezra, looking through the balcony window to Galaga, a great beast of a silken black cat who’s sleeping sprawled in one of Odhran’s armchairs, all four of her paws in the air. “Galaga isn’t a character either? I thought they were comic book characters or something like that.”

“Galaga’s a game too,” the young man murmurs, reaching up and scratching Pachinko’s head. “You shoot at alien space ships.”

“Right,” Ezra mutters. “Well. I’ll just—”

“Would you like to come in?” asks Odhran before he can say his goodbye. He does this, from time to time, invites Ezra in, and Ezra wonders how it might look, going in only after the occasion where Odhran’s revealed he has sex with older men, that Ezra is his type, so to speak.

He didn’t say that, of course.

Ezra’s being in an age range hardly means—

“I’ll put some more cocoa on,” says Odhran, stepping back and holding open the door. “Come.”

Ezra steps inside.

Galaga’s head shoots up as the door clicks closed, and she pounces up from her place on the sofa and rockets toward him, shoving herself between Ezra’s ankles and weaving between them, making him laugh and stumble.

“You used to have cats, right?” asks Odhran as he takes milk out of the fridge. “You have pictures up on the walls.”

“None of them were mine,” says Ezra. “The big Persians, they were all Adrian Delaney and Bevis Mode’s. One of the ginger ones belonged to Catherine Brighton, another to Del Smythe. The big white one with blue eyes, her name was Pashmina, she was deaf. She belonged to a woman called Florence.”

Odhran is silent for a few minutes as he sets the pot on the hob, flicking on the heat beneath it before he starts to chop up squares of chocolate with a large knife, casually, as though that’s what the chopping board is ordinarily used for. Pachinko is apparently utterly undeterred by the regular loud knocks of metal on wood and the shift of his shoulders, because she stays resolutely where she is, lolling about his neck like a stole.

“All your old friends,” says Odhran quietly. “Most of the photos are older, in any case. AIDs?”

“Mostly,” says Ezra. “Adrian was prostate cancer. He and Bevis, they all but appointed themselves by fathers – mine threw me out when I was fifteen.”

“Ha,” says Odhran, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Mine too.”

“That’s why you thought that I… You thought I was celibate.”

“I’ve never seen you out, never seen you on Grindr,” says Odhran. “Never seen you with a man.”

“A dry spell, that’s all,” murmurs Ezra, trying to inject a bit of humour into his voice, although it’s been so long he barely remembers how. A part of him – an irritatingly chipper part of him he’s spent a long time attempting to silence – points out that he ought be grateful that this young man is so intent on socialising with him, putting himself in Ezra’s life. “Going on five years now.”

“Your poor cock,” says Odhran. “I expect if you get an erection it sputters out dust like a disused set of bellows.”

Ezra’s laugh takes him by such surprise that it starts him coughing, and Odhran sounds far too pleased with himself as he laughs as well, taking the chopping board over to the pot and sweeping the chips of chocolate directly into the pot.

“You don’t have to fuck me, you know,” says Odhran, and Ezra stands in the kitchen doorway watching the lines of his back under his jumper, even obscured as it is by the underside of Pachinko’s thick coat. “I’d really rather you not to do out of sympathy.”

“I frequently tell you I don’t want you cooking for me out of sympathy.”

“We both live alone,” says Odhran, “and I’m terrible for actually eating my leftovers. It’s nice to make a plate for two, if I’m cooking anyway, and you’ll go without a proper meal otherwise.”

“That’s not sympathy?”

“It’s practicality.”

“I’m not here out of sympathy,” says Ezra lowly.

“You don’t normally come in when I invite you, that’s all. Would you like to have sex?”

Ezra’s breath catches in his throat, in his chest, and it arrests even more when Odhran turns to look at him, his pink lips parting slightly, his eyebrows raising in expectation. Ezra imagines it for a moment, seeing him underneath the neatly pressed clothes he wears, feeling his body against Ezra’s, crushing him down and riding him, feeling his—

He swallows down a sudden thick lump in his throat.

“Not tonight,” he says finally.

“Alright,” says Odhran, as casually as if Ezra had turned down the offer of a biscuit, and he stirs the cocoa, reaching for a container of some sort of spice and tipping a little of it into the mix, which is swirling creamy brown and white as the chocolate melts. “Would you like to watch a film?”

“I don’t own a television,” says Ezra. It slips out of his mouth automatically, snappishly, the way it often does when people mention films or TV – when was the last time he saw a film?

Something he saw in the cinema, probably, years ago, or maybe something on Adrian’s hospital bed, when he was sitting beside him and they were squinting at the little screen on the other side of the room, straining to hear the dialogue of The Birdcage over the fella coughing out his lungs in the next bed.

“That may be,” says Odhran evenly, “but I do.”

The embarrassment crashes over him in a wave, but he manages to weather it. “Alright,” he says weakly. “You’ll have to pick it.”

“I was going to anyway,” says Odhran, and Ezra looks down at Galaga as she plops her weight down on top of his feet, half-rolling over and displaying her prodigious belly to him, for all the world as though they’re good friends already. “Take a seat, I’ll bring this in soon.”

“Thank you,” says Ezra. “Odhran.”

“You never use my forename,” says Odhran softly, with a secretive smile that seems almost private, his head turned so that Ezra catches only a glimpse of it, and aches to see more. “Ezra.”

Ezra steps out of the room and it occurs to him how absurd this all is, coming over to the apartment of a boy young enough to be his son just because he’s got a bleeding-heart tendency of cooking him dinner, and now, what? Snuggle together watching a film? Drink cocoa together? Kiss on the doorstep before he goes back to his own shop and his own misery, and pretend this hasn’t happened – or worse, embrace it? Be one of those pathetic old men with a boytoy half his age, and one who owns a sex shop, at that?

He takes one step toward the door and stumbles on the cat – Galaga is standing directly in front of him and is more than large enough to stumble on. He swears under his breath, but she just looks up at him with big, soppy green eyes and purrs with a rumble like an engine.

They stare at each other for a moment, him stiff and awkward, half-bent over, her purring loudly with her mouth open, sitting back on her fat little haunches.

“Fine,” he whispers to her. “But I’m not staying for the whole film.”

Galaga gets up on her feet and guides him, her tail in the air, over to the sofa; as soon as he sinks back into it, the leather creaking under his weight, she hops up onto his thighs. Ezra Lovelace is not a particularly small man, but the leather creaks far more loudly under their combined weights than it did under just his own.

“Heavy little girl, aren’t you?” he asks her, but he reaches under her chin and scratches her there nonetheless, and he laughs breathlessly at her weight in his lap, at the way her whole body vibrates with her purrs. His eyes threaten to water for a moment, but don’t quite.

* * *

When he finally goes home, two romcoms later, Odhran kisses him at the door before he can protest, and Ezra loses himself in the heady haze of it, finds himself pinning the young man against the wall and kissing him properly.

It must be ten or fifteen minutes of this ridiculous, immature behaviour before he finally tears himself away and hurries home – Odhran all but moans Ezra’s name after him as he departs, and the sound plagues Ezra in his dreams so much that come morning, he finds himself cooking breakfast for two, setting it out on two chipped yellow plates.

“I’ve always loved these plates,” says Odhran covetously when they sit down to eat.

It makes Ezra’s heart ache, and instead of swallowing the memory, he opens his mouth and tells the young man why.

#romance fiction #original fiction #gay fiction #gay romance

33 notes · View notes

aesthetikins · 5 months

Text

strade from boyfriend to death recipes for anon

im going to say it plainly, this one gave me more difficulty than the other anon prompts (i assume that were all sent by the same person, since they were sent within minutes of each other). part of that is due to it being a kind of vague request, but the other part is that theres not much to go on based on information from the wikia other than this guy is a sadist who makes snuff films. how do you make gore into delicious food? novelty halloween gross-out dishes came to mind immediately

raw meat rice krispies

6 cups rice krispies cereal

10 ounce bag of marshmallows or 4 cups mini marshmallows

3 tablespoons butter

red food gel

chocolate syrup (optional for color)

styrofoam meat trays and cling wrap (optional for decorating)

in a large pot, heat the butter over medium heat until fully melted. add the marshmallows and stir until they have completely melted. remove from heat and pour in the cereal, stirring until fully incorporated into the marshmallow mixture. add in red food gel and mix until fully red, adding a small amount of chocolate syrup to darken the color if you'd like. mix red food gel and chocolate syrup and drizzle onto meat tray or a regular plate. form "meat" patties once the marshmallow and cereal mixture is cool enough to handle, then plate. cling wrap if serving them to others, but feel free to skip wrapping them if you're just going to dig in for yourself

(gasp. whats this? a second recipe?)

tear n share pizza guts

500 grams white bread flour, plus more for dusting

7 gram packet of active dry yeast

2 teaspoons salt

300 milliliters warm water

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 crushed cloves of garlic

2x 400 gram cans of chopped tomatoes

1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

2 teaspoons sugar

250 grams grated mozzarella or cheddar cheese, or a mixture

pizza fillings of your choice

2 tablespoons herb garlic butter (you can mix a bit of garlic and dried herbs into softened butter if you cant find pre-mixed herb butter)

scoop the flour into a large bowl. dump the packet of yeast on one side of the bowl and the salt on the other. pour 300 ml warm water into the bowl and mix with a wooden spoon or a stand mixer's dough hook until you have a soft dough. you can add 25 ml water if it seems too dry. knead on a lightly floured surface for 10 minutes or in the stand mixer for 5 minutes until your dough is soft and stretchy. rub some olive oil to cover your dough ball, then put it in a clean bowl and drape a dish towel over the bowl. leave it in a warm place for 2 hours or in the fridge overnight

heat olive oil in a pan over medium heat and saute the garlic until aromatic. add tomatoes, oregano, and 2 teaspoons sugar. reduce heat to low-medium and simmer for 20-30 minutes until the sauce thickens. let cool until youre ready to use it, the sauce will store in the fridge for up to 3 days if in an airtight container

when you're ready to assemble, spread the sauce over a large casserole or baking dish. roll the dough out on a floured surface until you have a large rectangle 60x30 cm in size. cut it in half so you have 2 15x60 cm rectangles. pile cheese and toppings along the center of each rectangle. pinch their along the long sides of the rectangles to close the fillings inside, then squeeze along the length of each tube-roll to make sure they're sealed. arrange them over the sauce with their seams facing down, making them into roughly intestine shapes with enough space for the bread to expand as it bakes. cover and let proof at room temperature for 30 minutes, or in the fridge for 8 hours

heat the oven to 200C/400F. bake for 45 minutes until the bread is golden. brush with garlic herb butter and let rest for 10 minutes before serving

#fictionkin #boyfriend to death kin #btd kin #strade kin #recipe #kin food #sundew spotted #for anon #edit: WHAD HTE FUCK DO YOU MEAN I DIDNT ADD AN IMAGE OF THE PIZZA GUTS #fuck my baka life #well its there now

6 notes · View notes

lumine-no-hikari · 4 months

Text

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #17

I'm still trying to keep busy, trying to keep one step ahead of the beast. So today I am making confit garlic to bring to my friends on Sunday.

Confit garlic is what happens when you take between 5 and 6 heads of garlic, peel all the cloves, put 'em in a dish, submerge 'em in oil, and bake 'em at 250 degrees Fahrenheit for 2 or 3 hours, depending on how you like the color and consistency. The result is soft, sweet, creamy garlic cloves that can be spread on crackers or on slices of bread with a spoon! It is UTTERLY DELECTABLE, oh my goodness!! Here's how mine came out:

I wish I could share it with you, but for obvious reasons, I cannot; alas. But maybe I can share how I do it. That way, on the (impossibly slim) chance that you see this, you'll know what to do!

First you have to pull the cloves off of five heads of garlic. From there, you have to peel them. A lot of people dislike peeling garlic, so instead they'll opt for putting it in some sturdy container and shaking it until the peels come off. I find that this method works, but it always ends up getting garlic juice everywhere, from the force of the cloves colliding with the sides of the container. I don't like that, so I just do it the regular way. I have a lot of practice with doing it that way, and I'm pretty good at it, so I don't mind. I'll explain why I have so much practice with it later in this letter, if you're interested. Anyway, here's a picture of the peeled garlic; I put the peels in a bag to make broth out of later, and I put the cloves in a jar, like so, just to keep them from scattering everywhere:

Once the cloves are peeled, you have to take off the woody ends, and any scarring on the cloves that is too extensive. A little bit of scarring is fine and won't affect anything, but too much gets chewy and weird. The good thing about it though is that scarred bits of garlic still taste like garlic, so you can still use any sections you cut off to make broth later! Here's a picture of the trimmed garlic, along with a bag full of the scraps:

Anyway, from there you fill the jar the rest of the way with some kind of oil - typically either melted butter or olive oil. This time, at the suggestion of a friend, I used extra virgin olive oil! Check it out!

From there, I put it in the oven at 250 Fahrenheit for about 2 and a half hours! Here's the result!

Isn't is beautiful? As for why I have a lot of practice with peeling and cooking with garlic… it's because, starting when I was about 7 or 8 years old, my father would let me help him in the kitchen when I would sometimes go to visit him on the weekends. It was one of the few ways I was allowed to spend time with him. He would put on his various music - typically classic rock like Poison and Led Zeppelin - and we'd get to work. He started me with very simple things, like peeling onions and garlic. Later, as I got older and became more coordinated, he had me peeling potatoes and slicing things. It was something I used to look forward to. My father was taught how to cook by his stepfather. His stepfather was from Italy, and they're VERY passionate about garlic over there! He taught my father to use garlic often in his cooking, and so now I do, too!

Like any human (I am no exception to this, either!!), my father has a lot of not-so-great qualities about him. In a lot of ways, he's very cowardly; he dodges accountability faster even than you can dodge enemy attacks. When he feels discomfort, instead of facing that discomfort head on, he'll usually deny it, bury his head in the sand, and pretend like it doesn't exist. I used to be a lot like him, in these regards; it took me quite some time to unlearn these things and establish better habits in their place.

Unfortunately, he also allowed a lot of very terrible things to happen to my brother and I; he didn't protect us when we needed him. He prioritized his own social and emotional comfort over the physical and mental safety of his offspring. All of his children - myself, my brother, my half-brother, and my stepbrother - suffer the effects of his choices (whether they realize and acknowledge it or not). This is something that cannot be undone. All of this is simply the result of how he struggles with the aftermath of his own upbringing, which he never got help for, for a variety of very compelling reasons that aren't really his fault, but were nonetheless his responsibility to deal with as an adult human. He did not fulfill those particular responsibilities. Though I understand that he did his best, room must also be made for understanding that sometimes, even when people do their best with the knowledge and skills they have, they still end up leaving the people around them hurting, confused, and wondering why.

But he's still a good person, and there are a lot of very wonderful qualities about him; he can be goofy and playful, spontaneous, and full of joy. He is very practical, and in a lot of ways, much smarter than he gives himself credit for. Unfortunately, these things do not change the fact that he refuses to see and take accountability for how his choices have impacted his children, and he refuses to learn how to make different kinds of choices. So as much as I wish I could talk to him and spend time with him, I cannot afford to become destabilized by his conduct; there are people counting on me who are far more willing than he is to treat me with love and respect, and it's not fair to them if I put myself in a position where I might end up dropping the ball on them, just for the sake of spending time with a person who does not wish to expend even minimal effort to know or understand me. So in light of this, my only choice is to love him from very far away where neither he nor his wife can hurt me anymore.

…Sometimes it ends up being the case that our family is made up of people who we choose, and who choose us in return, instead of the people who are related to us by blood. And that's okay, too; good families come in all shapes, sizes, and compositions. There is an old saying in my world that goes like this: "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb." And it basically means that, those bonds forged by choice are often stronger than those bonds that exist only because of biological happenstance.

So… although my circumstances with my father are very complicated, I still do treasure the memories I have of him that were good. He gifted me with a passion for cooking, which I can now use to express love towards my chosen family, and towards other people around me, and I think that's very beautiful, don't you? Anybody can take a broken situation and weave it into something beautiful, I think - like weaving stained glass windows out of the fractures of colored pieces.

On some days, I get stuck in wondering, "Why couldn't I have had a normal life?" Or sometimes I get stuck in wondering, "What is wrong with me that I wasn't worth stepping up for? Am I broken? Am I that much unlike other humans?"

But I don't have to stay stuck there. I still have a good life even if it's not "normal" by most standards. And I have plenty of people in my life now who remind me that how others treat us is not a reflection of what we're worth or what the world will always be like; all humans are worth basic respect and decency even if not all humans have the necessary skills or empathy to provide it, and all humans have to be flexible about what the world is like, so that way we can accept the good things when they come to us, and take the bad things in stride.

And, no matter what happens, I still have the power to take what I've learned from all these things, and use it to help others somehow. One of the greatest superpowers the people of my planet possess is situational alchemy - we can, if given enough support, weave any bad situation into love and beauty, because if nothing else, we can take some things as examples of how NOT to be. We can weave gold from leaden situations. We can weave stained glass windows from shattered fragments. We can weave art from pain.

May you find any of what I've written to be helpful and relatable. And may you someday find your own powers of situational alchemy, if you haven't already. You have no shortage of support to help you with this; all you have to do is reach back for the hands and voices that are outstretched to you.

Please always remember that you are loved and that you belong in this world. Please stay safe as you try to weave peace from your current circumstances. Please remember that no matter how broken the situation you come from might be, and no matter how many pieces you might be in now because of it, your life is still worth something, and you can still make any change within yourself that you choose.

Please don't disappear. Please.

Your friend, Lumine

4 notes · View notes

livefungus · 2 years

Text

Some vampire! Lightbulb and Silver Spoon headcanons

-Lightbulb was turned into a vampire sometime after the events of Hatching The Plan (by Silver Spoon no less!). It is up to interpretation as to how long Silver Spoon has been a vampire

-Lightbulb has tried (and failed) to eat garlic bread of multiple occasions

-Both of them have bat forms where they just look like regular vampire bats, with the main difference between them being that Lightbulb is rounder than Silver

-During the day, when he has to do challenges, Silver Spoon wears a sun hat and a pair of gloves to shield himself from the sun (similar to what Marceline wore in the Adventure Time ‘What Was Missing’). Lightbulb is still workshopping ideas on how to go outside during the day

-Both vampires have hypnosis powers, but it’s very hard to do (even for long-time vampires) and only Silver Spoon likes to use them. Lightbulb used her hypnosis powers once and that was to make Test Tube do a backflip. Silver tends to use his hypnosis powers as a last resort, but he has tried using them on Paintbrush, but for some reason they seem to be immune to vampiric hypnosis…

#not me promoting my ii au about two silly vampires and their secret-keeping enby friend #inanimate insanity #ii lightbulb #ii silver spoon #ii paintbrush #heacanons #PITN au

24 notes · View notes

edgewaterfarmcsa · 6 months

Text

CSA WEEK 3

P i c k l i s t

GREEN PEPPERS - JALAPENO PEPPERS - CELERY - LETTUCE - FENNEL - CARROTS -

ONIONS - PLUM TOMATOES - SAGE - WINTER SQUASH - SWEET POTATOES

BREAD OF THE WEEK: APPLE CIDER BREAD

THIS WEEK AT EDGEWATER…

Welcome frost! I am shocked at my exclamation and openness to this event, but jeez we are tired and plants are tired. Both fields and humans are ready to button up, cover up, and take a long winter nap. However, pre naptime, there is much to do. Since Friday of last week, we have been busy sweeping the fields of any non frost hardy fruit. This list includes peppers of every variety, tomatoes, lemongrass, etc… the kol crops and carrots can handle a cold snap and often sweeten up with every below 32 degree night, so thankfully there is no hurry on that harvest. But the rest is on go-time as our crew is seasonal and our honey-do list is long. So as soon as frost arrived Tuesday morning, we began to break down the fields: Cut plants, pull drip tape, remove rebar, remove posts, etc… This is absolutely the less glamorous side of farming, but there is a feeling of completion and renewal in this field breakdown and tidying up.

Another area of completion we hit yesterday was the Halloween carving of the very last of the pumpkin crop. It feels good to say, what we did not sell, we carved and stuck a candle in.

As far as other crops go, we have a cooler stacked high with bins full of already harvested beets and carrots, and watermelon radishes. Soon leeks and cabbage and the rest of the carrots will be picked and join the cooler party. Outside the cooler are bins of onions, sweet potatoes, regular potatoes, and we remain beyond fortunate to have greenhouse space to grow greens. All that said, we will not go hungry this winter, and there is always plenty of food for all.

Ok, I need to step away from this computer, put on 10,000 layers of wool, top it off with some fancy neoprene gloves and go finish the CSA pick. I see flurries outside.

FARMY FOODIE PRO-TIPS:

WINTER SQUASH WITH CRISPY SAGE AND HONEY VIA EDEN GRINSHPAN

Winter squash cut into ½ inch thick slices (i keep seeds in!)

15 fresh sage leaves

2 tablespoons honey

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 teaspoons kosher salt

½ teaspoon ground pepper

Pre heat oven to 425

On a baking sheet, toss the squash and sage with the olive oil, honey, salt and pepper. Roast until the squash is tender and golden, 20 to 25 minutes, flipping once about halfway through. Serve

Mirepoix Is the Foundation of Stews, Sauces, and More—Here's How to Make It:

The savory combination of celery, onion, and carrots (and sometimes other vegetables) is the silent MVP of so many recipes.

By Victoria Spencer Updated on October 3, 2023

A big bowl of warm, hearty stew is typically full of flavors that go beyond the focal point (think: Beef Stew, Vegetarian Gumbo). If you've ever wondered what makes up the backbone of these liquid-based meals, then it's time to learn about mirepoix, one of the first things chefs learn in culinary school, and the foundation of flavor in so many dishes.

What Is Mirepoix?

A mirepoix is a combination of finely chopped aromatic vegetables that gives a subtle background flavor to dishes such as soups, stews, sauces, and braises. It's a French term that was reportedly devised in the 18th century by the cook to the Duc de Lévis-Mirepoix, a French field Marshal.

The classic mirepoix is made up of onion, carrot, and celery, but this version is only one of many possible variations. Mushrooms, parsnips, leeks, peppers, tomatoes, and garlic are all considered aromatic vegetables and can be used in endless combinations in a mirepoix. Other cuisines have flavor bases allied to the mirepoix:

Soffrito

The Italian soffritto is similar to a mirepoix. Like a mirepoix, it calls for onions, celery, and carrots, and sometimes pancetta and garlic.

The Holy Trinity

The "holy trinity" is used as the base of most soups and stews—including gumbo—in Cajun and Creole cooking in Louisiana. It includes onions, celery, and—instead of carrot—a bell pepper. Green peppers were substituted because they're easier to grow in southern Louisiana—plus they're delicious. It also differs from a mirepoix because the holy trinity uses equal amounts of each vegetable.

Sofrito

A sofrito is a Spanish flavor base. It is similar to the mirepoix in that it uses finely chopped vegetables but the vegetables used are different: onion, tomatoes, bell peppers, and garlic. This sofrito is the base of many recipes including paella, sancocho, and rice-and-bean dishes. A Puerto Rican version of sofrito is known as recaito, and often includes ajíes dulces (small sweet chile peppers). It is used in dishes such as the island's take on arroz con pollo.

How to Make a Mirepoix

For a classic mirepoix, use 2 parts onion to 1 part carrot and 1 part celery.

Rinse, trim, and peel the vegetables.

Chop them into uniform pieces. The shorter the cooking time of your recipe, the smaller the pieces should be, so that they effectively infuse the foods with flavor.

Using a Mirepoix

You can add the mirepoix uncooked to stocks and broths for a light dose of flavor.

To add richness to heartier stews and braises, "sweat" the vegetables first, cooking them with a little oil or butter over low heat until they start to release their juices into the pan.

Recipes that start with a mirepoix are many, from rich French chicken stews and French-style pork stews to those that start with a sofrito, like Spanish-style shellfish dishes. Almost every vegetable soup starts with a mirepoix. Once you know about this flavor base, you'll see how ubiquitous it is.

PICKLE YOUR JALAPENOS!!

Store-bought jars of pickled jalapeños are perfectly delicious. But if you feel like doing more work than unscrewing a cap—or if you bought a glut of peppers at the farmers market—you can make quick-pickled jalapeños (or anything) at home too. First, slice your peppers into rounds. There’s no law against using whole jalapeños, but smaller pieces will soak up the brine faster. Bring 1 cup distilled white vinegar, 2 Tbsp. kosher salt, 2 tsp. sugar, up to 2 Tbsp. spices (e.g., peppercorns, coriander seeds, and/or mustard seeds), chopped fresh herbs (like cilantro), and 2 cups water to a boil in a saucepan. You’ll want enough liquid to cover the peppers, so feel free to scale this ratio up or down as needed.

Transfer sliced peppers to clean glass jars and pour over the brine, leaving ½ inch of headspace between the liquid line and the rim. Screw on the lids and let the jars cool before transferring to the fridge. Your pickled jalapeños will be best after 48 hours and last up to two months refrigerated.

2 notes · View notes