#Oranous Pastry Too Good To Go bag

[stenoodie]

My Hauls from Too Good To Go App (Greater Toronto Area) - January 2023

My Hauls from Too Good To Go (Greater Toronto Area) - January 2023. #toogoodtogo #foodhauls #45surprisebags @TooGoodToGo

Screen of the Too Good Too Go app after you reserve a surprise bag Too Good To Go is a free app that you can use to purchase surprise/mystery bags of food for one third of the original price from participating bakeries, restaurants, and grocery stores.  Continue reading Untitled

[cyberwulf]

Let Me Make You A Plate

Delia shows love and appreciation by making people food. Weight gain but not fetish weight gain. Hanamusa, obviously. SFW, slightly suggestive in places.

Professor Oak (“Please, Delia, call me Sam. We’ve known each other long enough”) has always been a patient teacher and a good friend. Delia’s badly in need of both, left alone with a baby and a business and a broken heart. Sam steps up without her having to ask, happy to take Ash for a few hours or overnight or all weekend if it’s what she needs. If something around the house needs fixing, he takes care of it, and if he can’t then he usually knows who can. She’s at a loss at first for how to repay him – she feels so young and stupid compared to him – until she finds out that he barely cooks and lives in organised chaos since his kids left home. So in return for his advice and support, she gives him a home-cooked meal or a fresh pastry every week.

She makes too much, she knows she does. Diner-sized and growing boy-sized portions. Sam eats it all and jokes that she’s responsible for his middle-age spread, and she holds her breath, but he seems content to grow pudgy and grey – he’s a grandpa, after all.

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Every once in a while, Sam looks at her like he’s going to say something, and Delia holds her breath again… but he never does. She’s relieved. They’re friends. That’s how it should stay.

---

What Ash has told her about Brock’s home life makes Delia’s blood boil. How dare, how dare his father take off without a word? How dare he force his oldest son to be Mr. Mom to ten younger children? Who took care of Brock? Who takes care of Brock?

Well, she’s going to, even though Brock insists on earning his keep, muscling her out of the kitchen, fighting with Mimey over who gets to clean. One morning she gets the drop on him, rising earlier than she has since Ash stopped nursing. The look on his face when he comes downstairs to bacon and eggs and hash browns and fresh squeezed Oran berry juice is something Delia will treasure forever.

“Thanks, Mrs. Ketchum.”

Delia pats his shoulder. She doesn’t let him do the dishes.

---

Tracey has a mother, Delia’s sure, who sent her son off into the big wide world and worries about him every night. So she goes out of her way to make sure Tracey gets a decent meal once a week, even though he’s more than capable of cooking, and Sam swears to her that he doesn’t just order take-out when it’s his turn to fix dinner. It’s her way of paying it forward.

Thank you, Brock. Thank you, Tracey. Thank you Norm and Caroline and Johanna and Nurse Joy and everybody who makes sure my son has a full belly and a safe place to sleep.

That summer, Sam and Tracey paint her house.

---

It’s their gaunt faces and growling stomachs, more than any protestation of innocence, that convince Delia that Team Rocket are no longer Team Rocket. Pokémon thieves they may have been, but not successful ones, at least not for a long time. The sheer quantity of food they put away at the diner is unnerving, but finding all three of them shoulder deep in her fridge later that same night has her preparing for tummy trouble. Fortunately, there are no ill-effects, but it isn’t healthy for them to stuff themselves with as much as they can hold. They eye each other nervously as Delia explains this, then stare at her in wonder when she reassures them that they’ll get three squares a day, and two snacks for good measure. All three of them wail at her feet, exclaiming at her kindness and swearing they’ll never be bad again.

It's a little over the top. But she’ll take it.

---

Delia’s not angry when she finds Meowth and a bag of Pokémon food trapped in an invisible box with Mimey glaring at him, just disappointed. Delia picks him up as he begins to cry, sobbing out a story of a kittenhood spent stealing to eat in between pleas not to kick him out. He’s light in her arms, lighter than Pikachu, and Delia doesn’t know much about Pokémon but that can’t be good.

“Meowth, if you were still hungry, all you had to do was ask.”

He looks at her in surprise as she sits him at the table (to a vicious look from Mimey) and fixes him a bowl of Pokémon food with canned tuna on top. Later that evening, when Jessie and James aren’t around, he climbs onto the couch beside her and rubs his cheek against her arm.

Delia stops setting him a place when after a long day at the corral he practically waddles in, and nearly turns green at the prospect of more food. Of course Sam’s spoiling him, and as the weeks go on he loses his scrawny look, coat and charm and eyes shining. He’s solid when Delia picks him up.

She still slips him a treat whenever he asks.

---

Something about eating together fulfils a need in James. He talks off-handedly about a wealthy childhood, but Delia gets the sense that there was very little love involved. She knows he misses the four of them sitting down to eat now that he and Meowth have moved out, and she knows that he and Meowth have different workdays and don’t often get to eat together either.

So Delia makes sure that when there’s a break in customers, she and James share a meal. He’s a sweet man, funny, kind to his Pokémon – it’s hard to believe he was ever a villain. She worried at first that it would be weird to talk to him about Jessie, but it isn’t. He’s rooting for their budding romance, enough to give Delia advice and warning in equal measure.

She’s the first to notice he’s gained weight, a soft belly pooching over his waistband when he sits down. Like a retired basketball player going to seed. Just like with Sam, she holds her breath, waiting for talk of dieting or wailing about getting fat.

“Ugh, this dress makes me look like I’m expecting.”

James frowns at himself in the mirror, the figure-hugging material accentuating his little tummy, and Delia braces herself.

“…Just mineral water for me please, dear. I’m in the family way.”

“Stop.”

Delia sighs in relief as James continues to mime being pregnant, to Jessie’s increasing disgust.

---

Jessie doesn’t talk much about her past, but what she does mention paints a grim picture. Mother left at a young age, no father around. Foster homes with too many kids (which might be why Jessie makes a big deal out of the slightest illness – how else to get attention?). Only one pencil for school, meagre Christmases, thwarted dreams of being a nurse. Snow – literal snow – for dinner is Jessie’s fondest memory, and it makes Delia want to cry.

There’s nothing Delia can do about any of that, so she cooks. Large meals with enough for seconds and thirds and leftovers, pies and pastries on her days off. The fridge and pantry are full of fruit and yoghurt and cheese. And something starts to happen as the weeks and months go by, and she and Jessie grow closer. Jessie starts to soften. Emotionally, at first. It turns out that prickly Jessie is mostly just hangry Jessie. What’s left softens too, even with James and Meowth – it’s more like banter than nastiness now.

Then, physically. An inch or two here, some extra padding there, rounder cheeks, fuller – figure. She’s healthier, and happier, and continues to grow more so every day.

One morning, Jessie can’t button her jeans.

Delia steels herself for a meltdown. Jessie’ll always look beautiful in her eyes, skinny and heavy, but the other woman is vain, very proud of her image, and society’s beauty standards –

“Babe?”

Jessie pouts at her from in front of the mirror.

“Can I get some money to go clothes-shopping?” she pleads. “These old things simply can’t contain my voluptuous curves.”

So Delia keeps cooking. Not for herself – it’s not a fetish thing – although Jessie’s plush hips and heavy breasts are a welcome bonus. She cooks for a little girl who never had enough – not food, or toys, or support, or love.

---

Ash is coming home. If Delia had a fatted Tauros, it’d be on the grill right now. She makes do with a pot roast and veggies and a turkey and soup and a big chocolate pie. James and Meowth are deputised, Tracey and Mimey keep the workstations clear, Sam peels a million potatoes and Jessie takes the balloon to Viridian City to bring Ash the rest of the way.

Her boy is clean but tired as Jessie walks him in the door, a little overwhelmed by the family and friends crammed into the kitchen and all calling out in welcome. Delia hands off the soup to James and gives him a big hug.

“Dinner’ll be a while longer, sweetie,” she murmurs. “You can have a lie down if you want.”

“Thanks, Mom.” She almost doesn’t hear him mumble “I missed you” into her chest. He pulls away and smiles at her girlfriend. “Thanks for picking me up.”

Jessie smiles back. “Any time, twerp.”

The rest does Ash good, and at dinner he’s himself again, talking about his adventures and the latest villainous team to try conquering the world, prompting snorts of derision from Jessie, James and Meowth. It leads to reminiscing about the old days, though all concerned are glad to leave them behind. And so the meal continues, good food and good company.

Sam snores in an armchair with Meowth on his lap. Tracey insists on clearing the table, and to Delia’s surprise Ash joins him. James brings her a fresh cup of coffee and ushers her into the den, where Jessie draws her into a loose embrace on the couch.

“Room for me on there?”

Delia budges up some and Ash settles in beside her.

“You’re the best mom in the world,” he whispers, and Jessie squeezes her hand.

Delia blinks away tears. Her house is full of love.

colored that sketch i did a while back~