#other than goulash

[bigmack2go]

Ok but hungarian food>>>>

#other than goulash #i hat goulash #but the rest #mhhh #never ate anything Hungarian that tasted bad #except goulash

[dhampir-dyke]

MY MOM IS MAKING GOULASH FOR MY BDAY I AM SO HAPPY

#our family goulash recipe is way different than any other ive tasted!!

[https-furina]

heres my apology for the trauma:

(i forgot who i asked for in the previoys ask) kazuha, xiao, heizou, aether, albedo and wanderer with fluff ideas

(im giving you the power to make the scenario wtv you want bc i traumatized u the most lmao)

✎ our time together. ft. albedo, aether, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao & kaeya x fem!reader content: pure fluff, so much comfort after that angst you could suffocate, sickeningly sweet stuff. mentions of injuries in xiao’s part.

detective's notes. this is aly's attempt at therapy following that angst req - i did everyone who was in the original request that you can find here. i apologise in advance for xiao and kaeya, i think they’re ooc. not proofread.

albedo often has you admiring the sights of dragonspine with him whenever you take the time to visit him at the summit. on bright, sunny days, depending on the direction you face, you can gaze upon mondstadt, liyue or the ocean. it amazed you, to be surrounded by so many fantastic sights. and not only around dragonspine but the mountain itself hosts the most beautiful scenery. scenes of white snow, pure and blanketing the ground around your boyfriend's camp - it's innocent, wholesome. the snowflakes dance together with each other.

albedo loves to watch you admiring what is so common for him, snow drifting down almost every other day.

"love, it's snow," albedo chimes from where he's jotting down notes from a research experiment he'd conducted earlier in the day. you're sat by the campfire, eyes glazed over as you watch the snowflakes, "the city really doesn't get snow this much?" "the city doesn't get snow, bedo," you comment back, quick on your words and clouds of hot breath coming from your lips as you spoke, "the sentence should have ended there." your wit makes him chuckle under his breath, his gaze falling back to the cursive scribble in his notebook. every time you visited him it was almost like he got to witness your child-like state over and over again, never-ending and yet he cherished every moment of it. he cherished the way that a smile would slowly break out on your face no matter what you was doing when that very first snowflake lands on your sleeve. unfortunately, albedo often keeps you in the safety that is his camp, situated in an alcove not far from the summit of the mountain. it's sheltered and it encompasses the warmth from his fire perfectly. he's never had any qualms with it but he can see how your fingers itch, longing to touch at the cold that settles on the ground only to melt moments later when the sun glimpses from behind grey clouds. he basks in your innocent behaviour and how it glows in the campfire's orange light. with a gentle noise, the blond finds himself raising from his chair, joints stiff - it's only now he realises how long he'd been seated, writing about his experiments while you sat and watched the snow. "you want to go out in it, right?" he asks quietly as he wanders to your side, a cotton scarf in his hands as he wraps it around your neck, "we can't have you getting sick, i can only cook so much goulash." his voice is light, teasing but you're focused on his insinuations that you can in fact go out into the snow that you've been meticulously watching for hours now. he watches the realisation wash over your face, your eyes glittering as you stare at him - it's almost as if you're asking for permission. albedo chuckles, a cloud of breath falling from his lips as he does so before he nods. you've left the warmth of the camp before albedo can even process you getting up from your spot, spinning in circles as you let the snowflakes cover the fabric of your clothing. a faint smile appears on albedo's face, watching your excitement as you giggle in the snow made him fall in love with you even more than before.

aether absolutely loves travelling with you at his side. you're the light of his life, always finding the positives in the stickiest of situations where even he debates whether it's a dead end. this applies to his search for his twin sister, you're convinced he'll find her and you are quick to reassure him that you'll be there every step of the way! but adventuring is tiring and your feet are sore. aether treats you like a princess despite getting pushed around by civilians and archons alike wherever he goes.

it comes as no surprise when he is the one who proposes a campfire for the night, cooped up together on a woven blanket you insisted on bringing with you.

"aether," you mumble your boyfriend's name softly as you curl into his side, attempting to count the stars - it's futile but you tried anyways, "what do you think most of these people would do if they knew their archons were among them?" "mondstadt would think it's a harsh prank," he comments from where he's cooking food. there's a strong aroma of mint, chicken, radish with perhaps hints of calla lilies and fish, "imagine diluc's face if he knew it was venti." a laugh comes from you, looking over at the blond with a hint of admiration. he's deep in concentration with his cooking despite them being dishes he's made hundreds of times before - he's sure got the proficiency down at least. he glances at you and his sharp eyes soften. he loves your laugh, he finds it more musical than anything venti could play on the holy lyre or even anything that yun jin performs. to aether, your laugh is explosive and beautiful like yoimiya's fireworks and it's more illustrious than any aranara tale that sumeru could conjure up. you were his partner, a beacon of light and hope as you travel wherever he goes. sometimes he'll joke that you're his shadow, watching his back just as much as he has yours. a smile breaks out on his face suddenly. "what's that look for?" you pout, puffing your cheeks as aether shakes his head, turning back to the campfire. his calloused hands work meticulously on chicken and mushroom skewers and radish soups like their recipes are engraved into his memory. "am i not allowed to look at my girlfriend?" his question flushes your cheeks with warmth that crawls up your neck and makes butterflies crazy in your stomach. clearing your throat, you look away with a dramatic huff, no longer attempting to push aether for his prior facial expressions. aether makes a noise of amusement, holding out a skewer to you, "it's hot, don't burn your tongue." his words echo in your head, ones that would seem patronising to anyone else but to you, they meant the world. you knew that aether would fret over the smallest injuries - just like he did when you managed to get a papercut from a book you borrowed from xingqiu. he merely cared more than you could ever ask for in exchange for the positive aura you carry with you that keeps him sane.

heizou can disappear from days, perhaps even weeks at a time. he remains a hazard to anyone he comes across who aren't aware of his apparent disappearances when he gets a lead on a particularly pressing case. when he is around however, even if his head is buried in case files, he's by your side. he craves whatever touch he can get from you, always somehow finding a way to be touching you. it only gets worse after his peculiar disappearances.

it's no wonder that the next day after he suddenly turns up at your shared house again, a wide grin on his face that he's keeping his hand lingering on your skin.

"could it be premeditated? surely not," the detective mumbles, his face hidden in documents that you're sure his grip is crumpling, "but the change of clothes suggests otherwise - unless it's a case of panic..." "do you speak out loud at the station too?" you muse, one of your hands holding a novel from mondstadt whilst your other hand is playing with heizou's fingers, his hand on your thigh. heizou makes a soft noise, chuckling as he raises his head from the papers finally. "on the odd chance that i'm there? sometimes." he admits, grinning mischievously and you roll your eyes with a light scoff. his attitude to his work attendance was unbelievable sometimes, even more so than his ability to crack cases like they're precious geodes with goods inside of them. you click your tongue playfully, shaking your head as heizou raises the hand you're using to play with his idly, pressing his lips to your knuckles with a chuckle. you try to send him a pointed look, hoping to insinuate that his attitude wasn't acceptable but verdant eyes are looking at you with a teasing sparkle and you sigh, accepting that he was enjoying winding you up over the situation. "how old is that case anyways?" you ask curiously, tilting your head as you glance at your boyfriend. heizou lowers the documents, a drastic sigh escaping his lips. "only a few days but it happened within the tenryou commission," heizou explains, rubbing his temple with his spare hand, "madam kujou sara has the whole station working on it." you gently squeeze the hand heizou is holding, giving him a reassuring smile when he turns his gaze back to you. you knew the case would start eating him alive if he let it, to the point where he'd be mumbling theories even in his sleep. "don't overwork yourself, please." you sigh. it's soft and light, your hot breath fanning over heizou's skin when he moves his hand from yours to your cheek. where would he be without the rational mind of his own girlfriend to keep him in check?

kazuha loves being at sea with the crew of the alcor. captain beidou has been at his side numerous times and helped in his times of need but there is one more thing that kazuha loves more than the salty air of the ocean and that is you. he's known to skip the occasional adventure at sea to stay by your side a little longer, especially around both your birthday and his.

it turns out that when he does return from sea, all he ever wants is a homemade meal and the loving embrace of his partner.

"kazu-" you blink as you stare at the mound in the bedsheets, curled up nice and warm like a kitten - he hums, "was you sleeping?" the silky silver hair of your boyfriend peeks from the top of the sheets, his eyelashes half open as he lets out a small yawn, looking at where you stand at the bedroom door. he sends you a small smile, nodding. "just a nap, my love - what's wrong?" he rests his head back down on the pillows, arms moving to lay above the sheets so that you may see him better. the action makes you smile, leaning on the door frame as you admire him in such a relaxed moment, his voice mildly deep as he wakes up. "i was coming to ask if you wanted dinner," you admit sheepishly, eyes trailing over how his messy hair frames his face when he has it down, specific strands of red hanging above his eyes and catching in his long eyelashes, "are you hungry?" "maybe - can i ask for a hug before you go?" who are you to deny such a request from your boyfriend? you catch the way kazuha grins when you approach the bed, his arms tightly wrapping around your waist and pulling you down to him. you yelp, caught unaware as you fall on top of his body. there's however a few moments of silence as you sink into a calm state of mind, pressing the skin of your cheek to his bare chest when kazuha nuzzles his nose into your hair, exhaling softly. there's a solace that you only get when you're in his company and he can say likewise to you too, when he breathes in your scent and drinks it in like a wine. "i missed you," he comments quietly against your hair, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. a smile cracks onto your face, your eyelashes fluttering shut at his words. you had missed him too undoubtedly when he's been away for so long.

wanderer has had his hands full ever since lesser lord kusanali thrust him into studying at the akademiya - against his will, nonetheless and if someone cared enough to listen to his complaints, they'd hear his whines about the 'awful' work load they give students. it would take a few hours of listening to his sharp wit and grumbles to understand that he despises his academic studies this much because it limits his time with you - the girlfriend he says he "can't get rid of" because you "won't leave his side."

he has lesser lord kusanali promise that she won't rat him out whenever he turns up to the sanctuary of surasthana asking what girls like for gifts, giggles coming from the small archon.

"what the hell does this mean?" he mutters to himself, pads of his fingers pressed to his temple as his eyes scan over the text again. it's not going in, it simply just isn't. he's reread the paragraph ten times now and even though it's definitely in a language he understands and even more so a topic that he's already studied, it's not sticking the way academic materials are supposed to. he groans, eyelashes fluttering shut in frustration. he swears he's a changed man but the patience he has wears thin when it comes to studying. the house of daena is a considerably quiet place for a public library. there's the occasional bustle of students, their arms full of leatherbound tomes as they gossip amongst themselves - whether it is research related or not escapes the man from where he sits. he knows why he's so distraught and unable to focus but celestia forbid if he ever vocally admits it - it's been a few days since he could even see your face. he'd got himself tangled up in preparing for this exam to the point where he'd barely left the house of daena. that would be another thing he is not keen to admit aloud, his determination to receive praise from lesser lord kusanali regarding his efforts. "i knew i'd find you here," that voice... it's so familiar but why? his eyes open, his gaze sharp at whoever dared to disturb him when he was clearly so perturbed by his studies but they fall onto your form, a bag in your hands that smells like fresh pastries, "i passed kaveh on the way here and he voiced that you hadn't eaten lunch, love - so i stopped at puspa cafe." he clicks his tongue, a soft scoff coming his lips as you approach closer to the desk he was seated at, numerous books scattered wide open on differing pages. for someone who uttered nothing but complaints of his position in the vahumana darshan, he took his studies awfully serious. more so, you didn't miss the way his eyes rolled at the mention of the blond kshahrewar alumni who was always too expressive for his own good. "you didn't have to." he mumbles, a little reluctant to thank you but you knew what he meant when a smile crosses your face, placing the brown paper bag onto the desk beside his books. wanderer glances down your body before his arm wraps around your waist, tugging you onto his lap. "h-hey!" you squeak, eyes wide in surprise. he quirks a brow, amused before he rests his chin on your shoulder, returning back to the studying he'd previously struggled with. coincidentally, suddenly the words made sense and weren't so hazy in his mind. "just stay still." he sighs, a hand placed on the small of your back while the other one flips the yellowed pages in front of him. you have no choice but to slump your shoulders, hands idly playing in his hair - a rare opportunity considering he is usually wearing his hat - as your boyfriend continues to study.

xiao promised that auspicious blonde traveler that he'd be at their beck and call if only they said his name. you had no qualms with this, it was a scenario he also had applied to your relationship. at first he hadn't, being too scared of genuinely giving you love and affection to begin with but when he'd warmed, xiao promised to protect you with his life. you do however scold him when he returns back to his room at wangshu inn, some minor scrapes and injuries dotting his pale skin.

he would flinch at the slightest of your touches but there was always some sort of warm feeling resonating deep in his chest when his eyes glaze over how concerned you are in his stead.

there's a sharp wince that leaves his mouth through gritted teeth when you wipe the cut on his cheek. a frown adorns your face and xiao feels a stab of pity that you were once again nursing his wounds like a disappointed mother. he was starting to seriously debate if there was anything he wouldn't feel extreme guilt over when it came to you, you truly were too good for him in his eyes. "what are you thinking about?" you ask quietly, watching his brows knit together in a slight confusion, "your eyes always look so pitiful when i do this, love." xiao makes a soft noise in return, golden eyes flickering away to avoid eye contact. he'll look anywhere but you, not keen on how well you read him like a book even during his worst moments. even when it works against him, he treasures that you know him well. he's never been explicitly good at communicating - he might as well start writing his feelings on parchment - and your coincidental skill of just being able to read him fit that perfectly. "you care so much despite-" you click your tongue, a little irritated as your eyes turn sharp on your boyfriend. xiao sighs, tilting his head away when he feels you wipe the damp cloth across his cheek again. "someone has to care for you when you're off gallivanting being the hero in everyone else's story." your words tumble out without second thought. he's always at the ready when it comes to that blonde traveler's life or even yours and yet, nobody is at the ready for his own life. he knew that you was always going to be the one that cared and protected him when he didn't do it for himself. you were his home to come back to, the warmth of a fireplace and the golden glow of an oil lamp in the corner. you were the one who attended to his every scratch and cut, the one who placed kisses on his bruises and claimed your kiss was 'magic.' a small crack of a smile appears on xiao's face, his head nodding as he leans to press a delicate kiss to your lips.

kaeya may have his bad habits of occasionally slacking his work sometimes on the premise that he gets to spend time with you however when he does bury his head into the paperwork and commissions - only after you nag him - it becomes a challenge to get time together. if you even remotely complain, kaeya will cheekily shove back in your face that it was you who nagged him to get his work done.

he makes up for the time he loses with you while he's away at work, whether it be candlelit dinners over a bottle of red wine or picnics in the mondstadt summer sun, he's sure to cherish every moment he gets.

"that one looks like a bird." you comment, index finger pointing at a cloud as it floats past, light and fluffy in appearance against the blue backdrop of the sky. kaeya grins, shaking his head. "how in teyvat did you get a bird from that?" he asks curiously, glancing over at you with an eye so blue it challenges the tides of teyvat's oceans. you pout at the thought that kaeya hadn't seen the same outline of the cloud that you had, puffing your cheeks. "well... there's a wing and if you look over there that's a beak..." you're explaining it so vividly, hands waving around as a form of expressing yourself but kaeya isn't looking at the clouds. he's drinking in the sparkle in your eyes, the smile that widens on your face when you spot another cloud - this time you're certain it's a fish! kaeya lets out the occasional hum of encouragement, giving off the impression that he is most certainly listening to you but all it takes is one glance in his direction and you can see the half dazed look in his eye, swirling with distant dreams; ones where you have a family, a glittering ring on your finger and perhaps even a house in the city. "are you even listening to me?" you huff, a heat flushing up your neck and to your cheeks when your boyfriend doesn't pull that lovedrunk gaze away from you. a chuckle leaves soft lips, one of his gloved hands lacing with yours. "uh-huh, yeah, something about beaks and wings..." kaeya finds it adorable when you roll your eyes, looking away in a flustered state as he props himself on his elbows, leaning closer to you, "the clouds are pretty but you are much prettier." "kaeya i swear to-" he cuts you off, tutting with a cheeky grin. "swear to who? barbatos?" he hums, pressing a kiss to your head when you roll into his chest, hoping he'll give it a rest if you just comply and wrap around his finger, like you always do. and unsurprisingly, he does give in. he hooks an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close as his gaze finally turns up the faint hue of orange that the sky is fading into, the clouds dusted rosy pinks when the sun begins to set. he knows that soon the two of you will have to walk back down the cliff, back to mondstadt where you'll share a night curled up in bed for the first time in days before kaeya is back to work the next morning. in retaliation of these thoughts, the tips of his fingers press into the flesh of your upper arm more than usual and his brows knit together in a way he hopes you don't notice. but your eyes are closed, your face falling peaceful when you've drifted asleep to the rhythm of your boyfriend's heartbeat.

© https-heizou 2023.

#꒰꒰・♡ solved cases #https-heizou #kaeya x reader #aether x reader #xiao x reader #wanderer x reader #kazuha x reader #heizou x reader #albedo x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #aether #xiao #wanderer #kaedehara kazuha #shikanoin heizou #albedo #kaeya #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff

[ragingbookdragon]

If You Ever Loved Me, Have Mercy

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: 1.5K Warnings: Sad...?

Author's Note: :') not me self-projecting -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Ghost didn’t really understand her. He did, but there were times when she acted awfully funny whenever he’d do something for her. Like bouquets. Now, Simon “Ghost” Riley never grew up with a father who gave his mother flowers, and he was going to be the link in the chain that broke, because he’d be damned if he didn’t show his appreciation for his lover. Except every time he gave her a bouquet of flowers, she smiled like her face was going to split in half, and she thanked him profusely for it, holding it to her chest like it was the rarest thing in the world.

Other times, he tried to pay for things, and she refused vehemently, saying she could cover it, and part of Ghost wanted to feel like his manhood was being disrespected because he was supposed to pay for her, but the other part understood she was a grown adult who was independent.

It was a quiet night in his apartment, and she’d finally managed to get Ghost to sit down and relax on the couch while she cooked dinner for them. He occasionally watched her from the kitchen, unable to help the small grin on his face as she danced around and sang to old 2000’s Kesha songs.

About fifteen minutes later, the music shut off, and she appeared with two bowls of steaming food that had his stomach gurgling. “Hungry?” she teased, handing him a bowl with more than a good helping.

“Starved,” he replied, looking at it. “What’d you make, love?”

She shifted slightly and grinned at the nickname, another thing he found endearing about her. “Goulash.”

“Never had it,” he said, already sticking the spoon in his mouth, only to open his mouth and “Hafhashhath.”

“It’s hot, Simon,” she deadpanned. “I just pulled it out of the skillet.”

His eyes watered as she passed him a glass of water and he nodded a thanks. She curled up with her own bowl next to him, her knees brushing his thigh; quietly, she blew on her spoon before eating. They ate in silence, other than the couple times Ghost complimented her cooking.

It was only after, when she was taking their bowls that he asked, “Love, can we talk about something?” She froze, a look of something he could only describe as panic on her face. “Love?”

She recovered and smiled at him. “Yeah, let me put this in the dishwasher.”

As she hurried into the kitchen, Ghost watched in silence as a multitude of emotions crossed in her eyes, the biggest being anxiety and hurt.

Coming back, she sat down on the couch, this time, a good few inches from him and he looked at her for a moment. “You alright, love?”

“Mhm,” she lied, nodding her head, and he noticed that her eyes were on the couch cushion.

“Love, can you look at me?” She did so and he smiled slightly, reaching up to brush his knuckles against her cheek. “There’s my pretty, poppy,” he murmured, and her eyes flooded with tears, shocking him. “What’s wrong?”

She swallowed a lump the size of her fist in her throat, making a gesture with her hand as if it were going to help her speak. “I—” she shut her mouth, eyes closing as tears dripped down her cheeks, and Ghost shifted, reaching up to wipe her face.

“Love, whatever’s going on, you can tell me.” He tilted her chin up and she opened her eyes, gazing at him. “What’s got you in a mess?”

Eyelashes dampened with tears, she blinked a few times and asked quietly, “Are you going to stop seeing me?”

Ghost paused, brows furrowing in confusion. “Beg pardon?”

“You said you wanted to talk about something,” she replied, voice still a murmur. “I assume you don’t want to keep seeing me.”

He was still entirely confused. “I don’t even know where to start with how you got to this point.” He took her hand. “Love, why would I want to stop seeing you?”

She frowned. “I’ve…never been in a committed relationship.”

This shocked him, but suddenly, everything about her reactions and how she seemed so excited all the time with him made sense.

“When people find out that I’ve never had one…” her lips pulled downwards in an expression he never wanted to see her make again; she looked so heartbroken. “They make excuses and stop seeing me. One guy told me,” tears filled her eyes again and she laughed pitifully. “He said, ‘I’m not going to teach you everything. I’m not your parent.’” Her eyes met his. “I stopped dating after that…until I met you. I was scared to even try. But you, Simon, you…you’re the best thing that’s ever stepped into my life.”

“Love,” he started and she reached forward, taking his hand.

“Give me a chance, please,” she begged. “I’ve been reading and watching videos about relationships. Simon, you won’t have to teach me anything. I swear, I can learn, and I have been. I can—”

“Love,” he interrupted, and she appeared crestfallen, pulling her hand away.

“Simon,” she whispered. “If you’re gonna break my heart, just break it and please make this fast.” Her eyes met his. “If any part of you cares, just have mercy.”

Ghost reached over and grabbed the meat of her hip, pulling her into his lap where she refused to look at him, until he took her chin in his hand like he had earlier and made her look at him. “Love,” he said, and she met his eyes. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Huh?”

Ghost brushed his thumb over her lips. “I’ve spent my entire life being afraid to love someone because I didn’t want to turn into my dad. And then, six months ago, you ran smack into me, and I couldn’t believe that there was someone who wanted to be with me.” He gazed at her. “I’m as fucked up as they come, poppy, and you still want to be with me.”

“Of course, I do,” she whispered. “I…I love you, Simon.”

His eyes lit up as he smiled and leaned forward, nuzzling her nose. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Simon.”

“One more time.”

“I love you, Simon,” she confessed, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You make me happy. And I’m so lucky to have you.”

“As you should, I don’t like most people,” he joked and she snorted, causing him to smile. “And she smiles!”

She looked down, playing with one of his sweatshirt strings. “So…you like me?”

“I love you,” he answered, and her eyes went wide, mouth snapping shut. “Poppy, I love you more than the world. I think about you all the time. I feel…I feel like I have a reason to live again. For you.” Tears flooded her vision and he chuckled lowly. “You cry an awful lot, love.”

“Stop teasing me,” she sniffled. “I’m new to this.” As if she remembered suddenly, she looked up. “You’re okay with me being inexperienced in…like everything?”

“Just means we get to learn together,” he replied and ran his hand over her cheek. “Besides, I don’t plan on letting another man having you ever again.”

Her face felt hot, and she looked suddenly flustered. “That sounds like a serious long-term commitment, Simon.”

His chest rumbled with a grunt. “Listen well, love,” he started, hand lowering to poke at the center of her chest. “That’s mine, and I’m not letting it go. Ever.”

She placed her hand on his chest. “Does that mean that this one is mine too?”

“Every cold inch.”

Her eyes lit up with a gentle sort of happiness and she murmured, “Your heart isn’t cold, Simon. It’s very warm. And…gentle.” She looked at him. “My gentle giant.”

He hummed with a small smirk and tapped her cheek. “Don’t let anyone know. I’ve a reputation to uphold.”

“Okay, big guy,” she retorted and curled into him, head tucked under his chin.

After a moment, she kept squirming and he asked, “You alright?”

She paused, then blurted out, “I have a boyfriend. I’ve never had a boyfriend before.”

“You’re also gonna sleep in a bed with your boyfriend. So, two firsts in one night.”

She jerked away, eyes wide. “I can’t sleep with you!”

Ghost’s brows furrowed and he inquired, “You wanna take the couch then?”

“Wait, what?”

He thumped her forehead. “Mind out of the gutter, love.”

Her eyes narrowed in a glare, and she griped, “You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe,” he teased, and she harrumphed, turning her head.

“Rude. So mean to tease your girlfriend.”

He tickled her side a little until she laughed. “Not my fault she’s easy to tease.”

“You’re so mean.”

“Hmmm…how can I ever make it up to you?” he asked, and she turned, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Carry me to bed and hold me all night?” she paused. “And maybe give me a shirt to borrow?”

“I get to see you in my clothes?” Ghost grinned, picking her up as she yelped from shock. “That’s an affirmative.”

Her laughter peeled through the hallway as he carried her to the bedroom with enthusiasm.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader imagines #simon ghost riley x reader imagine #simon ghost riley imagines #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader imagines #simon riley x reader imagine #simon riley imagines #simon riley imagine #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x reader imagines #ghost x reader imagine #ghost imagines #ghost imagine #ghost #cod imagines #cod imagine #cod #mw2 imagines #mw2 imagine #mw2

[gauloiseblue]

Gaz x cook!reader. We all can tell army food is shit but dam can you make a bowl of mush taste like heaven. And it seems your skills have gotten through the belly and to the heart of the 141's pretty boi leaving him head over heels for your adorable form. Dressed in a head scarf, to keep hair out of your face, and an adorable apron brought from home all he wants is that pretty smile directed at him.

A/N: I noticed that cook!reader has become a trend in this fandom nowadays? Not that I'm complaining. Also, *crack my knuckles* it's time to write a jealous boy

The first time he tasted the food at the new base, he thought his tastebud was playing trick on him. Because there's no was a mere rice could taste this good.

But his confusion only lasted for a second, because he saw his friends made the same expression.

"Bloody hell," His captain grunted, "I don't mind gettin' tough missions if I get to eat this food everyday."

"Cheers to that." He chuckled as he scooped a spoonful of rice.

At that time, he didn't know who were the cooks yet, but he's determined to find out.

The kitchen in the military base isn't as strict as restaurant's one, so people can come in and out of the room. He uses that opportunity to pay a 'visit' to where you're stationed.

Judging by your uniform, you're not the head of the chef. But the one who runs around, checking each of the stations is you. He spots a few soldiers who stand at a distance (he soon found out that it's for hygienic reason, to minimize the contamination in the kitchen) while trying to talk with you. Unlike a cold-faced chef who hates distractions, you politely respond to them, while focusing on your job at the same time.

That sparks something in him, as he finds himself wanting to get to know you. But he knows better than disturbing you in your working hour.

Those soldiers might be lucky to get your attention for now, but he's confident that he'll get thrice as much sooner or later.

The kitchen's busy at the time when the soldiers are on the break, but when it's time for training, you and the other chefs would get the time to rest. So he, as a member of the special force, gets the privilege to arrange his schedule.

He starts his training earlier, so by the time he finishes, he'll get the time to visit the kitchen. The chefs like to hang out at the break room, but when he walks in, he finds that you're not there, so he goes to the second location.

In the back of the kitchen, there's a pantry where the food ingredients are stored. He had a feeling that you'd be there, so he went there.

And he's right.

You had just checked the tomatoes when he knocked on the door. The sound makes you jump, as you look at the open door with wide eyes.

"Sorry," He raises his hand to calm you down, "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh." You clear your throat, "It's fine. I just… didn't notice you there. Do you need anything?"

"No." He smiles, "I came to say that I loved today's lunch. It's the most delicious food that I've had all week."

You blush upon hearing his words, "You flatter me, thank you."

"So what are you cooking for tonight?"

"I was thinking about making beef goulash, but I noticed that we still have chickpeas, so," You hum as you think, "It's either of the two."

"You're making Moroccan beef stew?" He raises his brow at you, and you nod.

"That's what I'm planning to. I haven't decided yet." You said, "What do you think?"

"You know which one I'd pick." He grinned as he picked the paprika, "You have enough cilantros?"

"Of course." You giggle as you take the veggie from him, "It's settled then."

Since that day, it becomes a habit of him to visit the kitchen and talk to you for an hour or two. You're shy at first, but once you're comfortable with him, you become a lovely chatterbox. You'd talk to him about foods, kitchen operations, and plans for dinner. Breakfast and lunch menus are already handled by the head chef, since they require not much of a job. But the dinner is entirely your responsibility, since it's the most varied meal of the day.

"What do you think is the most important asset for a cook to have?"

"I don't know. Hands?"

You shake your head, "Try again."

"Hmm, let me think." He closes his eyes, while pretending to ponder on, "Brain?"

"Wrong." You laughed.

"What is it then?"

"Tongue." You replied as you pointed at our mouth, "You won't have any idea how good your food is if you can't taste it."

"Is it really?" He chuckled, "Then what about knife skills? Or time management?"

"They're also important to have, but at the end of the day, taste is all that matters." You tilt your head, "Right?"

"Can't argue with that."

One day, he's caught by Price when he's about to leave after training.

"You've been leaving awfully soon these days," He stops at his track as he feels his captain's gaze on him, "Does it have something to do with the cook?"

He sheepishly grins, as he turns to his mentor, "Maybe."

Price studies his face, before letting a long sigh, "You're dismissed. But—" He interjected before he could leave, "You better tell her to make shepherd's pie."

He chuckles at the request, "Not tonight, Cap. Maybe tomorrow."

When he arrives at the kitchen that day, he sees you already in your apron. You're about to put your hair in the head scarf when you notice him standing at the door, with his mouth slightly open.

"Hi." You greeted him as you smoothed out your hair, "I need to do a little bit of prep, so I start earlier."

"Oh… I see."

"You can stay, though." You shot him a smile, as you fixed your headband, "I could use some company."

"Don't mind me then."

He takes the seat near your counter, watching you as you bring up the large pan.

"Need a hand?"

"No." You said with a grin, "I'm pretty strong, you know."

He snorts in amusement when you show him the muscles in your arm, which is clearly less defined than his, or even any private's.

"I know, but I'm sure you could use some help."

"I'm fine." You told him, "Besides, I don't have any spare aprons."

"What a shame." He feigned a frown, so bad that it made you laugh.

"Well," You spoke as you started to chop the onions, "Entertain me then. Tell me about your training."

There's not much to talk about, since his training was meant to be watched, not described. He doesn't tell much, but he mentioned the little chat that he had with the Captain.

"He wants cottage pie?" You raise your brows with curiosity, "I can make that, but we gotta wait until we get the right meat."

He mutters a small response, as he watches you cut the chickens into four pieces. You show such a focused expression, that he can't help but think if you're gonna make that face when you're making the shepherd's pie.

All of the sudden, the little remark that his Captain made isn't as nice as it sounded before.

"Why'd you stop?" You looked at him when you noticed that he's been quiet for a while.

"Nothing." He replied, "I just remembered that I don't like meat pie."

"That's too bad." You frowned, "Don't worry though, cottage pie isn't really a meat pie."

He stares at you, and thinks about his Captain's request. He wouldn't say that he's being generous, but in this case, he was.

"I know, but I like your stew better."

"You're so sweet." He saw your eyes crinkled as you chuckled, "We'll make that Moroccan stew again, yeah? Or do you want something else?"

He felt his chest swell when you asked him the question. You offered to cook for him, you'd cook what he wants.

Perhaps you had asked that question to someone else—someone who has visited your kitchen longer than him—but he didn't care.

For the first time in his life, he doesn't feel like sharing.

#cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #gaz x reader #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #tysm for the ask anon <3 #but judging by the words that you used you wished the story to be a little suggestive. and if that's what you want I'm sorry

[vibratingskull]

"Hi! Please write such an idea. Thrawn is drugged with a pathogen at one of the parties. The reader - his girlfriend - after the party does not immediately understand what is happening with her chiss, and tries to help. But instead of accepting her uncomplicated help, Thrawn pushes her onto the bed and gives himself to his animal instincts..." - @naomimarisw

Thrawn x f!reader

Possessive and jealous Thrawn, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, anal

You walk in the ballroom searching for Thrawn. Where did he end up again? You scrutinize the crowd as you advance, where could he be. You catch a glimpse of his back on a balcony. You squeeze yourself between guests until you reach the large bay windows and ends up next to him.

“There you are!” You joyfully exclaim.

He doesn’t respond, head in his hand you see his glass neglectfully put on the guardrail, he doesn’t even react to your arriving. He looks stiff and tense, very uneasy.

“Are you okay?” you ask worried, putting your hand on his shoulder.

He raises his head suddenly like he just noticed you now. He looks at you with shady eyes, and blinks like he’s recovering his mind.

“No, not really. I feel…” He pulls on his collar as if he has difficulty breathing. ”... constricted. I have dizziness and a short breath.”

You put your hand on his forehead and the other on yours to compare.

“You’re hot, you surely have a cold.” You announce, worried. He shivers in your hand, like this simple contact hurts him. “We should go home.” 

“Good idea, I cannot stand this party anyway.” 

You hide your giggle behind your hand, that’s more like him. You head towards the exit, he walks as straight as usual, with an haughty walk and assured steps, but his hand is burning and trembling. You intertwine your fingers and look up to him with a smile, showing him support.

“Don’t hesitate to lean on me, Thrawn.” You whisper discreetly.

“No, it is good.” but you hear him pants lightly.

You hail a taxi and head home. He opens his coat and jacket wide and passes a hand through his luscious hair with a deep sigh.

“You look really tired, love.” You smile sadly “I will make you an ice pack and cook you a good goulash once at home.” 

He smiles tiredly and kisses the back of your hand “Thank you, chac’ah. This is really thoughtful of you.” But you see he’s not doing well, his hand is burning and you see sweat on his forehead.

He sighs, throwing his head backward. Poor Thrawn, he looks so tired and hot, that must be really unpleasant.

“I wish I could relieve you of your pain right there and there.” You press yourself against him with sadness, you rarely see him in distress and that is good because you hate to see him like that!

“It is okay, please do not press yourself against me, it gets worse.” He cuts sharp.

“Oh… Sorry…” You move away with a stab to the heart, you didn’t mean to worsen his condition but it was said so abruptly. You remain silent for the rest of the way.

__________________________________________________________

Oh maker

What is happening to him?

Each breath is painful and his temperature is skyrocketing. He hides it behind his coat but he’s painfully hard and tense like a bow string. Anything could make him snap if he’s not careful. 

It is not like him. He gots more self control than the common man, it must be something he drinked. It is true his wine had a weird sugary aftertaste. 

What an idiot, why did he accept the invitation of this fool Satlove? He should have known he would have played a trick on him with his insistence for him to come, Nather is known for his deviance after all and he would never have let her go alone to one of his parties for all the gold in the Galaxy.

This is so embarrassing, being worked up like a baseless man, letting his carnal instincts take the upper hand of him. This is simply intolerable! 

He shakes his head, panting, the skin of her hand is so soft and fresh… No! Do not think of her skin, do not think of her! She will be the death of him. But it is hard not to when he’s stuck in a car with her, inhaling her scent deep into his lungs. She didn’t put on perfume, this is the pure, raw, scent of her femininity and sweat. He feels goosebumps at each inhalation, it makes him drool, foam at the mouth, he digs his nail in the leather of the car and bites the inner of his cheek. She’s so close, looking at him with big innocent eyes full of worry, completely unaware of the turmoil she creates in him. 

Hidden inside his coat he palps his painful erection to ease it a bit, little to no avail. He breath through his nose when she suddenly presses herself against him, his arm is squeezed between her soft boobs and he gots a diving view on her delicious cleavage.

“I wish I could relieve you of your pain right there and there.” she says innocently.

Images flashes in his mind of him taking her right here and there without regard for the taxi driver, like a rutting animal without dignity and morals. It would be so easy to tear apart her thin dress and have her on the backseat like beasts. It would be so liberating, so pleasant, so…

No.

He bites into his cheek until he draws blood.

“It is okay, please do not press yourself against me, it gets worse.” he responds with a raspy voice, he has to channel all of his will to not jump at her throat. She looks at him sadly, with pain in the eyes but she moves away.

Sorry cheoh cha’cah. 

He feels his hands trembling terribly and the nausea rising. If he doesn’t plunge in her pussy soon he will definitly faint.

They finally arrive at the building and he steps out in the fresh air of the evening, thank maker, and follows her well wrapped in his coat. Her thin shawl and dress do not hide the perfection of her forms, the plump of her ass, the wideness of her hips, the roundness of her bosoms, the cherry of her perfect mouth. He wants to kiss it and put his cock inside, having her suck him like a good girl. She’s so soft, sweet and perfect for him. He lowly growls as he follows her in the stairs.

Maker makes they reach the apartment rapidly or he’s gonna have her scream his name in the hallway for all to see…

________________________________________

You light on your apartment with a sigh. Well, you could have dreamt of a better ending for that soiree. You don’t hold it against Thrawn because he’s not feeling well, but it pained you how he formulated it earlier…

“Go take a shower while I prepare the Gulash, I-” You don’t have time to finish your sentence you’re being pushed against the wall with Thrawn’s mouth attacking your sensitive spot at the base of your neck and feel his hand caressing your inner thighs. “Thr-Thrawn?” You manage to say before he pushes two fingers in your mouth for you to suck. He caresses your cunt through your panties, teasing your clit with the friction of the fabric.

He growls.

“Hmmmmmmmmm… It is okay, cha’cah. Just let it happen.” He grazes his erection against your tight ass, sliding your panties to the side and entering you with his warm, slender fingers “I cannot take it anymore.” He bites down your neck, earning a strangled gasp from you. “Hurry to the bed or I’ll take you on the table like an animal.” He releases you, slapping your ass and you squeal away, sprinting to the bedroom as fast as your heels permit it and you hear him sigh deeply behind you. You just take one look at him from the corner of your eyes and gulp, who is this man? This is not your tender fiancee, but a different man, dangerous, on the hunt with crazy eyes that could swallow you. In your panic you have difficulties to open the door and hear the deliberately slow steps behind your back. You see his shadow growing on the wall, enveloping yours, exciting your survival instincts.

You open the door with relief and you don’t have the time to make two steps inside, a hand pushes you forcefully against the mattress, you end up face first in the pillows with a ‘oof’, your ass in the air. He slaps it with a grunt and tears the delicate fabric of your dress apart.

“Thrawn!” you shout indignant, but you’re silenced by a big sloppy lap at your cunt, parting the fold of your cunny with the flat of his warm, wet tongue. You moan at the delightful sensation, feeling your legs go weak. He spits a fat glob into your cunny and licks at it avidly.

“I want this pussy strangling my cock…” He growls. “No, I need this pussy!” He sucks on your clit, torturing you, grabbing at your butt cheeks, spreading them far. “And then I’ll fuck that ass, it is time I make it mine.” You mewl as you feel your legs giving up under his assaults, you can’t take it! He parts your folds and enters his tongue, he searches for your g-spot and licks feverishly at your gummy spot when he finds it. 

“Ooooooooooh, maker! Thrawn…” You manage to mumble between all your obscene noises. It is so good it makes you feel dizzy, you feel your tender walls clenching around his tongue, your inner flesh gorging itself with blood, your lips puffy and swollen but so, so good. 

“Do not call the Maker. I am the one in charge here.” he berates you, slapping your ass. He continues to work his tongue on you and you muffle yourself in the pillows, biting into the silky fabric with all your might. “Oh hell no!” He warns, he leans over you and takes a fistfull of your hair, yanking your head backward. “I do not do that for you to remain hidden. I forbid you from preventing me from hearing you, that is an order.”

“O-okay…”

“Okay, whom?”

“Okay, Thrawn.” You pants, completely out of breath, he’s still so good at eating you out.

“Wrong!” He pinches the tender flesh of your ass.

“Ouch! Okay, Grand admiral…” You wince

“Better. Do not forget it.” And he goes back to your pussy, lapping at it avidly. “I want you to scream for me, princess.” you feel your slick and his drool running down your thighs, soaking the sheets. He grunts and groans while eating you out.”This pussy is so good. And all for me to toy with.” He purrs. He bites into your thighs and licks across your nervous bud, flicking his tongue and wet your pussylips with saliva. You feel the waves of pleasure rising and growing.

You squirt in his face with a strangled yelp. You feel all your body relaxing after cumming so hard. It is drenched down there.

“Good, princess. That is the kind of performance I want all night.”  He licks you clean.

You tiredly raise your head to see through the mirror over the bed frame, and see him disheveled, completely pussydrunk, his drool and your slick beading at his chin, white jacket wide open on his perfect abs with glistening sweat. He finishes to tear off your dress from you and throws it on the ground. He rises on his knees and pulls your hips to have them grounded and stable. “Do not move, princess.” He nudges your entrance with his drooling tip, you hold your breath in anticipation. He plunges into you without any warning and starts thrusting into you at a high pace, knocking the wind out of your lungs , not letting you any time to adjust to his large size. You feel so deliciously full, feel each veins of his cock brushing your inner walls, abusing your poor cunny, letting it all bruised, puffy and swollen. “Do not refuse me chac’ah, do not refuse me…” He pleads, ramming into you like a monster, pushing you forwards with each deep thrust, threatening to throw you over the bed if you don't hold up.  He digs his nails in your hips, making you clench painfully around his girthy shaft, stretching you wide. You whine as he pounds into you mercilessly.

“Speak, cha’cah. Let me hear you.” He encourages.

You gasp as he slides one hand under you to toy with your clit. He hits your cervix with each deep thrust, his large hands crushing your hips, your upper body pressed into the mattress, his balls hitting your clit with the ministrations of his fingers. You’re drooling on the pillow, cockdrunk, your eyes rolling backward, unable to formulate a proper sentence which didn’t escape his sharp attention.

“Look at you, completely drunk after just some thrusts. What am I to do with you? Tsssss.” He slaps your ass several times, you’re sure you’ll have a mark tomorrow. You whine incoherently, mouth agape. 

You hear a beeping through the room, making you gathering your thoughts.

“Wai-wait Thrawn… I have to ta-take my pill…” You extend your hand to the packet but he seizes it and forces it down.

“Forget that.” He orders, taking the tablet and throwing it in the bin across the room. “You do not need it. I have always wanted to fuck a kid into you.” He groans, kneading the flesh of your hips “I will have you all to myself, having you nice and round for others to see you are taken.” He continues to ram into you like a bull, the sound of flesh slapping flesh echoing in the room, your poor cunny being abused by his girthy shaft. “I should have bred you sooner. It is not like me to postpone my objectives like that. This situation needs to be corrected urgently.” That said he pushes one last time deep into you and spurts out his potent seed, your pussy clenching around him, milking him for all his worth. “Be good and take it all. Do not waste it, and give me a child, chac’ah.” He remains still, sighing contented as your cunny finishes to pump him his powerful sperm. He slides out of your sticky and messy cunny with a dark chuckle and you fall down on your stomach. “Good. Now onto another pressing matter…” He slides his finger between your ass cheek and parts them wide “I should have done that sooner too, I suppose I did not want to scare you off. But you will feel so good, I promise.” He titillates your thigh hole with the tip of his tongue, circling it and lapping it in every nook and cranny, letting his drool enter it to prepare you, you moan and curl your toes at the new sensations, this is so exciting.

“Raise back your hips, chac’ah, it will feel better.” He explains, helping your sore legs to work again. “That’s it, Ch'otcavurt. Raise high and relax. It will feel so much more pleasurable.” He purrs. 

“Please be gentle. It’s my first time doing… that.” you bite your lips, embarrassed and excited.

He laughs almost to himself, almost feral.

“That is even better, cha’cah. I will ruin you for every other man, none of them will be able to satisfy you like I do once I’m done with you.” he promises, he trails your wet and sticky slit with his fingers and strokes his cock to lubricate it. “Breath deep, you will feel so, so good.” He purrs.

You moan at the intrusion, your ring stretching out for his large erection, breathing through your nose you feel it invading you like never before. The sensation is indescribable, it feels like a deeper pleasure, more profound. This time he lets you time to adjust as you swallow him all. 

“Oh…” You breathe with difficulty, you feel so full, stuffed to the brim with his lengthy dick and you hardly see how you could take it ramming into you. You feel his tip drooling and twitching again inside of you. “Thrawn, I don’t think I can-” 

“Shhhhhhhh, Ch'otcavurt. Of course you can, give it some time.” He starts a rotating motion with his hips and you both moan. “That is it, chac’ah. You take my cock so well…” he breathes “The way you strangle my cock is driving me insane!” You mewl at his praises, still unsure about how you’ll take it even though you feel yourself relaxing around him. He starts rocking his hips with shallow thrusts and you wince, it feels like your ass is trying to hold him back inside and it stretches out to let him pass. You feel tears gathering behind your eyes, it feels so, so good but seems barely manageable. You focus on your breathing, trying to take deep breath, but the waves are so powerful they prevent you from inhaling correctly. He slowly deepens his thrusts, speeding the rocking of his hips, easing himself into you a bit more each time. You whimper at each pump, which only encourages him to go quicker. You soon have a jackhammer fucking your tight asshole.

“Maker… Thrawn!” You can’t even keep up with the honorifics and he doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in the sensations of you swallowing all of him. He gropes your hips, the obscene wet sound of flesh on flesh ringing in your ear, you mewl your pleasure as he fucks you relentless.

“That is it! Exactly what I wanted! You are so good for me, chac’ah!” He exclaims with force.

His rocking soon became erratic and he spills his seed deep inside of you, painting your guts in white, as you squirt again on his thighs.

Exhausted, you fall on top of each other, panting. He embraces you in his arms, kissing your neck tenderly without removing himself from your sore hole.

“It was so good, chac’ah.” He murmurs, purring deeply. “We should do it again.”

“Alright…” you pant “We’ll see about that. But first, weren’t you supposed to be sick earlier?”

“Do not worry, chac’ah. I know exactly who to thank for this delightful evening…”

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn smut #fanfic #vibratingskull

[petermorwood]

More Paprikahendl (a bit, anyway)...

@blyddyn asked this:

@petermorwood , a question for you. About a fortnight ago, I made a Gulyas and with it I served Huskovy Knedlik, thinking about it the Huskovy would go well with Paprikahendl. What are your thoughts on this?

Since that accompanied the reblog of a long-ish post, any reply other than something terse like "Sounds fine to me!" would have made it even longer.

Terse would of course answer the question nicely, but terse doesn't work very well with questions like that - at least not for me - so the fuller (as will be anyone who eats these goodies) reply is here:

*****

I'll be honest and admit I didn't know what Huskovy Knedlik were, until I looked them up and realised I do know them after all, by another name: Brotknödel (bread dumplings).

After learning that, IMO knedlik would go very well indeed with Paprikahendl, or indeed with any dish that has a rich gravy or sauce needing chased and mopped up to the last savoury drop. :->

By either name, they're a dumpling of flour, yeast, butter, eggs and milk made either round or in a fat sausage shape, poached in water or stock. The round ones are served whole, the long ones are sliced before serving.

On the right is a Czech huskový knedlík (Google translates it as "bun dumpling") while on the left is a German Böhmischer Serviettenknödel (Bohemian napkin dumpling).

Other versions use - indeed, ask for - yesterday's stale bread or rolls, cubed and fried golden then mixed with herbs, or bits of bacon, or chopped onion, and combined with the other dumpling ingredients before being wrapped to hold everything together during cooking.

This wrapper can be a piece of cloth, hence "napkin dumpling", though nowadays - as the photo shows - it's as likely to be cling-film.

The "clooty dumpling" of Discworld's Ankh-Morpork and the "clootie dumpling" of Thisworld's Scotland both get their names the same way - they're a cloth-y dumpling.

Simpler versions with fewer bits to fall off can be cooked without a wrapper, in a saucepan on the hob or, using a double-pan arrangement, water in a large pan and dumpling in a smaller then everything into the oven.

The slicing can be done with a knife, or with a piece of kitchen twine.

Here are a couple of English-language recipes. (One) (Two)

Ireland is currently sitting in the tag-end of another heatwave, but I can hear the initial rumbles and peas-on-the-roof rain of the thunderstorms that are supposed to end it, meaning autumn and hearty food is closer than it was last week.

So here's inspiration: Knedlik with goulash and raw onion garnish alongside Knödel with sauerbraten, capers (per @kommgehwech, they're raisins. Thanks!) and red cabbage.

Yum...

#food and drink #goulash #gyulas #paprika hendl #knedlik #knoedel #dumplings #Czech cuisine #clooty dumpling #Scotland #Discworld #GNU Terry Pratchett

[beeoftheanxieties]

Žlikrofi recipe

For all the international baby boos that want to try and make them <3

(I am not responsible for the successes or failures of your žlikrofi attempts)

So, I made them today, after a very long time. Got some useful pics for illustration, especially on how to make the shape. Used this recipe, so you'll get an adapted translation of it.

For the dough:

300 grams of flour

2-3 eggs

oil

salt

water/milk

Mix the salt, flour and eggs to make the dough. I usually mix the flour and salt in a bowl, before creating a little dip in the center in which I then mix the eggs with a fork, gradually adding flour. If you find it a bit too dry, add some water. You should be left with dough that is slightly softer than that for pasta. Cover it with oil and let it rest, preferably in the fridge, while you make the filling.

The filling:

500 grams of potatoes

50 grams of pig lard

one onion

spices (salt, pepper, chives and majoram)

Boil the potatoes whole without peeling them (about 30 minutes). Once done, peel them and mash them. As it cools, saute your onions on the pig lard, until it softens. Add the lard and onions to the potatoes and mix. Cut in chives and add other spices.

Roll the potato fill into balls roughly the size of hazelnuts. This will take a while, so I recommend you listen to the entire Joker Out discography while you do it (also when you are making the actual žlikrofi themselves).

Once your balls are prepared, roll out your dough to a thickness of about 2mm (I literally use a pasta machine for this). Now comes the shaping!

Place your balls on the dough, so there is a 1 finger distance between them, like so:

Then place the dough over the balls and press down on the spaces between them (the recipe called for me to put some eggwash between the balls as well, but they close without it too). Also cut off any excess dough, your žlikrofi should be of a square shape:

Cut on the dips and place your žlikrof, so the seam is facing down. Gently press on the top, to create its typical shape:

This process will take a while, I managed to listen to Joker Out's entire discography while making them. But they look very pretty they turned out :3.

To cook them, throw them in some boiling water and cook for about five minutes, or until they come back to the top. Usually, they're eaten with goulash, but you can put pretty much any sauce over them and they will pop.

So go on now, make Bojan, or whoever said that you should try them proud!

#žlikrofi #joker out #bojan cvjetićanin #jure maček #jan peteh #nace jordan #kris guštin #never did I think I would be posting a fucking žlikrofi recipe on tumblr #but here I am #do let me know if you tried to make them #or if like #you have any questions

[peterlorres21stcentury]

I was going through some past emails and I found this post from my old Yahoo group

On Feb. 6, the "Old Movie Section" blog posted this "tintype" of Peter, written by Sidney Skolsky, taken from a book titled "Tintypes". Peter was working on "Crime and Punishment" at the time:

<<<< 11/27/1935 HCN Tintypes By Sidney Skolsky

Peter Lorre is in his dressing room. It generally takes him an hour to dress for his role in Crime and Punishment. He does this slowly, intentionally. He believes it aids him to portray the character.

He goes on the set and stands in for himself. He is one of the few big actors who do this. He poses under the hot lights while director von Sternberg arranges them and the camera. He does this because von Sternberg, who is particular about lighting a scene and an actor, asks him to do it. It means hard work for him, but he admires von Sternberg.

While on the set he has a favorite drink, a mixture of raspberry syrup and water. He makes everyone sample it. While making a flicker he doesn't eat much. His lunch consists merely of sliced fresh fruit, usually peaches.

He walks about, whether it be in the studio or in a restaurant, much in the same manner as he did in M. People who have seen him in this great flicker are scared when they first see him in person. He knows this and is greatly amused by it.

It was his excellent performance in M which got him a contract with Columbia. Before coming to America, he signed to play in the flicker, The Man Who Knew Too Much, to learn to speak English. He is good at languages and was quite adept at English in six weeks. He spoke better English in the latter reels of The Man Who Knew Too Much than he did in the beginning.

He was born in the village of Rosenberg, Hungary, on June 26, 1904. It was after he completed high school that he ran away from home to become an actor. In one early theatrical job he was given a three- line part. After the rehearsals the lines were taken away from him because he overacted. The director said he would be a standout by merely walking across the stage.

He is five feet 5 inches tall, weighs 160 pounds, has brown prominent eyes, brown hair, and rosy cheeks. A strange villain.

He speaks in a low, confidential voice which cannot be heard very far away. At the studio he will visit different offices. He amuses friends by acting and making faces. When telling a story he acts out all the characters.

He is a mild, pleasant person. He has a house at Santa Monica to which he invites his few friends for breakfast or dinner. He prefers to test by himself in his garden here. He seldom barks. He is not a visitor to the Hollywood gay places.

He enjoys watching tennis and football. His favorite sport is wrestling. He attends the bouts regularly. He once waited until after a match to ask Man Mountain Dean for an autograph.

He is married to Cecilie Lvovsky, an actress. They met when they were both appearing in the German play, "The Candidate," and were married when they met again in London. He was making a flicker. They were married during a lunch hour, and Lorre was in the make-up he used in The Man Who Knew Too Much. They haven't any nicknames for each other.

He makes charcoal sketches, landscapes and portraits, and is a good artist for his own amusement. He likes to listen to classical music. He detests bright red fingernail polish on women.

He insists that if he did not have to act, he would not. Acting, he says, is a child's profession for a grown up. "But," he slyly adds, "I love it."

When he isn't working he relishes a big meal. He likes Hungarian goulash and is especially fond of new potatoes in cream. He will talk about food and give a lecture on why a certain salami is better than another type of salami.

He is not at all particular about clothes. He doesn't try or pretend to be fashionable. He always carries plenty of baggage, most of which he never uses. He claims it looks good when you're traveling.

He likes cold showers and actually takes them.

He seldom carries money with him. Often he has run into a shop to buy a package of cigarets [sic], has found himself without a penny, and has had to write out a check for 15 cents. He sleeps alone in a twin bed. He wears pajamas, and on warm nights he wears only the jacket. He always reads himself to sleep.

He has a clause in his contract. Each day before work he is allowed to run into Boris Karloff's dressing room and frighten him.

#peter lorre #quotes #interviews #tintypes #does anyone have this book? #I've never seen it for sale #I kind of love this writeup #it's the sort of thing I might write to get a sense of a character #only in this case the character is peter himself #🖤 #let me know what your favorite detail is #I lurb him

[mygalaxypoetry]

Sagau with the creator but... Pt.7

---

"The creator has been spotted in Mondstat?! Oh no! That means big bad news is coming, isn't it!? Is the world already come to an end?!"

"It doesn't seem like it..."

"We need to stock on food, and fast!!"

"Calm down Paimon, let's go ask what the other Knights of Favonius know"

"And then we'll stock on food!"

"Classic Paimon..."

---

"And the Creator said they'll be back after their trip, is that right?"

"Yes, Acting Grandmaster Jean"

"No one else is in the room except us two, Barbara, you can just call me Jean"

"O-of course, Jean!"

*knock* *Knock*

"Come in!"

"Hi Jean! We just came here to ask if you have any information about The Creator's whereabouts! Mr. Tone-Deaf-Bard said that they were spotted in the plaza a few days ago!"

"Well, lucky for you we do have some evidence other than that. Barbara here told me that the Creator came by in the Cathedral with Bennett and Razor. We wanted to talk to them but they said that they'll come back to meet us after a short trip."

"It feels like a long trip than a short one, it's been a few days after their sudden appearance!"

"The Creator is named the Creator for a reason, and that is to look after their creations. Maybe they just wanted to see how Teyvat's doing..?"

"Oh... you make a good point Barbara"

"We'll just have to wait for them to come back, I'm pretty sure their busy with their Duties as well"

---

You were busy alright... busy trying to climb the one thing that terrified you the most as a low AR player, Dragonspine

You swore you won't come back to this mountain after that quest... YOU SWORE!

But you wanted to check if you'd be able to get Todoroki's quirk after getting Bakugou and Midoriya's.

Certainly a low chance of that can happen... still a chance nonetheless.

"Your Grace... are you sure you want to climb up that mountain?" Bennett asked you while Razor held his warm hand, looking up to the mountain. (Bennett getting some flashbacks because of that one event)

... you forgot, you brought your (unofficial) kids here...

"If you guys don't want to, then you can stay here while I go get the other Anemo statue. I'm not forcing you to come up with me" you told them.

"But... you might get hurt! Want to stay with you!" Razor said and hugged you, trying to convince you to stay.

You patted his head and gave him a reassuring smile. "Its only for a while, alright? And if anything bad happens, I'll teleport to you guys. How about that?" You asked and pulled away from him.

"One of the adventurers gave me some goulash if it ever feels too cold so I should be just fine. I'll leave you with the other adventurers for a while, and once I come back, we'll head back to Mondstat. Is that good?" You asked, patting both of their heads.

They looked at each other and nodded. "Alright, I'll have my bandages ready once you come back, just in case!" Bennett said with his iconic thumbs up.

You smiled and said your goodbyes for now.

You walked down the same path you entered the mountain, passing by some fatui members and waving at the frostarm lawachurl.

It kinda frightened you at first, giving some PTSD because you HAD to fight it and your party members where at low health, but it was very friendly.

Even offering you a ride up the mountain, but you politely declined.

You went up all the way to the anemo statue, which was only for a few minutes since the mobs aren't hostile to you.

Half way up the stairs... you completely forgot you needed a special red crystal that can melt the frozen ice.

"... Better than getting the kids hurt, I just need a sword user... or a claymore user" you mumbled, looking at the red crystal.

"Looking for something, your grace?"

You jumped a bit and looked behind you to see, Albedo!

"Albedo! Nice to meet you-... hold on, just let me check something.." you said and pulled his collar a bit to check if he had his star.

He was kinda startled by your sudden boldness, but you were the Creator. He hypothesized that you know everything that happened in Teyvat and this is another piece of evidence.

"Okay, your the real Albedo... Nice to meet you! Sorry if my action made feel uncomfortable, I needed to check" you apologized.

"Its okay... understandable even. I came to this area to paint and just happen to spot you. You looked like you needed help, so I'm here to assist you" he explained, looking around the area.

"I do! I need to unlock one of the Anemo statues and for me to do that, I need this crystal to melt the ice" You looked down at the red crystal.

"I don't have a weapon on me right now. Even if I did have one, I have little to no experience with it..." you sweatdropped.

"Let me help you with that, Your Grace" Albedo said and pulled out his sword.

He gave you the red crystal and you proceeded to melt the ice to unlock the Anemo statue.

You placed your right hand on the statue and your whole arm felt cold in an instant. It felt like a big ice cube just went through your arm to your stomach.

You took of your hand from the anemo statue and looked at your hand. It didn't create any ice, but it did make your hand a bit white on the tips.

"Are you okay Your Grace?" Albedo asked.

You looked at him and nodded. "I'm okay, sorry to cut my visit short but I need to head back the the campsite. My Kid- I mean, Razor and Bennett are waiting for me there" you explained.

"No need to apologize Your Grace. I hope to see you soon" he said.

"I hope to see you soon too, Albedo. See ya!" You said and left him.

"... Their peculiar compared to the Archons... "

---

The Frostarm Lawachurl was waiting for you at the bottom of the mountain, its hand reaching out to you when you came down.

It wanted to offer you a ride back to the campsite and since it was its second offer, you smiled and accepted its ride.

You sat down on its hand and it proceeded to ride you back to the entrance. The gang of fatui members didn't even look at your direction, probably too scared because of the lawachurl.

It stopped and set you down gently. You thanked it, petting its arm before leaving.

You were oblivious to the Lawachurl glaring at the fatui members that dared even to come up to you.

---

Uneventful, I know 😅 but I'll make sure that the next part will have some action.

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #creator au #genshin impact #self aware genshin #genshin impact x reader #my hero academia #gender neutral character

[tcfactory]

Listen, don't get me started on my feelings about stereotyping and cultural appropriation or all of that, because it would be long and rambling and probably not really in line with any popular opinions on the topic, which is just how it is sometimes and that's fine.

This is a small country. We've been conquerors and conquered and rose up and been conquered again. Our religion and much of our culture was eradicated over the last thousand years because it didn't gel with Christianity or whatever power was lording over us at the time. Other small countries are much closer to us at any time than some of you could ever imagine and over the course of history we sometimes traded bits of our culture, but more often than not we made stereotypes, sometimes harmless oftentimes not, about the people on the other side of the invisible line so we could set ourselves apart. This is us and that is them and it's fine if we found them strange or didn't understand their habits all that well, because we are different people and anyway they probably think the same about us.

And if all the world cares to know of our culture are the embroidered flower patterns of what used to be just one small subset, used as tacky decals in the completely wrong context, well. At least they cared to know something. At least there is something that can remain alive while the tourists from those bigger, richer, much more important countries think it's pretty enough for a souvenir. And maybe that guy there raving about the goulash recipe he loves wouldn't even eat a proper gulyás dish if you served him one, but at least he knows the word, kinda, right? Right?

And yeah, maybe that stings if you think too hard about it, but we are small and not much can be done about it and there's not much left to preserve after all this time. We try out best quietly anyway, because speaking up about it too loudly will invite the far right nazi-adjacent crowd, thumping their chests about a mythical, glorious Hungary of conquerors rather than conquered that haven't existed in centuries if ever.

...yeah, best not talk about those guys. Leave them no place to stand. They don't deserve to be here.

I'm fascinated by and a little envious of foreign cultures that, despite facing adversity, are still living, breathing things, because so much of my own has already become empty window dressing. We assimilated into the culture that is a wider Europe in the hope that being more like those richer, bigger, more powerful countries would compel them to spare some scraps from their table and yeah it fucking sucks. And we are not big or interesting enough for others to care, so it's all up to us to hold onto what we can.

And we are not alone in this. This seems to be the lot of the small and there's plenty of that here. We are in fair company.

#tbd #what do you think about barbarian coding well foreigners are still regularly surprised we have electricity here what do you think #to a lot of british and german and etc. people I am a stupid barbarian from a small backwards country #let's not get started on the americans I have yelled at people I otherwise like a lot bc they were being extremely stupid about it #so idk #I'm desensitized to it tbh

[lucycola]

TOS!Spock x Fem!Reader; The Visitor

Modern!AU where Spock is an alien who lands in the reader’s backyard and seeks shelter while repairing his ship. Eventual romance and smut. Inspired in part by this fic here! Reader is an American and shorter than Spock. Barely proofread. 

WARNINGS: Mentions of blood and bodily harm. Language. Sassy reader and sassy Spock. 

Part 1:  You know that I was hoping that I could leave this star-crossed world behind- But when they cut me open I guess that changed my mind

Damn that dog. 

You were sure she always hated you. She had never truly liked anyone but your grandfather. However, it always seemed like toleration than actually liking him. She came inside when called by your grandfather; your grandmother she had always staunchly ignored. She nipped at visitors when they tried to pet her in her younger days and if anyone ever left their meatballs unattended at the dinner table she’d gobble them up. 

The most you could get away with in later years were a few pets to her head before she huffed and rolled over out of your reach. She barked whenever packages were delivered and snapped at the ankles of your estranged family when they’d try to surprise you. At least she was good for that. 

The dog and the house were left to you when your grandmother died, your grandfather passing only some time earlier. 

You were grateful, truly-but, ever since then the property taxes and Spaghetti, your dog, had been a pain in your ass.

Today especially. 

A loud BAM caused you to jerk from a light doze. You fell off the sofa in a silly manner and sat in shock. For a split second, you thought it had to be thunder, but you knew it wasn’t.  Following the noise a bright, piercing light shined through the back windows of the house, bathing the whole den in white. 

It lasted for a whole fifteen seconds before dying out. You were left in near darkness, the power having gone out. The only light was from a dying fire you had lit hours ago. You had been curled up cozily on the sofa and now you were a pile on the rug. 

Spaghetti gave a little gruff, stepping on and over you. 

You clambered to the kitchen, not giving your eyes much time to adjust, and looked through the bay window to the woods in the back yard. You could see a small line of smoke billowing in the rain.

The old hound barked and you reached the wall phone, an antique to some and tried to dial for the police. No dial tone. 

“Shit.” 

She barked again. 

“Woof yourself.” 

You did not want to go out there, especially in the pouring rain at night. 

The light was what freaked you out the most.  Lightening didn’t flash for that long. Could it have been a plane crash? There was a small business airport near by. You weren’t even sure if it was still operation and besides, as far as you were concerned aviation crashes didn’t cause that much light for that length of time. If at all. 

Something was out there, though. 

You found yourself frozen, having already donned your raincoat and goulashes. Your hand was shaking thinly on the door knob, your other hand gripping the flashlight. 

You opened the door only a crack and immediately was greeted by a rush of cold air. You almost forgot it was late fall and the rain was freezing.

“Nope no way. I’d rather live,” you said. 

The dog decided that that was a great time to nudge her nose through the crack and force the door open. 

“Spaghetti!” you called, exasperated, heading out onto the porch. 

Damn it!

“Spaghetti, come back!” you cried, moving outside, trying to find her with the light on your beam.

You heard her bark and moved out further into the rain, following the direction of her bark.

The flashlight shined a concise path into the forest and against the opaque haze of rainclouds you could make out the billow of smoke. 

Except there was no fire.

You were trembling as you moved into the woods. The area well known even in the dark from your time as a child exploring them. You stepped on slippery rocks and roots and birthed into a clearing, forcibly made by a...wreckage?

You shined the light on what could only be an alien craft. You couldn’t even begin to describe what it even resembled other than such.

Lo and behold sat Spaghetti sat there, tail wagging, tongue lolled out.

“Come here!” you hissed.

She only sneezed in response and turned her backside to you, sniffing the wreckage.

Turn around right now, your brain screamed. Turn around right now and pretend you didn’t see a thing.

There was the sound of rushed air being let go and the metallic creak of a ramp being lowered like a mote.

Spaghetti began barking again, backing up next to you.

That same white light flashed out over you, although it was significantly duller than before. Silhouetted in the light was a figure, tall and very like that of a human man.

You instinctively shined the light on him. Dark eyes met yours and he took a step forward only to immediately clutch his side and crumple.

He plummeted off the short side of the ramp and you ran to meet him, coming to your knees at his fallen body.

He hardly looked alien if it wasn’t for his elf like ears, framing both sides of his face. You pressed a tentative hand to the side of his face. His eyes fluttered and closed again. You felt something desperate pull at your heart.

You could not leave him here.

--

How you managed to pull him through the mud and muck back into your home was nothing short of a miracle. You were relieved to see the power had come back on. 

After laying him out on the rug you felt sure you yourself would collapse next to him of exhaustion. You both were soaked and your first mission was to get you and him dry. You hastily went upstairs, tearing through an old dresser in a spare bedroom. You never threw out your grandfather’s old clothes and it would be awkward, but this was the only resource you had.

You didn’t know the extent of his injuries yet so you grabbed a first aid kit you barely knew how to use for good measure.

When you returned he was the same as you found him, making a nice wet stain in the old rug. Spaghetti had laid adjacent to his body, head resting on his chest.

You were appalled at how she had been acting. She was never like this-well, except when your grandfather was sick. The realization frightened you. 

You knelt to him and realized you were still trembling as you pushed his dark hair back to reveal a small gash that was oozing green.

He really wasn’t of this world.

His eyebrows, which stopped growing at the arch, furrowed at your touch and then relaxed again which you forced your shaking to stop.

You removed your hand and then awkwardly moved to undress him. He wore a set of robes that were dark in color with a high collar. The material was unknown to you, but it was heavy.

The whole moment was surreal. Maybe this was a fever dream, you thought, as you peeled off each piece of clothing one by one.

His chest was hairy and you found yourself blushing. At the sight of a deep wound streaming from his left flank, however, you were no longer enamored. You pressed gauze to the wound and held it there for as long as you thought might clot the bleeding. You right hand were nearly soaked with green, but after some time the flow finally stopped and you could remove pressure.

You found peroxide in the kit and were hesitant to use it on his wound. Would it hurt him more than help? Would it even work on his alien body? Would it poison him?

You  retrieved clean gauze and poured a bit of the solution into it. You gently pressed it to the large cut and he was up like a livewire.

He clutched your wrist with a steel like grip, his brown eyes wide and bloodshot.

You squeaked and struggled in his hold.

Spaghetti jumped back and yapped her head off, tail wagging.

He said something evenly, something you couldn’t understand.

You felt tears bubble up in the corner of your eyes and instantly you were released. You scrambled backwards against the fire place and he sat there on the rug, chest rising and falling harshly.

His face, however, was extremely controlled and almost devoid of anything.

“Who are you?”

His voice was deep and something in it excited you.

Wait.

Wait.

“You’re speaking English,” you blurted, that being the only thing you could focus on at the moment.

“Affirmative.”

“You’re...awake.”

“Astute,” he glanced around and reached for his side again, giving a wince. “Yes. I do not intend to alarm you, but I must inquire of where I am, exactly.”

“You...you’re in my house...” You further clarified by the name of your little home town and state.

“I see,’ he continued to look around and finally settled his gaze upon you.

“And you are...?”

“Y/N.” Your mouth was full of cotton and a thin tremor had taken control of your body.

“Do not be afraid,” he said and tried to stand, on failing at the sharp pain he felt in his side. He clambered back down to the rug, “I mean no harm to you.”

Spaghetti eventually settled down and sat next to you, cocking her head.

He reached for the gauze you had attempted to use to disinfect his wound and turned it over, finally pressing his softly to his side. He winced again but quickly regained his composure.

You drew your knees up to your chest, too afraid to any come closer. He didn’t seem threatening, but the way he had grabbed you frightened you. The wild look in his eye.

You tried to convince yourself he was scared in that moment; shocked to see an unfamiliar face in a place he had never been before.

“How...how do you know English?” you asked.

He looked over you and then met your eyes. Your eyes fluttered down, pink flushing up your neck and reaching your ears.

“My mother is Terran,” he informed you.

“Terran?”

“From Earth,” he further elaborated, “My father is of Vulcan and as am I, as it is where I was born.”

You found the courage to nudge yourself a little closer and crawled enough to where you were two feet away.

“What’s your name?” you asked.

He held up his free hand, spreading his fingers into a strange salute.

“I am Spock.”

“Spock,” you repeated, feeling the name on the edge of your lips. You held out a hand, “P-pleased to meet you.”

He only looked at it quizzically and you withdrew your hand awkwardly.

--

You probably should have been more freaked out that you were, but for some reason you were calmly packing his wound and trying not to wrap the gauze around his midsection so tightly. You didn’t make eye contact-no, couldn’t as you tended to his wounds. Why did you feel so embarrassed? You had seen a man half naked before. You had slept fully naked with multiple people. Was it his ears? You almost had the inclination to pinch them, but seeing as he wouldn’t even shake your hand, that was a big no-no. Even people on earth didn’t do that-well, strangers didn’t.

You remember your grandmother snagging your ear after finding the broken window your baseball had sailed through.

Spaghetti was sitting on his other side, casually sniffing at him. He paid her no mind however.

Jesus, you thought, she’s never been this nice to a stranger.

“Y/N.”

You looked up and were met with dark eyes, deep and ever so slowly burning into your face.

“Thankyou for your assistance,” he continued, “The location of my wound is approximate five point seven centimeters from my heart and would have been fatal.”

“No problem,” you replied, sticking the final wrap of coban to itself, “Just don’t harvest my organs.”

What was supposed to be a half-hearted joke was met by silence. His brow furrowed for a split second and then returned to its default state of stone.

“I do not comprehend such a statement.”

You felt the color drain from you face a bit.

What if he was here to harvest you? Probe you, splay you on an operation table-wait.

“Your heart is in your stomach?” you back-peddled unintentionally.

“Precisely where a human’s liver would be located.”

Please don’t take my liver, Mister Spaceman.

Your face was still pale, eyes wide. He stared at you a moment. He gingerly grabbed the neatly folded stack of you grandfather’s clothes you provided him.

Spaghetti who had been sniffing him for over fifteen minutes at this point licked a long stripe up his cheek.

He finally acknowledged her, “No, thankyou. I presume this a...companion of some kind.”

“She’s my dog. Spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti,” he repeated. You assumed it was meant to be a question, but it came out more like a statement. His voice was so...even and monotone almost.

“That’s her favorite food.”

He nodded, “I see.”

“I assume you possess a lavatory in this domicile,” he said as he stood. Jesus, Spaceman was tall.

You pointed down the hall, “Second door to the left.”

“I shall return.”

You nodded, mouth feeling dry.

It had dawned on you, all at once, without warning.

You had an alien in your house-who knew where your liver was in your body.

But-you kept reminding yourself, his mother was from Earth. Meaning he was half human his self. What if that was a lie? He could speak English after all.

You glanced at the phone in the kitchen. No police would ever believe you over the phone. Even if someone showed up the wreck and Spock would be seized and then you’d be tossed in a looney bin for good measure. A total cover up, government style.

Maybe you were already in an institution, hallucinating all of this.

“Pinch me,” you murmured.

“Why would I perform such an act? It seems it would be unpleasant to you.”

You looked up to see Spock standing over you, a spectacle in your dead grandfather’s clothes.

“You seem unwell.”

You stood, still a good head shorter than he.

“Spock, why are you here?” you asked, trying to conceal the shiver

“Because you brought me here,” he replied, as if it was the only explanation you needed.

Smartass.

“No, Spock, on Earth,” you urged.

He tilted his head, “As I said before, my mother is Terran. I have always wanted to visit after hearing her stories.”

You nodded, half convinced, “What’s her name.”

“Amanda Grayson.”

“She’s-”

“Terran.”

“No,” you started, “She’s American?”

“Indeed,” he replied moving over to lean on the side of the couch. His hand had come to rest on his injured side. He did not make any kind of face to indicate he was uncomfortable, however.

“So...” you glanced around the room a bit, feeling around for a not completely obvious way to interrogate him, “What state is she from?”

“Iowa,” he answered simply. “That is where I was travelling to initially.”

“Oh, buddy, you’re way away from there,” you snorted.

“Still astute, aren’t you,” he retorted, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“What?” you asked, thrown off.

“I was simply stating that you are aware of your location in terms of state and distance from my intended location-”

“I know when someone’s being a smartass,” you rolled your eyes. “Anyway, what’re you doing all the way out here. Did you crash?”

Stupid question. You knew that already. You mentally slapped yourself. 

“Affirmative.”

“Why?”

“That-” he answered, “is something I have yet to discover. That of which is something I would like to do now.”

--

“I’m not going out there with you,” you said, hands on each hip.

Spaghetti whined at his feet.

“I did not inquire upon you to accompany me,” Spock said pulling on a pair of rainboots, also your grandfather’s. It was so odd to see his clothes being used. It almost felt perverse. However, he did change back into his soaking wet clothes-at least the under tunic and slack that were under his robes.

It was oddly respectful.

“I don’t think you should go out there either,” you said, “You’re still hurt and the weather has gotten worse.”

“Precisely why I must return to the ship,” he said, already heading to the door, “There is a medical kit I must retrieve. These bandages will not suffice in helping my blood clot efficiently. The wound is much deeper than I initially realized and I am due to slowly bleed out over the next twelve hours.”

You made a face, fully flustered with him, “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I just did.”

You huffed. Men. “What if you get hurt worse than you already are?”

He looked down at you, “I did not say I was opposed to your company. I would let you go alone to retrieve the kit if it were not plausible that you would not get lost or injured in the process.”

“I’m not useless,” you said, pouting a little.

“Strange. You keep reiterating statements that I have not made, “ he remarked, “Mother does the same thing.”

Your neck flushed. You wasn’t sure if that was meant to be sweet or insulting.

“Are you to accompany me or not, pi' veh.”

A sharp thought pierced into your mind, causing your stomach to drop.

That’s just what he wants, isn’t it? To get you on his ship, alone, so he can splice you and-

“Y/N-you look unwell again.”

You grabbed your grandfather’s unused coat that had hung next to your grandmother’s, gathering dust on the hook for several years.

You handed it to him, “Be careful.”

Spaghetti woofed quietly followed by a little whine.

“No, you can’t go,” you said as the extra-terrestrial disappeared. 

You slid down to the floor with your back to the door, leaning your head against the wood. 

Spaghetti wined again. 

“We have to be patient.” 

You place your hand atop her head. She let it stay there for two seconds and then ducked, moving to lay beside you. You tried to scratch her ear, but she rolled over, woofing quietly.

“He said he had twelve hours before he bled out, “you said to yourself, “He’ll be fine.”

You closed your eyes. 

--

You awoke with a start Spaghetti woofing into your ear. You could smell her rancid breath. 

“Gross,” you shoved her away. How long had you been asleep? 

You looked at the clock. Nearly an hour had passed.  You looked around. The fire had died out completely and your grandfather’s boots and coat were still missing. 

Fuck. 

Spaghetti whined louder, nipping at your ankle. 

“Okay, okay!” you sighed, “Fine! But you have to stay here this time.” 

The dog plopped back down on her bottom as if acknowledging your statement.

You shakily grabbed your rain coat, still dripping a bit from earlier. You grabbed the flash light and the fire poker for good measure. 

Gird your livers, folks. 

You stepped out once again and cursed yourself for not changing back into your wet clothes once again like Spock had before. Now you’d be the proud owner of two sets of wet clothes.

Although the rain had lightened some the wet still settled through your coat and stuck like ice to your skin. 

It was a bit easier to navigate down to the wreckage again as you retraced your steps in the flashlight’s beam. The smoke had been stifled and there was no light coming from the ship. The door was still down and you hesitantly took a step onto the ramp. 

You nearly ate dirt as you slipped and fell onto your backside. Embarrassingly you continued forward on your hands and knees, clutching the flashlight in your armpit. 

This is probably a trap, you mercilessly thought, or he’s dead. 

Shit. 

You made it inside a small cargo hold it seemed like and shined your light on what looked like a ladder. Little smears of green were on the bars. 

His blood. 

Shit again. 

You shined a light up into the hole. “Spock!”

No answer. 

“Spock, answer me!”

Nothing.

You took in a deep breath.

“You come down this instant! If you think you’re going to eat my liver you’re wrong buddy!”

“Vulcans are--vegetarian.”

Your heart did a leap at the sound of his voice and immediately settled in your stomach. He sounded out of breath.

“Are you okay?” You carefully began up the ladder, to what may have been your funeral. It was too late now. You were already invested. 

“Spock?” you called again, in a softer voice. 

You crawled into what you could only assume to be a cockpit with its control board and chairs. It was sleek and devoid of much color. It had a wide windscreen which showed blurry stars and rain streaks. 

“Y/N.”

You turned to see Spock sitting again the wall with a some kind of kit in hand. It looked as if he had begun to staple his wound but had only got halfway. His hands were soaked in green.

“Spock!” you hissed and clambered closer. 

“I thought you were not coming.”

“I thought you were dead.” 

“Or to eat you, apparently.” 

You ears flushed pink. “You’re bleeding all over the place!” 

You noticed a set of shiny fabric squares at his hip and assumed were towels of some kind. You picked one up and carefully pressed it to the unstapled wound. You didn’t know what you were doing. Panic had already settled in. He was pale and you were afraid. 

“The--local anesthetic was obliterated in the crash and I have found it somewhat difficult to operate under such conditions with one hand,” he explained eloquently even while wincing. 

He pulled the towels away to demonstrate. 

“You see, I need to hold the wound closed while I mend, but--” he tried to pinch his skin together, “-it keeps slipping. You must hold it together for me if I am to be successful.” 

Your stomach turned again. “Oh-okay.”

You tucked the flash light between the crook of your neck and shoulder. The vessel was not completely out of light. There were very dims lights outline the windscreen, but it didn’t seem like enough. 

You tried to pinch his skin together without your fingers dipping into the wound. 

“That will do,” he said, continuing to staple. The clicking noise it made reminded you of when your aunt took you to get your ears pierced at the mall. Your grandmother had been furious. Your right ear had gotten infected. 

You hoped furiously this wound didn’t get infected. You didn’t know if you could even get antibiotics for him, much rather if he could even take them. 

“Do you have medicine here?”

“In the bag,” he replied evenly, trying to steady his breath.

Slowly he stapled and you moved your hands along until you both reached the end. He reached into the med kit and pulled out something that looked like a hollow tube filled with an orange fluid. He fumbled it with his bloody grip and you caught it. 

“Press it to my abdomen, right above the sutures. There is a button on the side.” 

You did as he told and he stifled a hiss. You heard a spraying sound, but saw nothing come of it. The orange fluid had disappeared. 

Insulin?

“Medicine-” he answered as if he read your mind. “-to prevent infection.”

You returned the vial to the bag and grabbed a clean towel. You began to try to clean him up, shivering. 

“Let’s go home.”

PART TWO

#spock x reader #Spock x fem!reader #TOS!spock #tos!spock x reader #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #mister spock #star trek #star trek TOS #startrek #lucycola

[sorenphelps]

For ask game: 1, 4, 5, 10

Hi there! (I think we are neighbors?)

1. favourite place in your country?

Already answered here.

4. favourite dish specific for your country?

I think the most famous is Gulyás (goulash), which is actually a soup originally made from beef and a shitton of paprika. My favourite ones are however lángos, which is a fried sort of bread-like street food with sour cream, garlic and cheese (there are a lot of other versions now), and túró rudi which is a... chocolate bar kind of thing with cottage cheese. I know it sounds disgusting, but it's better than it sounds, I swear! This one has a lot of different versions now too, my current personal favourite is flavored with chestnuts. I also like töltött káposzta (stuffed cabbages), it's usually prepared for Christmas, and I think our neighbor counties also have a dish very similar to it.

5. favourite song in your native language?

I have a lot! I listen to Hungarian alternative/underground rock a lot (unfortunately it's not that popular genre here nowdays), so from the top of my head, I'd pick these three:

Tánc by Kiscsillag. I just like the vibe of this song, I can't really explain why.

Magam adom by Quimby. It's my number one heartbreak song because of the lyrics.

Beszorult mondat by Kispál és a Borz feat. Krúbi. They are an old band who reunited last year after almost a decade of silence. This song is from their newest album, and they had a collab with a new popular rapper, which shouldn't work, but somehow this track is just so good?!

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language?

We have so many swearwords, it's very hard to pick just one! We can get very creative with them, we can swear for multiple minutes straight without saying the same word twice! Also, the meaning of our words are quite nuanced, so we have a lot of phrases which technically contain no swearwords but are used as swearing. To illustrate this a bit, lets start with a "basic" phrase: kurva anyád = "motherfucker", literally meaning your mother is a whore. The phrase still qualifies as a swearing if the actual swearword ("kurva") is not included, to the point that we use "anyázni" (mentioning someone's mother) as a synonym for cursing. So if we ask "Anyád hogy van?" (How is your mother feeling?) it can mean fuck off. "Menj anyádba!" (Go back into your mother!) is more direct and also means fuck off. "Anyám, borogass!" (Mother, please bathe me!) can be used the same way, but it's milder and now a little archaic even, it's mostly used as a sarcastic remark like "no shit, sherlock". Speaking of shit, we are very creative with this word too. We use it as noun and an adjective too, "szar" can be used for anything that's bad. If we say "Szarjál sünt!" (Go and shit hedgehogs!) that can also mean fuck off. I can go on and on forever, especially that I swear a lot. Or in Hungarian, "kibaszottul kurva sokat káromkodok!" (I swear so fucking much.)😅🤬

#lau gets personal #ask game #fun facts about hungary

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Article on Rammstein/Flake - Berliner Zeitung 2023-03-18

author:Martin Schuler

attempt at translation

A spoonful of sugar in the goulash: Rammstein and Flake's special role in the band

Why are Rammstein the most misunderstood band in the country? What does their music actually want and what is the special part keyboardist Flake plays?

There is no band in this country over which German article-writers have broken their pen with such force as Rammstein. Shortly after the band was founded in 1994, journalists shot poisoned darts at the targets they had identified. Since then, their chain of arguments has been as follows: the sextet not only uses National Socialist stylistics, but also stands accordingly in the intellectual tradition of fascism.

Aesthetic parallels were found in abundance: On the one hand, there was the mechanical opulence of the stage design. Secondly, there is the pathos that shakes marrow and bones that accompanies it. Other points in the indictment list authoritative poses, hypermasculine behavior and singer Till Lindemann's frenetically rolled "R". His band colleague and keyboardist Christian "Flake" Lorenz once told the music magazine Rolling Stone that the people in the GDR had taken the mentality with them to the unified Germany to take bad criticism from the press as recognition: "As long as media like 'Stern' or 'Spiegel ' hate us, the world is okay."

Rammstein never really understood the discourses about supposedly right-wing tendencies. The basic attitude of the band was that they grew up as punks and goths; on the other hand, with Nazis there were fights in their youth. In fact, Rammstein made decisions in the past that were grist to the mill of their primarily West German opponents. For example, a music video for the cover song "Stripped" released in 1998 contained material by Leni Riefenstahl - the director who once staged Hitler's ideology with her propaganda films. Rammstein admitted their mistake.

Pleasure in provocation: Rammstein and right-wing extremism

They wanted to put an end to the media accusations shortly after the turn of the millennium. On the piece "Links 2 3 4" published in 2001 it says frankly: "You want my heart in the right place / But then I look down / It beats to the left / Left, two, three, four". The refrain missed the desired signal effect. To this day, a wide variety of newspapers print comments on their culture pages that declare Rammstein to be 'undesirable formation'. It must not be forgotten that those mechanisms have always been helpful to the band's outrageous success.

The Rammstein musicians enjoy the provocation, and anyone who sows an affront will reap indignation. It's all part of the game, Rammstein are aware of that. But there is an essential difference, whether the writing guild calls the group a fright of the citizens or declares it to be a right-wing extremist. Anyone who postulates the latter should be really sure and otherwise remain quiet. The roots of Rammstein's theatrical style and larger-than-life staging can be traced back to the 1930s. That is indisputable. What many journalists all too often overlook, on the other hand, is the deliberately caricaturing portrayal of brute nationalism. Perhaps because people in Germany can't stand the satirization of their own dark history, they overlook the deliberate exaggeration stumbles over false floors and misjudges breaks in the martial performance. At this point it should be mentioned that in other parts of the world people have far fewer problems recognizing Rammstein's staged acts as such.

Counterpoint within Rammstein: the keyboard player Flake

Rammstein keyboardist Flake Lorenz also embodies a counterweight to the rock-solid male figures. His slim stature and glasses give him a certain fragility, they ironically contrast the rest of the band. In his role as an oddball, it's up to him to relax the robot-like choreography with bizarre interludes. The keyboarder has been rowing a rubber boat over the audience since the late 1990s. Also, as a comic character on the show, he has already stewed in a saucepan and been doused with molten metal in a bathtub.

Long before all this circus, there was Feeling B. In 1994, Rammstein emerged from that East Berlin fun punk group, only Flake Lorenz took his time with his "conversion" to Rammstein. The riffs were too blunt for him, the aura was too severe. According to Rammstein guitarist Paul Landers, it took a lot of convincing, but the young band didn't get tired of getting on their knees. They needed a person who countered them: "If Rammstein is goulash, then you have to put a spoonful of sugar in it so that the goulash tastes good," said Landers at the end of the nineties.

Diabolical but democratic: the East Berlin band Rammstein

To stay with the image: the metaphorical sugar as a counterpart to the acidity of the tomato did not fail to have an effect, the recipe tasted good on all continents. Only a few years after their founding, Rammstein were about to bring the 'Neue Deutsche Härte' genre they had cultivated into the world. The basic musical plan: Fast, American and distorted heavy metal guitars, the drums thrash a Teutonic four-four time. Flake Lorenz's playing on the keyboard loosens up the seemingly diabolical and, in itself, simple sound construction. In the production, he is also responsible for the samples, the choirs and strings, thus transporting Rammstein into the world of pop - just think of "Engel", one of their most prominent songs.

Incidentally, Rammstein make each of their decisions after a democratic majority vote, all votes carry the same weight. Even Lindemann's lyrics are up for debate within the band before each album. Drummer Christoph Schneider once described his band as a creature that can only grow up when all six members are together. The musicians are divided, especially with regard to the question of how much circus a rock band can actually take. For Lindemann, sparkles and flames are an essential part, others sometimes see the music pushed too far into the background.

Calculated taboo breaking: Rammstein and the evil topics

Throughout their career, Rammstein has broken countless social taboos: BDSM, incest, abuse, drug use, pyromania, necrophilia, cannibalism, voyeurism and sex tourism. They have negotiated all these topics on their eight studio albums in almost three decades. The fact that Lindemann mostly writes in the first person gives his stories a frontal immediacy. Of course that polarizes and it's obviously too much for some people. In March 2019, Rammstein released the single "Deutschland". According to old practice, they shocked in advance with a thirty-second snippet.

It shows the band members disguised as concentration camp inmates being led to the gallows - the spiral of outrage continued as usual. Finally, the nine-minute monument from a music video appeared, and with it the treatise on the atrocities of German history. Rammstein didn't heroize, they bluntly flaunted this country's DNA. The lines cannot – they must – be read as an unmistakable positioning: “Germany! Your love is a curse and a blessing! Germany! I can't give you my love.” Here lies the heart of the matter: Rammstein have always revealed the destructive power inherent in our German nature. Let's learn to keep the demons at bay!

#rammstein article #a very good one imo #fully agree with this view #rammstein #flake lorenz

[pheita]

Treat from my ask game for Always Prepared 🧡🖤🧡

Hey CJ, I needed to check in first what the modus operandi is from yours 😅

You get my new favorite moment from Always Prepared that actually Wynne and my best friend forced me to write and not just mention it with a throwaway line.

For better understanding. Nesryn ended up by accident in a different world where dragons and humans live peacefully together. Magic exists, and humans and dragons have different kinds of magic. After she and a newfound friend got attacked by some sleazy city counsel man during a festival, it showed that Nesryn got some magic as well and now her friends have to teach her how to use it. Or more, first find out what flavor of earth magic she has.

That's where Irideska comes in, the female dragon, niece of the Highest Dragon, and known to have unique teaching methods (which is why she isn't allowed to teach anymore) The last one who suffered under it was Nardik, ambassador of the city-state Thorkglesh and one of the close friends of Nesryn.

More under the cut

Unconcerned, Nardik stood with Lorkin at the base of the wall. At the top, Irideska and Nesryn stood, trying to test whether Nesryn could do gravitational magic. "She's not going to throw her down, is she?" asked Lorkin anxiously. They both looked up, where the two women stood perilously close to the edge of the wall. "I wouldn't bet on it," Nardik admitted. "I'm beginning to understand why Irideska isn't allowed to teach anymore."

The memory of Irideska throwing him off the wall that time to see if he was able to create a shield came up in Nardik. "Nardik?" "What?" "What was that noise just now?" With a frown, Nardik turned away from the sight above him for a moment and looked at Lorkin. "What sound?" "That thoughtful, skeptical huff." "Nothing important," Nardik chuckled.

His gaze went back up to where Nesryn was clearly discussing something with Irideska. "What are you two doing here?" asked Thurash behind them. "Gravity lessons for Neshryn," Lorkin replied with an upward nod. A thoughtful snort accompanied Thurash as he stood beside Nardik and looked up as well. "Irideska has learned from last time, I hope," he said. "You forget she has a sadistic streak," Nardik reminded him. "One of the reasons those two like each other," Lorkin added. The discussion on the wall grew more heated, leading Irideska to show herself in her dragon form. "Oh no…"

No sooner had Nardik spoken than Irideska had thrown Nesryn over the wall. "Irideska are you mad?" roared Thurash across the courtyard. Nardik could just react in time and call the water from the horses' trough to use it as a cushion for Nesryn. He only partly noticed how Lorkin was already calling the hospital. Somehow, Nardik managed to fill up the little water with the moisture of the air and create a kind of chute for Nesryn, so she landed in the bushes. Still, it was a hard landing. Thurash was already running for the spot while Nardik was moving the water back into the trough and Lorkin was still talking to the hospital.

"Fucking hell, Irideska, I'll kill you for this. You're going to be fucking dragon ragout, I don't care if it's treason. Have you gone completely insane?" Nesryn's rant made all three men exhale in relief. As long as she could rant, she was fine. "You're alive after all," Irideska laughed from the wall in safety, "Anyway, now we know for sure that you can't do gravitational magic." Pressing her lips together, Nesryn sparkled at Irideska, then looked at Nardik. "Anyone has a recipe for dragon goulash?"

#writblr #writing #always prepared #writblr trick or treat

[eorzeashan]

Echani Wintertide: "Trul's Tide"

Winter is a vital time in Echani culture, given their connection to the cold and the frost of their home planets. While it is a time of life and celebration much like the rest of the galaxy, it is also one of war and tribulations for the Echani. This period bears witness to some of the most important rites of passage for a people said to be born from the fallen snow, as cold and majestic as the season they revere the most.

To understand the naming convention of such an auspicious event, one must revisit the Echani religion. Trul is a main deity of the Echani pantheon, the mother wolf and the god of the Echa'olm, ancestor to all Echani and Eshan wolves whom the Echani owe their descent to. She is a multi-legged, massive Echa'olm who rules over the night sky, and it is said the light of the largest stars seen from Eshan are her eyes--with the rest of the constellations being that of her many children.

The season of winter is named after her not only because of ancient Echani reverence of the cold, but because legend states that freshly fallen snow is the shed fur of Trul, whose pelt is whiter than bone, softer than feather down and colder than the sea. Every winter, Trul and her pups do battle in the sky with the giant armored nerf-deer named Ne'Yool to kick off the annual hunts, and the ferocity of their battle is said to be the cause of earthquakes and massive snowfall in the region. This is true in part, as Ne'Yool's own species are not actually nerf-deer as the name suggests, but a mammalian semi-aquatic fish who migrate to land every winter in search of warmer climates. The nerf-deer tunnel through Eshan's glaciers, causing earthquakes and such, and bringing with them a dark tide as they ascend the ice beaches. This is why winter is named "Trul'stide".

The nerf-deer are hunted every winter in preparation for the celebratory feasts, as tributes to Trul and the primary source of meat in a time of little sustenance. Due to their natural outer bone formations, nerf-deer are considered formidable foes, and great honor is given to warriors who slay any number of them. Nerf-deer goulash, cooked right within the shell, is a regional specialty that varies from planet to planet, province to province, yet each Echani settlement claims theirs is the original recipe. Such is the importance of Ne'Yool and Trul's bounty; adults partake of the meat, and children are given the bones and tendons to chew and play with. The children of the chief hunter are given the marrow, seasoned with spices, as a reward.

Winter is not just for the hunt; it is a time of reflection, observation, survival...and the extension of the family. Seekers, or single Echani searching for the children of other families to adopt, take this time to adorn themselves with a pup-pouch--an elaborate outer carrying bag lined with decor that speaks of the life they've lived thus far as a warrior, with the inside containing soft blanket material made from their own fur. As explained before, Echani often raise children unrelated to them by blood, and it is common for children to choose different parents to live different life experiences with before moving on to the next, and rarer for them to only stay with the parents of their birth. The pup-pouch is scented with the bearer's pheromones on Trul'stide, and if successful, will attract a new child who will climb into the pouch to signify that they accept their new parent. Seeker meetups often happen at the Trul'stide feasts where most Echani gather, hence marking Winter as a time of family.

Recent adaptations of Life Day from the wider galaxy to Trul'stide have seen the adoption of the cultural precedent of gifts in Eshan, especially those to children, but it is not seen as a requirement. Young adults are more likely to celebrate the modern way, given their fascination with the outer worlds (and partying). While Eshan sees much jubilation in this time like many other cultures, it is not always peaceful: in late winter the government exams are held. It is a time when Echani warriors vye for the highest position on the Seat of Sisters, Eshan's main governing body.

However, the government exams are not written. Rather, mass combative tournaments are held where warriors challenge each other to single combat with a judging panel overseeing the duel, who keep note of the character of the fighter and their methods, as well as the eventual victor. Echani body-language reading abilities allow the panel to judge the fitness of an individual for a particular government seat by measuring their strength in both physicality and mentality, and if the panel is in unanimous favor, they are allowed to move on to the next battle until only one individual remains to be elected for their new position. Warriors seeking to rise politically train all year for the exams, and current seat-holders strengthen their defenses in case of declared war outside of the tourneys. Ancient times saw much bloodshed in wintertime as warriors fought one another for seats and privileges, leading to the creation of the exams.

In more recent times, in an attempt to appeal to tourism and the spirit of the season, Eshan has seen fit to hold the tourneys over holovid, and for the first time in many centuries, allow offworlders to spectate the tournaments in person--resulting in a multi-billion credit sport where fans flock to the stadiums to witness Echani martial arts in this time. Echani Exam tickets are a popular Life Day gift, and signed paraphernalia has become part of the exams itself for those who treat the tourneys as a special occasion. The mascots representing the government games, Echi and Thrys who are white and brown echa'olms, are especially loved by children and given exclusively as Life Day plushies.

Eshan has seen much modernization when it comes to Trul'stide, even adapting to the galaxy-wide cultural phenomenon of Life Day, yet retains its own traditions when it comes to winter. This, and its importance to the culture, will never change.

#star wars #echani #phew i made it in time to write a lore post hehe #life day #yes i'm saying echani beat each other up in WWEE SMACKDOWNS for government positions #winter is about fighting yule deer to the death