#it makes stocking up on last minute meals so much easier

[cleaverqueer]

so glad one of my fave meals is plain white rice with butter and salt

#/gen #it makes stocking up on last minute meals so much easier #a case of shrimp ramen and a box of instant rice will feed me for like #a week and a half #maybe some stock for the rice if i get bored of plain #and a couple of cans of vegetables here and there to get my vitamins or whatever #one of these days im gonna try that recipe thats like #a can of beef n vegetable soup over white rice #cause that sounds awesome

[ms-demeanor]

Hey also you know that post about getting better at cooking and handling meat and stuff?

Meat is really expensive and it goes bad pretty quickly.

If you're a new cook and you're trying to figure out how to pan-fry something so that it tastes good, might I recommend tofu?

I'm not saying "treat tofu like meat and try to replace all your favorite meat dishes with tofu" (though, I mean, if that sounds good - go for it), I'm saying "it's a lot easier to practice heating a pan and flipping objects in a pan for a meal and seasoning objects in a pan when the objects in the pan cost two dollars instead of ten dollars."

Tofu lasts a lot longer in the fridge than meat does, is easy to season, and you can easily learn how to pan-fry it into a tasty snack (or main course) and only requires a little extra prep. You can also pretend that the tofu is raw meat (the texture isn't dissimilar) and start practicing for things like how to take it out of a package or cut it on a sanitizable surface, etc.

My favorite way to cook tofu is to press extra firm tofu for at least half an hour (you can get a cheap tofu press for around ten dollars, or you can put it between two plates with some books on the top plate - this is that extra prep i was talking about - tofu cooks best if you press the excess water out), then slice a 14oz cake of it into 8 slices. I lay these flat and sprinkle cayenne pepper, mushroom powder, and smoked paprika on all of the slices, then I rub it in and flip the slices and season the other side the same way. I cook it in a frying pan with a thin layer of avocado or olive oil over medium heat, flipping every two minutes until the flat sides start to crisp up a little. Just before the last flip I add about a tablespoon of tamari sauce (you can use soy sauce, I've just got allergies) to the pan, sprinkling it over the tofu so that both sides get a little bit of sauce on them.

I have that with steamed vegetables and with jasmine rice (with two teaspoons of rice wine vinegar per 3 cups of dry rice and 4.5 cups of water). I also make a honey-siracha-mayo sauce that I dip the tofu in.

It's really good. And now I end up eating leftover rice and sauce with fried eggs for lunch at least two days a week and that's also really good.

This has become one of my go-to low spoon foods because it's so easy to make, it's filling, it tastes good to me, and it has become extremely easy for me to keep a stock of tofu in the fridge compared to the effort of keeping un-expired meat in the fridge.

I find that a 14oz pack of tofu feeds two adults for one meal, though I can stretch that to three meals if I'm the only one eating.

It makes a very cheap, filling, easy dinner that I can keep the ingredients around for without too much concern for food waste or anything going bad (the tofu that I get lasts about a month in the fridge and these days I just buy three packs every time I'm at aldi and cycle in new stock - it costs $1.50 per pack)

If you're interested in becoming a better cook, rather than worrying about actual high-risk products like raw chicken that can be seriously dangerous and also cost a fair amount, tofu has a pretty low barrier to entry while also being a good way to learn on a new ingredient that has some similar properties to raw meat.

[spooniechef]

Roast Chicken (1 spoon)

That thing I reblogged the other day about how a roast is basically perfect spoonie food is entirely right. It’s fairly simple - just involves a bit of seasoning and sticking something in the oven for awhile while you do something else. It makes a lot of food all at once, so you don’t have to cook again for awhile. Best of all, the leftovers can be used in all sorts of ways, not just as A Roast Dinner. Sandwich fillings is one of the most common ones, but the meat from a roast can also go into risotto, student alfredo (or whatever Hoover stew equivalent we’re going with), fried rice, paella, basically nearly anything you like. Plus, while the initial outlay is a bit of sticker shock, given how much you can get out of a roast means you’re probably spending less money for more food, especially since you can get away with using cheaper cuts of meat if you’re slow-roasting.

The first thing I learned to roast myself was whole chicken. As with everything else, there are as many ways to roast a chicken as there are people, so I’ll provide the basics for how I do it, and a lot of notes.

Here’s what you’ll need:

1 whole chicken

1 tbsp vegetable oil (or garlic puree)

1 tbsp salt (other spices optional)

Fruit / vegetables / herbs for stuffing (see notes)

While stuffing’s generally seen as a side dish, that can be baked in the oven separately, rather than necessarily in the bird. The main point of stuffing is to keep the meat moist and juicy, so whatever you’re putting into the cavity should have a fairly high water content. Onion and garlic are my go-to items, along with a few sprigs of fresh sage and thyme and rosemary from my balcony garden, but you can also add celery or carrots or whatever other vegetable you like. Or fruit, even - it’ll give the chicken some interesting flavour, depending on what you’re going for. I normally go with citrus - lemon or orange - but apple also works very well. So it all depends on what kind of flavour you’d like your chicken to pick up. My favourite is still one small onion (quartered), 3 cloves garlic, one small orange (quartered) and the sage / thyme / rosemary above.

Incidentally, the salt’s important because it and the oil will help get the skin nice and crispy. I use the garlic puree because it’s oil-base and gives the skin some extra flavour, though I also generally add a bit of pepper, some paprika, a little bit of celery salt ... whatever spices I’m feeling at the time.

Here’s what you do:

Pre-heat oven to 390 F (200 C; fan assist 180 C, gas mark 6)

Rub your chicken lightly with the oil or garlic puree and add spice to taste; let stand for at least 20 minutes. While you wait, stuff your chicken with the vegetables, fruits, and / or herbs.

Cook chicken for 20 minutes per pound, plus an extra 10-20 minutes; until the juices run clear (meat thermometer placed into the thickest part of the thigh should read about 82 C / 180 F)

For crispier skin, turn up the heat to 425 F (220 C, fan assist 200 C, gas mark 7) for the last 15 minutes or so.

Let rest 20 minutes or so before carving

Again, there’s very little about this recipe that needs changing to make it easier. My only recommendation is lining the bottom of your roasting tin with tin foil because it’s easier to throw away a piece of tin foil than it is to scrub out a roasting tin. I’m pretty sure that doing that wouldn’t interfere if you’re using the juices for gravy, but since that’s a little too much faffing and stirring for me, I couldn’t tell you. I just use the gluten-free granules from the supermarket if I want gravy.

So there you have it - meals for almost a week out of a couple of hours’ mostly non-effort. When I do chicken, I tend to have the leg quarters as meals, save the wings for snacks, carve the breasts for use in risotto or fried rice or sandwiches, and then boil the remains for stock, particularly now that I’m making risotto and soup more often. So you can get an awful lot of value out of a good-sized chicken, especially if you have a big enough pot to boil up a good amount of stock. It’s also fun to experiment with what you use to stuff the cavity and spice the skin, so there’s endless variety to be had.

#The Spoonie Chef #recipes #meals #roast

[lulusoblue]

give me your domestic gfs elizanor hcs

i have no idea how long this has been here but *cracks knuckles* you got it, anon

First meeting: 6'9" Eleanor Lamb activates Elizabeth's up-to-now dormant lesbianism so hard she forgets how to form words for a few minutes

Fast friends due to trauma interests in common and an interdimensional roadtrip is almost immediate, which slowly builds up to a romantic relationship as they tour the world(s) together

The domestication begins: they build a cottage, one where Eleanor won't need to duck so much, because from their travels they have found most cottages are small and short, but they want their shared living space to be cozycore. They build it in some idyllic woods or a forest clearing, just somewhere somewhat isolated without it being unsettling or creepy.

Elizabeth by this point has a good hang of her powers where she can pull a Howl's Moving Castle on the cottage doors and windows to just stop out anywhere like it's no big deal; streets of Paris? Relaxing country park? The Attack on Eden Prime? okay maybe not that last one

They think of places to revisit based on both location and date, because if they're both from different places in time and space they might as well travel the same way.

They have so many books. So many books. The "small" study has shelves hidden in hammerspace to store all the books. Why do they need all these books?

Out of the two, Eleanor gets hit the hardest when she falls sick. Her immune system has been screwed over after living in a fish bowl on the ocean floor her whole life, so she gets so much as a cold and she is bedridden for DAYS. Elizabeth's Nurse Nightingale mode gets switched on and she cares for/dotes on Eleanor the whole time. The latter complains about being babied but that's the general misery from being sick talking. (And somewhere under all the sniffling and groaning she feels so happy that someone is caring so much about her wellbeing.)

Unless one of them is busy elsewhere or sick, they tend to cook their meals together. Both of them were raised in circumstances where cooking for themselves never really came up, so it's a bit of them learning this life skill together and a bit of not wanting to leave the other to do all the cooking.

Eleanor visits Tenenbaum sometimes, usually to help with the effort of caring for the Little Sisters that her mother created. Locating their families is relatively easy thanks to the Thinker, it's undoing the mental conditioning that takes a while. Elizabeth offers to help where she can, knowing that this is something personal for Eleanor. Instant travel to drop off the treated girls and then leave without a trace makes the burden a lot easier on Tenenbaum as well.

Elizabeth sometimes wants to visit whatever Booker still survives in the aftermath of everything, but she can't bring herself to ever try and speak with him. If she ever checks on him, it's from afar, watching as Anna DeWitt gets to have a life that Elizabeth Comstock never got to have. Eleanor can see something's bothering Elizabeth when she gets back from wherever she's been, and eventually coaxes her into actually talking about her feelings, which are bittersweet at best.

Elizabeth discovers she's a cat person when Eleanor brings home a scruffy mess of a stray cat that kept following her. As soon as Elizabeth sits down to read the cat is on her lap before the book is open, he has claimed this human.

Eleanor discovers she's a dog person when Elizabeth brings home a stray mutt with the biggest "Can I keep him?" eyes. The dog was a her, and Eleanor quickly understood why people did the babytalk voice with their dogs because she adores this disaster dog.

There is a ladder for the shelves in the study, but Elizabeth always pesters Eleanor to lift her up for a book if the latter's around.

Eleanor gets lazy when it comes to grocery shopping and uses the above against Elizabeth so that she'll just tear a fully stocked fridge into their kitchen. Who wins here? Who knows?

Elizabeth loves dressing the both of them up. She loves making them new outfits to go out in, finding accessories on their adventures, teaching Eleanor about makeup and what to wear for what occassion because they can both leave the house and they will look good doing it dangit.

Eleanor loves to tinker with various gadgets and gizmos, and that might be why she's also taken to art, favouring mixed media and unconventional sculpting and metalworks. It was Elizabeth's idea that they build Eleanor her own shed as a space for her creativity, so the latter had full reign to get messy and come back into the cottage looking like a full-on blacksmith.

They know not to mess with the timelines. They know this. But that doesn't stop them from taking their combined works - Eleanor's art pieces and Elizabeth's paintings - and selling them where they could just to see where they would end up and what little instances of inspiration they caused.

Both of them have nightmares, not on the regular but often enough. Tossing and turning, mumbling in their sleep. Worst-case scenarios are one waking up and accidentally/instinctively pulling something into the room via tear or scourching the ceiling/wall with a fireball. They've learned each other's tells for nightmares and how to help calm the other down. Eleanor found that holding Elizabeth and talking to her in her sleep helps - a book she likes, what they could do in the morning, or just plain nonsense. Elizabeth figured out that ocean noise calmed Eleanor down, and changes the world outside their window to an undersea view until Eleanor stills. It's not a perfect system, they would rather be without the nightmares, but it's something that works in the now.

They're in no rush to get married, as neither really feel that it's something they need in their relationship. They know they're not ready for children yet, or if they'll ever want children. They're happy as they are in the present, with a cottage they built together for the life they built together and the cat and the dog they adopted and the art shed and a library hidden inside of a modest study and doors that can take them wherever and whenever they want. They were lost, but they found each other.

Eleanor has met the Luteces exactly once. She does not like them at all. She has promised them that if they ever show up to interrupt the peaceful life she and Elizabeth have for whatever bullshit quantum entanglement riddle they may want to bring with them, she can and WILL find a way to kill them for good. While the Luteces are certain she won't, the chance of third-degree burns and whatever half-finished art projects being thrown at them full-throttle is definitely not appealling.

#bioshock infinite #bioshock 2 #elizanor #eleanor lamb #elizabeth comstock #bioshock #domestic headcanons #i might come up with more but i am sleep deprived and honestly? finally time to answer this #who needs sleep when you have shipping headcanons

[chucksfavouriteprophet]

The Girl Can Bite Too, You Know - Part 8

Dean Winchester x (Female) Reader

Summary: Recovery takes time. Thankfully, a certain Winchester is there to make things easier.

Warnings: Tending a wound, Dean being adorably awkward, oh, and some nice vanilla smut

Word count: 1,982

A/N: This is the last part to this little series! Hope you enjoyed, thank you all so much for reading!

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |

That week, the boys cared for you like one of their own. Sam made delicious meals (which Dean seemed to enjoy even more than you did), and his brother practically refused to let you out of his eyesight. The spare room next to Dean's was made up for you, and the bathroom quickly became stocked with creams and medications to treat your burns.

You'd cried for hours when you first saw your injuries. Dean had you sat down in the bathroom while he removed the dressings and applied the treatment, and although you knew it would be gruesome, you weren't quite prepared for the actuality. Your left arm, shoulder, and the side of your hip was a glossy pink under the cracked and peeling skin desperately clinging on for dear life. There was practically no muscle or fat left, and if you moved under certain light, you could see your tendons flexing.

"I'm sorry. This is gonna hurt," Dean whispered as he winced himself brushing the creams over your arm. You bit your lip at the immense pain until you could taste blood. It only took a few minutes before he was gently re-bandaging, but that was all the time you needed.

"A'rite, all done-" glancing up at you for the first time after keeping such concentration, his face dropped. As soon as he'd taken his hands off you, your body started violently shaking as tears fell continuously down your face and you hiccuped out cries. Without a word, he reached forward and wrapped his warm arms around you, careful not to squeeze too tight.

"I'm hideous, huh?" you croaked out. Dean's heart broke.

"No, sweetheart. Far from it. Just give it time, it'll heal and you'll barely notice the scars."

You looked up at him with wide glassy eyes. "Will they be cool scars at least?"

He chuckled. "The coolest. You'll look incredibly badass."

You smiled back. "At least thats something."

He carried you back to your room and sat with you the rest of the night. The next morning, he woke you with a meatfeast breakfast and wheeled in his small TV from the Dean Cave so you could have a Netflix binge without moving from your bed. He did the same thing the next morning, and the next, and the next. The rest of the week Dean hardly left your side, distracting you through the pain with hilarious stories, reminding you to take your medication at the right time, and keeping your spirits lifted. Every second, you fell for him just a little more. Just as he fell for you.

-

Cas came on the eighth day, scaring the shit out of you as he appeared at the foot of the bed half way through an episode of Bojack Horseman.

"Who the fuck are you?!" you screeched as you fumbled around for the gun Dean made sure you kept under your pillow. The Angel looked at you confused for a moment, before the door caved in and Sam and Dean barged through, weapons at the ready.

"Shit Cas, a little warning next time?" Dean tutted as he quickly strode over to help you lie back, the sudden movement having disrupted the healing skin and making you cringe with pain.

"So you're the Angel, huh?" you grunted. Sam sighed.

"Y/N, this is Castiel. He, er - he's not the greatest at privacy. Or warnings." The younger Winchester gave Cas a pat on the shoulder and a strained smile.

"It is nice to finally meet you, Y/N. Dean here was incredibly worried, although I came as quick as I could."

"Aren't you cute," you sarcastically nudged Dean, who instantly blushed.

"I-I wasn't that worried..." he mumbled.

"Dean. You prayed to me a total of 537 times this week. I have been keeping count."

Oh shit, there were those butterflies again.

"Alright alright, just lay some damn healing mojo on her will you?" Dean grumbled, refusing to make eye-contact with you. The Angel strode forward until he was standing uncomfortably close next to you.

"This might feel odd, but you will be healed after." You nodded and closed your eyes. A gentle finger touched your forehead, before your body felt a rush of warm glow. You opened your eyes gingerly, looking straight down at your arm. It felt fine. Rapidly, you tore off the bandage despite Dean's reluctant look and felt tears prick your eyes again. Your skin was smooth and soft, not a blemish on it. You could move freely, without any pain or itching.

"Thank you, Cas," you smiled up at him before leaping from the bed onto wobbly legs.

"Woah, easy tiger," Dean grasped you round the shoulders and lowed you back down. "You might be physically healed, but you've been bed-bound for almost a month now. Don't rush things!"

Grinning from ear to ear, you looked across at Sam, who gave you a reassuring nod. You rolled your eyes. "Fine, but gimme a hand up. I gotta stretch these legs."

An arm round your waist, Dean helped you stubbornly take a stroll around the bunker, giving you a guided tour as he did so. You'd been dying to see its secrets ever since you'd rocked up, and you weren't disappointed.

"Dean," you questioned. "Look, I gotta take a shower. I stink, and I just need to freshen up."

He looked at you questioningly. "You sure you're up for it?"

"I'm healed, you idiot. Quit worrying." Although it was kinda hot.

"Alright," he shrugged. "Bathroom's down the hall on the left. Theres clean towels in the cupboard on the right."

You thanked him with a squeeze and headed off for what you expected to be the nicest shower of your life. The warm water felt amazing on your skin, and your hair instantly felt lighter once you'd scrubbed the grime out of it.

Humming a tune to yourself, you wrapped your hair in a towel, tucking another round your body, and darted down the hall back into your bedroom. You gave your hair a thorougher comb through before giving it a rough towel dry.

"Woah - oh shit, sorry!" Dean backed out from where he had peered round the door. "Sorry, I thought you were still in the bathroom. I er, I just wondered if you wanted something clean to wear. I bought a pair of pants and a t-shirt, if you want."

You giggled at this nervousness that made him seem like an embarrassed little school boy. "Thank you, Dean. You can come in, if you like."

You heard him clear his throat, before edging his way in. At first he tried to look anywhere else, but as you stood there, hair loose, short towel around you, smelling of lavender, he couldn't help but ogle.

You gulped. This was it.

"Do you er, feel better?" his voice cracked slightly as he walked towards you. A lump in your throat, all you could do was nod.

He threw the clothes down on the bed, not taking his eyes off you. Suddenly he was right in front of you, his hand reaching up and brushing back a strand of wet hair stuck to your forehead.

"Y/N..." he started, but you stopped him before he could continue.

"Dean, please. Please."

The whisper had barely left your lips when he grasped you round the waist, pulling you in close. You let the towel drop as you lowered your hands to reach round his ass, cupping it gently. You could feel his bulge radiating heat through his jeans. His hands gently moved down, one caressing your own butt while the other scooped forward to stroke your breast.

You flung your head back, giving him space to litter your neck with soft kisses. His mouth worked downwards, spreading across your clavicle before pausing to suck on your nipples. Before you knew it, he was on his knees, nuzzling your lower area. It was already pulsating, and you shivered as his tongue flicked your clitorous. One hand ruffling up his hair, the other grasping onto the bed frame for support, you felt your body gather tension. Dean must have felt it too, because without warning he stood up, flinging you backwards into the soft cushions as he tore off his shirt and pants. His tremendous frame rose up above you, mouth against yours. You reached down, finding his cock with no difficulty given its immense size, and began to massage. He groaned, and his chest sank down onto yours, rubbing your tits up and down as he grinded.

You couldn't stand it anymore. You spread your legs wide, hooking them around his hips and drawing him in. "Are you-" he panted, and you gulped and nodded.

"I'm protected, don't worry."

With that, he lunged, plunging straight into your soaking wet pussy. He entered with ease, but the force still made you cry out. You sank into each other for a second, before you tightened your grip around him and started to push. One hand on the head board, the other by your shoulder, Dean rode you rhythmically like a carousel. You felt the tension grow again as your body begged for more, every thrust sending your into orbit.

With a cry, you pushed him back so you were sitting up facing him. Legs intertwined, you kissed him passionately, tongues moving with the same pace as your genitalia. He squeezed on your ass as you tugged at his hair, both grips growing tighter as your moans grew in pitch.

The eruption was magically timed, you reaching your peak just as he exploded into you. Like a rollercoaster, you started to slow, grinding to a halt as he cupped you in his arms and guided you round onto the bed. Red faced and panting, you stared into each other's eyes, unsure what to say.

"Damn, that Angel really knows how to make a girl good as new," you grinned.

"Thank god as well. I was starting to get impatient," Dean confessed, drawing you closer into his chest.

"Sam said you were really worried about me when I got hurt," you tilted your head back to gaze up at him. "Dean, do you really care that much about me?"

He sighed. "Y/N, I don't catch feelings often. Don't get me wrong, you caught my eye the second I walked into that bar, but it wasn't until those Demons turned up that I started to panic. I wasn't sure what it was, but watching that building collapse with you still in it...christ, it scared the shit out of me. I thought you were dead. I didn't care if I got hurt, I just had to get you out.

I don't know what it is about you Y/N, but you're intoxicating. Honestly, once I knew you were gonna be okay, I was actually kinda grateful you needed a helping hand 'cos it gave me a reason to spend more time with you. Don't get me wrong, I'm crazy relieved you're all healed up, but I've enjoyed being with you this past week. But sure, if you wanna go now, that's fine. I get it, I do."

"But you don't want me to go?"

"I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go either." It was a whisper as you reached up and kissed him again, softer this time. "I never want to leave."

"Don't worry. I won't let you." You both giggled as you rolled into each other again, fuelled with a child-like excitement that sent you tumbling back under the sheets.

Once again, that feeling of adrenaline and thrill raced through your veins. This was it. This was where you belonged.

"This is your home now, darling." You smiled up at the ceiling, feeling your Dad's pride as you allowed yourself to feel free, and happy, for the first time in a long, long time.

Taglist

if you would like to be added just drop me a message!

@leigh70 @blonde-in-charge @tiggytaylor @winchestergypsy90 @lostdreamr-blog1

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #sam and dean #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #spn fic

[hardcasey]

Aaah Haley! All of your WIPs have me 👀 but I especially would like to ask about Soup? x

Hmm, I’m not sure how much more I cant tell you without spoiling too much, y’know. It’s one of those stories that has a simple premise and the whole fun is the journey there (aka the fluff). And sadly most of what I have written is establishing stuff instead of the juicy bits. But here is a little snippet anyway:

You hummed to yourself quietly as you chopped vegetables as the oil in the pan heated up, getting lost in the rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board. You were sautéing the vegetables so you could add them to the stock you had simmering on another burner. 

Meal prepping for the week ahead used to feel like a chore to you, but somewhere along the line it had turned into a habit of yours. Every Sunday before work, you’d spend some time making a big batch of food for the coming week. Usually, the last thing you wanted to do after a long day at work was stress about what you were going to cook yourself, and having something already prepared was an easy thing you could do to make things easier for yourself. You usually ended up making soup, as it was easy enough to prepare and reheat. Plus, you’d collected enough different soup recipes over the years that you never felt stuck eating the same thing every week. 

Just as you were about to scrape the vegetables into the pan, you caught a whiff of something burnt. You managed to tilt the cutting board up to prevent anything from falling over and set it off to the side before examining around the pan to see if anything had accidentally fallen onto the burner. When you found nothing you quickly pulled the lid off the pot of stock, to see if anything had gone wrong inside. Coming up empty, you quickly wiped your hands on your apron and started looking around the kitchen for the culprit. The smell was stronger now, and intensified further as you got closer to the front door of your apartment. It must be coming from one of your neighbors’ apartments, then. 

As if on cue, you heard the fire alarm start to blare through the wall that you shared with the apartment next door, followed by what sounded like a string of muffled expletives. Though you knew it was most likely just a cooking mishap, you couldn’t help but remember the story your mother had told you about her first time living in an apartment building. She’d smelled something burning and assumed it was just someone burning something in the kitchen, especially because no alarms had gone off. Less than ten minutes later, she’d heard the commotion as the firefighters were kicking in a door down the hall. Later, as she was waiting on the sidewalk across the street from her building with the rest of the residents who’d had to evacuate, she learned that one of her neighbors, an old woman living by herself, had fallen asleep with something on the stove, and by the time the firefighters had gotten there half of her kitchen was engulfed in flames. Not a single fire alarm in the building had gone off. If it had not been for the quick thinking of her LEP droid, the woman would have died from carbon monoxide poisoning in her sleep and much more than just her kitchen would have been destroyed. 

You’d heard the story many times growing up, most recently when she was helping you move into this apartment. It had stuck with you, and it’s probably why you were now darting out of your door and knocking at the apartment next door. There was a short, muffled conversation you couldn’t make out behind the door before it swung open, revealing a young man with a half-panicked half-annoyed look on his face. 

“Hi I’m your-” you started, but one glance over his shoulder sent you into a panic. “Wait! Stop! Is that a grease fire? Don’t put it under the water!” you shouted, pushing your way into the apartment towards the man with a flaming pan in his hand that was headed for the sink. 

At the sound of your voice he froze and looked your way. There was a split second of confusion on your part as you registered he looked exactly like the man who just opened the door, before you realized they were twins. As soon as it registered, you pushed the thought to the back of your mind. There were more important things that deserved your attention right now.

#ask game #zinzinina #wips #(lmao can you tell this is gonna be a long one?)

[loiswolf]

Day 45 July 15 Dryden - Ignace 106km

It’s funny how a day of around 100kms seems so much easier than 130+. Not at all in a hurry today I talked to another guest of the Chalet Inn before cycling off this morning. I don’t think Saul was very impressed with that motel either. Last night when I woke at around midnight I opened the door for a possible glimpse of the northern lights. The weather report had mentioned they might be visible at that time. All I could see was the very garish flashing neon sign outside reception. Nope, no chance of seeing anything good from there.

So I was heading into a fairly remote area, it was time to stock up on some goodies. First stop Subway, for some cookies and then Tim Hortons for some donuts. I also passed Walmart and another supermarket where I would normally pop in and purchase a frozen meal for dinner tonight. I’m probably a bit slow. I finally worked out the other day, when approaching Cedar Creek, that the huge, biting, black flies swarming around Shirley and I could smell the food (meat) in my front bag. The meal was vacuum sealed, still in the box and tucked inside a waterproof bag. It must have thawed to a certain point where those horrible flies, which I tried without success to outride ( they were probably lined up on my backpack enjoying the ride) could smell . I have been bitten through clothing twice by those flies. Tonight I will have a footlong from Subway.

The only place to stop for a coffee today was just 13kms into the ride. Remembering how much I enjoyed my second breakfast at Falcon Beach a couple of days ago I decided to do it again.

Yum! It was delicious. I also talked for a while to the diner lady and a couple at the next table who were interested in my travels.

The ride today was quite enjoyable. The road is great.

Gary had given me dire warnings about this road but I think it’s been one of the best I’ve cycled. Again I had moderate hills and a tail wind to help out.

I had checked the map to find that although I would not be able to get coffee, there were more lovely rest areas to enjoy.

The first one was at just 40kms. I was still full from breakfast so I just had a quick five minute stop.

The next one was at 65kms and I was secretly hoping there might be some kindly grey nomads in a RV who could give me some boiling water to make my own coffee.

Sadly there was not ( that photo was from the first stop) but I still enjoyed a good break eating my Tim Bits ( donut holes from Tim Hortons in various flavours) and drinking some sparkling water.

Honestly these rest areas are the best I’ve seen during all my travels and this is the only signage they have

In the Yukon they were letting you know when you were within 30kms of a rubbish bin.

I’d managed to delay my arrival in Ignace until a little after 2:30, all prepared to check into another revolting motel.

No, what a lovely surprise. This place is really nice! It doesn’t smell, it looks like it���s had a coat of paint on a regular basis, there are no disturbing black marks all over the bathroom and it’s cheaper by far than the last couple of stays.

I wonder what tomorrow’s accommodation will be like!

[orientaltasty]

Béchamel Pasta Bake (Macarona Béchamel)

Macarona Bechamel, as it's known in the Middle East, is a Bechamel pasta bake that takes the win for the best pasta casserole ever! It's an Egyptian dish that is loved by the family and its pure comfort food. I mean, butter, flour, pasta, sauce... what else do you expect. Okay I'll keep talking.

What is Macarona Bechamel? Macarona Bechamel is an Egyptian recipe that I've enjoyed so much growing up, having had so many Egyptian family friends that were brilliant cooks (who also introduced me to Egyptian Goulash, yum!). I am assuming that the French introduced Egypt to Bechamel sauce during their occupation, and then the Egyptians ran with it and created this masterpiece.

It's definitely a dish that resembles Italian Lasagna (especially if you make it with Bechamel, which I do) but the ground beef sauce has different spices which gives it that classic Arabic flavour. I love a good casserole and always include one in my menu if I'm ever hosting. This one is one of my go-to's along with moussaka and this eggplant casserole.

For this recipe, I love using penne pasta to get that classic look. As for the Bechamel sauce, which is the star of the show, it's actually quite easy to whip up if you follow my instructions. Don't be intimidated! Yes its French, and everything French is scary to me automatically, but this is definitely do-able.

Now this recipe is not super labour intensive at all, but it also isn't a quick meal. So if you love the quicker easier pasta dishes, then check out my one pot pink pasta. You'll love it!

Ingredients you'll need You can use any medium sized pasta for this Bechamel pasta bake, but Penne works and looks great. For the meat sauce, you can definitely play around with spices but I love the combination of Allspice and Cinnamon. And of course, we need the classic Bechamel ingredients of butter, flour and milk.

How to make Macarona Bechamel Although this Bechamel pasta bake has a few components, it's really straight forward to make.

Start by boiling the pasta in salted water until al dente, then make the meat sauce. To do this, finely dice the onion and cook it, then brown the ground beef. Add all the spices and tomato sauce and simmer until cooked through.

Next, prepare the Bechamel sauce. Melt butter in a deep pan, then slowly add in the flour and continuously whisk to create a roux. Cook the flour, whisking continuously for 3-4 minutes, then slowly add in room temperature milk (or milk warmed in the microwave for a few seconds). Continue whisking as you add in the milk then follow it by the chicken stock. Allow the sauce to thicken for about 5-7 minutes while whisking. Add in the seasoning and check that the sauce has thickened properly by coating the back of a spoon and running your finger through it - it should remain separated (see video below).

Egyptian Goulash (Phyllo meat pie) Dawood Basha (Middle Eastern Meatballs Stew) Sheikh El Mahshi (Stuffed Eggplant and Onions) Mediterranean Eggplant Casserole (Kafta Bil Sanieh) Arabic Pasta with Easy Yogurt Sauce (30 Minutes!) Vegan Mediterranean Pasta Salad Easy Potato Moussaka With Eggplant Middle Eastern Stuffed Sweet Potatoes Home » Recipes » Main Dishes » Beef » Bechamel Pasta Bake (Macarona Bechamel)

Bechamel Pasta Bake (Macarona Bechamel)

4.93 from 26 votes December 25, 2020 (last updated December 3, 2022) by Amina Al-Saigh Jump to Recipe  Jump to Video  Print Recipe This post may contain affiliate links.

Macarona Bechamel, as it's known in the Middle East, is a Bechamel pasta bake that takes the win for the best pasta casserole ever! It's an Egyptian dish that is loved by the family and its pure comfort food. I mean, butter, flour, pasta, sauce... what else do you expect. Okay I'll keep talking.

Bechamel pasta bake served in a large casserole, garnished with fresh thyme. A striped kitchen town is wrapped around it, with freshly cracked black pepper around it

What is Macarona Bechamel? Macarona Bechamel is an Egyptian recipe that I've enjoyed so much growing up, having had so many Egyptian family friends that were brilliant cooks (who also introduced me to Egyptian Goulash, yum!).

#pastalover #italianfood #food #foodporn #instafood #foodie #pasta #italy #foodblogger #foodphotography #pizza #foodlover #cucinaitaliana #italia #foodstagram #yummy #instagood #delicious #italian #dinner #homemade #cucina #restaurant #cibo #chef #love #pizzalover #lunch #ciboitaliano #cooking

#pizzatime #healthyfood #pizzeria #italianrestaurant #ristorante #picoftheday #foodgasm #bhfyp #foodpics #cheese #foodlovers #italiancuisine #tasty #spaghetti #delivery #foodpic #italianfoodporn #pranzo #italianstyle #pizzalovers #foodblog #gourmet #eat #cena #madeinitaly #foodies #napoli #ricette #seafood #italianfood #italy #delicious #bhfyp #dinner #homemade #healthyfood #lunch #foodstagram #foodphotography #italia #wine #foodgasm #foodblogger #foodlover #tasty #pizza #eat #cooking #restaurant #foodpics #مطبخ_سُمية #مطبخ_سمية

#youtube #Macarona Béchamel #bechamel sauce pasta #penne pasta with bechamel sauce #vegetable pasta bake with bechamel sauce #egyptian bechamel pasta #tomato bechamel pasta bake

[sweeetchillies]

BUDDHA’S DELIGHT (CHINESE-STYLE VEGETABLE STEW)

Buddha’s Delight is a healthy Chinese dish that can be complicated to make, but our recipe breaks it down and makes it easier to make at home, even for a weeknight dinner!

Chinese cuisine puts a lot of emphasis on vegetables and bean products (like tofu and soybean). Meat takes a back seat to these other ingredients in authentic Chinese dishes, which often contain a long list of ingredients.

Buddha’s Delight

That’s why we were intrigued when we first encountered Buddha’s Delight at a new takeout restaurant.

A healthy, vegetarian option? That might just be authentic!

And, it is.

Well, kind of.

Buddha’s Delight is a vegetarian dish that is widely popular in China among Buddhist communities, who are vegetarian and use only simple seasonings. It is also a very popular dish when it comes to ringing in the Lunar New Year!

Americanized versions of Buddha’s Delight typically just contain a variety of vegetables and often tofu, but authentic Buddha’s Delight can have a VERY long list of ingredients, some of them familiar, others, not so much.

The Ingredients for Buddha’s Delight

The list of ingredients for traditional Buddha’s Delight is quite long, but it’s a fun dish whose ingredients can vary depending on your personal preferences.

Really there is no one recipe for Buddha’s Delight. The ingredients and seasonings vary from cook to cook, depending on preference and what is available.

The ingredients can be broken down into three categories: Flavour, Texture, Colour.

Flavour

Flavour ingredients are essential to the dish. You don’t need all of them though for great flavour, which is good, because some of them are more speciality ingredients. We just chose one, and we LOVED our Buddha’s Delight.

Fried Tofu/cottage cheese

Fried or Braised Wheat Gluten

mushrooms

Texture

Texture ingredients give the dish some heft and interest in your mouth. We love the texture, so we chose a few of these ingredients to amp up our Buddha’s Delight.

Fresh Mushrooms

Napa Cabbage

Baby Bok Choy

Bean

mushrooms

broccolis

Colour ingredients are purely optional. They should be added in less quantity than the ingredients in the “texture” category, because these guys are more like accents to the dish.

Carrots

Snow Peas

Baby Corn

Peanuts

Lotus Root

Bean Thread noodles are also a common ingredient in Buddha’s Delight. They act to absorb the last of the liquid from the broth.

If you don’t want to use bean thread noodles, you can create a slurry with 1 Tbsp corn starch and 1 Tbsp water and let that thicken up your broth at the end of cooking.

Our Buddha’s Delight Recipe

Traditional Buddha’s Delight can be time-consuming to make because it has a lot of vegetables that need to be prepared and cooked separately.

For our recipe, we picked ingredients that would be easy to find and would cook together nicely to make the dish overall easier (and quicker) to come together.

That way, it could even be a nice vegetarian meal for a weeknight’s dinner!

Instructions

Do Ahead

Rinse the mushrooms and place them in a bowl. Cover them with water and let them rehydrate for 2 hours, until they are very soft.

Once softened, remove the mushrooms from the water and place them on a plate. Reserve the soaking liquid for later.

For the Dish

Place the bean thread noodles in a bowl and cover them with warm water. Let the noodles stand for 5 minutes until they have softened. Drain the water and set the noodles aside.

(if you are using bean thread noodles)

Heat the vegetable oil in a large wok or deep skillet over medium-high heat. Add the green onions and ginger. Sauté for 30 seconds.

Add the carrots to the wok, and sauté for 1 minute.

Add the soaked mushrooms, bamboo shoots(optional), and fresh mushrooms. Sauté for 1 minute.

Finally, add the cabbage and Bok Choy. Sauté for 30 seconds.

Add the soy sauce and sugar.

Add the rehydration liquid from the mushroom (or the vegetable stock). Cover the wok or skillet and steam the vegetable mixture over medium heat for 5 min

Uncover the wok and turn heat to medium high. Taste the vegetables and add salt or more soy sauce, if necessary.

Add the soaked bean thread noodles and mix them into the vegetables, using them to soak up any of the remaining liquid.

What I followed is

(mix 1-Tbsp corn-starch with 1-Tbsp water and add this slurry to the wok now. Sauté until the broth begins to thicken.)

Remove the wok from the heat and drizzle the mixture with sesame oil, if desired.

Serve immediately with rice, if desired.

Did you make this recipe?

Please let me know how it turned out for you! Leave a comment below and share a picture on INSTAGRAM with the hashtag #sweeetchillies

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#recipes #recipeblog #chinese #stew #sweeetchillies

[pigeonflavouredcake]

I'm an adult now take my advice

(or don't i'm not your dad)

Idk how old my followers are overall but i want to make this post in case any of you are actually teens... I am Officially 20 now. I am no longer a teenager so here are some things I learned as a poor teenager that helped me as a poor adult. Some are witchy, some are just about life, most are food related. Buckle up this will get pretty long.

Write as much down as you can bc puberty can really fuck with your memory.

Staying up late because you simply can't sleep is not something to be worried about unless you want to change that. It's pretty much all your natural body clock.

Get a big folder. Like a massive accordion folder and put all your personal documents in, birth/adoption certificates, bank statements, prescription receipts, diplomas, etc. So if you're ever in a dangerous situation at home you can make your escape a lot easier.

Now is a good time to learn new things that aren't school related. Practice cooking your favourite meals, learn how to properly clean a bathroom, if cleaning is overwhelming there are methods online that can help with that. Like playing a spot the difference game.

NO, tarot is not a closed practice, tarot is a tool for everyone and NO, tarot decks do not have to be gifted to you, you can buy one for yourself. I don't even know where that came from but it's complete bs.

Save the little gift baggies you get when you buy jewellery and use them as spell bags.

Stay away from any woman who calls her vag a yoni. it's weird.

You may want to be seen as smart and mature because it's better than being treated like a kid but you are still a kid. Your safety matters more than how mature and responsible you are. An older person should NOT be talking to you in a romantic/flirtatious setting and if they say it's because you're mature for your age or they can't wait until you're legal fucking bully the living shit out of them then block them and warn your friends. that attitude is creepy as hell bc they want someone they have power over. Same with any friends that brag about their partner being 15/16/17 when they're 18. BULLY THEM THEY'RE GROSS AND THEY DESERVE IT.

If you're in a country with the NHS USE IT NOW WHILE IT'S FREE. The first 6-8 weeks of therapy is free from the NHS. Eye tests and dentist check ups and medication are free untill you're 19 GET THEM NOW.

You can make your own oat milk by blending up oats and water. You don't need to cook with oil, there's enough of it in processed food and fresh veg have enough water in them to cook straight in a pan. You don't need the seasoning packet in ramen you can make your own. Tamari sauce has less sodium than soy sauce. Food always tastes better when it's in season. Try to find space for two food wastes, one for processed/cooked food one for raw. The raw food can be composted and given back to the earth

Best healthiest dinner option I can think of is steamed veggies. Here's my recipe: Heat up a pan on high, pour a bit of water in and then your veggies, stir frequently until all the water is gone. Turn heat down to low. Coat with something like balsamic vinegar and add any seasoning you like. Cover and steam for 10 minutes ish and you're good. You can serve that with a grain or some noodles.

Locally sourced meat and fish is WAY better for the environment than supermarket because there's less preservatives and they're more resourceful with their products.

A standard pie dough is one of the easiest things you can make and the trick is in the amount. Half the flour equals the fat, half the fat equals the sugar. so if you have 200g of flour you need 100g of fat and 50g of sugar. Just throw them in a bowl and mix together and add some cold water to bind together into a dough. It should be solid and little sticky, if it's crumbling add more water, if it's not holding it's shape add more flour. then just fridge it for a few hours to set and you're good.

You made your own soup/stew/pot thingy and you got left overs for the next day? Put it back on the cooker and bring to the boil on high, once it's bubbling take the heat down to low and simmer for 10 minutes (keep stirring if it keeps bubbling). This will help kill any bacteria that developed overnight that might make you sick.

Foraging is good but wear gloves, don't take all from one place and don't eat anything you pick until it's been thoroughly washed. Don't be afraid to go hog wild on things like blackberries, dandelions, or nettles. those things are an invasive species.

Deer are bigger than you think they are.

Air drying takes longer but it will help your clothes last. You can also hand wash with a bowl of hot water and about a teaspoon of washing up powder. Air drying also goes for your hair too.

Stock up on your favourite scented candles any size is ok and use them for spells and rituals.

You got a ghost in your house? Leave them be they're usually just passing through.

If you can't focus on work without music but it needs to be specifically wordless and needs to be easy to fill your brain so you don't focus on every noise other people make listen to animal crossing music that shit got me through two years worth of academic reading.

Bus is late or can't find your keys? Stop looking and start complaining. They'll turn up as soon as you give up.

Piercings are a medical procedure and are safer when they're done with a needle because they're hollow, so they're carving out the skin and cartilage instead of just pushing jewellery through like a gun does. Go to a tattoo parlour that also does piercings bc they're likely to be a lot stricter with rules and customer care.

Life is gonna kick us all in the but so we gotta be there to help eachother out however we can. It definitely feels like it's everyone for themselves but it doesn't have to be.

#I'm 20 #please help #advice #life advice #witchy advice #witch #witchblr #witchcraft #pagan witch #pagan #hellenic pagan #paganism #hellenic witch #kitchen witchcraft #kitchen witch

[mistress-and-servant]

Just a Tear

“Go change,” she said to him, sternly.

She was sitting at her vanity, powdering her face when he walked in. She didn’t even turn around to say that, merely glanced at him through the mirror. Charlie was momentarily shocked, but then nodded to her and quickly made his way back to his room to put on his maid outfit. This was a common occurrence for him. Sometimes she’d demand to see him in his maid outfit, while other times she didn’t mind the butler one. But he would gladly change for her whenever she asked.

The maid outfit was slightly more revealing. The skirt portion didn’t even go past his mid thigh, and there was a cat head hole right where his chest was. It showed off a bit of his cleavage squishing out against it. The sleeves were tight right below his shoulders. It was a bit more difficult to move around in this outfit, but he’d never complain to his Mistress. He quickly made his way back to her door and knocked.

“Enter.”

He opened the door and shut it behind him as he walked in. He stood behind her, just like earlier. This time when she glanced up, she smiled and slowly turned around in her seat. There was a spark in her green eyes.

“That’s better. Now, Charlie, do me a favor and do not take that outfit off till you burst out of it.”

Charlie paused, and blinked a few times to catch up with what he heard. His maid outfit had started to show how much he’s grown, but even with how ill fitting it had become he wasn’t sure how long it would take for him to completely outgrow it.

“Do you expect me to even wear it while I sleep, Mistress?”

“Oh heavens of course not-“

He sighed in relief.

“- I expect you to do it today kitten.”

His eyes widen and a blush began to form on his chubby cheeks. She giggled.

“Oh stop. I know you can do it. I would suggest you sit around and just stuff your face till it happens, but I know how much you don’t like ignoring your duties.”

He nodded, he hated the idea of not doing anything at all. He was her butler after all. And if he did nothing at all, then how was he ever to keep his worth?

She continued, “ Yes, so since you need to be doing something, I suggest that as long as you are working, you are also eating.”

She got up from her seat and walked up to him. She placed her small hand on his tum and patted it. It gurgled, reminding him that he had yet to eat today. “I want to see you eating something all day, no matter what. I’ll make sure of that.”

｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡

Breakfast was the easiest. She didn’t add anything to his simple meal of eggs, bacon, toast and a cup of whole milk. He was sure that she would add a pastry of some kind, but she just sat there with her own portion and smiled. After taking and cleaning their dishes, he got started on making a list of things that needed to be bought for the home. He would receive lists from the head chef and head housekeeper, and he would then in turn check the stock room and pantry to make sure everything was listed off.

It was in the stock room that he heard someone come into the room. He looked and saw his Mistress come in with a plate of cookies. When she got to him, she immediately shoved a cookie into his mouth. He had no choice but to eat it, and it was delicious. It was still warm, and it was crunchy on the outside but soft on the inside. The chocolate chips were gooey, coating his mouth as he chewed. As he finished it, a second one was pushed into his mouth. This went on as he continued to check the stock. Cookie after cookie would pass through his lips with no room in between them until finally there was none left. She smiled at him and finally left him alone again. It wasn��t till then that he noticed a slight bit more pressure in his tummy. He rubbed his belly and burped into his fist before continuing on with his work.

｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡

This continued on throughout the morning. Treat after treat would make his way to him, and his Mistress would happily feed him as he worked. She fed him slices of cake, batches of brownies, plates of cookies, and other such desserts until it was finally time for lunch. He had just finished a plate of scones and was now slowly making his way to the kitchen. He was full, his belly now pushing against his maid outfit. He could have sworn that the fabric was slowly inching its way higher up his legs, showing more and more skin as it went. The end of his skirt was barely covering the top of his thighs, and soon would start showing the very bottom of his belly. Yet there wasn’t a tear yet, he was afraid that he wouldn’t burst out of the outfit and it would simply no longer cover his body.

He held his belly as he walked, trying to stop it from sloshing around and causing more discomfort. He hiccuped and burped softly as he got closer. But before he could enter, his Mistress came out and blocked him.

“Oh no no no. You are to sit at the dining room table. I will bring you your meal.”

He was about to protest, but she began to push him away. “Go on now. I know how hungry you must be,” she teased. He relented and made his way to the table. As he was slowly lowering himself onto the seat, he felt something give, and his belly expanded a little with the extra room. Upon inspection, he found that the bow to his apron had come undone, and now the flaps were loosely on his sides. It didn’t count, but it gave him hope that maybe he’d be able to stop soon.

He inspected his clothing further and found that, when sitting, his skirt barely covered his legs at all. The ends of the fabric were just shy of exposing his belly. He patted his tum, causing it to gurgle. He was so full already, but he knew his Mistress would not stop till he burst out of his clothes. He hiccuped, causing his belly to wobble, and he groaned. He hoped he'd be able to get up after lunch.

Half an hour passed before his Mistress entered the room. With the little time he was given as a break, he was starting to breath a little bit easier. His tummy was still full, of course, but he was finally relaxing, until he wasn’t. The Mistress brought in two plates with her. One with a bowl of creamy potato soup with bits of bacon in it, the other with a sub cut in half with cheese and tomato sauce oozing from the sides, a classic chicken parm sandwich. They both smelled amazing. Even with his full tummy he began to drool at the thought of eating them both. He rubbed at his belly, momentarily forgetting his fullness.

His Mistress sat the two meals down and motioned for him to eat, which he did with no hesitation. He began with the bowl of soup. It was warm and creamy. The bacon was salty, and as he lifted up his spoon he saw that there were globs of cheese and chunks of onion and carrots mixed in. He savored the flavors, and before he knew it the bowl was empty. He stifled a burp in his hand and began to rub his tummy. Not only did he feel how stretched his belly was, but also the fabric of his dress. He didn’t understand how it could still contain him after everything. He swore that he could hear creaking, he just wanted it to tear already. His belly gurgled and a burp slipped past his lips. He blushed as his Mistress pushed the next plate in front of him. Charlie picked up the sandwich and began to eat again.

Slowly he made his way through it. Bite after bite of cheesy, saucy chicken and bread slid down his throat and expanded his tight gut. He groaned as he felt his stomach grumble even more. He tried to push his belly out in hopes that the dress would finally give but it just held on. Even after the last bite joined the rest in his packed gut, not a single thread had given out. He let his head fall back and didn’t try to hide the burp he let out. He was just so tired from the heavy weight in his belly sitting on his lap, still covered by his maid outfit. He barely registered the hand slowly rubbing circles into his belly. His Mistress pushed a finger against his stomach and felt how tight he felt.

“I really thought for sure you’d rip through this by now.” She placed both hands on either side of his wide expanse and gave him a gentle squeeze that still made him groan at the discomfort. She stopped and continued with her rubbing circles. After a few minutes of caressing his stuffed midsection she got up and stood beside him, grabbing his right arm.

“Come, it probably isn’t too comfortable sitting like this. Let's get you to a more comfortable spot.”

He moaned at the thought of moving, but after a moment's hesitation he began to slide himself closer to the seat edge. He used one hand to grip the dining table, and the other to support his tum to prevent any unnecessary movements. Slowly but surely he got onto his two feet with the help of his Mistress, his belly wobbling as it was pulled down by gravity. The weight making him have to arch his back to give his belly more room. He hiccuped and groaned and clutched at his middle, his Mistress leading him towards her personal Reading Room. She led him towards the plush coach they’d both use to sit next to each other during lazy days. She made sure that he slowly and carefully sat on the cushions and then pushed him into a lying position. With laying on his side his belly was no longer pulling at his back, now being supported by the soft pillows. He was both more comfortable and still in pain by the sheer volume in his tummy. His Mistress sat down next to his head which then made him want to pull himself closer to her to put his head on her lap. He struggled a little before she granted mercy on him since all this began and shimmied closer for him to snuggle into her. She began to run her fingers through his hair.  With now being close to his Mistress, he began to purr softly and gently fell into a food coma, his tummy slowly digesting all the things he’d eaten .

The last thing he heard before slipping into darkness was, “Maybe when you wake up we can continue working on tearing this outfit.”

#male weight gain #male feedee #male wg #stuffing #stuffing kink #belly expansion #stuffing fic #soft feedism #soft belly #chubby #chubby fic #weight gain #weight gain fiction #wg text #wg story #tight clothes #fat belly #belly kink #stuffed belly #Charlie #Cordelia #maybe there could be a part 2??? #also wow look I'm not dead

[mandelene]

❥: barefoot, sleepy wanderings with teen matt and either francis or arthur? don't care which

Studious Word Count: 530

“Matthew, it’s after midnight and you’ve been by the computer for upwards of twelve hours now. Please, go to bed—you need sleep,” Dad says, breaking his concentration.

Matthew lets his tired eyes drift away from the screen of his laptop to at least acknowledge his father, who is dressed in a dark green t-shirt, fleece sweatpants, and his memory foam slippers. He looks cozy, and for a brief moment, Matthew envies him.

“And if I had a penny for every time I've told you not to walk around the house barefoot...Do you want to catch another cold? That’s the last thing you need—to be ill for three weeks,” Dad continues to scold him. He walks over to his desk, plucks his pen and notebook away, and then reaches over his shoulder to attempt to close his laptop.

A panicked shiver runs down Matthew's spine, and he intercepts Dad’s hand, keeping the laptop running. “Stop, please don’t! This chemistry test is worth twenty percent of my final grade. I…I,” a yawn pauses his train of thought, “I have to study.”

Dad narrows his eyes at him. “I’ve never seen you bring home poor marks in my life, Matthew. You’re going to be fine. I’m sure you’re well-prepared. Losing sleep and skipping meals is not going to improve your performance, only hinder it. So, can you please put this away and go to bed?”

Matthew nibbles his bottom lip nervously. “A few more minutes…I just want to review—” another yawn catches him off guard, “this last chapter.”

“You can barely keep your eyes open, love.”

“I’m not that tired,” Matthew whispers, even though his body disagrees with him. He rubs his aching eyes—they feel sore and heavy.

“Stubborn child,” Dad huffs before successfully snatching his computer away from him despite Matthew’s protests. “Bed, now. Enough of this.”

Dad sets the laptop aside, pulls Matthew out of his desk chair and escorts him to his bed.

“…’M not tired…”

“Oh, yes, of course not,” Dad says with heavy sarcasm. He helps Matthew lie down, pulls the duvet up to his waist, and places the blue moccasin slippers Papa bought him as stocking stuffers for Christmas on the floor beside his bed. “And next time—I had better not see you walking around barefoot in the middle of winter, or I will tape these slippers to your feet if I must.”

Matthew allows himself a lopsided smile. He knows that’s an empty threat, but he appreciates Dad’s concern—even though he can often worry too much and it probably isn’t good for his health. “I’ll try to remember…”

Dad sighs, runs a hand through Matthew’s hair, and says, “You’re going to do splendidly on your exam. Make sure to have a hearty breakfast in the morning, all right? A single orange isn’t breakfast.”

“I know…I’ll have breakfast, I promise.”

“Thank you. Goodnight, poppet. Sleep well.”

Matthew rolls over on his side and begins to feel his heavy eyelids slide shut against his will. “Goodnight.”

Dad switches off the small lamp on his desk. “Scolding Alfred for not studying is far easier than trying to get you to stop studying,” he grouses before finally leaving the bedroom.

#hetalia #hws canada #hws england #hws face family #drabbles #hurt comfort #sleepy wanderings #studying

[karajaynetoday]

i'll be honest, it's better off this way | luke hemmings

image credit 

hello pals! long time no writing! i know it seems a bit weird to post a luke break up fic just after he got engaged but to be fair, I already had this in the works before the news broke yesterday, so soz not soz. It is kind of a happy break up story though... kind of? this one features lyrics from our song by niall and anne marie that are in italics throughout the piece (you know i love a song lyric incorporation lol) and i’m a bit rusty, so any feedback is welcome! a big shoutout to my dearest @notinthesameguey​ for beta-reading this one for me, you’re a gem blanca! enjoy xo

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings:  mentions of a break up and a car accident/hospitalisation (minor/non-graphic)

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

I'll be honest, I'm alright with me

Sunday mornings, in my own bedsheets

The break up with Luke had been easier than you’d first thought. It’d been months of growing apart, feeling like a stranger in your own home, before you finally worked up the nerve to utter those four words: We need to talk. He’d been spending most days and some nights in the studio, and you’d been working overtime at your job too; you were ships in the night who barely had time to say hello and goodbye, let alone have any sort of proper conversation. You’d spent an entire evening rehearsing a script in your head, and as soon as Luke walked through the door and greeted Petunia, you mustered the courage to stand up and speak your truth. 

It turned out that you weren’t alone in feeling stagnant in your relationship, and although you could feel your heart breaking as you said the words, Luke’s hand on your knee was all the gentle reassurance you needed. Just like always, even when your relationship was falling apart, Luke was there for you. And that’s what he promised, that night in the living room. It didn’t make sense for you two to become strangers overnight after 3 years together, but you also both knew that you needed space to grow and heal, and that space needed to happen sooner rather than later. 

You could tell that part of Luke wanted to fight it, wanted to raise his voice, wanted to convince you to stay. But part of Luke also knew that it was time to walk away, no matter how much his heart was feeling like it was being ripped out of his chest, because he did truly love you, and if he loved you, he’d let you go. 

Even though Luke insisted you could stay in the spare room for as long as you liked, it only took a week or so to find a new place. An apartment in KayKay’s building opened up for rent, and thanks to her help, you secured the lease and started moving in as soon as you could. Ashton accompanied you to Ikea and then helped with assembling a new bed and dining table for you, while KayKay helped unpack some of your boxes. You could tell that they were trying to be sensitive, but at the same time were desperate to know what went down in the break up, and after a few slices of pizza and half a bottle of wine, you felt the emotions rushing to the surface.

“It feels dumb to get upset, after all, I was the one who suggested we should break up.” You sniffled, smiling sadly as Ashton handed you a tissue.

“Just because it was something that needed to happen, doesn’t mean you can’t be sad about it. You two shared a lot in the time you were together, it’s only natural that it’s going to take you a while to untangle yourselves from one another and to get your head and heart back on the path that’s right for you.” KayKay spoke softly, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You knew she was right, and the healing would come; it was all part of the rollercoaster of walking away from someone you thought was the love of your life, but had turned out not to be. Time to adjust and find some independence, and re-shape the life you found yourself in until it was the life you wanted. 

But every time I think that I can get you out my head, you never, ever let me forget

Once you’d completely moved out Luke’s house, your reasons to contact him became few and far between. A few occasional texts to advise that he’d let his family know about your split, and a link to a new cafe nearby that he thought was your kind of vibe (and it absolutely was). Everyone in your friendship group was trying their best to help you both cope, but it was hard to avoid the awkwardness that came with a break up of close friends.  

You felt like you were walking on eggshells for a while, so you started to say no to invitations out. You threw yourself into a new work project, and barely replied to any group chats. Whenever your friends called, you had the perfect script rehearsed, about how you were going to be up for promotion, and after the next month or so, you’d have plenty more time for catching up with everyone. You were fairly certain that no-one believed your story, but you were sticking to it nonetheless. You’d seen photos online of Luke out and about with various beautiful women amongst the partying crew, and even though you knew better than to torture yourself with doom-scrolling through the internet, you couldn’t help yourself. You had to keep reminding yourself that it was YOU that wanted the breakup, and that it was for the best. Or something like that.

It was coming to the end of your big project, and the entire office decided to head out for celebratory drinks. You only stayed for a couple, because after a month of overtime you were ready for bed. Your boss took you aside to assure you that the promotion was yours and the new contract would be on your desk on Monday, and as you reassured him you were excited to take on the role, a song playing over the bar’s speakers made you stop in your tracks. You’d spent many a Sunday morning dancing around the kitchen making pancakes with Luke and singing these words; something you’d completely forgotten until this moment. As you stepped outside to await your Uber, the first person you wanted to call with the news was Luke. Your fingers hovered over his name for a good few minutes before your Uber driver honked and broke you out of her trance, and you settled for texting the group chat instead to share your exciting update. Lots of confetti and heart eyes emojis started popping up alongside congratulatory messages, and you let out a giggle when you saw that Luke had sent a photo of Petunia with “congrats!” scrawled across it in purple font. It was the last thing you remembered, before the squealing of tyres and your vision going black. 

Just when I think you're gone, Hear our song on the radio

Just like that, takes me back, To the places we used to go

The rhythmic beeping of the hospital monitors was the first thing you noticed as you stirred awake. The second was a dull pain across your skull, and the third was that your arm was in a sling. Fourth was the large, warm hand that was holding your own and gently squeezing; without opening your eyes, you knew it was Luke’s. You felt too weak to say any words, so instead you tried your best to squeeze back as you slowly opened your eyes. You heard a sharp intake of breath, before Luke’s smiling face came into view.

“Hey there, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” Luke asked, reaching up to gently brush some hair out of your eyes.

“Like I was in a car accident.” You managed to croak out, shooting him a wry smile and earning a laugh in return.

“You are correct, you can pass go, and collect $200. A pretty gnarly accident, the car’s a write-off, but thankfully everyone’s injuries are relatively minor. Some dickhead ran a red light.” You could tell Luke was trying to remain calm, but under the surface he was pissed.

“Not ideal, but at least I get a few days off work.” You joked, grimacing as you tried to sit up. Luke stood and gently maneuvered your pillows to support your back and shoulders better, and you felt a zap of electricity as his hands brushed your arms in passing.

As Luke sat back in the chair next to the bed, you suddenly realised that it was just the two of you in the hospital room. 

“No offence, Hemmo, but what are you doing here? Considering we’re no longer significant others, and all…” You said awkwardly, looking down at your arm sling with sudden great interest.

“Very observant, dear. Glad to see the concussion hasn’t affected your short term memory, I was worried you’d forget me entirely. You did, however, forget to update your emergency contact details, so I guess I was first on the list for the hospital to call. Ash, KayKay and I have been taking shifts but they’re out getting food right now - “ The rest of Luke’s explanation was cut off by a gasp and a cheer at the door, signalling Ashton and KayKay’s return and subsequent delight at you being awake.

The days that followed were uncomfortable physically, but kind of heartwarming emotionally. You got home to your apartment thanks to KayKay’s assistance, and found that your friends had stocked your fridge and freezer full of ready-made meals and your favourite snacks. They’d also made a roster so not a day went by without someone popping in to check on you, although you noticed that Luke never came by. 

Your recovery was slow but steady, and soon enough the doctors gave you the all clear. At this point, it was nearly 6 months since you’d broken up with Luke, and you could feel your mindset shifting. He was no longer the first person you wanted to call with good or bad news, or the first memories that popped into your head when you needed cheering up. It almost felt like… relief? Because for the longest time, even though you knew the break up was for the best, detaching yourself from one another seemed almost in possible after so many years of so many memories. 

I've been waking up alone, I haven't thought of him for days

I'll be honest, It's better off this way

The tipping point came at Calum’s birthday party, a month or so later. Ashton had invited you out for coffee and nonchalantly mentioned that maybe, possibly, well actually extremely likely almost definitely Luke was bringing a date to the gathering at Cal’s house; a girl he’d been seeing for a month or so. Everyone wanted you to be comfortable, and everyone, Cal especially, wanted you to be there, but they also understood if you wanted to avoid any potential awkward encounters with Luke and his new love interest. You assured Ashton that it would be fine, that you honestly weren’t bothered, and laughed off his suggestion of setting you up with a super hot blind date to help level the playing field.

The night came along, and you found yourself stumbling along Calum’s front path in the dark as you tried not to drop the gift you’d bought for him (a new cookbook and a collection of various hot sauces).  “Bloody 5sos and the “no good party starts until 11pm rule”, you muttered to yourself as you almost tripped over again, and you heard an indignant shout that sounded very Ashton-like behind you.

“Oi! Don’t be mad at us, you know that rule has never let us down!” Ashton bellowed, as he came forward with his phone flashlight switched on, KayKay not too far behind him.

“Damn girl, you like fiiiiiine!” KayKay said, letting out a low whistle. You rolled your eyes, knowing she was exaggerating. Your outfit was essentially a denim skirt and a t-shirt - maybe you’d sexed it up a little bit with some thigh high boots, tousled hair and a red lip, but all’s fair in love and war, right?

The three of you made it inside, and a very tipsy Calum greeted you with open arms and a lot of excitement at your gift of hot sauce. It felt so nice to be back with all your friends at a house party, like the old days, and you found yourself stepping out onto the back patio for a moment of quiet reflection and to share some pats with Duke.

You’d exchanged a wave with Luke when you’d entered the house, but hadn’t quite worked up the confidence to go up and speak to him, especially when he had his new girl in close proximity. She looked really friendly, though, and you could tell from the spark in both of their eyes that their relationship was blossoming in the best possible way. Part of you thought you’d be upset about it, but all you truly felt was content. Content in your life as it was, surrounded by friends that loved you just as much as you loved them, and actually quite proud of how far you’d come over the past year. You’d learned to stand on your own two feet, and you’d grown into a much more settled, independent human as a result. 

You were lost in your train of thought when you heard the song change on the speakers inside. Duke’s ears perked up and he licked your hand attentively when you stopped patting him as the song registered - it was your song. Or at least, it used to be. You felt a smile creep onto your face when you remembered the Sunday mornings of pancakes and singalongs, and the smile grew wider when you saw Luke’s girlfriend dragging him onto the dancefloor, much to his (fake) protests. You made eye contact with your kind-hearted, softly-smiling, gentle-eyed ex-boyfriend, and for a split second you saw a flash of concern cross his face. In response, you raised your glass in a cheers and shot him a wink, which earned a smile and a small laugh from Luke before he turned his attention back to the beautiful girl in his arms. You took a sip, and smiled to yourself. It truly was better off this way. 

When I hear it, I just can't stop smiling, I remember you're gone

Baby, it's just a song on the radio, That we used to know

Taglist: If there’s a line through your name, I couldn’t tag you, so please message me to let me know your new URL or what the go is!   @suchalonelysunflower @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @loveroflrh @spicycal @notinthesameguey @metalandboybands @cheekysos @ashton-trash  @another-lonely-heart @queenalienscherrypie  @becihadshawn  @allthestarsandthemoon  @oyesmendes​ @andrianawinchester @333-xx  @findingliam-o @hoodhoran @rbforsmileycal @myloverboyash @myhappylittleyoutubee @saywhatnow07 @secretsicanthideanymore @ar1analara  @killmywildflower​

#my writing #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings fan fiction #5sos one shot #5sos imagine #5sos fanfiction #lol how do i even write things anymore #i feel VERY rusty #but alas #hopefully it's okay #lmk what you think!

[dinner-djarin]

dar'manda (Mando x f!reader insert)

Prologue

(Inspired by this scene)

Summary: You've been working as a merchant on Nevarro for years now, only out of necessity. Life really wasn't going your way. At least until the Mandalorian came by your booth. Now he's all you think about, and soon he'll be even more.

Warnings: Probably some swearing (real and in universe), violence (eventually), smut (eventually), No use of Y/N, slowburn/fluff (for the first little while)

Notes: Takes place at the end of season 1, and will mostly take place between season one and two. I have been sitting on this for a while due to some fear about reception by the fandom, but honestly I just need to stop thinking about it so here we go. She's going out into the world, and I hope you enjoy. (Also I wrote this prologue like 2 months ago so it isn't quite where I'd like it to be but if you read this please just stick with me, I swear my writing gets better lol)

You don’t know how long it’s been since you last saw him. Weeks? Months? But you can’t get that damn tin can out of your head.

You really have no reason to be this hung up on him. He’s barely spoken to you, you’ve never even seen his face, so it should be easy enough to move on from whatever childish infatuation you have over him. Right? Maker, what kind of person crushes on a mask and a suit of armour?

But there’s something about him, something that keeps him planted in your subconscious. You’ve tried to find the words to explain it, but nothing ever comes close. You can't even begin to understand how this man has completely overtaken your every waking thought.

He used to come by every couple of weeks, and you’d savour every delectable minute of the interaction, but that was all before shit hit the fan of course. You weren't there to see it but when you came back to work the next day it was all anyone could talk about.

“Apparently the metal man broke some Guild rule, and practically all of the other bounty hunters tried to kill him for it.” You heard over your shoulder. As much as you liked to keep to yourself, you couldn’t help form eavesdropping on a conversation between merchants. You did have a guilty pleasure for drama, probably to fill the uneventful void that your mundane life had now become.

“The Mandalorian? He broke their code then!” one exclaimed.

“I heard he went back for a bounty,” someone else whispered.

“What could make someone do something so stupid?” questioned a merchant lady you already didn’t particularly like.

“He doesn’t strike me as stupid,” you interrupt, trying to stick up for the man you were currently enamoured with. “If he did it, there must be a valid reason.”

“If he did it?” She sneered. “Do you not see the damage he left behind? People will be out of business for sure. It’ll take weeks to clean up the mess he made.”

“Then I guess I hope it was worth it. That it wasn't in vain.” You state, putting an end to the conversation. You hoped the man – that you already liked against your better judgement – wouldn’t cause so much harm without some justification.

In the wake of his rebellion, a covert of other masked hunters revealed themselves, shot up the town, and then vanished without a word. And so did your Mandalorian.

Woah hold on. Not yours. Just one random Mandalorian that you’ve said a handful of words to and have harboured a secret crush over.

From the second you saw him you pretty much knew you were screwed. Between the husky modulated voice, and the broad as hell shoulders, there was pretty much no way to quell the instant attraction that rose up in you. His presence alone was suffocating. Nothing could stop the way your vocal cords tightened to the point of forcing out a soft squeal at his sight. The whole time he talked to you, you could feel his visor latch onto your body – pinning you to the spot.

You thought you might find some relief when he left. Quite the opposite. You couldn't help but gawk at the way his body moved, like he knew he was hot shit. He took your damn breath away. And you were glad to know that he couldn't see your lips part to let out a soft moan, or the way they pursed back together as you unconsciously swallowed the suddenly copious amount of saliva pooling in your mouth. Fucking delicious, you thought, shamelessly.

Maybe it was the fact that you knew he could take anyone down in milliseconds. He was untouchable, and this latest defiance proved that. No one crossed the Guild. Well, no one crossed the Guild and got away with it. But if anyone could, it would be Mando.

And there’s another thing. You don’t even know his name. Which means that you’re forced to call him the colloquial slang that is commonly used by outsiders of the Mandalorian culture. “Mando”. You couldn’t help but think about how it almost sounded like an insult, especially when slurred from the mouth of other criminals. You hated the way people spat the word out at him, obviously trying to get him worked up; to see what he was made of. It made you desperately wish that you had a better name to call him, his real name. An intimate piece of knowledge that you could hold on to, something of him that no one else had.

Maybe that made you selfish. Even so, there was so much you wished you knew about him. He was a complete mystery.

To be fair, he probably didn’t even know your own name. You can't recall him asking for it, or if you ever introduced yourself. You were pretty much a bumbling mess the first time you met him. To the point where even if you had tried to say your name it probably would have sounded like you were speaking Huttese. Although, who could blame you. It wasn’t very conventional to introduce yourself to every customer. The people on Nevarro usually kept to themselves, especially the bounty hunters. There wasn’t much room for ‘customer service’. But damn you wish you had tried to make some sort of introduction. Even if it had come out as incoherent nonsense, you think it may have made talking to him later a bit easier.

However, none of that matters if he never comes back, and you bet he won’t. He’s smarter than that. To pull what he did, he’s probably on the other side of the galaxy right now.

Even so, you’ll miss the shared awkward silences and stolen glances that came with each of his visits. Whenever he’d come into the shop, he’d list off what he needed to stock up on, using the most deep and captivating voice you think you’d ever heard. If he hadn’t had that helmet covering his face, you’d swear he stared right into your soul as he did so. It almost made you weak in the knees every damn time. You’d then rummage through each supply crate and gather the best quality of every item, and finally – just to bring your humiliation to an all-time high – you’d give him a discount for absolutely no discernible reason. He took notice of the reduced price the first time and thanked you, only for you to be berated by your boss once he left. Eventually, to your dismay, the niceties came to a halt. Maybe he forgot what full price was, maybe he just couldn’t care less.

Either way, it looks like you’d risked your job for the last time. It’s a shame. For a planet full of bounty hunters and hardened criminals, there’s actually not a lot to entertain you. A shootout here, an escaped bounty there, but nothing that satisfied your desire for an exciting lifestyle.

The closest you got to that would be each time some wide-eyed, eager, wannabe-bounty-hunter strolled through town looking for a chance to weasel their way up the ladder of the Guild. They definitely thought they were more important than they actually were, and they always made a point of showing off for you. Not that you were anything special, just the closest thing with cleavage usually. They’d probably brag about their rank and their kill counts, things you could not care less about. A few of them actually had the balls to ask you out, but it usually only ended in a free meal or drink. To be fair though that was very intentional on your part. It was fun to play the part of a flirtatious girl from the market for a while, and almost exciting to think about how you were completely screwing over those assholes.

Over the time you’ve spent alone in the galaxy you learned exactly how to read those kinds of people. You knew just how far to go, just what to say or do until you got what you needed. As much as you weren’t a fan of physical affection, you often brushed your target's arm or thigh, played with their hair, or if the situation really demanded it – madeout with them behind the cantina. But you always made a point of stopping before things got too far. You may not be a complete saint, but you knew none of the scumbags you met were worth your time.

You wouldn’t have allowed things to go any further. Not with them. Going any further could only be a letdown, and you were fine to take those matters into your own hands…. literally. You may be a complete flirt, but only as a skill to survive in this grimy and dangerous galaxy. You learned early on that being young and female was a vulnerability. That was at least until you discovered how that vulnerability could be shaped into one of your most valuable strengths.

When you think about him though… well something about him made your entire badass facade disappear into thin air. You lost any cool you had the minute he walked past your vendor. Not to mention that there was something else about him that told you he’d see right through it anyway. Maybe it was the visor. Some special setting to read the level of bullshit.

As far as you’ve seen, he doesn’t take anyone’s shit. He definitely isn’t the type to make others feel comfortable in a conversation. He says precisely what he needs to get his point across, nothing more. Never once had you heard him use more than 10 words at a time.

On a few occasions you were lucky enough to end up in the cantina at the same time as him. Whether you were on a break or entertaining some dead-beat for free lunch, you remember how fast your heart would beat when the glint of his helmet met your vision. You wondered if he noticed your presence, or if he even recognized you away from your vendor at the market.

One time you were in the next booth over. Your spine straightened, and your whole body shivered when he slid into his seat and placed himself directly behind you. The proximity was electrifying. It made every neuron in your body fire rapidly and your blood vessels pump impossibly fast. You were probably supposed to be listening to the slimeball buying your drinks drone on about how impressive his last capture was, but the baritone emanating from behind ensnared every ounce of focus you had.

“I’ll take the highest pay” he muttered through the modulator.

“I do have other hunters, Mando. I can’t always guarantee you get the best of the lot.” replied his employer. A smile maintained on his face even when confronting an unforgiving barricade.

“I’m sure you do. But high price means high risk.” Mando responded. His employer’s confused silence forced him to continue. “Those skilled enough to take on the bounties know better than to do so.”

The Guild leaders' laughter bounced off the walls making many patrons turned their heads, while others continued their business, obviously being used to this behaviour.

You were left puzzled in that moment, completely baffled by this interaction. It wasn't until much later that night when it finally clicked. Although you didn’t know exactly how ranking in the Guild worked, you knew Mando was up there. He had the status to strike fear into almost every other bounty hunter he outranked. Mando had staked his claim long ago, and no one in the Guild was stupid enough to try and take a bounty from him. If he wanted something, he was going to get it.

You’d remember that interaction vividly. Not only because of how close you were to the Mandalorian as you overheard it, but also in service as a reminder to you, proving just how dominant he was in this world. He held power over every member of the Guild, including its leader, whether he wanted to admit it or not. You felt idiotic for not instantly understanding the control he wielded wherever he went. Sometimes it's a wonder how completely oblivious you could be.

Although you certainly were not oblivious to the drastic upgrade he got just before leaving. If you thought Mando was intimidating before, his new head to toe silver armour was sure to strike fear into any of his prey. You remember thinking you saw his reflection pass by earlier in the day, but he quickly dissolved into the shadows, as he often found a way of doing. However, later that night when you had just gotten off from work, he strolled back into the cantina for a new batch of bounties and all eyes were drawn to him. Most eyes were filled with jealousy since – as his employer made clear – he completed the job none of them could. They were probably even more enraged by the fact that he wore his reward back into the room, when most of them would have gladly taken that metal to the highest bidder and sold it for a hefty profit. However, you saw him differently than the rest. Your eyes were fixed on him in fear and in wonder. This metal man, already a force of nature, just became that much more impossible to defeat. As if anything could get to him before, it was clear now that no one could reach the Mandalorian.

But again – it doesn't matter. Not a single soul on Canto Bight would bet his shiny ass walks back into this sector. Not unless he has some kinda death wish…

Turns out he has some kinda death wish.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1 is up now!

More notes: Hello there! I hope you enjoyed this lovely mess. I'm not the most proud of it, but I do want to continue this story (which I know we've all read 100 iterations of by now). Either way, I'm having fun writing it, so I might as well post it!

I'd love a like or comment if you'd be willing to share, I'm very new to writing so I'd enjoy any constructive criticism (especially on the first few parts, I know they need work, but at this point I just want to stop thinking about it and continue on with the story). Also this will be ongoing, so if you wanna keep reading feel free to drop your @ in my inbox or in the comments and I can tag you when I update!

So long for now my fellow helmet whores!

#mando x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin #fanfic #pedro pascal #mando #din #the mandalorian s1 #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x you #din djarin x you

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 3

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 3

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2344

Summary: It’s Christmas in Wisconsin for Sam and the reader.

Warnings: angst (sensing a theme here), alcohol, slow burn

           Christmas Eve was a Thursday, which meant you were working. You’d predicted it would be slow, but there were big chunks of time where no one was in the bar at all. Christmas carols on the radio helped pass the time, and you drank a little more of the almost-coquito you’d thrown together in the back at the beginning of the shift than you needed to. It reminded you of your aunt and the way she’d smell of coconut through Boxing Day every year when you were growing up; welcome nostalgia you could tolerate like pressing a thumb into a bruise and distracted you from the evisceration of thinking of Dean. The day shift had left the bar understocked, so Sam spent a good amount of time going up and down the stairs refilling refrigerators and cutting fruit for drinks. Around 10 or 11 the people who didn’t want to wrap up the night when their in-laws went home straggled in, a handful of regulars that you generally liked but had a tendency to get a little rowdy when left alone together. It didn’t help that they showed up a few drinks in.

           The merriment was infectious, and it was sweet to hear grown men proud of the gifts they’d gotten their loved ones. One even brought a few bottles of homemade maple syrup to give to the others, sliding one sheepishly across the bar to you. You were pouring out a round of coquito when Sam came up from the basement with a towel tossed over his shoulder.

           “Everything should be good,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t cut it in months and the ends fell gracefully around his shoulders. A piece fell oddly across his forehead and you reflexively fixed it for him.

           “What did you two get each other?” a regular, Steve, asked with a relaxed finger pointing between you and Sam. His cheeks were ruddy with whiskey and winter air.

           “Oh. I—uh, we don’t really do gifts,” Sam offered placatingly.

           “Man, where did you find this girl? Listens to classic rock, drives a stick shift, and doesn’t ‘do gifts’?” another, Joe, added.

           “You better be buying her some presents or someone else will.” Jake, a customer you’d always felt safe around since he tossed out a rude guy for you a month back, chimed in.

           You and Sam had never explicitly said that you were together. People just assumed, and it was easier to go along with it than explain the truth, especially because you didn’t look similar enough to be siblings and you still couldn’t shake your need to cling to him from time to time. It was almost never an issue aside from periodic mild teasing. This Christmas talk was a departure from the non-explanations you and Sam usually gave and you found yourself waiting for a cue on where to go. Sam seemed to be having the same thought, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

           You spoke before the moment had a chance to become too pregnant. “You know how hard it is to buy presents for a guy who doesn’t like having stuff? If he buys me something, I’ll have to get him something too!” You hoped it sounded smooth, your lying out of practice in the months since you’d had a cover on a hunt. Sam smirked gratefully at you.  

           Joe shook his head wistfully. “Seriously, where did you find her?”

           “She’s pretty great, isn’t she?” Sam’s voice sounded sort of soft around the edges, almost like he was tired but not quite. When you looked up at him, that pebble of self-consciousness you’d felt at the hardware flipped in your stomach again and you glanced away in favor of a one-armed hug you intended to look affectionate. Sam did the same, encompassing your entire shoulder with his hand.

           When you drove home that night, warm and full of coquito, Sam played Christmas carols.

           “I think we should do gifts.”

           It was the first thing you thought when you woke up, and you said it into Sam’s chest as you laid there before you opened your eyes. You could tell from the rhythm of his breathing that he wasn’t all the way asleep.

           “Hmm?”

           “I think we should do gifts. We should really do Christmas if we’re going to do it, and that means presents. What do you think?”

           You felt as much as you saw out of the corner of your drowsy eyes that Sam raised his unpinned arm to rub the sleep out of his. “Mmm, okay? I mean if that’s what you want.”

           “Thank you,” you said as you nestled deeper into him.

           “‘S already Christmas though.” Sleep pulled Sam’s words together like taffy.

           “It can be goofy stuff; I just think we should open presents under a tree and everything. Seems like the kind of thing we should do, you know? Like trying to be normal.” You couldn’t bear saying out loud what you meant, that Dean would’ve wanted presents and stockings and eggnog and Santa hats and a big roast if he could’ve, to fall asleep after watching the stars glitter off of falling snow.

           Sam heard anyway.

           “You’re right,” Sam murmured. He rubbed your upper arm absentmindedly.

           “I’ll wake you back up when the bathroom’s free,” you offered, carefully rolling over him to get out of the bed. He nodded with closed eyes and flopped over onto his stomach.

           About an hour later, a wet haired Sam slid into the Impala’s driver side and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. You could tell from the puffiness around his eyes and his overcompensating casual tone that he’d been crying. He set his phone to pipe Your Inner Fish through the stereo and backed down the driveway over snow tamped down over the last week.

           It had been years since you’d gone Christmas shopping, as much as this could be considered Christmas shopping. The town you’d settled in had exactly 7 businesses on a tiny main street, including 1 small inn, a grocery store, the hardware store, a coffee shop (the most reliable internet in town, much faster than your place) and 3 different places to get a burger. You met Sam in the grocery store after grabbing what you wanted from next door in hardware, catching him just as he came out carrying a bag with a long pipe of wrapping paper stretching far past the top. When you left, there were only two other cars in the parking lot grabbing their own last-minute things.

           You wrapped your presents on the bed. It wasn’t like riding a bike as you’d hoped it would be, and your sloppy corners started you down a mental spiral. What a completely asinine thing, wrapping hardware store presents to put under a stolen tree. This wasn’t the Rockwell painting you wanted to present as sacrifice to Dean’s memory. It was cheap and stupid, a sloppy high school production when Dean deserved Broadway. He always had. As much as the three of you had never really done Christmas, Dean knew how to make something special while maintaining the air of not caring. You remembered waking up on his made-up anniversaries: six months from the first time you kissed, three years since he realized he loved you (three years minus 53 days before he said anything), 14 months since you’d figured out how to put a gun back together in the dark. Even in the most podunk little towns he’d find gorgeous bouquets and put together great meals in tiny kitchenettes; drive miles away to pick up a cake for Sam’s birthday or pepper motel rooms with festive streamers and silly string. Two quick, hard breaths through your nose to collect yourself and you finished the wrapping. That would have to be good enough.

           Sam was crouched in front of the fireplace with a bellows, a plucky little fire kicking into gear with his help. “All yours,” you called out, grateful your voice didn’t crack.

           “Thanks. It’ll only be a second.”

           He was right, and came back to you on the couch in only a few minutes with two wrapped bundles. You shyly handed him what you’d wrapped and took his.

           “Uh, Merry Christmas I guess,” Sam said. You noticed the edge of discomfort in his voice and were sickly grateful not to be alone in your tentativeness as you popped open the scotch tape holding the paper on the rectangular package. Before you’d uncovered it, Sam had his first gift unwrapped.

           “Nice! They had these at the hardware store?” he asked, snapping open the clamshell package on the cheap purple noise-cancelling earbuds you’d picked up.

           “I’m sure they’ll sound like they were made underwater, but I figured you could hide them pretty easily if you wanted to wear them at work, listen to your podcasts while you restock or whatever.”

           “That’s a really good idea.” He looked down at the headphones considerately for a beat.

           You pulled the paper off your present to reveal a notebook and two ballpoint pens. It had a leatherette flexible plastic cover that felt smooth under your fingertips and was about the size of a standard hardcover novel. You opened it to see inside, and a few photos dropped out.

           “I just—you didn’t have any—I can take them back if you want,” Sam stammered, but you heard him as if through those checkout-aisle headphones while your eyes blurred. These were pictures you hadn’t seen for years. The one on top of the loose stack in your lap was outside Bobby’s house. It felt like a lifetime ago, leaning over the railing of the small porch to kiss Dean as he stood on the ground in a sweaty t-shirt covered in engine grease. Under that was one you remembered used to be the background of an old phone, where you, Sam, and Dean huddled together in a booth at some bar you’d forgotten the name of in Montana that had girls dressed up as mermaids swim around in big tanks, part of the same theme that explained the blue fishbowl drink partly out of frame in Dean’s hands. There was one you didn’t recall with you and Dean stretched out on a nondescript motel couch, his arm protectively covering you as you coiled up into his side, both clearly asleep from the closed eyes and slightly parted lips. The last was a picture you hadn’t seen since the last time you went to Jody’s house; it had touched you then to see it hanging up on the wall, you carrying Dean piggyback while Sam clutched his knees laughing. It was the same day Claire had turned 16 and you had no idea why you’d needed to convince Dean you could carry him, but the whole thing had ended up with everyone rolling on the ground, grabbing at laugh-opened rib pains for what felt like blissful hours.

           You weren’t surprised at the silent tears that were pouring gently down your face, but wiped at them harshly with your sleeve so they wouldn’t drip. “Sam—” you croaked. “I don’t…I didn’t—thank you. How did you find these?”

           “They had an instant photo printer at the grocery store. I’ve had a flash drive with some stuff on it for a while.”

           You passed through each picture again, studying them like the gospel. It was almost hard to match the photos to the memories, memories having been replayed and multiplied and color-saturated in your mind over and over again, too big to fit into these little pieces of cardstock. But Dean was so beautiful, and you all looked so happy.

           “It’s supposed to help to write about how you’re feeling, so I thought…” Sam trailed off.

           “It’s perfect. I—thank you, Sam.” You met his eyes, stormy blue-green and taking on an amber reflection off of the fire. He looked nervous and almost guilty, like he had miscalculated and hurt you. Carefully slipping the photos back into the notebook, you set it on the table like it was made of crystal and threw your arms around Sam to tuck into him, knowing you were crying through his shirt but unable to stop. You realized you were murmuring thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou into the crook of his neck at the same time you felt the wetness of his tears onto your shoulder. Pulling him in tighter, you slunk back into the arm of the couch behind you. Sam slotted into the curve of your body, wrapping around your torso with powerful, gentle arms. His hair was silken when you began to stroke it, feeling his wracking sobs against your chest. It was impossible to gauge the amount of time it took for both of you to stop crying, skin slick and hot against each other on the old couch as your bodies hardened together like a mold. You felt dried out and sore and wouldn’t have pulled away from Sam if you’d had a gun to your head.

           “Man, and we were doing so well,” you hummed into Sam’s hair.

           “Were we?” Sam asked, and it was all you could do to laugh. Sam laughed too, the emotional and physical fatigue of it blending between you in the air. He adjusted his arm and you could feel the span of his hand across your lower back. The two of you sat there for a few more moments before you gathered up enough courage to let go of him.

           “Want to open the other one?”

           Sam nodded against your chest and slowly extricated himself, running a hand through his messed-up hair and rubbing his neck as he reached for the other present you’d gotten him. He tore through the paper unceremoniously and smiled down at the shoe repair glue and new boot laces. “You saw they split, didn’t you?”

           You smiled back at him. “Would’ve just gotten you a new pair of boots but, you know, late notice. Maybe this’ll buy you some time.”

           He handed you his second gift from the coffee table. Inside the foil-adorned wrapping paper were three bags of gummy worms.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 4

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[hoe-doroki]

stay

A response to this ask:

Reader having a silent mental breakdown and trying to hide it with Bakugo and iida!( bakugo’s fine if not iida)

warning: detailed descriptions of panic attack, self-loathing

pairing: Bakugou x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

word count: 2.2k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

It seemed stupid to have any kind of mental illness around someone like Bakugou.

Bakugou had experienced near death multiple times by his mid-twenties had had witnessed the worst of the world first hand. His teens had been littered with trauma and, as an adult, his work was constantly throwing him into circumstances where his body, his life was at risk. He did this day in and day out and it wasn’t even a question. He survived it all and, more than that, he let the world think it was easy.

Sometimes just getting out of bed wasn’t easy for you.

You felt like your body was rotting. You’d been on the couch all day and it smelled stale from the layers of lazy sweat you’d gotten on it. From the shower you hadn’t taken and the hair you hadn’t touched. But was it rot from the outside in—something a bit of soap and buffing could slough off—or was it the inside out? Harder to reach, harder to fix. As your brain sent your every thought clenching on your veins, your vital organs, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was both. Rotted from the inside out and the outside in.

You tensed when you heard the door to your shared apartment click, a key being shoved into the lock. Over the cold numbness that you’d felt all day, a shot of panic sprinted through your bloodstream as a million ways to lie popped into your head. You popped off the couch and tried to think of a way to look busy, so you ran to the kitchen and started boiling some water.

This was something Bakugou couldn’t see. The last thing you wanted, the last thing he needed was for you to be another person that he had to save. Another person to risk himself for.

You eyed Bakugou when he came in, shoulders drooped, gait wide. He looked tired, but otherwise normal. You usually tried not to worry yourself with the cuts and scrapes he often showed up with after work, and, so long as he was walking, he usually told you to calm down and that he was fine. You weren’t going to test it today.

“Hi, babe,” you said, putting strained effort into your pitch, your tone, your face. Maybe your voice was too high, maybe the smile spread a bit too wide, so you turned back to the water, watching it heat.

“Hi,” Bakugou greeted as he kicked off his sneakers, voice gravely as it usually was after a shift. He was in civilian clothes now, having showered and changed at the agency. A black tee and jeans that never fit quite right on his narrow hips and tall frame. “What’re you up to?”

“Oh, I, um…” You looked down at the water, still cool enough to stick a finger into. You’d done nothing all day, having skipped out on all your classes with half-assed emails sent to the teachers. The idea of going had been too much to take—for reasons you had no language for—so you’d wallowed on the couch as the hours of the day had bled away. So the question felt like an interrogation about to put a scalpel to your flaws. “I’m just heating some water for tea. Was gonna get started on dinner.”

“What were you gonna make?”

Bakugou was in the kitchen now, coming up behind you to press a kiss against your temple. Your heart rate increased but not in the good way. Not in the way that it should. Instead of flutters it was pounding, smacking against your ribs in a reminder that he was too close, you were too visible—you might explode and you would hurt him.

“I, um, I wasn’t sure,” you said, the answer sending shameful heat to your cheeks. And then you were slapped the other way by how stupid that was. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Okay,” Bakugou said, going to the fridge. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Bakugou was always insistent on having a stocked fridge. With his job and you in your master’s program it was hard to find the time to grocery shop, much less eat consistent meals together, but those were the kinds of things that Bakugou prioritized. The things behind his sharp persona and shrinking legacy of reckless anger that made him a good boyfriend. An amazing partner and enviable roommate.

And what did you offer him? Emotional instability without just cause? A nascent—at best—career while he was climbing the pro hero charts every cycle?

Who were you kidding? You hadn’t even gone to class. You hadn’t done any of the work that you needed to do—the evening was a wash now, so you wouldn’t catch up. You were just wasting everyone’s time, like you always did.

“Hey, babe?”

By the tone of his voice, you realized that Bakugou had called you multiple times. Your eyes flicked toward him, but your head felt heavy to lift. “Hmm?” you asked, squeezing every last bit of breath into that hum.

“The water’s boiling.” Bakugou walked over to you, two mugs with teabags slumped at the bottom. He set them on the counter and put a hand on your shoulder, turning you a degree closer to him.

“Oh,” you intoned, pulling away and turning off the fire. Stupid. You were about to grab the pot when Bakugou dropped his hand down to your elbow, giving a firm squeeze.

“Are you okay?”

You ignored his gesture to stop and reached for the kettle, putting all of your effort into keeping your hands steady as you poured hissing water in one mug and then the other. Doing something was the only thing keeping you upright as your thoughts continued to swirl in your head poisoning each brain cell you had. You hadn’t done anything worth living for today. But goddamn it, if you couldn’t make these mugs of tea, then you should just walk out of the apartment and let Bakugou be better off without you.

“Woah, woah, what’s happening?”

Bakugou’s hand was on your chin as he pulled your face a little too roughly towards him. Or, rather, it wouldn’t have been rough, if you weren’t resisting it. But you didn’t want him to look you in the eye. See what a failure you were. Someone who couldn’t even overcome a bad emotional day to go to class while he’d been out saving lives—as usual. He took the pot from your white-knuckled grip and set it on the stove.

“Why are you crying?”

Were you? You hurriedly brushed a hand under your eyes and they came away slick, the water hot as the tea you were steeping.

“The…The steam…” you started, prepared to lie and lie and lie until there was nothing real left. The real stuff was too hard to hold. “I think…It just must have irri…tated my eyes.”

Your breathing was running away with you, chest heaving as you pulled away and faced the other direction. Your attempts were thin, too threadbare to hide behind. And your boyfriend wasn’t nearly stupid enough to be fooled, even by your best efforts.

“Babe, tell me what’s wrong,” Bakugou said forcibly, stepping around to face you again.

His eyes were searching for yours, but you held fisted hands to your cheek as you turned away from him. Now you could feel the tears streaming, and you couldn’t turn them off. But what was there to tell him? That you were just a big, stupid idiot who cried for no reason? That watching him become a better man only emphasized how totally shit you were? That when the two of you were on the street together, you knew that people wondered what a guy like him was doing with a person like you?

“I just want you to stop crying,” Bakugou said, and you could hear him getting desperate, only making you feel worse. You were biting your lips closed to keep the sobs from tearing out, but that only made embarrassing little huffs come out your nose, whimpers sneak past the back of your throat.

You couldn’t stop crying. How could you stop it when you didn’t understand what had started it?

“I’ll just,” you hiccupped, backing away from him. “Just give me…I’ll be fine, just give me a minute.”

“Fuck that,” Bakugou said, grabbing your wrist. “Do you want me to go because you want me to go, or because you think you deserve to be alone?”

The words felt like a trick, a riddle from some fairytale turned nightmare intended to make you fail either way. Telling him the truth would trap him in whatever trip wires had you tied in knots right now. But, at the same time, he was expecting the lie. He wasn’t letting you save him from this.

But why? He was always saving people. Why, for once, couldn’t you save him from you?

“Idiot,” Bakugou said, pulling you in to him. You cried harder, the weight of your failure dropping in your well and spilling more tears out of you. “Why would I leave you alone?”

A sob crashed out, breaking through haphazard letters of attempted defense. He needed to go; him seeing you like this only made it worse.

“It, um,” Bakugou’s voice was low, a register that was unfamiliar even to you, unsteady and unrehearsed. “It seems easier to be alone. I know it does. But…you’ve shown me that’s not true, so just. Let me show you the same, okay?”

You could feel how hard he was trying as he pressed you into his chest and you finally, finally let him. The sobbing made you weak in the knees, light in the head, but he held you. He held you up, held you close, and he wasn’t letting go.

Everyone always talked about how crying felt good. About it being a release that helped you process your pain. And maybe that was right when talking about grief or loss, but not this. These tears felt like nothing more than splashing in the masturbatory wallowing hole of your self pity. Embarrassing and stupid.

“Why?” you finally whispered when the sobs subsided a bit, letting you keep enough of the air in to at least say that.

For a moment, Bakugou didn’t say anything, and you wondered if you’d imagined the words. If you were imagining the whole thing and he really had left like you’d wanted. But then you heard breath catch in the back of his throat as he seemed to try and fail to find the words a couple of times.

“In another world,” he finally started. “I’d come home from a day of work fucking exhausted, slump on the couch, eat, and pack it in to go to bed before starting all over the next day. And I’d probably be fine with that. But I’d be a fucking idiot, because coming home to you makes it worth coming home.”

Your breathing was steadying as he talked and you could feel the tears cooling against your cheek, against his wet t-shirt.

“Even with you looking like a damn mess like this,” Bakugou said and you could hear the smile in his voice. His smile, which had grown less rare over time, was always so wide that it made his words sound different. Warmer. They managed to draw a haggard chuckle out of you. “I’m happier just to be around you than convincing myself that being lonely at the top is the best way.”

“I don’t want to drag you down from the top,” you said. “Your company shouldn’t be dead weight.”

“Dead weight?” Bakugou repeated, pulling back to look at you. “Dumbass.”

He pulled you in again, both of his arms around the back of your head so that you were nearly smothered in his chest.

“That’s the stupidest fucking shit I’ve ever heard. You’re fucking incredible, and if that’s why you’re crying today, then you and me have to do some talking.”

Another laugh managed to crawl its way out of you and Bakugou let you pull back to breathe again.

“Are you okay now?”

‘Okay’ felt like such a far ways away. But you were above water again. Somewhere next to okay, distance undetermined.

“I’m surviving,” you decided.

Bakugou looked at you, a couple different things flashing over his eyes, too quickly for you to identify. “Well, that’ll do for now, but we’re not settling for that. Just talk to me. I’m not the best at this, but…I want to be better at it.”

In that moment, you remembered that Bakugou wasn’t perfect either. That he constantly had voices in his head telling him that he wasn’t doing enough and, not only that, he had the public constantly critiquing his attitude, his skills, his work. That, to some degree, this was already something you were going through together.

“I think you’re better at it than you think.”

Bakugou smiled again, this one not so wide, but more private. “You too, he said. Whatever bullshit you’re telling yourself—you’re better than you think.”

He pulled you in close again, and this time you sunk into it, enjoying his warm muscles, the way that his hair was still a little damp from the shower. You weren’t sure if anything had changed—all your problems were still present as they’d ever been. But yet, there was one thing. Now, with Bakugou’s arms like a buttress to your shaky but standing foundation, you, paradoxically, hoped that he would stay and stay and stay.

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bakugou #bakugo #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #mha x reader #hurt/comfort