#bread waste pasta

[unladyboss]

BREAD WASTE PASTA: THE BEAR COPENHAGEN

So this organization that makes pasta out of bread waste had some of the bear crew try out the pasta

Tell me why Carmy was cracking me up?!!?!

From these cans

Here are some reactions

I believe Claire was in the background somewhere.

I'm not one hundred percent sure.

So they were being filmed by the organization and they all said it was great.

They ate it raw.

I dunno why but I chuckled at Carmy's expression even though he said it was good.

Because you know when you're put on the spot and the people are in your face...

I actually was cracking up looking at Carmy's face

[cadastrah]

Boyfriend and I both bought a dozen eggs and 400g of butter each without realising the other had done a shop. Now he's off on holidays for a week. We're permanently leaving the apartment the day after he gets back and going home for two months, so I have seven days to do something with 24 eggs and nearly a kilo of butter 😵‍💫

[fingertipsmp3]

The mood of Christmas ‘22 is malaise btw

[selfconsumerofmywoes]

my bolognese just flung itself out of the fridge :(

[russellsppttemplates]

Charles cooking for the kids and they are not the biggest fan of his cooking

"Mama isn't home?", Hervé asked as Charles parked the car in the garage, the spot where you parked your car empty.

"She's having dinner with her friends", Charles explained. As much as he loved spending time with his family in their own bubble, he would be lying if he said that he wasn't looking forward to having his kids' undivided attention on him for the night.

"We might get lucky tonight, maybe she left something made already for us", Hervé mumbled as he got out of the car, "might not be that bad after all", Amélie completed his sentence as she hopped off her seat while Charles carried Thomas up on his hip, walking up to stairs and letting the kids get comfortable in house clothes while he prepared their snacks.

"Do you have any homework, Hervé?", he asked as he cut up some fruit, waiting on the toaster to jump so he could add the bread to their plates.

"No, Ms. Rouvière said we had been well-behaved today, so we didn't get any", your son said as he sat on the stool, making silly faces and playing with Thomas and his building blocks.

"I'm very hungry!", Amélie ran inside the kitchen, sitting on the stool and waiting for her plate as Charles distributed them, "are you, amour? I have this here, and if you want more, let me know and I'll make it. I just don't want you to waste food, that's all", Charles smiled as he kissed the top of her head.

When dinner time came around, Charles had the kids set the table and patiently wait for him to bring the pots and pans to the table, "do you think the pasta will be hard like last time?", Amélie asked her older brother, "I heard mama tell him to leave it longer in the stove", Hervé reasoned, "maybe he did listen to her this time".

"It looks okay... I guess", Amélie added, seeing the pasta on the pot before looking at the giggly Thomas on his high chair, "at least you get the soup mama made for you", she shrugged. Amélie almost always joined you in the kitchen when you batch cooked soup for your little one. Because it made your routine easier, you would often make a big batch and store it in single servings so meal time for Thomas would be easy and you could do it without a hitch everyday.

Granted, the pasta bolognese wasn't the best they've had, but the pasta was considered al dente and the meat wasn't too flavourful, but better that last time where it was too salty.

"It's a good thing papa always let's us have two rounds of dessert", Amélie giggled as Hervé gathered the plates to leave them at the spot on the table where you usually sat, "maybe mama will bring some leftovers", he smiled.

When you got home, the two older kids were first to greet you, "Hi mama!", they said, "Papa is upstairs putting Thomas to sleep", Amélie offered as she looked for something. "You didn't bring anything from the restaurant?", she asked, "no, amour. I ate the last slice of cheesecake they had for the night actually", you said, quirked brow at her question, "did papa not cook the pasta again properly?", you chuckled.

"It was okay, didn't taste of much, but better than tasting bad, I guess", Hervé shrugged his shoulders much like you had done.

"Amour, you're back!", Charles announced his presence, kissing your lips, "did you have a good dinner?", he asked.

"It was good, but I must say I'm feeling peckish, maybe some cookies would be nice", you pouted, prompting him to get them for you.

"This is just once, okay?", you tutted to both kids as they nodded, asserting that eventually you'd have to leave something for them next time you had dinner out without them and Charles was the one in charge of the food.

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

[cupcraft]

Some easy cooking/meal tips as an adult grad student:

You dont need to chop amazingly perfectly and meticuously. At the end of the day chop safely and however. If it tastes good its good.

Instant things can make things 1000% easier for yourself. Instant mash/instant mac/instant rice/instant pasta/etc. Add Frozen things. Add premade things. Your dishes don't have to be from scratch at all aspects ever. Do what is easiest for you and delicious!

You can use pre-ground spices. I know, yes, whole spices and roasting them and grinding them and using a mortar/pestle yourself is delicious and wondrous. But you can use preground spices to save time. You can use a food processor to blend spices/garlic/etc. together.

If you struggle with making too much food (ie food waste concern), try to make dishes you know will freeze well that way you can have leftovers that store for a long time (ie potatoes dont necessarily freeze well imo, whereas rice freezes just fine!). I also recommend just halving recipes and try to shoot for as many portions is suitable for you.

Uh oh made too much rice? What do I do and i dont want to freeze it? 1-2 days in the fridge and you have rice that is going to make an excellent fried rice. You always want to use old rice! And you can put whatever you want in it!

Canned food is okay. Canned food is okay. Canned food is okay. Eat canned meats, fish, vegetables, etc. Imo some canned veggies arent my favorite flavor wise but if you like it and it works USE IT.

Add mayo to each side of your bread when making grilled cheese. It'll make a great brown crust in a buttered pan.

American/processed/velveeta like cheese is fine. Its delicious it melts well its totally fine. Stop demonizing processed foods and "preservatives". Velveeta/kraft cheeses are going to melt so perfectly for your grilled cheese the end.

Instant pots & slow cookers & air fryers can make your life a lot easier, and at least for instant pots/slow cookers I find them easier to clean!

Meal planning will really help you. Plan what you want to eat every week (or as far ahead as it helps you). Pre-cut vegetables. Buy meat in bulk and freeze/thaw as needed. Etc. Prepping/planning will make your life easier!

You can often buy shrimp that is pre-peeled & deveined, and even pre-cooked. This makes cooking time easier and faster.

It's okay to order takeout if you dont have the energy to cook. Its okay to order takeout if you do have the energy to cook. Enjoy and treat yourself.

Preboiling your potatoes (tender but not fully done) then baking them can make a crispier roasted potato.

[plasticferal]

nervous | matt sturniolo.

authors love: my first write for the boys, definitely was a quick daydream i had, take it easy on me!

notes: fluff! short read. no trigger warnings i believe. enjoy.

you never understood why he refused to speak to you, or even look you in the eyes. he would mumble a hello, or look at you for a second before diverting his eyes again. you were always left wondering if he didn’t like you.

given that you were a lot closer to nick and chris, it made you uneasy seeing him open up to strangers but not someone he see’s almost every week, if not every day.

the restaurant table that you were seated at was filled with friends of friends, people you didn’t know, but they knew the brothers. you stayed close to nick, feeling more comfortable with someone you were the closest to. matt and chris sat across from you.

if you were being honest, you felt extremely out of place. almost overwhelmed. you loved going out to eat with them and trying new places, but you weren’t feeling it tonight. you poked and prodded the pasta dish in front of you, losing your appetite.

“hey guys, i think i’m gonna head home for the night, not feeling too hot” you shrug your shoulders lightly and give off an upset look, to say you’re sorry for leaving early without vocalising it.

nick pouts up at you as you raise from your chair, but understands completely.

“are you sure you don’t wanna stay?” he asks, but you shake your head with another apologetic look. you acknowledge everyone on the table, saying it was nice to meet them.

before you could grab your bag and coat, matt speaks up.

“i’ll drive you home,” he begins to stand from his booth seat.

you’re stunned for a moment, not registering he was speaking to you. you look at him with a furrowed eyebrow and softly shake your head.

“no no, it’s okay. i’ll uber. you drove me here, that’s more than enough,” you give a small smile before starting to tuck your chair in.

“please, let me take you home. it’s late, i don’t want you ubering by yourself,” he insists, throwing his hoodie over his arm and moving away from his brother. he gives a ‘i’ll be back’ nod to chris, and chris waves you goodbye, having a mouth full of bread he was occupied with.

he doesn’t waste time pulling his car keys out of his pocket and leading the way to the front door of the restaurant, pushing open the glass for you.

“thank you,” you speak, probably sounding more like a question as you’re trying to wrap your head around matt’s sudden eagerness to not only speak to you, but be alone with you.

his shiny black car is conveniently parked on the curb just outside, and you watch the orange lights flicker as he unlocks it. you observe him as he looks around, making sure there’s no traffic before he jogs around the passenger side and pulls open the door for you.

you slide in, him joining you within seconds. he sighs as soon as he gets behind the wheel, a deep breath to centre himself.

“thank god,” he mumbles.

you chuckle lightly, watching as the weight off his shoulders almost visibly lifts.

“you okay?” you raise an eyebrow. he exhales a laugh.

“yeah, just wanted to get out of there,”

“oh, so you didn’t actually want to take me home, i was just a good excuse?” you speak in a teasing tone, if not to try and lighten the slight awkwardness between you two. you’ve never spoken to him this much. you’ve tried, you speak to everyone. he was just much harder to get through to. for you, at least.

he instantly looks worried, turning to you and shaking his head.

“no, no not at all, it was just, a lot going on in there, too many people and-”

“matt, i was kidding,” you reach over and place your hand on his forearm, in a soothing way, but quickly pull back, realising it stopped his words much faster than you intended.

his face flushes red, and you’re instantly worried you’ve upset him, not knowing how to read him.

“we should go,” he nods and points to the road ahead awkwardly, starting the ignition. you purse your lips together, almost embarrassed, and sit silently as he drives off.

you hated the fact you couldn’t stare at him. the glimpses you did catch, made you squirm in your seat. his hair was a slight mess, covering his eyes partially. his elbow rested on the door panel frame, one hand on the steering wheel, tattoos flashing with every street light you passed, or just barely noticeable under the moonlight.

you’d never realised the extent of your attraction toward matt until now. alone, with him in control. it was a dynamic you’d never thought would happen.

“hey matt,” you ask.

“yeah?” he’s hesitant, your voice cutting through the silence abruptly.

“have i like, done something to offend you? or make you upset?”

he glances at you for a second, still trying to focus on the road ahead.

“what makes you say that?” he asks, and you’re even more confused that he’s confused.

“i don’t know, you’re just really quiet when i’m around. i mean that’s fine, i don’t care, i just wanna make sure we’re cool. you know?” you ramble, not realising you sound the opposite of carefree.

you do care, you want him to like you. or at the very least speak to you. you needed to know, and the perfect time to find out was alone with him.

he’s quiet for a moment, the car slowing down at a red light. he’s gathering his thoughts.

“you make me nervous to speak, y/n” he finally spits out, softly, eyes looking ahead.

you try to hide the smile creeping on your face.

“nervous? how do i make you nervous?” you ask, your head resting back on the car seat, looking at him.

he turns his head, and does the same resting back. he gives a look that says ‘don’t make me say it out loud’

“i didn’t know i had that affect on you,”

“yeah well i preferred it when you didn’t know, i feel stupid now. i’m gonna go back to not saying anything at all,” moving the car forward again, he confesses.

“you’re not stupid, and i much prefer talking to you than being around you in silence.” you’re hoping you don’t come across as too much, too soon.

“and i much prefer hearing you speak. i like the sound of your voice,” he replies, his tone lower, still refusing to look at you. you smile at him, even if he can’t see your reaction.

“just so we’re clear, you don’t hate me?” you sit up, and he laughs, a genuine, from the chest laugh.

“no y/n, i don’t hate you.” he reassures. you’ve spent so much time looking at him that you haven’t observed your surroundings. you recognise a sign, a street sign that usually indicates you’re close to home.

“i like you,” matt speaks again.

“everyone likes you. i think you’re cool. and funny, and really sweet, and kind” he keeps going, two hands on the wheel now, to be extra attentive while still speaking.

“go on,” you tease. he chuckles.

“ahh, okay, you speak to everyone so easily. and always with a smile, i don’t know how you do it,” he shrugs, and you’re taken aback by his comment slightly.

“you do realise whenever we’re in public you quite literally speak to everyone else, except me,” you’re messing with him abit at this point, deciding it’s not going to be something you let of so easily.

“i also don’t care what those people think of me. i think you’re pretty, so the longer i keep my mouth shut the better chance i have of not embarrassing myself around you,” he rambled, almost talking himself out of breath.

you feel your face flush red, and you know the only reaction to have is gonna be one he won’t like.

“you think i’m pretty?” you respond in a slight sing song tone, and he rubs his hand down his cheek.

“i’ll go back to being silent,” he warns, a gravel, husk in his tone.

“sorry, sorry. please don’t. i like this matt,” you respond, and he glances over at you again, the corner of his mouth turning up.

you’re in comfortable silence for a few seconds, before the car slows down again, and the clicking sound of his indicator echos.

“this your street?” he asks, nodding at a street sign ahead of him. the drive felt too short. sickeningly short. you wanted more, more time to talk.

“ah, yeah. that’s it,” you try to not sound disappointed, but you might have accidentally. he knows your house, he’s dropped you off before. your car sat in the driveway further up, so he pulled in just behind.

putting the car in park, he shifts his body to face you in the seat.

“thank you for driving me home,” you have your hand on the door handle, and matt’s eyes are fixated on your moves.

“hey, ah-” he starts, blue eyes finally locking with yours now that you’re still. the moonlight creates a white hue through the windshield glass, reflecting his eyes.

“i’m sorry if i came across cold. it really is nerves. i just can’t find my words sometimes. especially around you.” he leans his elbows on the armrest, and you let go of the door handle to lean further into him, facing each other.

“i wish you told me sooner,” you give him a gentle smile. he runs his hand through his hair.

“me too.” he agrees.

“we don’t have to talk, you know.” your voice is soft.

his eyes dart from your eyes to your lips, you’re hyper aware of his gaze. you feel goosebumps rise on your skin, and you can almost hear yourself swallow the lump in your throat.

“i know,” he agrees again.

“goodnight, matt,” you lean in, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. you can smell his cologne, and the fruit smell of his shampoo. your chests brush as you lean over the centre console, and for a moment, you stop just past his lips, your eyes glancing toward them as your warm bodies are so close. but you pull away, and he does too.

you wanted to kiss him, you could have, but you only just got him to talk to you. let alone use his mouth for anything else.

“goodnight,” he responds, making sure you’re safe leaving his car. he waits for you as you walk up to the front door, and you look back to see him give you a small wave. it was so wholesome, as sweet as he was.

you quickly walked into the house, replaying everything that had just happened.

you felt butterflies in your stomach and nerves, pure nerves, at the sheer thought of seeing him again.

[lsdoiphin]

Foods of Vestur

@broncoburro and @chocodile provoked me into doing some illustrated worldbuilding for Forever Gold ( @forevergoldgame ), an endeavor I was happy to undertake. Unbeknownst to me, it would take the better part of a week to draw.

In the process, I conjured about an essay's worth of fantasy food worldbuilding, but I'm going to try and keep things digestible (pardon my pun). Lore under the cut:

The Middle Kingdom

The Middle Kingdom has ample land, and its soil, landscapes, and temperate climate are amenable to growing a variety of crops and raising large quantities of livestock. The Midland palate prefers fresh ingredients with minimal seasoning; if a dish requires a strong taste, a cook is more likely to reach for a sharp cheese than they are to open their spice drawer. Detractors of Middle Kingdom cuisine describe it as bland, but its flavor relies on the quality of its components more than anything.

KEY CROPS: wheat, potatoes, carrots, green beans, apples, pears, and grapes KEY LIVESTOCK: Midland goats, fowl, and hogs

ROAST FOWL: Cheap and easy to raise, fowl is eaten all over Vestur and by all classes. Roasted whole birds are common throughout, but the Middle Kingdom's approach to preparation is notable for their squeamish insistence on removing the head and neck before roasting, even among poorer families. Fowl is usually roasted on a bed of root vegetables and shallots and served alongside gravy and green beans.

GOAT RIBEYE: Vestur does not have cattle – instead it has a widely diversified array of goats, the most prominent being the Middle Kingdom's own Midland goat. The Midland goat is a huge caprid that fills the same niche as cattle, supplying Vestur with meat and dairy products. Chevon from the Midland goat is tender with a texture much like beef, though it retains a gamier, “goat-ier” taste. It is largely eaten by the wealthy, though the tougher and cheaper cuts can be found in the kitchens of the working class. Either way, it is almost always served with gravy. (You may be sensing a pattern already here. Midlanders love their gravy.)

FETTUCCINE WITH CHEESE: Noodles were brought to the Middle Kingdom through trade with the South and gained popularity as a novel alternative to bread. The pasta of Midland Vestur is largely eaten with butter or cream sauce; tomato or pesto sauces are seldom seen.

CHARCUTERIE WITH WINE: Charcuterie is eaten for the joy of flavors rather than to satiate hunger, and therefore it is mainly eaten by the upper class. It is commonly eaten alongside grape wine, a prestigious alcohol uniquely produced by the Middle Kingdom. The flavor of grape wine is said to be more agreeable than the other wines in Vestur, though Southern pineapple wine has its share of defenders.

BREAD WITH JAM AND PRESERVES, TEA SANDWICHES, & ROSETTE CAKE: Breads and pastries are big in the Middle Kingdom. The Middle Kingdom considers itself the world leader in the art of baking. Compared to its neighbors, the baked goods they make are soft, light, and airy and they are proud of it. Cakes in particular are a point of ego and a minor source of mania among nobility; it is a well-established cultural joke that a Middle Kingdom noble cannot suffer his neighbor serving a bigger, taller cake. The cakes at Middle Kingdom parties can reach nauseatingly wasteful and absurdist heights, and there is no sign of this trend relenting any time soon.

CHOWDER, FARMER'S POT PIE, GRIDDLECAKES, EGGS, CURED MEATS: If you have the means to eat at all in the Middle Kingdom, you are probably eating well. Due to the Midland's agricultural strength, even peasant dishes are dense and filling. Eggs and cured meats are abundant, cheaper, and more shelf stable than fresh cuts and provide reprieve from the unending wheat and dairy in the Midland diet.

STEWED APPLES AND PEARS, JAM AND PRESERVES: The Midland grows a number of different fruits, with apples and pears being the most plentiful. In a good year, there will be more fruit than anyone knows what to do with, and so jams and preserves are widely available. Stewed fruit has also gained popularity, especially since trade with the Southern Kingdom ensures a stable supply of sugar and cinnamon.

NORTHERN KINGDOM - SETTLED

The Northern Kingdom is a harsh and unforgiving land. Historically, its peoples lived a nomadic life, but since the unification of the Tri-Kingdom more and more of the Northern population have opted to live a settled life. The “settled North” leads a hard life trying to make agriculture work on the tundra, but it is possible with the help of green meur. The Northern palate leans heavily on preserved and fermented foods as well as the heat from the native tundra peppers. Outsiders often have a hard time stomaching the salt, tang, and spice of Northern cuisine and it is widely considered “scary.”

KEY CROPS: potatoes, beets, carrots, tundra pepper KEY LIVESTOCK: wooly goats, hares*

GOAT POT ROAST: Life up north is hard work and there is much to be done in a day. Thus, slow cooked one-pot meals that simmer throughout the day are quite common.

VENISON WITH PICKLES: Game meat appears in Northern dishes about as much as farmed meat – or sometimes even more, depending on the location. Even “classier” Northern dishes will sometimes choose game meat over domesticated, as is the case with the beloved venison with pickles. Cuts of brined venison are spread over a bed of butter-fried potato slices and potent, spicy pickled peppers and onions. The potatoes are meant to cut some of the saltiness of the dish, but... most foreigners just say it tastes like salt, vinegar, and burning.

MINER STEW: While outsiders often have a hard time distinguishing miner stew from the multitude of beet-tinged stews and pot roasts, the taste difference is unmistakable. Miner's stew is a poverty meal consisting of pickles and salt pork and whatever else is might be edible and available. The end result is a sad bowl of scraps that tastes like salt and reeks of vinegar. The popular myth is that the dish got its name because the Northern poor began putting actual rocks in it to fill out the meal, which... probably never happened, but facts aren't going to stop people from repeating punchy myths.

RYE TOAST WITH ONION JAM: Rye is hardier than wheat, and so rye bread is the most common variety in the North. Compared to Midland bread, Northern bread is dense and gritty. It is less likely to be enjoyed on its own than Midland bread, both because of its composition and because there's less to put on it. Unless you've the money to import fruit spreads from further south, you're stuck with Northern jams such as onion or pepper jam. Both have their appreciators, but bear little resemblance to the fruit and berry preserves available elsewhere in Vestur.

HARE DAIRY: Eating hare meat is prohibited in polite society due to its association with the haretouched and heretical nomadic folk religions, but hare dairy is fair game. Hare cheese ranges from black to plum in color, is strangely odorless, and has a pungent flavor akin to a strong blue cheese. It is the least contentious of hare milk products. Hare milk, on the other hand, is mildly toxic. If one is not acclimated to hare milk, drinking it will likely make them “milk sick” and induce vomiting. It is rarely drunk raw, and is instead fermented into an alcoholic drink similar to kumis.

MAPLE HARES AND NOMAD CANDY: Maple syrup is essentially the only local sweetener available in the North, and so it is the primary flavor of every Northern dessert. Simple maple candies are the most common type of sweet, though candied tundra peppers – known as “nomad candy” – is quite popular as well. (Despite its name, nomad candy is an invention of the settled North and was never made by nomads.)

TUNSUKH: Tunsukh is one of the few traditions from the nomadic era still widely (and openly) practiced among Northern nobility. It is a ceremonial dinner meant as a test of strength and endurance between political leaders: a brutally spiced multi-course meal, with each course being more painful than the last. Whoever finishes the dinner with a stoic, tear-streaked face triumphs; anyone who cries out in pain or reaches for a glass of milk admits defeat. “Dessert” consists of a bowl of plain, boiled potatoes. After the onslaught of tunsukh, it is sweeter than any cake.

NORTHERN KINGDOM – NOMADIC NORTH

Although the Old Ways are in decline, the nomadic clans still live in the far North beyond any land worth settling. They travel on hareback across the frozen wasteland seeking “meur fonts” - paradoxical bursts of meur that erupt from the ice and provide momentary reprieve from the harsh environment. The taste of nomad food is not well documented.

KEY CROPS: N/A KEY LIVESTOCK: hares

PEMMICAN: Nomadic life offers few guarantees. With its caloric density and functionally indefinite “shelf life,” pemmican is about as close as one can get.

SEAL, MOOSE: Meat comprises the vast majority of the nomadic diet and is eaten a variety of ways. Depending on the clan, season, and availability of meur fonts, meat may be cooked, smoked, turned to jerky, or eaten raw. Moose and seal are the most common sources of meat, but each comes with its own challenges. Moose are massive, violent creatures and dangerous to take down even with the aid of hares; seals are slippery to hunt and only live along the coasts.

WANDER FOOD, WANDER STEW: When a green meur font appears, a lush jungle springs forth around it. The heat from red meur fonts may melt ice and create opportunities for fishing where there weren't before. Any food obtained from a font is known as “wander food.” Wander food is both familiar and alien; the nomads have lived by fonts long enough to know what is edible and what is not, but they may not know the common names or preparation methods for the food they find. Fish is simple enough to cook, but produce is less predictable. Meur fonts are temporary, and it's not guaranteed that you'll ever find the same produce twice - there is little room to experiment and learn. As a result, a lot of wander food is simply thrown into a pot and boiled into “wander stew,” an indescribable dish which is different each time.

CENVAVESH: When a haretouched person dies, their hare is gripped with the insatiable compulsion to eat its former companion... therefore, it is only proper to return the favor. Barring injury or illness, a bonded hare will almost always outlive its bonded human, and so the death of one's hare is considered a great tragedy among nomads. The haretouched – and anyone they may invite to join them – sits beside the head of their hare as they consume as much of its rib and organ meat as they can. Meanwhile, the rest of the clan processes the remainder of the hare's carcass so that none of it goes to waste. It is a somber affair that is treated with the same gravity as the passing of a human. Cenvavesh is outlawed as a pagan practice in the settled North.

HARE WINE: While fermented hare's milk is already alcoholic, further fermentation turns it into a vivid hallucinogen. This “hare wine” is used in a number of nomad rituals, most notably during coming of age ceremonies. Allegedly, it bestows its drinker with a hare's intuition and keen sense of direction... of course, truth is difficult to distinguish from fiction when it comes to the Old Ways.

SOUTHERN KINGDOM

The Southern Kingdom is mainly comprised of coast, wetland, and ever-shrinking jungle. While the land is mostly unfit for large-scale agriculture, seafood is plentiful and the hot climate is perfect for exorbitant niche crops. What they can't grow, they obtain easily through trade. Southerners have a reputation for eating anything, as well as stealing dishes from other cultures and “ruining” them with their own interpretations. KEY CROPS: plantains, sweet potato, pineapple, mango, guava, sugarcane KEY LIVESTOCK: fowl, marsh hogs, seals

GLAZED EEL WITH FRIED PLANTAINS: A very common configuration for Southern food is a glazed meat paired with a fried vegetable. It almost doesn't matter which meat and which vegetable it is – they love their fried food and they love their sweet and salty sauces in the South. Eel is a culturally beloved meat, much to the shock and confusion of visiting Midlanders.

NARWHAL STEW: Narwhal stew is the South's “anything goes” stew. It does not actually contain narwhal meat, as they are extinct (though the upper class may include dolphin meat as a protein) – instead, the name comes from its traditional status as a “forever soup,” as narwhals are associated with the passage of time in Southern culture. Even in the present day, Southern monasteries tend massive, ever-boiling pots of perpetual stew in order to feed the monks and sybils who live there. Narwhal stew has a clear kelp-based broth and usually contains shellfish. Beyond that, its ingredients are extremely varied. Noodles are a popular but recent addition.

FORAGE: The dish known as “forage” is likewise not foraged, or at least, it hasn't been forage-based in a good hundred years at least. Forage is a lot like poke; it's a little bit of everything thrown into a bowl. Common ingredients include fish (raw or cooked), seaweed, fried noodles, marinated egg, and small quantities of fruit.

HOT POT: Hot pot is extremely popular, across class barriers, in both the South proper and its enclave territories. This is due to its extreme flexibility - if it can be cooked in a vat of boiling broth, it will be. Crustaceans and shellfish are common choices for hot pot in the proper South, along with squid, octopus, mushrooms, and greens.

FLATBREAD: The Southern Kingdom doesn't do much baking. The vast majority of breads are fried, unleavened flatbreads, which are usually eaten alongside soups or as wraps. Wraps come in both savory and sweet varieties; savory wraps are usually stuffed with shredded pork and greens while sweet wraps – which are much more expensive – are filled with fruit and seal cheese.

GRILLED SKEWERS, ROAST SWEET POTATO: While a novel concept for Midlanders and Northerners, street food has long been a part of Southern Kingdom culture. You would be hard pressed to find a Southern market that didn't have at least three vendors pushing grilled or fried something or other. Skewers are the most common and come in countless configurations, but roast sweet potatoes are a close second.

CUT FRUIT AND SEAL CHEESE: Fresh fruit is popular in the South, both local and imported. While delicious on its own, Southerners famously pair it with seal cheese. Which leads me to an important topic of discussion I don't have room for anywhere else...

THE SOUTH AND CHEESE: Since the South doesn't have much in the way of dairy farming, cheese is somewhat rare in their cuisine – but it is present. And important. Cheese is the domain of the Church. Common goat dairy imported from the Middle Kingdom is turned to cheese by monks in Southern monasteries and sold to the Southern public, yes, but as you have noticed there is another cheese prominent in the Southern Kingdom diet: seal cheese. Seal cheese is unlike anything else that has ever been called cheese; the closest it can be compared to is mascarpone. It is is a soft, creamy cheese with a mild flavor and an indulgent fat content. It is used almost exclusively as a dessert, though it is only ever mildly sweetened if at all. It is extremely costly and held in high regard; the most religious Southerners regard it as holy. Dairy seals are a very rare animal and raised exclusively in a small number of Cetolist-Cerostian monasteries, where they are tended and milked by the monks. Due to their status as a holy animal, eating seal meat is forbidden. Eating their cheese and rendering their tallow into soap is fine though.

(HEARTLAND SOUTH) SOUTH-STYLE GOAT: The Heartland South is a Southern enclave territory in the Middle Kingdom. Visiting Midland dignitaries oft wrongly assume that because the Heartland South is in Middle Kingdom territory, Heartland Southerners eat the same food they do exactly as they do. They are horrified to find that familiar sounding dishes like “goat with potatoes” are completely and utterly unrecognizable, drenched in unfamiliar sauces and spices and served alongside fruit they've never eaten. Meanwhile, Heartland Southerners firmly believe that they have fixed the Middle Kingdom's boring food.

(BOREAL SOUTH) “TUNSUKH”: If Midlanders are afraid of Heartland Southern food, Northerners are absolutely furious about cuisine from the Boreal South - the most legendarily offensive being the Boreal South's idea of “tunsukh.” Southerners are no stranger to spice, so when Southern traders began interacting with the North, they liked tunsukh! It's just... they thought it needed a little Southern help to become a real meal, you know? A side of seal cheese soothed the burn and made the meal enjoyable. And because the meal was enjoyable, the portion sizes increased. And plain boiled potatoes? Well, those are a little too plain – creamy mashed sweet potato feels like more of a dessert, doesn't it? ...For some reason, Northerners didn't agree, but that's okay. The Boreal South knows they're just embarrassed they didn't think of pairing seal cheese with tunsukh sooner.

ARMY RATIONS

The food eaten by the King's Army is about what you would expect for late 1700s military; salt pork or salt chevon, hard tack, and coffee. The biggest divergence they have is also one of Vestur's biggest points of pride: they have the means to supply their troops with frivolous luxuries like small tins of candied fruit from the Midland. A love of candied fruit is essentially a Vesturian military proto-meme; proof that they serve the greatest Tri-Kingdom on the planet. Don't get between a military man and his candied fruit unless you want a fight.

[coff33andb00ks]

ollie and 16? ❤️

16: only linking the pinkies together, not ready to let go completely

Requests closed until I catch up <3

"Split the list and meet up?"

You glance up from the list on your phone, nodding while he parks the car. "That sounds good to me," you tell him, copying and sending him half the list. Since you both have a tendency to linger and discuss the pros and cons of each thing, his idea is best. Otherwise you'll be in the supermarket for hours just getting a couple days' worth of groceries. And since he's only home for the next three days you'd rather spend as much possible time alone with him, not wasting it choosing between two types of pasta.

Leaning over the console, you meet him in a kiss. You intend for it to be a quick peck but his hand comes up to rest at your cheek and you sink into the kiss, gently grabbing hold of the front of his shirt. "Ollie," you murmur, giving him a quick peck and pulling back. "Come on, the quicker we finish here the quicker we can get back home."

You slip your phone into your purse. Your hand is reaching to open the car door and you stop because he hasn't moved. Looking over at him, you press your lips together to keep from laughing.

"Ollie?"

"Just a minute," he says, his voice strained, and your eyes drift down.

It takes every shred of your self control to not laugh. You actually think it's wonderful that just a kiss is enough to have him hard. But it is a little inconvenient when you're in public and can't give him a real kiss. You did once, right before a race, and he'd almost cried. Since then you've stuck with hugs.

He exhales as though the weight of the world is on his shoulders, pressing his hands to his face while you stare out the window and wait patiently.

"Right." He slaps his thighs and clears his throat and you choke on a laugh because he sounds just like his father when he does that.

His hand slips over yours as soon as you climb out of the car, smiling as always, and you can't resist leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"You're so cute," you say, a giggle escaping as his cheeks flush crimson.

"Love, please."

"Sorry." But you're not, not really. You squeeze his hand as you walk together into the store, fishing out your phone with your free hand.

Instead of splitting up he stays with you, getting his half of the list as you made your way along the aisles.

He drifts away slightly, squatting to select some bread while you eye the pastries, fingers sliding from yours. As you're reaching for your favorite biscotti he lets out a soft him, his pinky finding yours and you smile, dropping the biscotti in the basket.

"That's it," he says, looking relieved after he tosses the bread in. "Let's go home, love."

Your pinky stays knotted with his during the checkout process and through the door across the pavement to the car, until he places the bags in the back and opens the door for you. Before climbing in you lean to give him a kiss and he finally lets go of your finger, making a gurgling sort of moan as you pull back.

"Fucking hell," he whines and you give him the sweetest smile imaginable while getting into the car.

"Let's go, baby."

[ceilidho]

prompt: possessive best friend soap (part 1)

-

You’ve known Johnny for roughly—

“Whassit been—like twenty plus years, hen? I ken our mams have been close since we were in nappies, so we sort of grew up together, wouldn’t ya say?”

—too many years. You’ve been putting up with him for too many years now. Not more than you can count, but more than you can be bothered to relay to your bewildered-looking date sitting across the table from you. Besides, Johnny hardly needs you to fill in the blanks; since pulling up a chair beside the two of you, he’s been quite happy to share the intimate details of your friendship.

“‘Fact, almost moved in together a coupla years ago. ‘Am no’ sure why we didn’t. Might still, at some point. But I bet you knew that, huh—what was it, Rodney? Yeah, Rodney. Kinda a strange name, isn’t that? We had a dog named Rodney growing up, do’ya remember, kitty cat?”

“Yes, John. I remember.” Your head is fully in your hands now, elbows leaning against the table because there’s no reason for table manners anymore. Not with the way Johnny’s shovelling your food into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten all day. It’s annoying that it’s still rather endearing; you push the plate closer to him so he doesn’t have to reach as far across the table and risk spilling your pasta all over the white tablecloth. 

You’ve been trying to catch the waiter’s eye for the past five minutes, but it’s like the guy’s been paid off or blind or something because he does everything but look over at your table. What a waste of a night. 

In fairness, the date hadn’t been going exceedingly well; Rodney had already made a couple of rather passive aggressive comments about your field of study and furrowed his brows a bit too tight when you mentioned wanting to order dessert. 

“Sorry, I just need to—I’ll be right back,” you mutter, scooching away from the table and wincing when your chair scrapes across the floor. You scurry off to the bathroom while Johnny keeps prattling on about whatever inane topic he’s chosen this time to your date, who is looking increasingly agitated. His expression is pinched like he has a stomachache.

In the bathroom, you wet a paper towel and press it lightly to your cheeks so your makeup doesn’t smudge. They’ve been hot since Johnny sauntered into the restaurant and made a bee-line for your table, ignoring your repeated kicks under the table and you mouthing at him to leave. It’s not fair. You go out once a month if you’re lucky because work usually takes priority in your life and now Johnny’s on leave for the next month. You’ve made peace with the fact that you’re going to have to delete all dating apps off your phone for at least the next foreseeable month. 

When you come back, you’re not altogether shocked to find only Johnny still at the table, your date long gone. He scoops up the leftover red sauce with the table bread, looking like he’s having the time of his life even on his own.

“Made a break for it, did he?” you ask, sighing when you collapse despondently into your chair.

“Sorry, kitty cat,” Johnny apologies with big, beseeching eyes. “Tried to tell ‘im he didn’t hav’ta leave, but he wouldn’t have it. Paid his bill at least, good lad. The guy's a pure fandan, wasn’t he?”

You don’t necessarily want to encourage his behaviour by agreeing with him, but you can’t help the soft sound that escapes you. 

Only on the drive home—you’d walked to the restaurant, but Johnny drives the two of you back to his place because he insists on making it up to you with ice cream and a movie—do you begrudgingly admit to yourself that you’re glad Johnny interrupted your date. If he was going to intrude on any date, at least it was that one. An otherwise lousy date might still have a good ending.

“Yer too good for him anyway, kitty cat,” Johnny sniffs on the drive home. You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, scrunching up your nose. You hadn’t even brought it up. “Did’ya see the way he chewed with his gob wide open? Pure repulsive behaviour. Who does that in front of a lady?”

“I don’t remember asking you about my choice of dates, Johnny.”

He laughs, reaching across to give your thigh a little squeeze. You ignore the way it makes your stomach jump. “‘Said my peace. Just don’t wanna see you settling for some numpty who hasn’t got any common decency.”

You grunt because the alternative is opening your mouth and screeching at the top of your lungs. You know this. It’s not your fault that the dating pool in your town is small to begin with and you’re picky on top of that. There’s some criteria for Man etched into your frontal lobe that you can’t read but you know is there, and it rejects every single guy you’ve ever dated. 

At his place, he gets you comfortable on the couch before going to the kitchen and coming back with a bowl of ice cream filled to the brim and a single spoon. You snap at him when Johnny sits way too close to you—so close in fact that you’re pressed up against the side of the two while there are two full cushions on the opposite side of him—but he just coos and feeds you anyway, making train noises when he brings the spoon to your mouth. 

He’s a rapscallion. He’s incorrigible and a devil and you miss him so much sometimes when he’s away doing whatever it is he does in the military that it hurts your heart. It literally hurts when he’s away. So you let him spoil you when he’s back in town on his annual leave or when he’s granted an exemption for a wedding or a funeral. You soak up every minute with your blue-eyed puppy dog of a best friend, content to leave the dates and your other friends for when he’s gone. 

That’s been the pattern now for going on several years. 

Winter is the ascetic’s season anyway. You have no reason to keep trying once the weather gets colder. So instead, you go to work during the day and then hunker down at night, only seldomly going out for drinks with friends or visiting your family for weekend brunch. 

Johnny must miss you too while he’s away because the man borders on feral when he comes back. Tactile as all hell. Nary a moment goes by when he doesn’t have his hands on you somehow—big hands smoothing over your shoulders when you complain about your back aching, a hand squeezing your thigh teasingly in the car, callused fingers pinching your cheeks and squishing them together like a fish.

“Okay, now say, ‘Johnny, thank you for chasing off my bawbag of a date and buying the choco-mint,’” he coos, squishing your cheeks with one hand, the other draped along the back of the couch behind you. He’s so close that you can smell the sweat on his skin, his scent a heady musk. 

You glare up at him, mollified by the ice cream but annoyed that he won’t stop rubbing it in. “Jawny, yew are an idjiot.”

He shakes his head, eyes sparkling. “No, that's no’ right. You got wax in your ears, kitty cat? Do I need ta’ check?”

You screech when he turns your head to the side and bites your ear, trying to crawl off the side of the couch, but he pulls you back down. Nearly pulls you on top of him, blowing raspberries into your temple and laughing. It’s almost impossible to escape from his arms, beefy since he enlisted years ago. They tighten around you, holding you in place while he nips at your earlobe and nuzzles into the side of your head. 

He’s near doubled in size since back then. Sometimes even the sight of him makes your head spin. He towers over you, not always the tallest in the room, but always standing the straightest, the proudest. Aware of the breadth of his shoulders and his physicality, loose and limber for the most part until someone gets on his bad side and you see the change wash over him. Cocky grin turned down and hard. Arms stiff by his sides. 

Not now though. Not in the little warm bubble of his living room, breath punched out of you with shrieking laughter. It’s hard to remember why you were upset with him in the first place.

“Gonna need you to give me a break, kitty,” Johnny breathes into your neck when he finally turns the movie on, pulling your legs until they’re draped across his lap. “How’m I supposed to keep an eye on you from across the world?”

“You don’t have to interrogate all my dates,” you mutter, eyes sliding shut. It’s warm in your bubble and the warmth makes you sleepy. Too bad Johnny doesn’t have a guest room at his place. You’ll probably end up drooling on his bicep when he carries you to bed. 

“Yeah, I do.” His voice is low, muffled against the top of your head. “No one’s good enough for my girl. Gotta make sure they know that.”

[lovelyinconsistentices]

°˖➴ 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚃 𝙲𝚁𝙾𝚆𝙳 ⋆· ༘ *

‧₊˚ ꩜彡┆𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚈 .ᐟ

Todd shows up at readers house in the middle of the night, still grieving over the situation with Wallace and needing comfort.

✎ᝰ.┆𝙶𝙴𝙽𝚁𝙴 .ᐟ

Oneshot and Third-Person, hurt comfort. Fluff and Mild Angst.

‧₊˚ ꩜彡┆𝙿𝙰𝙸𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 .ᐟ

Todd Ingram X Gender-neutral Reader

✎ᝰ.┆𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙶 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙾 .ᐟ

Comfort Crowd by Conan Gray.

‧₊˚ ꩜彡┆𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃 .ᐟ

Requested by anon, thank you for the request! <3

The first thing that was least expected when they opened the door to see who was knocking at the middle of night was Todd, he was a disheveled mess when their gaze had settled on him. His eyes brimming with tears, a bag of chips in hand as he stressed eat. They had heard a lot about what happened on set, with Wallace leading him on. It was expected when they learned him and the male were "running lines" in his trailer, as if Wallace would waste his time on something like that. They absolutely doubted it, he had a repetition as well for sleeping around.

The amount of times they've heard Stacy complain about how Wallace stole her boyfriend again as they waited for their drink was ironic at this point, Scott's roommate was bad news. They truly felt bad for Todd, the only reason they hadn't said anything was because they didn't want to hurt the male's feelings but he ended up getting hurt anyway. In the they expected the male to get over it quite quick, I mean he still had Envy after all. Which they had listened to her complain for hours once she had learned about it, seems she tried fighting Wallace as well. Amusing really, but it seems they were wrong about the male getting over Wallace fast.

Todd was a wreck as he blabbered about something that was incoherent to their ears, they let out a soft sigh as their eyes softened. Immediately parting their lips in response as they stood there, "Shh, slow down and breath. Come in, you know you're always welcome Todd." They stated as they moved to allow the man to walk in. Which he nodded in return, relieved that they weren't upset with him possibly waking them up so late at night. Making his way into the house slowly, immediately being greeted by the warmth of their home.

Now they were both on the couch together as Todd had his face buried into the crook of their neck, sure the male was known for being quite touchy but they weren't that familiar with this as they ran their fingers through his hair. They truly wondered what Wallace did to make him like this and where was Envy, after all they least expected him to come to them instead of his own girlfriend or well ex. He didn't even know if they were still together, though it seemed like she was more mad at Wallace than Todd. Thinking those thoughts over in their head truly did hurt more than they expected, after all they did have one-sided feelings for the male.

They were just glad to have him as a friend even if meant their feelings would never be returned, they'd just have to push them too the side for now or at least until they moved on. A heavy breath left their lips as they sat there, their arm still around the male as his cry's slowed down. His breathing still unstable but it seemed like he was starting to calm down, they truly didn't mind the silence. Deciding to not say anything as they didn't want to cause him to cry again, avoiding the topic of Wallace and him for now would be best.

"Feeling better now? If so we can talk about something to distract you or if you want I have some movies you can pick from to watch, you can stay the night or as how long as you need. I'll be right here if you need me, speaking of that I'm sure you're hungry. Junk food isn't fulfilling, you'll need a real meal. How about pasta?" They asked as they pondered on what to make, perhaps pasta salad and bread. Todd just nodded in response, perhaps not being able to manage words as he was tired or too embarrassed to say anything. He just stayed there, leaning his head against their shoulder before muttering a simple thank you that was soft and low.

It warmed their heart that they were able to help the male in the end, though they knew it was going to take a while before they got over their feelings for him. Continuing to run their fingers through his hair as they were lost in thought, it wasn't like it was anything new and at least Todd knew they were here if he needed them. His arms still wrapped around their waist as he let out slow exhales, soon the night would be shared with the two spending their time together in peace.

Todd picking out some old Disney movie from their stack as they made dinner, his mood slowly lightening up as he and them made small talk. The night ending with the two cuddled up on the couch as they watched the movie he picked out together, they were glad that Todd was feeling better now as they were able to finally go back to sleep in peace and this time they'd have the male by their side making it all even better.

[saltofmercury]

Late Nights

Pairing: König x reader

A/N: Just been fantasizing about seeing him in public but he’s fictional and I can daydream right? Special thank you to @softpedropascal for reading and giving me courage to post :)

Summary: You see a mysterious man one night at the grocery store; a little meet cute gone wrong

"Late nights"

You could hear the constant downpour above you hitting the ceiling as you made your way through. Rain pouring down as you continued through the aisles of cereal, pasta, and different breads. The market was quiet, almost peaceful, at this time of night, a couple of workers walking around, people picking up a couple things, and two cashiers who greeted you upon arrival.

You’re about halfway done and needed to get a few fresh veggies for the week. As you make your way down to produce, you try to remember what vegetables wouldn’t go to waste throughout the week, and hopefully remembering that you could freeze the spinach bag you always get but never use. You cut the corner to the produce and you are stopped dead in your tracks.

You are stunned. You see him.

A colossal man dressed in all black. The word huge wouldn’t be the best to describe him because he wasn’t a huge person, he was a massive person. You had gasped quietly observing him from afar. He had on a black mask, a turtle neck going all the way up his chin, black sweatpants, a black trench coat, and rain boots that were about knee length. Although you couldn’t see his face clearly, he had a mop of hair on top of his head, going above his eyebrows, tangled, and wavy. The sides of his head were shaved, clean cut. His whole presence alone could’ve been announced just by the way he would stomp on the tile as he made his way down the stands of cucumbers, peppers, carrots, and herbs. You had forgotten where you were and just stared. You couldn’t believe someone as big as him was delicately holding his produce up to inspect and then gently placing it in the basket on his right arm. Holding a large apple alone in the palm of his hand made you wonder, if he wanted to, could he crush it inside his palm?

But as your thoughts start racing about how immensely tall and broad this mystery man is, it’s quickly broken through eye contact. He stared up at you with menacing eyes. His eyebrows furrow as makes eye contact with you. It spooks you a bit, him staring you down. It startles you. Did you do something wrong? One second he was just in his own world picking apples and now his eyes are piercing right through you. You open your mouth to try and say something but nothing comes out, you feel a heat rush towards your cheeks. The eye contact is broken as he quickly turns on his heel, shuffles away from you, and leaves you alone in front of the lemon baskets. You noticed the tip of his ears turning a deep red as he walked away.

You felt embarrassed. Of course he knew he was a big man and there you were, mouth hanging open like a fish and eyes popping out wide. But your thoughts wouldn’t leave you alone.

Who was this man? Have you ever seen him before? Was he new? Where did he stomp off to? All these thoughts came to mind as you finished up your shopping and paid.

Maybe he was someone famous you quietly decided inside your car. After seeing the size and height of that man he just couldn’t just be a regular nobody. After all, covering his face at almost 11 o’clock at night? That wasn’t weird at all.

It’s about 3 weeks later and you haven’t stopped thinking about him. Did this man disappear out into thin air? What was he hiding behind the turtleneck? It amazed you how fast he had left the produce section with 4 steps. What was even more quite embarrassing was hoping you would run into him at coffee shops as you picked up your coffee, walking down the street as you drove home, even at the gym (which you haven’t been to in a while) thinking maybe he’s on the second floor where you had a strong feeling you would see him but nothing. You had gone TWICE during the week to the supermarket during your lunch breaks with the would be there just to see him again. The little hope you have left gives out, maybe he was a dream?

A month passes and one night as you’re finishing up a work project, your stomach rumbles. When was the last time you ate? You haven’t eaten all day because of this stupid project. You walk towards the kitchen picturing the sandwich you’re about to make when you open the fridge and realize you haven’t been to the market in so long since your boss had begged you to double and triple check this project before handing it in. Sighing, you grab your wallet and coat and drive out.

You pull up at the market again when the giddy feelings hit you again. You think how foolish it was romanticizing some stranger. You can feel yourself blush as you grab a cart and begin to push through the entrance. Already checking off the mental list in your head, you make your way down several aisles. The grocery store is quiet at night, almost empty with a few people inside the store; tired moms with newborns in their carriers walking through aisles like zombies, dad’s pushing the cart behind them. A couple picking out frozen dinners because they already spent too much on take out this week, you smile to yourself and continue shopping realizing all you needed was fresh garlic and bell peppers for the recipe you were going to treat yourself to. You make your way back to produce and stop again…

He’s there again picking out bell peppers.

The inside of your chest is pounding, you tell yourself to remain calm, remembering how you scared him off last time. You think of a good way to maybe approach him this time without having him walk away. Maybe you should apologize for staring?

You press your cart at close proximity to him and begin picking out the bell peppers. He’s already moved onto something else. He doesn’t look your way, he’s far too invested with the parsley he’s holding. You clear your throat as you twist the peppers in a bag into a knot. He’s startled, but only side eyes before placing the parsley down and shifts his body toward another section of produce.

You push your cart a little further down, more casual now, pretending to focus your attention on garlic bulbs. You see he has his back towards you and now you can really eye him up and down without the eye contact. He shifts himself again, on the balls of his feet.

You begin to eye him from bottom up—black running shoes with dark gray sweatpants, a dark sweater stretched around him, a gray turtleneck underneath going past his nose and barely hiding his red ears. You start to think to yourself how could his ears always be red? Could he be running hot underneath those layers? You notice there’s some uncomfortable shifting with him, he begins to tap on the edge of the counter of the pears, almost compulsively, was he on edge?

The silence had become deafening but you can’t think of anything to approach him with. Finally he drops the pear and begins to walk away leaving you with your mouth open once again.

He’s far down the store now and there’s nothing even remotely possible you can say for him to turn back.

Two weeks pass by. You can’t think of anything more than how embarrassing it was to see the man you had been imagining running into only to not do anything. You even saw him fidget a bit, wondering if he knew you were staring him down from behind. Even the voice inside your head made you double think, maybe he knew you were checking him out and you once again made him uncomfortable.

Another week passes, and you can’t take it anymore. You will go to the store late at night again hoping he’s there and you will say a small hello and maybe even ask for his name. He couldn’t be that scary. He’s all height but no talk.

You’re back again, two nights later, and you’re prepared. The universe sent you small signs all week. The ugly bell pepper dress your neighbor wore as she greeted you. The gray turtleneck you thought you lost but magically found. All small subtle signs you were sure of. You made a note to come at night. You’ve arrived a little earlier than usual, taking your sweet time walking through the aisles, saving produce for last because the gut feeling inside you knows he’ll be here late at night. The universe has decided to side with you this time because once you make your way around the corner you spot him by the carrots, there’s no stopping you now.

Your mind races with a million thoughts, what were you going to say? Why were you so curious over someone who couldn’t even look at you properly let alone show his face in public? You can feel yourself sweat a bit and even get angry until it’s too late.

and suddenly it happens….

You accidentally shove your cart into his back, his shoulders slightly hunched up.

You are mortified. embarrassed. You wished you hadn’t come at all.

Immediately you start apologizing. He’s barely moved though, still standing with his legs hip width apart and as still as a statue. The carrots however, dropped in front of him as he bends over to gather them.

You cry out, “I… I am SO SORRY I wasn’t trying to run into you like that! Are you okay?”

“Fine” he responds. Calm, but serious.

“Are you sure? I promise I wasn’t trying to hurt you”

“Do not worry,” he calmly adds, “It was an accident.” His back turned to you still.

Silence again… your heart is racing, you cannot believe you managed to screw up this one chance that you see him. You still fumble with how to recover this interaction.

“Please, are you alright? I am sooo sorry I really wasn’t thinking—“

“I barely felt it.” he says.

You try to lighten the mood hopefully having him attempt to turn around just so you can see his eyes again.

“The carrots are so much smaller this year aren’t they? It’s no wonder they fell out of your hands” You manage to spit out.

You catch his curiosity — an eyebrow raise, and a quiet nod from him as he sets them down.

You feel the rush of blood come to your face and he can see how red you get.

Breathless, you decide to give up.

You let out an awkward chuckle “ha ha heh…..”

You push your cart towards the cashier and bag up your groceries. You can feel the heat of your cheeks still there. It stings. This was truly one of the most embarrassing, no, this was mortifying event you experienced in your entire life.

Not even when you peed your pants in 3rd grade would top this. Not when you fainted because of period cramps and landed in the mud during gym class and the boys behind you called out “poop pants.” This is so much worse.

You see him at the self checkout and quickly walk by him avoiding eye contact with him. So much for daydreaming about this guy. The only interaction and you’ve turned this into a complete nightmare.

You manage to get to your car and fumble with the keys to unlock the door until you hear a soft voice.

“You dropped your receipt back there.”

Your stomach drops as you turn slowly.

It’s him. Decked out in black but his hair shining with the light above him. He’s standing there holding your receipt in his hands.

You reach for it with shaky hands, with a quiet “thank you”, as you shove the receipt in your bag and turn back to opening the door. You could already hear his footsteps stomping away towards his car.

The drive home is a painfully quiet one. Replaying the absolute torture you just went through in your head. You approach your apartment, park your car, and head inside.

As you unpack your groceries, you start kicking yourself mentally on how you could possibly run into someone just for the sake of their height! Ugh!

You finish packing and see the bottom of the bag, your receipt had been crumbled and tossed into your pocket. This one was flipped over.

You eye it carefully and bring it closer to your face. What was on it? Was something…? There’s something was scribbled on this one, You flatten it out beneath your fingers and realize there’s a phone number, with the words

“text me some time” - K

[buradedaio]

The “using pasta water to make my coffee as part of my zero waste journey” post makes me cry because there are so many other uses for pasta water. Add a little bit to your sauce. Use it in soup. Make bread and/or pizza dough. Plants love it. It’s good for your hair. Et cetera.

[pearlofthesirens]

domestic simon riley headcanons perhaps?

ooh i'm gonna love writing thissssss!!

Domestic Simon Headcanons:

wakes up at either 4 or 5 am, even after retiring. doesn't let go of the military morning routine.

if you're sleeping, he'll give you the softest kiss before fixing the blanket so you're not cold.

brushes his teeth and immediately hits the gym. loves the food you make, will tear that shit up but he thinks he should be keeping his body fit too. doesn't want Johnny to tease him for becoming soft(you personally love him even when he's a huge teddy bear).

when he comes back and sees you making breakfast, he won't hesitate to give you back hugs despite your complains of him being sweaty and smelly. "Si, no! Take a shower first, you're stinky!" "Shower can wait, lovie. I need to give my girl a kiss first."

calls you all sorts of nicknames like lovie, darling, sweetie, doll, my girl, etc.

if he's hungry and you're not at home, the only thing he can make is tea and toast. might burn the bread a little, might add a can of beans or potato mash(bri'ish tings), do not trust him with the kitchen.

if you're doing chores together, he would definitely want to help a lot even if he doesn't know much. for example, he'd definitely help with keeping the counter clean and taking dishes out from the dishwasher if you're cooking.

why waste water? take a shower together! "Water's too hot, doll. You're gonna burn." "Water's just fine." "You make me wonder what kinda demon I fell in love with."

genuinely gets scared if you call him Simon Riley, or worse if it's Ghost. will start contemplating about every single thing he did and where he might've gone wrong. "Simon Rile-" "I'm right here, sugar. Anything wrong? Need a shoulder massage?" "I-...please get the box of pasta from the top shelf." "Anything for you, doll."

he generally refuses to let you see him in full gear, prefers to keep Ghost out of his lovely Manchester apartment. but once after he was done with a long mission, he was so tired that he entirely forgot he had a significant other and walked inside the house with his balaclava and everything. you almost let out a scream when you saw a tall figure with a skull face hovering over you as you were sat on the couch, reading your favorite book. "AAAHH-" "Darling?"

he would legit go "?????" before he realizes that he has his mask on and everything. removes it immediately and sees your eyes soften, arms wide open for him. he takes you in a bone crushing hug, not forgetting to kiss your forehead.

always the big spoon when sleeping, but loves your arm around him too. will keep one arm out for you to rest your head on, doesn't care if it's numb, and the other around your waist. when you're facing him, he will hold your head and hips protectively, letting you bury your face in his chest and neck.

doesn't believe that a man should be controlling what his partner wears, he will encourage your to wear whatever makes you feel comfortable and confident. keeps a protective arm around your waist in public to show that you're his. "Wear whatever you want, sweetie. I can fight, ain't got all this body for nothing."

arguments with him are always short. he would not let anything get to a point that you two are shouting on each other's faces, he does not want to be like his father. goes to a different room to cool himself down before he opens the door to find you.

has a hard time apologizing with words at first, will try to get you something like flowers or give you a silent hug. but he soon learns to say "sorry" and to be gentler with you.

will get down on one knee and present you the ring when you least expect it. wants to have a small wedding at a church with only a few people, preferably TF141, Laswell, your immediate family and a few close friends you have.

wants kids, but won't force you if you don't want to. will consider resigning from the military if he does end up being a dad, he doesn't want to risk his life out there when he has two beautiful human beings to come home to. "Such a poppet, isn't she? Just like her mama." "Don't give me all the credit, honey. She's got your looks too, pretty little thing."

will take you out for dates, dinners too. believes that a relationship shouldn't be stagnant. you get to pick the restaurant and he will willingly pay for whatever you want to eat. you just have to look pretty <3

although he likes to put the most effort, he expects you to put effort too. he takes offense if you disregard how he feels, is devoted to you and expects you to love him the same.

little things matter to him. he pays attention to how you make tea for him, how you do not push him when he doesn't want to talk about something, how you adjust the blanket over both of you every time he comes home late and plops himself down on the couch with you.

overall, the sweetest but realistically speaking, it might be a bit tough to live with him considering he's in the military and has a bitter past. but as long as you're ready to compromise and understand him, he will return the love tenfold and more.

proofread ✓ pearly venus, 22:00 240229

[abiiors]

cozy making dinner wt home/movie night blurb !!

oooohhh i love writing domestic fluff!!

the whole kitchen smells absolutely mouth-watering. what’s even more mouth-watering, however, is matty at the hob, flipping the chicken on the cast iron griddle. one side of it is deliciously golden-brown and crispy, and under his breath, matty hums some tune. 

so you sit there at the dining table and watch him in his element—quick deft movements as if he’s had a chef’s training. but this is not supposed to be anything special, just him cooking for you after what’s been a really hard week at work. 

fifteen minutes ago, he announced that all you need to do today is sit still and look pretty. he’ll handle the rest. 

“you always look pretty anyway,” he grins, “just need to sit at the table and talk to me love. let me take care of you.”

and so here you are, sipping on a can of coke and talking to him about some trivial work drama. 

“she won’t even acknowledge that it’s her fault!” you whine and matty hums in response, “and then me and my team have to clean up her messes, can you believe it? if this were my business, i would have fired her ages ago.”

“so stop cleaning up her messes,” his tone is nonchalant, and matty rests the spatula to one side. 

“babe,” he crosses the distance between you, standing right in front of you now and placing a little kiss on your head. “i’m serious. stop cleaning up after others. i don’t like seeing you so burnt out and exhausted.”

you take another, knowing what he’s saying is right. this is not your cross to bear. “yeah, i know, i know…” 

there’s a pause where the only sound is the chicken sizzling on the griddle. but then you sigh, softly nuzzling your head in his chest. “you’re right. you always are—”

“i’ll remind you of this the next time you argue with me,” he teases and you shush him with a playful glare.

“but! i’m not going to waste my breath on that. not when you’re being so sweet to me.”

his squawk of outrage makes you giggle. "i'm always sweet to you!"

at that point, it’s almost irresistible to control your impulsive thoughts. so just as matty turns to go back to the chicken, you slap his ass, laughing at the dirty little look he throws your way. 

“look at you, a proper house-husband!”

matty rolls his eyes, thoroughly unimpressed but at the last moment you see him crack a little smile and shake his head.

“go pick out a movie for us to watch,” he instructs and then winces, “but please baby… please! do not make me watch a hallmark christmas movie again.”

“i thought this was about making me feel better?”

he groans, defeated by that logic, and you stifle a giggle knowing you were on your way to do exactly that.  

ten minutes later, as you settle on the sofa under heaps of blankets and covered in the glow of the telly, matty appears with two plates loaded with pasta and garlic bread. his hair’s all over the place, messy curls everywhere, and his collarbone is visible from the way the sleeve of his jumper falls off his shoulder. but what melts your heart the most is his soft smile and even softer eyes. 

he sets the plates down on the coffee table and makes his way next to you under the blankets. his arm wraps around your waist and matty leans in to give you a quick kiss before handing you your plate. 

the pasta smells absolutely delicious and looks gorgeously creamy so it’s no surprise when you moan at the cheesy first bite, barely even paying attention to his laugh.

“that good?” he asks. 

“the best! when did you get so good at this, huh?

“oi!” he pokes your side, doing it again when you try to squirm away from him, “i’ve always been this good.”

he knows not to wait for a response because you’re already busy inhaling the food. instead, matty faces the telly again, groaning fondly at the hallmark christmas movie that’s waiting for him.