#casserole's favorite posts

[woaza]

Skully J. graves X Yuu!reader

Contains : Head cannons (Mostly J. Graves coming back to live with Yuu in ramshackle)!

Word count : 460 (super short!)

Warnings : None!

A/n : I want to make a fic about him soon and post (more) Twst content! I’m definitely gonna do multiple fandoms on this account but I’m just trying to write more! So if you have any Twst request please lmk!

Also more Delico Nursery fics for sure, just trying to post shorter fics while I’m still busy.

— He retains confusing knowledge, and is strangely thoughtful. He won’t know how to do some basic things sometimes. Yet you’ll be struggling on an advanced assignment from professor Crewel and he’ll somehow know the answer???

“Skully! This assignment is so confusing? Magic theory is confusing, it hardly seems fair to give me a an assignment on advanced magic theory when I can’t even use magic!” He simply Nods his head and leans over your shoulder and glances at the paper. “Oh this is rather simple (then gives an in depth explanation)” which has you stunned for a moment “Skully you didn’t know what a casserole was yesterday? How do you know this?”

— Yet he will never forget facts about you. From your birthday to your preferences on certain foods. Especially if you’re picky he has all your icks memorized.

You and Skully were growing bored on a weekend. Normally time that would be spent with your friends was unfortunately taken from you. Everyone seemed to have plans. Including Grim which is strange (he had detention). So you two walked down to Sam’s shop. You and him stand in an isle looking at various different options. “Skully which ones should we get?” You say turning slightly to look at him. Without a beat of his hesitation, he instantly reaches for your favorite ones. “These ones.” Holding out the bag to you. “Those are my favorites! Good choice.” You smile happily and he quickly responds. “I know.”

— Adores grim! Despite Grims attitude towards him. Grim was neutral towards the man until it he decided to “Get to close to his henchmen”. Alarms went off in Grims head when he was told that Skully would be coming back to NRC with Yuu. He was extremely unhappy, but then he was told he would be staying in ramshackle? Grim practically lost it and pouted for weeks. Though Skully just thinks it’s amusing and earns his trust through tuna cans. (As you had instructed him to do.)

— I literally imagine life with this man as the Adam’s family. If you choose to marry him you all are going to be different in the best way possible. The whole nine yards, cutting off the head of the flowers and only giving you the stems. Your children sharing their father’s obsession with Halloween.

— Best friends with the ghosts in ramshackle. Often times you can overhear them gossiping through the thin walls. He compliments them on their abilities to scare people.

— Major Gentleman! He pulls out all your chairs and opens every door for you. Seven forbid you ever take off your coat without his help. He is simply so deeply Enraptured with you. When he takes off your coat he always takes a couple of moments to admire you. Always having to ground himself.

Another A/N: I’m so excited for Halloween!!

[ritzeldraws]

Posting this little comic because it’s how I’ve been feeling lately. Not so much that I think I’m a bad artist, but bad at being an artist.

Because what is a REAL artist? I don’t know the answer to that, but what I do know is that to make art is to create something entirely new, and that is terrifying. Anything new comes with the fear of the unknown, the fear of failure or even worse— the fear of SUCCESS!?

My favorite quote is from a book which has become my artist bible. Art and Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking.

“Artists quit when they have convinced themselves their next effort is already doomed to fail.”

That’s the sin of sloth at play. A voice in our heads convincing us that the effort it would take to try isn’t worth the potential result of failure. But as artists no time spent creating art is time wasted because art is not something to perfect, it is a practice. The more you do it, the more you will learn and grow as a creator.

And I hate to throw a pan of reheated inspirational casserole in your face, but life is the exact same way. We are constantly growing and changing and learning. That’s what makes humans so fascinating, our ability to learn and to create!

So yes, the world may seem pretty bleak, especially in lieu of recent USA election results, the rise of AI, and the many conflicts that divide us. But we cannot hold onto the belief that our efforts to bring positivity and change are doomed to fail before we’ve even tried.

You have to keep trying.

You must.

[chronicallycouchbound]

Let People On Food Stamps Eat Hot Meals

Particularly on cold, rainy days (like today), while unhoused, sometimes all I want is a hot meal but it’s so difficult (if not impossible) to cook outside in the rain.

On top of this, I’m physically disabled and chronically ill. Medically, I’m supposed to have assistance with making meals as part of in home care. But I can’t get in home care without a home.

I just finished making dinner for my partner and I, it took 2 hours (3 if you include clean up). My knees are burning, my back is aching in it’s core, I feel like I’m about to faint, and all my joints are screaming. But it’s the only way we could have a hot meal today and get some protein, which is vital for our health conditions.

People judge us for using what little funds we have on McDonald’s some days. Because sometimes, it’s the only hot meal we’ve had in days. And sometimes I’m physically unable to stand, move, and do all the actions needed to cook. Or I faint while cooking. Or the rain doesn’t let up. Or we don’t have access to a kitchen for the day. Or the fire danger outside is too high. The list goes on.

Without my own kitchen to use, I don’t get to sit down while I cook (right now, everything is wet from the rain), I can’t meal prep, I can’t stock up on freezer meals, I can’t use an oven or a microwave to reheat leftovers, I can’t just reach across the kitchen for a fridge item (we have a small amount of fridge space friends let us use), everything about cooking is exponentially harder.

And even if I had 24/7 access to an accessible, full kitchen, it’s not even physically safe to cook my own meals. Even then, having a pre-made, hot, ready-to-eat meal could keep me safe and give me independance.

And all the safety needs for hot meals aside, emotionally, hot meals are also life saving and comfort. Meals are a part of community, culture, love and art.

So many gatherings we have as communities center around food. Most people in the United States would think of ones that often hold great value to Western culture. Mother’s Day breakfast. Spaghetti fundraisers. Wedding cakes. Birthday dinners. Bake sales. Carnival treats. BBQs on weekends. Holiday roasts. Lunches with friends. Casseroles brought to grieving neighbors.

Our world revolves around food.

I firmly believe that no poor person could ever “take advantage” of a system designed to feed us by using food stamps on hot food. This restrictive rule serves no purpose but to punish the most vulnerable of poor people— unhoused, disabled, and those of us living in unsafe conditions.

It also serves to restrict our access to joy and comfort. The joy can sometimes come from the food itself, but also the joy from having shared experiences solidified by the sounds of laughter and forks clinking on plates. The comfort can sometimes also be from the food itself, but also the experience of being loved and cared for while your close friend brings you pizza from your favorite restaurant because you lost your drive to eat three weeks ago and they worry about you. They know you. Those slices of pizza bring color back into your world.

Poor people deserve to be able to have the comfort, joy, and care that goes into a hot meal. We deserve the autonomy to choose foods that are best for us ourselves. We deserve to be able to eat in ways that are accessible to us.

Above all, we deserve access to hot meals.

Originally posted to my blog on 6.3.22

[diremoone]

sweet dedication | g. satoru

a year after his fight with sukuna, satoru finally gets to enjoy his birthday in peace, with no one but his beloved wife.

w — fluff, post-canon, lots of food :3, i incorporated a doggo sue me, vv short but hopefully sweet 🥰

Happy Birthday, My Beloved Satoru ❤️❤️

[ line divider credit to @/saradika ]

The last thing Satoru expected to smell coming through the front door of his home was a mixture of cinnamon and cherries. He shrugged off the jacket from his shoulders and curiously stepped further into his home. Upon seeing the kitchen table and every counter, his eyes went wide and mouth fell open.

On the kitchen table was at least four boxes of pizza, chicken wings, fried chicken, and brisket. Towards the end of the table farther fell the front door were sides, like green bean casserole and corn. His mouth began to water, his inner food junkie rearing it’s hungry head.

Across the counters and clearly in the oven were desserts, desserts, and more desserts — apple and cherry pie, cheesecake, fruit kebabs, crepes, mochi, brownies, kikufuku from Sendai. Gosh, what was the occasion?

And then the man sees above the hallway entrance that leads to the other rooms: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Satoru gapes.

Was it really December 7th?

He checks his phone and his brows raise in surprise. How in the world did he forget?

But you didn’t. You would’ve been the only one available to have made such a feast for him (even if it was mostly sweets), since everyone else was out on missions, still trying to tidy up Japan after the Culling Games’ toll.

He feels his heart swell with love and happiness, happy that you’ve remembered a date that he’s thrown to the side for so many years. He’s happy that you’ve done so much here for him, a genuine showcase of how much you really loved him and knew him by cooking all of his favorites. This must’ve taken you hours and hours to do; this being a clear proclamation of how much you’ve dedicated yourself to him and to knowing him.

“Babe?” he calls out to open air. No response. He’s smart by checking the kitchen first; you’d never leave cooking food unattended.

Satoru’s mouth quirks up into a sweet smile at the sight of passed out, sitting on the kitchen floor with your inseparable corgi Maple snoozing away right next to you. Although he squints at the sight of your neck lolled to the side in the corner of the cabinets. That didn’t look comfortable at all.

He’s not sure if he should take you to bed or wake you up right now. After a moment, he decides the former. But as soon as you’re scooped up and secured against his broad chest, your eyes flutter open. Maple wakes up too, barking and wiggling her butt, happy to see her dad.

“Oh, my god. Satoru!”

He winks. “The one and only baby.”

Your brain has always been fast about remembering all of the events prior to any sort of sleep or nap you’ve had. This time was no different, and he chuckles when you begin to groan and complain about your surprise being ruined.

“God, I can’t believe I fell asleep! How does one even sleep on the kitchen floor. My ass hurts, Jesus,” you complain. You burrow your head into the crook of his neck in embarrassment as he carries you to the couch and sits down with you on his lap. Maple bounds up behind him and miraculously uses her little legs to hop up on the couch. Satoru chuckles and takes a moment to briefly give her belly rubs.

“Thank you for trying to make this day special for me,” your ‘Toru says. It’s sweet, the tone of his voice, filled with love and adoration. “Don’t feel bad. That looks like a lot of cooking you did, so it’s only natural you’d fall asleep at some point. So don’t beat yourself up over it, okay?”

You grumble but nod anyway. It was true. You’d been awake ever since he’d left earlier this morning, putting the pedal to the floor on your attempt to swamp the love of your life with all of his favorite foods made by hand.

“I love you, Satoru,” you mumble, still tired and sleepy from overextending yourself.

“I love you, too, baby.” His lips press a long kiss to the side of your temple. He pulls away to gaze down into your eyes, chuckles escaping him again at seeing the sleepy haze in them. “Thank you for trying to make my special day special.”

“But I still didn’t get to surprise you,” you complain.

“I wasn’t expecting it when I came home, especially now with everything going on. I think that’s a big enough surprise for me,” he argues. “So come on, cheer up! We have some delicious delicious food to eat made by my sweet, adorable, wonderful wifey-poo! Except the pizza of course!”

You deadpan. “Call me that again and I’ll smash the strawberry shortcake I made as your birthday cake in that expensive jacket you bought last week.”

Satoru gasps dramatically in horror.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.”

“Not if I eat it first!”

taglist:

@vagabond-umlaut @heresan @4sat0ruu and @/all my satoru lovers also i shouldn’t have taken that nap otherwise this taglist would be longer lmaoo

let’s raise a glass to this man who deserves the entire fucking world

[taintandviolent]

Thankful ; Jimmy Darling x Reader

summary: 🦃 It's Thanksgiving, and the troupe is enjoying a collaborative dinner. You're sat next to Jimmy Darling, who you've been flirting with on and off for the past week. After dinner, you discover that he's still hungry.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 1.9K! | food mention, mentions of arousal (both male and female), semi-established relationship, semi-public making out and cunnilingus.

a/n: requested by @american-horror-whore! I hope this was everything you wanted bby!! thanks for the request, I so so so missed writing for my boy. also happy early thanksgiving to my followers!! i'm super thankful for all of you guys! divider by @/strangergraphics

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

It’s Thanksgiving, and you’re feeling mighty thankful. That was for sure. You scoop the last bit of sweet potato casserole into your fork, smiling over at Eve as she recounts one of her favorite stories from days past. You’d been a member of the show for a month now, but they’d wasted no time in making you feel like you’d been there since the beginning. You’d found a specific sort of camaraderie there, the kind that only comes from shared experiences and understood feelings. It must be similar to a sort of sorority or something.

Jazz drifts from the record player in the corner, serenading everyone with a relaxed romanticism. The wooden table is stuffed with dishes; almost everyone had pitched in to make something for the dinner. You’d made the stuffing, and helped Ethel with the turkey. As a little extra decoration, you’d gathered some of the fall leaves and scattered them along the table, which paired nicely with the candles that Elsa had brought in from her tent. Everyone was in good spirits, but especially Jimmy Darling, who, like everyone, had been indulging in a little of his mama’s hooch.

He’s drunk, his complexion flushed and healthy. He keeps leaning into you, letting one of his large hands make a fist in your skirt, hiking it up and tugging it towards him. You scoot closer – as close as you can without being on his lap. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, but you can’t help it; the butterflies that he gives you take control of your system the second he’s in the room.  

“Hey dollface,” Jimmy suddenly murmurs next to you. “Pass the pie, would ya’?” 

“Only if you cut me a piece too, Jimmy…”

You don’t wait for an answer before pushing yourself up off the bench just enough to reach the plate of pumpkin pie, carefully sliding your hand underneath the ceramic dish. Desiree had baked it along with the sweet potato casserole that afternoon and you were fairly certain that everyone had been eyeing it the entire dinner. The top of the pie was a perfect orange, glazed and delicious, while the crust was a delicious looking golden brown. To top it off, it was still warm. 

You set the pie in the space between you, smiling politely at Jimmy as he got to work cutting out a slice with his fork. The first one goes to you with a bright, crooked smile; he was always such a thoughtful, handsome gentleman. Admittedly, that was part of the reason that you two had been courting each other for a week now, secretly meeting to kiss and explore each other’s warm bodies in the dead of night. You weren’t embarrassed of him, nor shy, but he was very aware of the rest of the troupe’s prying eyes, specifically Elsa’s and thought it better if for now, you two kept things quiet.   

Eve’s eyes flit to yours, a tender smile on her lips. You think she knows, but she’s got enough sense not to say anything. You blink slowly and turn your attention back to Jimmy, who has his hand on your bare thigh now, fingering the silky hem of your nylons. Underneath the table, you toy with Jimmy’s ankle, rubbing your own against it and lifting the pant leg. He lets out a little moan through closed lips – inaudible to everyone but you – and squeezes the meat of your thigh. With a mean poker face, Jimmy takes a forkful of the pie and shoves it into his mouth. To everyone else, he just looks a little buzzed – which he is. But to you, he looks buzzed and horny; from the way those brown eyes are half-lidded and heavy to the way his jaw hangs slack every time he looks over you, scanning your body and kneading your thighs like dough. You pick up the tiny nuances of his arousal and gobble them up as quickly as you do the pie. 

The rest of the dinner goes on with laughter and shared stories until Elsa announces that she must get her sleep. Ethel stands up to begin clearing the empty dishes. You get to your feet and help her, knowing full well that she intended to do it all herself. 

Once you finish, you head out of the main tent, wiping your hands on the back of your dress. Everyone’s dispersed. Jimmy’s gone – probably stumbled back to his trailer in a drunken food coma. You laugh to yourself and head back to your caravan. 

Just as you pass his trailer, Jimmy emerges from the shadows, a flash of skin as his conjoined fingers wrap around your smaller wrist with ease. “No, no… where do you think you’re goin’, sweet face?” He tugs you back towards his trailer. “Baby, c’mere…” 

His back hits the metal exterior of his caravan with a thud and he pulls you atop of him, wrapping both his arms around your lower back. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was coincidence. Whatever it was, had put your trailers next to each other the day you’d rolled in. That made it very easy for you two to canoodle whenever you wanted without attracting too much attention. 

Hidden in between the two trailers, amongst the sound of rustling grasses and distant cars, you press your lips against his plush, pink ones and dive in. Kissing Jimmy is like licking the inside of a honey pot; it’s addicting, warm and the saccharine notes of his kisses coat your tongue. Every single time. You fall into the familiar rhythm of kissing him, grinding your hips back against his as he urges them into yours. You’ve been here before, many times in the last seven days, but it hasn’t gotten old yet. 

Your nimble fingers reach up, pulling the shirt buttons from their slits until you reach his belly button, and stop, too distracted with the way he’s kissing you to continue. “Oh, Jimmy,” you say against his skin.  The chill of the November air contrasts with the heat that rolls off his bare skin.

“I’m still hungry,” he growls into the curve of your ear, peppering feverish kisses along the nape of your neck. You can’t help but chuckle softly as you lean your head to the side, amused that at a time like this, Jimmy’s thinking of food. With your hands planted firmly on his pectoral muscles that are exposed through his half-open shirt, you gently push him off and look into his coffee black eyes. 

“Well, Jimmy, there’s plenty of leftovers – you should’ve eaten more! We can –” 

“No, baby. Not that kind of hungry.” His hips punctuate his sentence as he drives them into the soft flesh of your upper thigh. 

Feeling the rigid bulge against your thigh, your breath catches in your throat. You reach down and pull his head off of you, his lips still poised to kiss. You let out a giggle and move your hands down his neck. 

“Yours or mine?” You ask, flipping the collar of his shirt between your fingers. 

“We’re facing yours.” 

Bracing yourself against his trailer, you push yourself off of it, and grip the collar of his shirt like a leash on a dog, towing him in the direction of your quaint little caravan. You carefully walk up the steps and throw open the door, muttering a word of warning to not trip. He does anyway, too drunk and too horny to watch his feet. 

As soon as you’re inside, Jimmy’s got his hands wrapped around your waist and he doesn’t hesitate before lifting you up onto the small kitchen counter. Giving you room to sit, he pushes the tins of coffee and tea back against the wall. His hands slip underneath the fabric of your dress, ghosting along the curve of your ass and to the roundness of your thighs, his fingers leaving trails of heat everywhere they go. 

“Mmm, baby, you feel like you’ve got a fever. Your body’s on fire…” 

You hum, adjusting your hips on the counter. “There ain’t a single person to blame for that besides you, Jimmy….” 

He chuckles and lets his hands continue their journey, sweeping around to the front of your kneecaps, which he gently pulls apart. His inky hues connect with yours as he slowly lowers, getting to his knees in front of you. You watch him with quirked lips, indicating amusement, though your eyes are bleeding lust. 

Jimmy takes your dress in his hands, lifting it up to expose your center. The satin of your panties is already stained with arousal. It’s leaking into the fibers and creating a wet spot.

“Hooo’, baby… look at that.” His smile is proud, delighted that he’s responsible for it. 

“I hope you saved room.” You tease. 

“Oh, honey…” Jimmy runs his thumb along the clothed slit, and you shiver. “I always have room for dessert.” 

His fingers hook around the elastic of your panties and yanks them down. He leaves your garter belt on, as it poses no nuisance to him. Now free of fabric, your cunt clenches visibly as he nears her. His lips part, pressing an open mouthed kiss to your slick folds. Your hand snaps to his shoulder, gripping it hard. “Fuck, Jimmy… I…” 

Your hand moves to gather the dress of your skirt up, pinning it in place. The other hand finds a home in Jimmy’s soft, brown locks, pulling tight as his tongue laps at your cunt with a flat tongue. You mewl happily. What a sight; your nylon-covered legs over the shoulders of the most handsome man you’d ever met, his head buried between your thighs. 

His tongue flexes, points, and flicks at your quickly swelling clit. You shudder and clamp your legs around his head, a full body reaction. “Huh… Jimmy… oh my god.” 

He kisses her again, his tongue stretching down to meet your leaking entrance. Now he’s the one vocalizing; you’re sweet, pink and wet and he can’t help himself. Another kiss, but he closes his lips around your clit to suck on it gently. 

He pulls away, just for a second to ask: “Feel good?” 

You nod hurriedly and tighten your grip in his hair, pulling his head back and forth onto your cunt. Your middle finger twirls around a single curl and you hum a string of expletives, forcing his tongue deeper into your folds. 

“Mm! – yeah! – baby! –” Jimmy says in between your forced thrusts. He’s not used to you taking control like that, but like hell he’s going to complain. 

The white hot coil in your stomach winds tighter, creating an inexplicable pressure in your lower abdomen. Jimmy’s relentless, as if he knows this, and keeps at it. Not that you had any plans of loosening your grip on his locks. Mirroring your strength, Jimmy’s hands grip your thighs tight, pressing them open as far as they’ll go. You throw your head back and a deep moan escapes your lips, expelling some of the built up tension. 

“Fuck, fuck… Jimmy… right there… right there….” 

Jimmy suckles your swollen clit, and brings one hand to your entrance, teasing an intrusion with the tips of his fingers. They breach it, just enough to make your whole body tense up, and the coil snaps. All at once, you buck your hips forward, forcing Jimmy’s digits inside your cunt, his nose bumping into the flesh above her. He feels every shuddering clench, and rides it out, lapping at her like an ice cream cone. 

Once the slick pulses subside, he pulls back and brings his palm to his face, wiping his glistening chin. For a second, he admires it, tilting his hand back and forth, watching as the collected spit and arousal catches the light. 

“Mm-mm-mmm! Now that’s something to be thankful for, baby.”

Through labored pants, you mutter a response. “Oh, I’ll show you thankful, baby. Get on the bed.” 

[medusagorgongirl1]

I'm sick of this Fandom saying that Dick only eats cereal and that the only thing Tim can cook is a cup of coffee and treating Jason like he's some sort of michelin star chef, like seriously? that's it?

Dick came from a circus full of people with different cultures and backgrounds. Idk if y'all have every gone to one of those big weddings that takes place in your cousins back yard but fucking everyone comes together with food. You make the things you know and love and share them with the people your friends and family know and love. And also Dick was a kid that loved attention, of course he would sit in the kitchen and be entertained by someone while his parents were training. I'm convinced that Dick knows how to cook the most random, homey, comfort food dishes but like nothing 'ordinary'. Like that man can make the best goulash you've had in your life (only with the good paprika), he makes vegetarian momos that even Damian can't resist, his challah had more jew in it than Bruce does. But if you ask him to bring a casserole to a get together, he'll fucking bluescreen and buy a pre-made potato salad.

I agree that Jason is a good cook. As a kid I was poor, but in my later teenage years we were more middle class. That change in being able to buy ingredients, to actually make something homemade with is insane. I'm convince that one day he showed Alfred one of those '3 ingredients browine recipe' and asked if that wasn't too much to use and Alfred introduced him to the concept 'the more ingredients the better taste'. That said, as an adult I don't think he was making all these grand dishes. He doesn't live with Bruce, and frequently changes safe houses. He doesnt have the dishware to make these extraordinary foods. Like he'll make some fettuccine alfredo, but those aren't homemade noodles. He's not making a cheesecake, but he'll make a nice banana bread. I also think that he would be a bit nostalgic for the foods of his childhood like we all are in a way, but he would better it. Like cheap ass Ramen? That man is making a steaming bowl of pho. Baked potatoes? Creamy potatoes au Gratin. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? Fruit tarts with peanut butter cookies. He's not phenomenal, but he's resourceful.

I said this in a previous post but Tim can cook goddammit. He grew up in a big home as tween with an unlimited fridge. He did what kids do; make really shitty food until they understand cooking. He would thrive off of reciving praise from his parents if he informed them on how independent he is. I know he tried to learn how to make all of their favorite meals until he could recite the recipe word for word. And I don't think that left even after he became robin. Because things were shaky with Bruce for a while, and Tim needed to prove himself. He definitely found out how to make the most tasty protein filled post workout foods because he was determined to be a good robin. I think that as an adult a lot of those would stick too. Like he would know how to make a lot of standard meals, and knows how to read relatively re create a recipe. He isn't useless in the kitchen just because he's rich.

Stephanie is always neglected in these and I refuse too, I love her. I think that she would be kinda a combination of Jason and Tim, like she knows as a vigilante (especially one always underestimated) she really needs to prove she can hold her own and I think that means that she would care about her diet in relation to her workout regime. Her diet would probably consist of a lot protein, fiber and vegetables. But also I think she would be more nostalgic that Jason. Because who can't help but romanticize the sight of your mom making your birthday cake and adding a drop of magic that turns it purple. If it comes down to the frozen pizza or the frozen stir fry, she might choose the pizza because it's the same brand her mom would make on Fridays. She knows how to make the foods that are good for her (to an extent, similar to Tim in that way) but she would also be able to make more of her comfort foods. But above all else, she's a sucker for convenience store meals. She's a patsa roni after patrol kinda gal. And some days she'll add in steamed broccoli, but the nights she's really feeling it, she might just turn on some old cartoon and sit on the floor with her pasta roni.

Damian is more interesting. Always being wealthy has him thinking cooking a bit beneath him. BUT, he also how easy it is to poison someone by making their meals. I feel like in the league of assassin's he learned to detect poison in food and knows how to get it back up. But, it's easier to detect that type of thing with plants. I think he knows which plants are poisonous simply by sight, taste and smell. And besides the obvious reason behind his vegan/vegetarianism I think that is also one of the contributing factors. But I still think it took him a while to come around to Alfred and ask to learn how to make more of the foods he can eat. I don't think that would happen until after he has since how the memories from cooking affect Dick, how cooking gives Jason a sense of freedom and control, and Tim independence. I think he would come to recognize the importance of being able to do something for yourself without assistance. I think he would begin with shyly approaching Alfred vegan recipe he found (because vegan/vegetarians recipes are finally becoming more mainstream and popular on social media), and Alfred will agree because he wants Damian to request certain foods. He wants Damian to truly enjoy meals and not just tolerate something Alfred makes. So I think Damian would know how to make a lot of staple dishes, but also a lot of really yummy vegan dishes. But I also think he would have a slight nostalgia for foods more regional to Nanda Parbat. Specifically I think he would miss spicy food and that it would become necessary in his favorite dishes. I think he would be a sucker for a nice lentil soup, so spicy that only Jon can stomach it.

Sorry for the long post, but this has been on my mind a bunch lately.

[artsy-hobbitses]

I've seen the headcanons with Megatron (ıt's delightful but i get a little sad at the headcanons involving Op and his blackling disease). I wonder if you have headcanons for Optimus or Strongarm Sideswipe ? 👉👈

By popular demand, please enjoy this compendium of Daddimus headcanons!

Optimue Prime/Omar Parvez used to smoke while he worked in the Dead End (mainly due to the stress), but gave up the habit when he was demoted to a dockworker.

He's the long-suffering mediator between the souls of the twelve Primes currently locked in the Matrix which he now bears. It's not unusual to hear him seemingly talking to or negotiating with himself, and Prima and Megatronus' catfights comprise the majority of his headaches.

Omar doesn't like being called Prime, but accepts it reluctantly as a rank. Those close to him only refer to him as Omar, or Optimus on a more formal basis. 'Prime' is who he is to the wider world, and was a rank unwittingly accorded to him by Alpha Trion/Aillard Toussaint. This happened when Aillard, upon facing an increasingly megalomaniacal Sentinel/Sedgewick who was trying to fashion himself as the next Prime and had arrested him under sedition charges for associating with Omar and owning banned literature, told Sedgewick that Omar was "more of a Prime than you'll ever be." That was captured on recording, and went viral very quickly, and Omar was being associated with the rank 'Prime' at a time when he was still using 'Orion Pax' as a codename. Optimus ('the best' ie. 'the best of us'), was co-opted by his supporters to counter Sedgewick's attempt to fashion himself as 'Sentinel Prime', defender of order. It's not until Omar comes back from the dead with a strange bauble embedded in his chest that he starts going by Optimus -sigh fine- Prime, to distance himself from his a nickname given to him by a now-enemy.

He has a love for rearing pigeons passed down from his father, who built a makeshift dovecote on the roof of their apartment. The pigeons on Aillard's estate know his face and answer to his call when he goes out to feed them daily. He has each one named and tagged, and even without food, they still flock to him.

He is the imam of the Muslim Autobot prayer congregation which comprises Hotspot/Hassan, Trailbreaker/Tariq, Steeljaw/Salim, First Aid/Fatima, Ramhorn/Raminah, and later on Streetwise/Shamar.

As such with the info above, is usually the first person awake on the base on any given day.

Excellent in the kitchen. Loves making Tapsi (a Kurdish aubergine casserole) for himself as a post-battle treat, but also makes a beef stroganoff bonkers enough that old college buddy Elita-One/Alisa Ivanova, upon finally being able to land on earth after dealing with Liege Maximo's bullshit, immediately hauls Omar into the nearest kitchen so he can make that specific dish for her.

You'll notice that Ratchet/Ronan has a patch of dark skin on one side of his face (Inspired from Osamu Tezuka's Dr Blackjack). As part of his torture when he was captured and held by Bludgeon, half his face was flayed. After Omar rescued Ronan, he donated skin to him for a temporary allograft. However, even at a point where Ratchet was well enough to receive an autograft from his own body, he refused since his body had not rejected Omar's allograft, and he wanted to keep it as it was as a symbol of the deep friendship the two of them share and the sacrifice Omar made for him.

Omar keeps a sketch that Bumblebee/Benjamin drew of him on his desk.

He makes time for Ben whenever Ben is laid up in medical bay, whether it's reading to him, watching his favorite shows he missed during field missions together, or just humming to him until he sleeps.

He's a pianist who plays by ear mostly, and time spent with Ben includes playing during Ben's ballet practice. You can tell what his stress levels are by the tempo of the pieces he's playing---if he sounds like he's setting the keys on fire, he has grievances he clearly needs to work out.

Omar has in his possession the once-beloved water-damaged notebook in which Megatron/Morgan first wrote notes for Towards Peace in---he had wanted to return it to Morgan when he found it outside his precinct station, but was too late as Morgan had already been shipped to Messatine when he came to the mines. For a decade, he kept it with him, and when Morgan came back, he tried to return it. However, Morgan, while grateful for the gesture, refused to take it back and told him to toss it or burn it, as it was "penned by a witless, childish fool", which he wasn't anymore. Omar refused to do so, and it remains in the drawer of his study desk---when he's feeling quietly hopeless, he'll open it up and see the pages where he and Morgan in their youths had drafted ideas together for a better system, and he's back to the drawing board. He refuses to give up on the hope for a better world, or that the Morgan he knew is completely gone.

His mother was a journalist who had experience running an underground publication network in Iran, and it was from her experience that Omar collated and distributed the notes from Messatine written by Morgan, which made up the full copy of Towards Peace. In essence, for better or worse, Omar is the reason Morgan's words spread as swiftly as they did on earth.

He also has a Youtube channel specifically dedicated to a little book club Blaster/Brandon had encouraged him to open up, after Brandon one day invited him to speak on an Autobot radio show and the number of listened spiked significantly. On this channel, he usually reads from a book of the month and discusses its themes/characters, as well as fields questions about his favorite written works in general. He has also at times, chosen books that Morgan enjoyed in their younger days. Whether he knows that Morgan sometimes listens in on him is something he'll brush off, but on the off chance that Morgan does tune in… he still thinks about you, old friend.

Turkish tea fiend.

Green thumb from setting up an urban garden in the Dead End, regularly tends to the communal garden at the Autobot base alongside Sludge/Slavomir and Hound/Hale.

In his early days as Optimus Prime, suffered from internal burns, severe chest pains (he said it felt like the sun burning up in his chest) and shortness of breath after major use of the Matrix's powers in battle. Note that back then, using the Matrix's powers wasn't aways a choice he consciously made, as it treated him like a host and would react to/be triggered by serious threats. The only reason the Matrix stayed in him then, was because neither Ratchet nor Wheeljack could figure out how to safely remove it, and there was fear that despite the way it was affecting him, it was what was keeping him alive and was too ingrained with his neural network to be parted from him.

Per the above, he was actually in chronic pain which he was medicated for and hid very well, up to the point where he finally made contact with the volatile, conglomerated mess of Prime souls in the Matrix during a coma and managed to calm them down/'untangle' them.

There is a little cairn at the roots of largest tree in Alpha Trion's estate where Omar's pigeons most often roost, which he set up for his father, Mirzan, who was killed by his former mentor Sedgewick on charges of disseminating seditious literature. He's never been able to retrieve his father's body and consequently, give the man a proper burial, and he feels guilty about it to this day.

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 21 Prompt: Home and/or Dinner

I honestly think this is my favorite one yet!

Tags: Pre-Relationship Steddie, Eddie Munson Has A Crush On Steve Harrington, Holiday Parties, Overstimulation (the bad kind, not the fun kind), Steve Harrington Is A Sweetheart

wc: 2215 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

The holidays were always a quiet affair at the Munsons.

A few gifts, wrapped in week-old copies of the Hawkins Post, placed under a modest tree from Merrill’s. Wayne’s famous (well, famous to Eddie) chocolate chip pancakes in the morning with a questionable amount of syrup and a reheated casserole from Ms. Jenkins down the street for dinner.

No church or family plans, just the two of them, a couple of beers (root beer in Eddie’s case until a few years ago), and whatever movie Eddie had insisted they watch before he turned the TV over to Wayne and the Christmas basketball game.

It was good. Great, even.

Eddie loved his holiday traditions with Wayne.

He did, but sometimes he’d catch sight of Ms. Jenkins welcoming her brood of kids and grandkids into her cluttered trailer or spot Gerald loading the passenger seat of his pickup with toys for his nieces and nephews and wonder what it would be like to have a big family to spend the holidays with.

Turns out, it’s loud.

So, very, loud.

The Hopper-Byers’ new house is bursting at the seams with guests. The entire We Survived The End of the World gang is here along with some guests — Wayne and Ms. Henderson. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair stopped by for about an hour before excusing themselves to finish up holiday shopping (said in a hushed tone to not ruin Santa for Erica — as if she still believes, Eddie had thought). But mostly it was just the usual gang.

Eddie learned, in the form of Dustin’s “you’re being stupid” voice that it's become a tradition for them. Gathering a week before the holidays to pig out on food and dessert, play games, and exchange presents. Celebrate the year coming to an end and them making it.

As the apocalypse gang grew every year, the celebration got bigger and bigger until they were tripping over each other inside of the Byers house. That is, until this year when Joyce and Hopper got their shit together and finally moved into a decent-sized house on the outskirts of Hawkins. It’s no Loch Nora mini-mansion, but it works for them — even if it's still a tight fit when everyone is together.

Murray, Joyce, and Ms. Henderson are gathered in the kitchen — arguing over when to take the turkey out of the oven and the proper milk-to-cheese ratio in macaroni casseroles. A small radio sits in the corner, attempting to play Christmas music over the static. That’s the con about living farther out, Eddie supposes.

El and Max have claimed a fold-out table on the outskirts of the kitchen where they’ve been decorating cookies for hours, it seems. El’s simple and artistic, Max’s a chaotic mess of spilled-over frosting and candy sprinkles. (Eddie’s stolen one from each and thinks they’re both delicious much to their delight.)

The den’s been co-opted by Hopper and Wayne, and the TV volume turned all the way up (“We can hear just fine! It’s you kids that are making it hard,” Hopper gruffed when one of them pointed out the volume). They’re switching between basketball games while nursing beers and pretending not to hear the argument going down in the kitchen.

Jonathan and Argyle are hiding out in his room — smoking and trying to drown out the noise with whatever record he managed to pick up from the store he’s working at. Eddie thought about joining him, but the scowl he earned from Wheeler Jr. had him changing course.

The rest of them have taken refuge in the spacious basement. It’s too chaotic for Dungeons & Dragons so the boys and Erica have taken to playing an intense game of Monopoly. The threats he’s heard hurled at each other have been clever and downright terrifying. Way worse than anything they’ve uttered at his DM table. Those heathens.

For some reason, Steve’s taken on the role of the banker. Something about Dustin skimming from the top last time he held the role and played. Now, house rules say the banker has to be an NPC, and well, Steve fits the bill. Unfortunately, he seems to be struggling with the math of it all judging by the scoffs and annoyed eye rolls thrown his way. Eddie would go help, but he doesn’t think he’d be much help. Godspeed, Steve.

Nancy and Robin are there too, sprawled out on the couch and lost in their own little world. Occasionally Robin gets up to flip the record on the record player, but mostly they sit together, gossiping and talking about who knows what in hushed voices. Eddie might understand every little thing about dungeons and hobbits, but girl talk? That’s an alien language if he’s ever seen one.

As for him? Well, he’s hovering in the middle of it all. With Steve occupied, he’s taken on his babysitter role of sorts. Racing up and down the stairs to fetch whatever snacks the gremlins demand, rustling Max and El’s hair on the way in, and nodding at Hopper and Wayne on the way out. He narrowly escapes being sucked into being the official judge for the impromptu Murray vs Ms. Henderson pie off and almost makes it up to Jonathan and Argyle’s room before Dustin is bellowing for him.

It’s fun, mostly.

Getting to see everyone relaxed and having fun. A far cry from the last time they were all together like this back in March.

In some ways, it's what Eddie’s always dreamed it would be like. Being part of a big family, a cog in a never-ending machine of noise and organized chaos.

But it’s also becoming a lot.

Lucas is about to put a hotel on Boardwalk that has everyone shouting and throwing their own pieces at his head. Steve’s trying to keep them under control but it's a losing battle. One that pulls Robin and Nancy from their own little world to join the chaos.

And then there’s even more noise.

A crash from upstairs, the blaring voice of Joe Strummer coming from Jonathan’s room, more shouting, Wayne and Hoppers stopping, and giggles from Max and El.

Suddenly all Eddie can hear is noise.

It gets louder and louder and louder until finally, he’s certain his eardrums are going to explode.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he pushes through the chaos going on upstairs (dropped pies and frosting stains and shouting at TVs) and makes his way onto the wrap-around porch.

The crisp cold air is the first thing that hits him. Like an idiot, he ran out of the house without a coat or scarf or hell, even the warm hat Ms. Henderson knitted for him earlier in the month. He shivers, rubbing his hands up and down his bare arm as he tries to take deep breaths, watching as his warm breath twirls in the breeze.

As his body adjusts, so do his ears. He can still hear the chaos going on inside, but it's muffled now. Distant. He can hear himself think for the first time in hours and for once, it’s nice.

The snow is falling in slow but steady flakes, dusting the backyard in the white. Or, it should be white, but the hoard of Christmas lights decorating the house illuminates the backyard in reds and greens. It’s a real Christmas wonderland out there, now.

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and his trusty lighter. The first inhale of nicotine warms him from the inside out, sending the goosebumps packing as he focuses on his steady and slow inhale and exhales.

At some point he zones out, so focused on the snow falling and the repetitive nature of lifting the cigarette to and from his lips that he doesn’t hear the creak of the door or the heavy footsteps that follow until the intruder is standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

“Figured you might be needing this,” Steve says, hand outstretched with Eddie’s coat.

“Thanks, man.”

They swap, Eddie takes the coat from Steve and Steve takes the lit cigarette from Eddie, keeping it safe while he shimmies his way into the monstrosity that he calls his winter coat. When he’s finally situated in the plaid nightmare, he reaches a hand out ready to take his cigarette back only to find it perched between Steve’s lips.

Oh.

That’s different.

Sure, they’ve smoked together before. Bummed off cigarettes in the ally behind Family Video and in the parking lot of Palace Arcade waiting for the gremlins to be done. But they’ve never shared the same one. Never pressed their lips to the same filter. Felt the dampness of their mouths on their own lips.

“Sorry,” Steve says, lips turning up in a small smile as he removes the cigarette. “Couldn’t help myself.”

Eddie nods, unable to say much else as their fingertips brush when he takes it back. Is it weird if he puts it between his lips right now? Is he supposed to wait a minute? Let Steve’s taste linger for a moment. God, he’s being so weird right now. In the end, he brings the cigarette to his lips and takes the smallest inhale, nearly coughing as the smoke floods his lungs because he’s so distracted by the way the filter feels different now that it’s been in Steve’s mouth — as if that makes any sense.

“You okay? You sort of booked it out of the room.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, before leaning against the banister of the porch. “Yeah, m’good. It just—“

“Got too loud?” Steve supplies, mirroring his position. “I get it. I remember my first holiday dinner. There were a lot less of us in ’83 but shit. It was still so loud.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m a pretty loud son of a bitch.” Eddie’s caught off guard by Steve’s snorting. Stealing a glance, he finds Steve lit up in reds and greens, a smile etched on his face so deep he can see the spot where smile lines are going to emerge in the next ten years, catching the way his eyes already wrinkle in the corners. Fuck, he’s beautiful. “But, uh, yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house that loud before. Not even when I’m fucking around with the Corroded Coffin boys.”

“Well, I doubt that. Your music is very loud.”

“Uh, yeah, ‘cause it's metal, Steve.”

“So I’ve been told,” Steve says, smiling that soft, private smile again.

If Eddie was braver, he’d close the distance between them and press his lips to his. But if this year has taught him anything, it’s that he’s not. Not really. So he lets a quiet fall between them instead. They continue to stand shoulder to shoulder, passing the dwindling cigarette between them despite the pack in Eddie’s pocket being brand new, and watch as the snow steadily starts to pick up.

“You know,” Steve says, then stops.

Eddie turns, watching the gears tick in Steve’s brain as he decides what to say next. It’s magical watching it all pass on his face — the knit of his brows, his pupils dilating and returning to their normal size, letting the hazel shine through. The way his lips open and close like some gasping fish.

“If it ever gets to be too much, you can tell us. Tell me. Hell, I know I need a break after a few hours with those shitheads. Maybe we could come up with a code word or something.”

“A codeword? That’s might nerdy of you, Steve.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, waving his hand through the air as he bites back a chuckle. “But yeah, a code word. It’d be easier to say than “hey it’s too loud and I can’t think” you know. Plus, it would annoy the shit out of Henderson.”

“Well, then. Count me in. You know I love annoying the shit out of that kid. Gotta keep that ego in check somehow.”

They spend the next few minutes going back and forth trying to decide on a word that could work. Steve wants something common — a fruit or a vegetable. Eddie disagrees, saying it has to be something uncommon so they don’t accidentally say it, but common enough that it doesn’t sound weird casually being dropped in conversation.

They wrack their brain, throwing out silly words left and right until there’s a crash from inside. Their heads swivel in tandem toward the source of the noise. A flurry of shadows passes on the other side of the window as Steve shakes his head and sighs.

“Come on,” he says, handing the cigarette back to Eddie. “If we’re not at the table the minute the food gets served, we won’t be eating. The gremlins know no manner.”

Eddie laughs, stubbing out the cigarette on the ashtray precariously balanced on the banister, “Teaching ‘em manners seems like a job for their babysitter.”

“Nah,” Steve snorts. “Maybe one for their Dungeon Master, though.”

Just as the words leave Steve’s lip, there’s a shout from inside followed by another crash.

“Think it might be a job for both of us, actually,” Eddie laughs. “Together?”

“We need all the help we can get,” Steve says. “Together it is.” 

[galacticnova3]

@onenicebugperday Bit of an unfortunate update, but not without hope.

A week ago as of posting this, Green Bean Casserole had a pretty severe mismolt. I think they fell and got stuck behind their favorite stick in an awkward position after leaving the exuviae. I only found and assisted them the next morning, but by then their exoskeleton had already hardened up. Thankfully all of their limbs are intact and functional, but, well... The situation is far from ideal, as you’ll see.

At first I was pretty worried they wouldn’t make it; they seemed to be struggling to move around due to the deformity, falling when climbing and generally looking wobbly. I moved them to a different terrarium set up for my flat headed snake Absinthe, both because of the softer substrate and the lack of skinks that might be bold and attempt to take advantage of a weakened mantis. I wasn’t even sure if food would be able to pass through their system, and they had no interest in prey at all, which wasn’t a good sign. However, with some adjustments to the layout of the temporary terrarium I moved them to, they did climb and manage to hang from the lid with some effort. GBC seemed like they were a fighter, and the day after the bad molt they accepted and ate a grasshopper, so I decided to see if I could get them to their next molt and hopefully allow them to recover.

They’ve since adapted to their new shape, and I’ve moved them back to their usual terrarium for easier monitoring and better sun access. They’re climbing and hanging without falling, eating well, and drinking water droplets from the screen lid when I water the terrarium. I’d say they’re about as close to thriving as they could be in this situation! Here’s how they’re looking today. Ignore the escapee grasshopper in the background, its jailbreak was short lived…

I do feel a bit mean for making this comparison, but…

There’s a bit of a resemblance, isn’t there?

[waywardxwords]

Family, Friends and Loved Ones

Summary: You make it home for Thanksgiving to see your family again, bringing Sam and Dean with you.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: Slight language, fluff!

A/N: Day 2 of the #flufftober2023 (@flufftober) prompt challenge! The prompt is: Friends, Family, Loved Ones. Side note: if you are on my tag list, I am planning/attempting to post once a day during the month of October. I know that's a lot of tags and mentions, so if you'd like to be removed you can do so through the Tag List linked in my bio.

I hope you enjoy!

Fall was undeniably your most favorite time of the year. You loved everything about it—the changing leaves, the cooler weather, but especially the food: turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole (and Dean's favorite, pie). Brown and yellow leaves passed by as you looked out the back window of the Impala.

“I’m just so excited!” You could hardly contain yourself. It had been far too long since you had made a trip home. While your parents and family understood, they missed you–and you missed them. Life as a hunter was complicated and confusing at times, but you grew up in a family of hunters. Your father considered himself retired now, but he always jumped back in if a job stumbled upon him. “I love Thanksgiving so much.”

Sam flashed you a small smile over his shoulder from the front passenger seat. He looked back to the road before he spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a real Thanksgiving.” He murmured as he watched the passing trees and cow fields.

“Oh, bullshit,” Dean bickered back. He looked from the road to his younger brother, then back again. “We’ve had plenty of Thanksgivings.”

Sam’s brow knitted together as he contemplated. “I don’t know, man. I don’t remember the last time we had an actual Thanksgiving dinner–turkey, stuffing, the whole nine yards.” 

“Yeah, well, your memory’s shit,” Dean mumbled under his breath. 

You rolled your eyes but leaned forward in the seat to point ahead. “See that road there? Turn right,” you instructed. Dean nodded as he whipped the Impala around the corner. “It’s the first house on the left.”

The excitement from seeing your family again was taking a toll on you, and you felt yourself almost wiggle against the seat as your house came into view. It took a lot of strength to suppress a squeal–you could feel Dean’s judgment without him even looking at you–but kept your hand on the door handle, ready to throw it open as soon as the car lulled to a stop. 

“Baby!” Your mother was already halfway down the steps leading off of the front porch. The smile that spread across her lips was one you hadn’t seen in a long time, even on FaceTime. She had always worried so much about you hunting, even though she’d said she understood. 

“Mama,” you breathed as she embraced you. The scent of her shampoo and light perfume instantly calmed you in a way no one else could, except maybe Sam. 

As you remembered the man you had been with for over a year behind you, you pulled from her grasp and beamed up at him. “Mama, this is Sam Winchester. And that’s his brother, Dean.” 

“Sam,” she smiled a smile that reached her eyes. “It’s so good to finally meet you.” She embraced him tightly, just as she had you. 

“It’s really nice to meet you, too,” he hugged her back and grinned at you over her shoulder. 

“Well, come on, now,” she drawled at Dean. He emitted a chuckle as he made his way around the Impala and gave her a friendly hug. 

“Thanks for having us,” Sam called as you pulled your duffel bag from the backseat. Sam took it from you almost instantly, which made your heart feel warm. 

“Any friends of my baby are always welcome,” she gleamed. “Come on inside, your daddy is out back with your brother and sister.” 

After the boys gathered their own duffel bags, the three of you followed your mother up the steps leading into the house. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed the smell of home until you smelled it: warm cinnamon mixed with the sweet potato casserole your mom had in the oven. It brought a sense of peace over you that you hadn’t felt in a while. 

Just as you entered the kitchen, the back door opened and you heard the familiar voice of your younger brother. “Look what the cat dragged in,” he grinned as he approached. 

You managed the initial introductions—Sam and Dean seemed to fit in better than you expected. Sam wouldn’t say the words, but you could tell he was nervous. You caught him rub the palms of his hands down his jeans twice to get the stickiness from nervous sweat off. But he didn’t need to be; your family was just really glad to see you, and they had heard such great things about the boys. 

“So, you and my daughter, huh?” Your Dad couldn’t help but bring up over the noise of the TV in the background. 

“Yes, sir,” Sam said. His voice sounded strong, but you knew better. “I’m sure you weren’t thrilled she decided to date a hunter.” He cleared his throat a little and broke eye contact with your dad, but only for a second. 

“You would think that, right?” Your dad chuckled as he looked down at the bottle of beer in his hand. “You’re not completely wrong. When the kids were growin’ up, I would tell their mother they better choose a normal life. School, then marry someone regular, like an accountant, or somethin’,” Sam’s gaze fell again as your dad spoke. “But my wife kindly reminded me that this life was all they knew. And I’d be real lucky to have my kids meet partners that understood this life; people they didn’t have to hide from and could be totally honest with. People that would help keep ‘em safe.” His voice dropped a bit as he said his last sentence. He toyed with the beer bottle in his hand before he made eye contact with Sam once more. The tone of his voice made a bubble of emotion form in the back of your throat. 

Sam nodded his head once but made sure he made eye contact with your dad as he said, “I promise you I will do whatever I can to keep her safe.” 

Your Dad nodded as he studied Sam’s face. “I can tell you mean that, son.” 

Sam excused himself and made his way over to where you had watched inconspicuously from the doorway leading from the dining room to the kitchen. He grinned down at you as he approached, not afraid to snake his arm around your waist slightly. You looked up to him, raising your head in a way that told him you were waiting for a kiss. He obliged, giving you a quick peck. 

“That went well,” you murmured softly as he pulled away. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled and glanced back where your Dad sat at the table, already enveloped in the pre-game festivities on the TV he could see in the living room. “You have a really great family. I’m surprised you chose to hunt with us instead.” He cocked his head to the side as he searched your face to try to understand why you chose them; or why you chose him. 

“Well, not to sound like a typical girl or anything,” you rolled your eyes playfully and heaved a dramatic sigh. “But there’s kinda this guy…”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam grinned as he matched your playful tone. You took a second to bask in the glow of his joy. “Tell me about him.” 

“Oh, you’d love him,” you kept up the ruse as you brought one hand up to a button on his flannel, his fingers still splayed across your lower back. “He’s super smart, he went to Stanford, you know? But more than that, he’s kind, he’s loving, and he’s super attractive. Oh! And very, very tall.”

A slight rose color rose to Sam’s cheeks as he broke eye contact for a second, the grin still stretched across his face. “Super tall, huh?” 

“Oh yeah, gigantic,” you emphasized the word as you inched closer to his face. 

“Alright, alright,” he cut you off with another quick kiss. “I love you, too.” He beamed as he pulled back and met your gaze. This time it was your turn for the heat to reach your cheeks. Only a moment later, you heard your mom’s voice from the kitchen. 

“Okay, kids! Dinner’s just about ready,” she called out to the other areas of the house to gather everyone. You all made your way to the kitchen. Sam wasn’t afraid to stand behind you with his arms wrapped loosely around your waist—he knew he had gotten the okay from your father and that he fit right in. You were happy to see Dean talking with your brother; it was probably about hunting, but that was okay. It was at least someone to talk to. 

As you all stood around your family’s kitchen, you took a moment to observe. Your Mom laughed at something Dean said, which caused him to break into a smile you hadn’t seen from the man in a very long time. Your Dad conversed with Sam–thankfully not about hunting, but rather pre-law and what his college experience at Stanford was like. Your sister and brother bickered over who would win the big game, and while you wouldn’t voice it, your money was on the Cowboys. As your eyes traveled around the room, you felt Sam’s fingers reach around your hand and give a gentle squeeze. You moved to look back into his hazel gaze and realized your eyes had glassed over while taking it all in.

“Everything okay?” His voice was low as he observed the emotions across your face. 

You nodded and brought your fingertips up just under your eyes to wipe away any stray tears. “Everything is perfect.” He leaned to you and gave you a quick peck, making your smile grow and your heart warm even more. And everything was perfect. Because what more could you ask for? You had your family, friends and loved ones all together–you were thankful.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read, I hope you enjoyed it!

Tag List: @hallecarey1 @zepskies @lacilou

[pretend-theres-a-name-here]

little thing I wrote inspired by this post

————

Dustin can’t remember a time when it wasn’t just him and his mom against the world. Sure he had the Party and she had her book club—which she insisted wasn’t a cover up to get drunk and gossip with the neighborhood ladies once a month but he’s pretty sure reading Little Women didn’t make your breath smell like fine wine—but at the end of the day he was the only one there to set the table and she was the only one there to cook.

At the end of the day she was the only one who would tuck him in and listen to his rambles—however incoherent—about DnD. He was the only one to bike halfway across town to get her favorite ice cream after yet another bad date that ended with them curled up on the couch watching Star Trek late into the night.

For as long as he could remember it was just him and his mom, so when Steve Harrington of all people dropped by his house after the first round of Upside Down shit to check on him he was surprised. When Steve kept being there and giving him rides and looking away bashfully when his mom told him to call her Claudia for the tenth time, he was shocked. 

“Steve, honey, could you come take the casserole out of the oven?” His mom would call from the kitchen. Steve would jump up from where he sat on the floor, playing checkers with Dustin, and rush to help her.

“You really should eat more.” His mom would say, already shoveling a second helping of mashed potatoes onto Steve’s plate.

“Yes, mom.” Steve would joke, though it always had an almost hopeful ring to it.

Steve spent Christmas at Dustin’s house every year because his own parents couldn’t be bothered. He said he could always make other plans if it was too much trouble and his mom would wrap him in her arms and tell him she already got his present so he may as well stay. She would line them up beside the tree for a picture saying she needed one of her boys together to put in the frame above the couch. 

When Steve’s parents found out about him and Eddie and kicked him out he showed up on their doorstep, stuttering apologies and telling them he could go somewhere else before they could even get a word out. Of course his mom pulled him in and only let go to tug Dustin into the pile. She didn’t pull back until he finished explaining what happened, and when she did it was to get tissues and set up a bed on the couch.

Dustin never had a dad or an older brother to look up to and he was fine with that, he was fine with spending the rest of his days taking care of his mom alone but then Steve let him drag him along with all the Upside Down mess and made himself a spot at their dinner table. He went from being an only child to hearing his mom call Steve her baby to the book club gals.

[bluefirewrites]

Blue's Ultimate JATP Tumblr Masterpost

Hey guys, it's been a while! Been combing through my blog and realized I wrote a lot of fun ficlets over the years (mostly AU's and mostly Juke). It's probably hard to find all of them without a lil' help. Below is a masterlist of all the Tumblr drabbles I've made for Julie and the Phantoms

*- requests/asks; appropriate warnings will be in posts; ♡- favorites of mine Any AU is a Juke AU

50's AU (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) ♡

Angel and Demon/ Good Omens AU

Baby Driver AU (Part 1) (Part 2)

Celebrity Fake Dating AU

Celebrity/Fan AU*

Celebrity Neighbor AU*

Desk Pen Pals AU*

Church/Youth Group Leaders AU (Part 1) (Part 2)*

College AU* (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Con Artist/ Leverage AU (Part 1) (Part 2)

Diner AU

Enchanted AU ♡

Florist AU (Part 1) (Part 2)♡

Halloweentown AU

Hero/Villain Roommates AU *

High School Theater AU*

Hologram/ Pixel Perfect AU (Part 1) (Part 2)

Imaginary Friends/Pen Pals AU (Part 1) (Part 2)

Jam Skater AU

Josie and The Pussycats AU

Knowledgeable Local AU*

Lip Synch Battle AU

Long Distance AU* ♡

Mall AU ♡

Met in the Back of A Cop Car (also full fic on AO3) ♡

Prince Protection Program AU (Part 1) (Part 2) ♡

Pizza Delivery Boy AU*

Prostitute/Client AU*

Record Store AU

Sense8 AU

Space Opera/Body Swap AU

Speed Racer AU

Stranded on Island/ Flight 29 Down AU ♡

Uber Driver AU

Wayne AU

We Bought a Zoo AU ♡

Western AU (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Willex AU

Con Artist/Leverage AU (Part 4) Petal Palace/ Handyman AU Traveling Pants AU (Part 1) (Part 2) ♡

In-Universe Juke

Angsty Juke

Back to the 1991/ Time Travel

Caleb's Dream Spell ♡

Emily Gifts Julie Luke's Guitar* ♡

First I Love You*

Juke Kisses*

Julie's Unfinished Business*

Luke Follows Julie Around School ♡

Music Lessons

Prom Night

They Still Can't Touch?

While You Sleep (also full fic on AO3)

Wicked Beauty

In-Universe Willex

Alex and Willie Adopt a Ghost Child* (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Alex Braid Willie's Hair

Alex: The King of Hugs*

The First Kiss* ♡

Willie LOVES Drummers

Willex Hugs*

General Drabbles

Alive!Mama Rose and Alive! Sunset Curve* (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

Julie Crosses Over* ♡

Julie's Sacrifice ♡

Luke's Birthday Candles*

Ray Molina and the Casseroles

Rose's Deal with Caleb* ♡

Rose and the Petal Pushers (own masterpost about Rose Molina's band) ♡

[soralymystaken]

My headcanons on the ninja’s favorite foods / diets because I am so normal about these characters.

Cole - Cake. I don’t think I have to explain this. It couldn’t be more canon lmao. If I had to pick a particular cake as his favorite, he’s definitely one of those people who adores chocolate lava cakes. I think that and red velvet are is favorites. I also feel like he has a very high spice tolerance.

Zane - In my headcanon, nindroid!zane does not need to eat, so he doesn’t really have a favorite food. For human!zane, I feel like he would have very expensive taste. I think my pick for his favorite would be lobster. No reason why, just my thoughts.

Jay - Jay was easily the hardest to pick. I faintly remember him saying he liked Chen’s Noodles, so I could pick something like ramen as his favorite food, but while I think that fits, I think all of the ninja really like Chen’s Noodles. The food that comes to find for me, although it has 0 basis in canon, is burritos. I feel like he loves the amount of food there is, the fact that it is “easy to eat,” and the fact that “there are so many different configurations that it’s practically a different food every time.” Oh, and dino nuggets. No explanation needed.

Nya - Nya loves sushi, and you can fight me on that fact. While this makes things kind of hard as Jay is kind of scared of the concept of eating raw food, Jay still will eat it with her and Nya is still obsessed. Also enjoys mac and cheese when no one is looking lol.

Kai - Okay, this section is gonna have a lot of angst and I’m not apologizing for that. Kai and Nya never had much to eat, but Kai always made sure Nya had food on the table. In fact, one year on Nya’s birthday, he surprised her with by going with her to get (albeit cheap) sushi. He claimed he felt sick, though, so he didn’t eat any. In reality, though, he had only saved enough for Nya, and seeing her happy was a million times better than the food itself. As for his personal taste, Kai isn’t very picky when it comes to food. Growing up, almost everything he ate was rice, as that was what was grown where he lived. This has led him to really disliking rice, due to its unsavory memories. One of Kai’s favorite foods, funny enough, is pizza. This is primarily due to, when Kai had some extra money and Nya was unfed, he would order himself a pizza as a treat. This basically never happened as Kai always felt guilty spending money on himself when it could have gone to Nya, but it’s led to pizza being very important to Kai now that he has enough money to afford it.

Lloyd - I have a lot of thoughts on Lloyd. Firstly, as proven by canon, Lloyd has a major sweet tooth. I wouldn’t give candy as his favorite food since I feel it is too broad, and I don’t have a specific candy to give him because he likes all candy equally. I also feel like he quite likes junk food. Similarly to Kai, Darkley’s didn’t have a ton of food options, so fast food was the cheapest and easiest option for Lloyd. However, unlike Kai, he still finds comforts in the foods he ate as a child. Finally, when I was drafting ideas for this post, for some reason I had Lloyd’s as green bean casserole, and I have no logical explanation for this, but I cant unsee it. My explanation I’m giving is, whenever there was a potluck/bring your own food type events, he always brought really bad green bean casserole just to annoy people and still has some fondness for it because of that. Oh, and dino nuggets for him too. Again, no explanation needed.

[2ndalt]

To aid me on my quest of extreme procrastination, I've decided to translate the French version of The Dragon's Code. For context, the non-English versions of the Thea Stilton books have little extended scenes at the end that are basically just the main characters chilling after solving the mystery. There's quite a bit to translate, so I'm breaking it up and just translating one character per post.

Starting off with Violet!

Right off the bat she writes a letter to Colette, complaining about the nicknames that they gave Vi. She acknowledges the other nicknames Colette gives her friends, like calling Pamela "Pam" and Nicky "Nic" (And Violet points out that it's a bit excessive, since Nicky's already an abbreviated name). Violet then addresses the nicknames that Colette gave her: "Vivi" and "Princess". She hates these nicknames with a burning passion.

In fact, Violet is being so incredibly petty about it that she comes up with a couple of amazing nicknames for Colette to get back at her. My favorites include:

"Collante": Sticky

"Cocotte": Casserole

"Colique": Colic (I had to look this one up to understand the joke; Colic is frequent, prolonged and intense crying or fussiness in a healthy infant. Violet's basically using a fancy term for cry-baby.)

These jokes wouldn't have worked as well in the English version, but they're hilarious in French.

Then she writes a list of various things that annoy her, like loud music (dangit pamela), nicknames (looking at you colette), people who talk while she's trying to study, etc., etc.

However, the next letter Violet writes is to her parents, in which she mentions that she has some new friends! She's like: "Hey Dad, I know I'm terribly shy and introverted and most people view me as a dismissive, short-tempered person, but I have friends now! Even I'm surprised by this development!"

Honestly, it's very sweet to see how much happier Violet is after properly getting to know and become friends with the other Thea Sisters. Despite all of their differences, Violet has grown to appreciate their company and uniqueness. She ends off her letter with a hopeful little note:

"P.S: Raxford (Mouseford in other translations) has an amphitheatre where we can give concerts. Wouldn't it be great if we could organize one and have you come?"

All in all, very cute extended scenes :)

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤ (only if you want to, of course)

the best by far is you

summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie's story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the battle of Culloden.

tags: Faith Lives, canon divergence au, s2 fix-it fic

notes: I have to lead with my first Outlander fic because TBBFIY got me back into writing again and it was also the first long fic that I'd finished in a number of years 🥹

Beside the Seaside

summary: The Second World War has ended but returning to their lives from before the war proves difficult for many. For widower Jamie Fraser, the physical and psychological scars he now carries threaten the peaceful life he wants to provide for his young daughter. In an effort to start over fresh, he moves them to a coastal town in the Highlands and buys a seaside inn.

Claire Beauchamp returned from the war with an orphan in tow, intent on adopting the boy and starting the family she and her husband had longed for before the war interrupted their plans. But in gaining her son, she loses her marriage and now must cobble together some sort of life for just her and Fergus. To try and mend their fractured relationship, she takes her son on an extended stay in the Scottish Highlands.

tags: post-wwii au, single parents, marriage of convenience, there was only one umbrella

notes: for a story that started out as just vibes, I'm really proud of how this one is coming together. I'm usually dreading reaching the ending, but I can't wait to share this one (not for a while yet, don't worry).

The Lost Ones

summary: He hadn’t seen his neighbor Claire Beauchamp since the day her world collapsed, but she stood on the other side of his door now with a casserole dish in hand.

-----

Jamie Fraser is dreading the upcoming holiday season, but he finds solace in his growing friendship with Claire Beauchamp, who is battling her own grief this year. Together, they decide to help each other through a difficult time and also work to bring a little joy at Christmas to a child in foster care.

tags: modern au, neighbors, grieving a loved one, probably more Adso content than is strictly necessary

notes: sharing your writing is always sharing a piece of yourself with the world, but this story especially has so much of my own grief in it. I'm really proud of the result.

Soften Every Edge

summary: A soft, domestic interlude, picking up where TBBFIY ended. Time passes, their family grows, and they try not to take a moment of it for granted.

tags: Faith lives, Fraser family feels, canon divergence, less plot more vibes

notes: I recently reread what I've posted for this one so far, because I write primarily for me, and I personally think this is some of my best work. Does it have a plot? Not really! It's got themes though! And Jamie and Claire snuggling their babies, and Fergus on the precipice of adulthood and longing for what's next but not ready to say goodbye to his family, and so much family tenderness. I've always said that I write Seaside for myself, but actually, I think Soften Every Edge is just for me and a handful of friends at this point 😂

Where the Love-light Gleams

summary: Jamie promised to be home for Christmas. He was nothing if not a man of his word. A TBBFIY Christmas story.

tags: Faith lives, canon divergence, Fraser family feels

notes: this is another TBBFIY ficlet, so it feels in the same vein as Soften Every Edge to me and was kind of just an excuse to write more family softness and Jamie & Claire reunion, but that's my jam, so this one gets a top 5 spot!

[thegodthief]

After nearly half a century I just realized why Mom didn't like making Tuna Casserole even though it was my favorite food as a child. She begrudgingly told me how to make her version: Pasta, milk, cream of mushroom soup, 2 cans of tuna, spices.

She was embarrassed when she told me, as if she was expecting me to blow up about it. I was very happy because her "simple" recipe meant I had lots of room for additions and customizations.

It wasn't until I was rebloging prev post that I realized why she was embarrassed.

Tuna Casserole was her Poor People Food. Thinking back on when it was most often made and our financial situation then, her reticence suddenly makes sense.