#gotta be the broiler for sure

[are-we-really-doing-this]

The way I make nachos is probably highly pathological but they always end up delicious so I don’t give a shit. Yadda yadda under cut

Blue chips, single layer on some foil, then you can put some chicken beef or shrimp it’s up to you, a chunk per chip, then ketchup, only out of one of those bbq joint style squeeze bottles that’ll get you a rail thin drizzle, drizzle liberally, whole thing under a high broiler, you gotta watch these mfs carefully and rotate the pan to make sure nothing burns, will not take you very long, when they’re tacky take em out and cover with a bunch of extra sharp cheddar, lower the broiler and put them in just long enough for the cheese to melt. Yeh.

[princesscolumbia]

I'm starting to believe I may be autistic based on the overwhelming amount of the autistic experience I thought was...just normal, and since I have 4+ decades on this Earth trying to be Normal™, I've come after these foods over and over and over again trying to find something that makes it good, and in every single case here (for me), it's a matter of preparation or taste and because every one is more a category than an actual individual food item, very often you can find a variation in that category that you actually like.

If that's confusing, I'll do an example: There's basically two types of "chicken nugget" (technically, nothing is a "nugget" on a chicken, but that's another post), the kind that's breaded with batter and the kind that's breaded with crumbs. The batter is, IMHO, the clearly superior, but even in that category there's variations that change the taste, texture, etc. The crumb kind can suck my left ass cheek because it's like eating fucking dirt and I have crap all over my fingers and it gets in the dipping sauce and WHY does this shit exist?!

So that said, a breakdown of...

Things I've Discovered That Make This Shit Better (for me)

Chicken Nuggets

Batter breaded 100% of the time, but I prefer to think truly laterally on this one; bone-in chicken wings with rub (NOT sauced) and a dipping sauce on the side (usually blue cheese, but ranch will do if no blue cheese is available). No breading, no crumbs, no sauce getting all over your fingers. Yeah, you gotta deal with the rub, but that's what the term "finger lickin' good" is for. Also? The spicier the better.

Pizza

Do:

Find a LOCAL store/chain that PERFECTLY matches your taste. I'm talking the kind where there's one, maybe two locations in your city and they exist nowhere else

Figure out which of the Big 3 you can tolerate the most and order from them whenever you need to feed a crowd. Sure, you'll get that one asshole who complains about the brand of free pizza, but as you're dealing with someone who complains about free pizza, they can safely be ignored

Learn to make your own pizza sauce, both the "this shit took me two hours to make but it's goddamn ambrosia" and the "fuck, I forgot it was pizza night!" kinds.

If you need devices to take the load off of you because your spoon supply is low when it comes to cooking, get a bread machine and a food processor. Between those two you have all the tools you need to make home-made pizza.

If you like pepperoni, buy extra and keep it in stock, even if you don't home-make that often. Shit keeps for fuckin EVER and when you properly toast it under a broiler (yeah, I'm from America, deal with it) that shit slaps SO hard!

If you like Italian sausage, buy it pre-cooked from your grocer's

Do not:

Get frozen, shit's way marked up unless it's dollar store, and then you're getting dollar store pizza

On that subject, bread machine prepped dough is super cheap, like, "you don't ever think about the cost" levels of cheap and you have to restock the ingredients, like, once a quarter, if not year, and some of these ingredients can actually be bought at the dollar store, so DON'T buy crusts from the freezer section, it's SUPER marked up even at the dollar store

Buy from one of those "take and bake" places. Markup, markup, MARKUP and totally not worth it. Pay the employees to bake the damn thing or make it yourself

Mac and Cheese

Stop buying the boxes. Just...STOP. I get canned milk and a block of cheese to shred, and before I got comfortable with a box grater I used a food processor with the shredder attachment. I restock my elbow macaroni pasta once a month or so and have Alton Brown's stovetop mac'n'cheese recipe. It takes a little practice, but once you start making this, you will HATE how much you were LIED to about how mac and cheese is supposed to taste by those gawdawful boxes.

And it's customizable! Don't like sharp cheddar? Get medium or mild. Not a fan of cheddar? Pretty much any melting cheese will work and can be 1:1 subbed out. Too creamy? Cut down on the milk. Too dry? Add more milk. Not a fan of elbow pasta? Get fettuccini or penne or spiral, and since you're using a recipe that measures by weight and not volume, you can still do a 1:1 substitution with no calculator fussing

Oh, and if you prefer the shells 'n' cheese variety...surprisingly, the boxes are pretty good, 'cause the cheese is pretty much the same kind, and if you get the block from the dairy section it's got to be stored in the fridge and WILL go bad eventually if you forget to make it. Those boxes can sit on the shelf for a YEAR and once your executive dysfunction clears up you can make 'em in, like, 10 minutes.

Spaghetti

Wine. Specifically white wine or a light rosé. I'm not even kidding. It doesn't even have to be expensive, getting a cheap (sub $10) bottle from the liquor aisle at the grocery store is fine, you're not drinking it. Whether you cook a meat (I like Italian sausage for mine, but cheap hamburger is good, too) or are going meatless, you ADD ABOUT 3/4 CUP OF WINE TO THE SAUCE! Either you use the wine to deglaze your pan after cooking the meat or you pour it directly into your sauce once it's bubbling in the pot, but you LET IT COOK while your pasta is boiling. The wine REVOLUTIONIZES the flavor and if you've been raised on the sauce that doesn't have this because your parents were either clueless or bought into the lie about cooking with alcohol is bad or whatever, I guarantee you HAVE NOT had properly made marinara sauce for your spaghetti.

Also, SALT YOUR PASTA BOIL WATER! If you can't understand why people would shove strips of gluttony, wet dough in their mouths and call it food, well, neither can I, nor does anyone else with TASTE BUDS. You're missing the SALT! Two tablespoons for every gallon of water, adjust up or down based on the taste of your tap water. Also, once you've drained (DON'T RINSE YOUR PASTA OR I WILL TRACK YOU DOWN AND THROW POOL NOODLES AT YOU WHILE YOU'RE TRYING TO HAVE SEX!) your pasta, pour about 1/4 cup of olive oil (OLIVE OIL! NOT THE "Partially hydroginated ultra processed can by used in your car and also will outlast your grandchildren" 'VEGETABLE' OIL!) in the pasta pot and dump the pasta back in the pot and "toss" it to coat the pasta in the oil. This adds a subtle flavor to the completed dish.

KEEP YOUR PASTA AND SAUCE SEPARATE UNTIL YOU'RE PLATING! I cannot emphasize this part enough.

If you wind up with leftovers, add some room temperature drinking water to the container when you reheat! Give that bitch a stir and you WILL thank me. The pasta absorbs the moisture from the sauce and leaves it a bit tacky, so the added moisture returns some of the 'brightness' to the sauce on re-heat.

Scrambled Eggs

Milk. I'm not even kidding. If you were raised on scrambled and they always came out tough and rubbery instead of light and fluffy, it's because some asshat taught whoever made it for you to scramble the eggs without milk. Also, remember this: Scrambled Eggs are supposed to be LIGHT YELLOW with shades of white. If it's coming out orange or even brown, it's overdone.

When you crack your eggs into the bowl, add about 1 teaspoon worth of milk per egg. Use a fork and beat that bitch like the dead horse point you argued on that Internet post that one time. Get your NON-STICK pan on the heat (you're not a professional chef that uses stainless steel to cook eggs, and even they use non-stick for eggs) and use a coating of SPRAY OIL. Butter burns too easily and too quickly unless you're REALLY good at what you're doing. Keep beating the eggs as you're pouring them, then GET THAT GODDAMN FORK AWAY FROM THE NON-STICK PAN I SWEAR TO GOD KEVIN IF YOU USE METAL UTENSILS ON MY NONSTICK PANS AGAIN...!

Get a silicon scraper/spatula and turn the eggs. You're not stirring them and you're not beating them any more, they've been beaten and broken, this is egg aftercare, you're treating them gently at this point. Let them cook, but don't keep 'em on one spot of the heat too long. Turn and fold until they look slightly damp. Not even kidding. Slightly...damp. If you cook 'em until they're dry they'll be overcooked by the time you sit down to eat. They will continue cooking between the pan and when you sit down to start eating.

Burger

Your burgers have been overcooked and are being topped with a ton of shit you don't like. Get the pre-frozen patties from the grocery store freezer section. Get foil, you're going to need a rectangle of foil about 1' x 1.5' for every 2-4 patties you cook.

Also, get a small sledgehammer, not even kidding.

Get a BIG pan to cook your burgers. Get it on the heat and WAIT for it to come to temperature. Use the sledgehammer on the outside of the package of patties to break apart the ice holding the patties together. One good tap should do it. If you don't have a sledgehammer by this point, make a reminder for yourself on your phone to get one later (do it now, pull out your phone and add the reminder. You don't have meat on the burner yet so YOU HAVE TIME TO DO THE REMINDER RIGHT NOW) and bang the package on your counter until the patties separate. Kinda wish you'd gotten the sledgehammer first, now, don't you? Put the frozen patties down on the hot pan and sprinkle with salt. Yes, do it now. NOW. Shut up and add the salt. Wait until you can see enough brown creeping up the edges of the patties that it's about 3/4 up, then flip. If you timed it right you should see just a bit of darker brown compared to the rest of the brown of the patties and no pink. If you flipped too soon, that's okay, wait until the other side is more cooked and flip 'em back.

DON'T PRESS DOWN ON THE PATTIES. Don't. I will come by your house in a slutty nun cosplay and smack your knuckles with a ruler if you press down on the patties while they're cooking.

Once they're browned on both sides, put 'em in the middle of the foil you got out earlier, stack 'em if you gotta, then wrap those bitches up for 10 MINUTES! NOT ONE MINUTE LESS, KEVIN!

While you're waiting, warm up your buns. The hamburger buns. Get your ass off the stove, that's gross. Put your hamburger buns in the microwave for, like, 30 seconds. That should soften them up just enough to make splitting them a zero-effort thing.

Once your buns are plated and 10 minutes has passed, put the patties on the buns.

I kinda gotta have some sorta goo (mustard, mayo, etc.) on my burger, but I HATE relish. Pickles are okay, but I prefer not if I have a choice. My GF, though, likes the burgers I make with no goo on them at all.

Cereal

If you don't like cereal, I don't blame you. That said, if you want to power through and learn to love it even if it feels like you can't, make popcorn.

For real, make yourself some popcorn. Use a popper that'll salt the popcorn as it pops (air poppers are clean out for this, so is microwave popcorn, too much oil or butter) and once you have a batch popped, put it in a storage container overnight.

No, I'm not kidding.

Pour your slightly stale popcorn in a cereal bowl (YES, I'm serious!) and have a sweetener handy. I started with sugar (go with the basics to start, right?) and pour your milk, then sprinkle with some sweetener. Take a bite. Too bland? Add more sugar. Too sweet? Add a bit more milk.

Super cheap, fairly low effort, and you can sweeten to YOUR exact taste.

Do this on the reg and you'll probably never buy cereal from the store again.

Bagel and cream cheese

DO...

...NOT...

...OVERTOAST...

...YOUR BAGEL!!!

Bagels are already fully cooked. If you don't even care if it's toasted, don't bother. It's ultimately an unnecessary step that just adds heat, and if that's all you want a microwave works better for that application. If cream cheese is too "heavy" for you, there's other spreadable cheeses that aren't nearly as heavy that you can try instead. Find a cheese shop and say, "I have no idea what I'm doing here, but I need an alternative to cream cheese for my bagel, what do you have that's easy and spreadable?" They'll let you try samples, and the cream cheese the actual cheese shop has is probably better than that grocery store crap anyway.

Oatmeal

Your oatmeal is overcooked and overprocessed.

"Instant" oats should only be used for no-bake drop cookies. Never, ever use instant oats for your oatmeal breakfast.

Rolled oats are good for breakfast if you don't have the spoons to set up a slow cooker for steel cut oats. Just make sure to ONLY boil the oats for EXACTLY as long as the packaging says and NO LONGER.

Find the additives you like, there is no one way to have oatmeal. If you like your oatmeal with butter, salt, pepper, and a fried egg on top, nobody can stop you. I like a tablespoon of butter, a spoonful of brown sugar, a shake of cinnamon, and a pinch of salt. Find what you like, go wild.

of these foods that I consider classic, cliche autism "safe" foods, which one do you not like?

[ilopisara]

20.05. 20:52 | Ilo Pisara vs METINATAJI LV 5 - 4

Alright, folks! Let's break down that nail-biter of a game where we edged out METINATAJI LV 5-4. First off, hats off to our boys for pulling through! Teppo Winnipeg was like a Swiss Army knife on defense—solid with those five interceptions and four hits. But buddy, you gotta work on not warming the penalty box so much; four minutes? What are you doing in there, knitting? Yuri Tarde was an absolute beast at center. Four assists and one goal? The guy's practically printing points faster than Monopoly money! And winning over 72% of faceoffs? Someone get this man a crown. Now let's talk about Macho Fantastico—four goals including the game-winner?! This dude’s hotter than jalapeños in July! Sure, ten giveaways might make him look like Santa Claus handing out gifts early but hey, when you're scoring like that who cares? Historically speaking, we've been riding high lately except for that hiccup against Edmonton Broilers (seriously guys?). We've got momentum now: three wins before this thriller show we're no fluke. Looking ahead—we need consistency if we want to keep roasting opponents instead of being roasted ourselves. Teppo needs fewer penalties; Yuri should keep dominating face-offs; Macho just has to stay fantastic without giving away pucks like they're free samples at Costco. So buckle up boys—it’s onward Ilo Pisara or back into tragicomedy territory—you decide! #IloPisaraForever

[knitmeapony]

I have been desperately looking for a good potato soup recipe -- I keep running into bland ones. Would you, perchance, be willing to share your potato soup secrets?

BUT OF COURSE.

The trick to tasty potato soup is to realize that potatoes themselves don't have a lot of flavor -- they pick up the flavor of everything you put in them, so you gotta roast'em with lots of flavor first!

Scrub a couple of big potatoes and then chop into big cubes. Lay them out on a lined cookie sheet and then add THE FLAVOR. I usually peel and chop a couple of carrots and some celery, along with onion and garlic. Drizzle the fat of your choice on top -- I like melted butter but olive oil is also tasty af. Sprinkle salt and pepper on top, and feel free to add s'more spices to that as well. I usually add basil, oregano, and parsley, or that pre-mixed 'italian spices' jam at this point.

Roast them in an oven preheated to 450 or a broiler until they look tasty. Don't get them TOO crispy -- you want them to soften a little more in the soup. Set'em all aside.

Now for the broth -- this is gonna be your standard soup recipe. Chop up and boil another large or a couple medium potoatoes until they're soft, then drain and set aside.

Melt 2 tbs butter in a pan (you can add more allums here; if you do saute'em until brown) and gently incorporate 2 tbs flour until it's smooth. Mix 1.5 cup milk with .5 cup heavy cream and then add slowly, stirring as you go. Make sure to add it slow enough that the mixture never really cools down. Once the milk/cream is all in, bring it to a boil, stirring occasionally, until it starts to thicken up real nice.

Add the boiled potatoes and really mix that sucker. I recommend an immersion blender if you've got one. You want that nice potato texture to go right into the broth.

Once that's done, add the roasted potatoes and such, and let the mix simmer until it smells too good and you can't stand it.

You gotta play with the proportions until it's as thick/thin as you like. Some folks also like to add ham or bacon, I support this if it's your jam.

[thetaoofzoe]

Fic Pt 7: Which part of her do you want, August Walker?

Summary: You are a medic and a member of what’s left of  The Apostles. August is healing well and the plans for destroying the IMF team are coming together. 

Ilsa is the first to go down and you’re going to relish every moment. 

Word Count: 1178

Would like to be notified with I post a fic? Message me to be added to my general tag list. Thank you for your support.

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

Want to start from the beginning of this challenge? This challenge needs to be read in order. Click to get started with the first prompt entry.

Prompt 01 - Please Come Back, August Walker

Prompt 02 - Hello August Walker I heard you were dead

Prompt 03 - Watch your hands, August Walker! People might talk

Prompt 04 - Don’t talk to me, or August Walker again

Prompt 05 - Does August Walker Even remember you?  

Prompt 06 - How do you like your coffee August Walker  💖NEW💖

The thumping down the stairs distracted you from your work. Smiling a little, you got up and poured a fresh cup of coffee and sat it on the table across from you. Then as an afterthought, you got up again and plated a few chocolate Hobnobs that Mr. Instant Coffee had bought with the weekly grocery. You had barely put the plate down before August appeared in the kitchen doorway.

Seeing the mid-morning snacks waiting for him, he smiled a little and now down to one crutch from two, he hobbled into the kitchen and sat down in his usual spot across from you.

'Look at you, speedster,' you teased.

August's brows rose with pleasure, but he smothered his growing smile by lifting his cup and drinking the coffee.

'I prefer your coffee to the other one,' said August, raising his eyes to meet yours.

You hesitated to meet his gaze, and when you did, the praise in his face melted you.

August quickly looked away and down at the plans on the table between the two of you.

'So, tell me.'

He gestured with the cup to the papers.

You grinned, feeling pleased with your progress.

'Ilsa. I finally got a bead on her. And I will be travelling to her location today.'

'Today?' he asked, sounding surprised and your brows drew together a little.

'Too soon? I mean.. do you want to come?'

August shook his head and suddenly looked concerned.

'I don't want you rushing into something.'

Ah, was that it? 

You reached out to tap the back of his hand with your index finger. 

'Whilst I thoroughly enjoy your concern, there's no need for it. Do you umm, want a trophy? An eyeball? A finger?'

August was clearly surprised, and your offer startled a laugh out of him.

'No,' he said, shaking his head. 'No, I don't want any of that. But ah... I appreciate your vigour.'

You smiled at him.

'You sure?'

He laughed a little, again, and asked, 'And your flight?'

'Coupla hours,' you replied checking your wristwatch.

'And your plan?'

'Delicious,' you promised.

And it was.

**

Los Angeles was hot and sweltering and you were much less prepared for the weather as you had hoped . But you didn't let that deter you, for you had a mission to accomplish. 

You found the target sitting at a table beneath a colourful umbrella at a crowded outdoor cafe. 

Carrying a load of bags from emblazoned with names of high-end shops you stopped by her table and made a show of looking into the cafe and then down at the chair across from her.

She looked up at you and you tried a smile.

'Hi, I am sooo sorry, but do you mind if I just sit here. I am dying in this heat!'

As you were actually dying in the southern heat, you knew that you came across sincerely. She took a moment to consider you. Judging you harmless, she nodded to the chair and you collapsed onto it gratefully.

'Oh, thank you, honey. That's so good of you. I thought I was going to get all of my shopping over and done with before noon, but you know how it is. Just one more shop, one more try on.... maybe they got those shoes in the back in your size, right? Am I right?

You giggled easily and she nodded, then glanced into the cafe.

'I gotta wear these gloves to that my hands don't tan,’ you said. ‘There's nothing worse than having your arms one colour and your hands 5 shades darker.'

Ignoring you, she raised her hand hoping to alert the waiter standing inside.

He eased up to the table.

'Yes ma'am.'

'I ordered my...'

'Yes, I know ma'am. We are working on it right now, please give us some time. The broiler is currently holding on by a thread. May I offer you a cold drink? On the house?'

You looked at her and she sighed.

'Sure, go on. You want one?'

Her attention was on you.

You shrugged.

'Sure! I'll have what she's having.'

When the waiter left, you looked appreciatively after him.

'He's cute.'

The two of you chatted amiably for a little while and the waiter returned with your drinks. You immediately sipped at the fizzy fruit drink and put your glass down next to hers.

'Are you single?' you asked the waiter.

He looked at you for a long moment and then smiled.

'A single pringle,' he replied and you laughed.

'I should come back after your shift, shouldn't I.'

'You should,' he said, winking and returned to the inside part of the cafe.

Ilsa gave you  probing look and you smiled.

'Striking whilst the iron is hot, kiddo,' you said.

Several minutes later someone inside shouted, 'Janie Fellows?'

The woman across from you stirred and then stood up.

'Finally,' she said and went inside to pick up her order.

You watched her go and quickly, unobtrusively, you dumped the contents of your travel perfume bottle into your glass, stirred it, and then moved it closer to her place setting. You pulled her undoctored glass towards you.

Ilsa returned with a plate brimming with meat and salad and set it on her placemat.

'Looks good,' you said admiring the dish. 'I might get one, but I do need to get on, I think.'

'You can stay as long as you like,' she assured you and began her meal.

You ordered another drink and sat and chatted whilst she ate.

You were in the middle of a long drawn out story about your imaginary husband when she stopped devouring the rare steak.

Ilsa dropped her fork and you turned towards her.

'Something wrong?' you asked, faux concern in your voice as you let your natural accent slip. 'You've gone quite pale... Janie.'

Ilsa’s wide eyes shot up to your face and she spat out her chewed mouthful.

'I probably overdosed you,' you said quietly. 'I mean, you were ten pounds heavier the last time I checked. But you and your hot yoga classes have done wonders. I might take it up myself.'

Eyes bulging as the poison squeezed closed her throat, Ilsa gurgled and staggered upright. The chair screeched on the concrete, fell away and you got up.

'August Walker says, hello,' you snarled at her. Then changing your attitude to something more helpless you shouted, 'Oh My God! I think she's having a seizure, help, help!'

A crowd began to form allowing you to slip away, but not before giving the thumbs up to Mr. Instant Coffee who had posed as your waiter who had perfectly distracted the mark enough for you to poison her drink.

**

'Went well, I take it?' August asked when you bustled into the kitchen the next morning.

There was coffee waiting for you at your usual spot. 

You threw your arms round his neck and gave him a hearty kiss in greeting.

'Better than you could ever imagine!' you crowed and left him in stunned silence.

continued in part 8

[silverjetsystm]

Lockley speaks drunk. Plain nonsense riddled with the taste of truth. Skeletons Grant may or may not have known. Baked friends on the 1-405. Another wanderer. And him. Lockley clicks his tongue, tips his 'cap.' Different from minutes ago, his name sharpened to a point. The verbal poke at the paper moon. "Cap. Nuh uh. Nah." Fingers snap, point at a cluster of kids making a DIY crosswalk of Flatbush. "If I'm to be your problem, you gotta call me something creative. Cap's low hanging fruit."

Downtown Brooklyn unfolds around them, skinny steel buildings reflecting harsh sun at odds with equally enormous squat tan ones. "Yeah. We're close. We'll get there when we get there." Traffic's the only thing stopping them now. He's familiar with this start-stop gridlock pulse, playfully unflappable against storm clouds radiating from the back seat. Occasionally drumming his nails on the wheel when they're waiting. He's got all day to play fuck fuck games screw around outside of Manhattan.

Muttering slides into their ears, long on the fritz, past the speakers and traffic hum. A song on a phone. "Ah~" Piece of the puzzle snapped into place. The great mystery. Why Solo went through this trouble. If they were anywhere besides Lockley's wheeled home, their face would twitch with a scolding 'tsk.' Lockley can't hear the financier's judgment on the matter. Years of experience has him picture the scene anyway. Grant eyerolling and muttering about better security out the other window. "No bullshit," he grins wider. "You gonna take a Boro cab back or stick with the problem you got?" he cracks with a jerk of the head to the apple green cab on the right. People got places to go; riding empty was a pain in the tuchus to Lockley and a missed meal for other drivers. Industries screwed them all.

He parks around the corner of the building and is again a flurry of movement. Poking off the stereo, rolling the windows on a skosh. Turning the key off, swiping the sunshade off the backseat floor, nudging Ben's ankle with tinted fabric.

Established 1975 and rarely shut down since, the signs all read The Other Place. "Gena's," Lockley presents the long rectangle of time capsuled building with a wave of his hand. Bell chimes when he opens the front door, sweat clinging to the shirt from the minute in afternoon broiler but he laughs and grins all the same to the woman behind the counter. Gena herself, smiling fondly as Jake asks the question - "Hey, Gena, how's the kids?"

Oscillating fans have joined the tired HVAC in today's effort. There's a lack of bullshit on the walls. No list of famous visitors, no picture perfect scenes of yesteryear. Gena bought the place from the original owner about a decade ago. She keeps a small staff; he can count the number of times Gena hasn't been here on one hand.

Lockley tests the door to make sure it's shut while Gena answers, humidity frizzing her short Afro, "One wants to be the next Jordan Peele, the other's still looking at radios. What'll it be?"

"The usual with water," he says, taking a seat at the yellow and blue laminate topped counter next to an older white haired man, hand squeezing bony shoulder. A past of the bottle and years longer of rough living lend a weather-beaten older look to him. "Crawley, just the guy we're here for." Gesturing to Ben once Gena's done with him (or the opposite), his volume lowers to a private conversational matter. "This is Ben. Ben got separated from his phone. Heard anyone talkin' about snatching phones?"

"Life feels like a scam, too, if you don't know how to live. Huh, Jake?" His wine-dark mouth hovers over Jake's ear, Jake's neck. 

'Jake.' Sure. And Ben's the new Cars, the new Young, a dark horse, canceled and un-canceled, any number of epithets. Sloshed and treading water. He falls back, cushion giving way with a half-hearted puff. The sweat in his hair has dried. 

"What's the matter with me? I'm drunk off my balls in the middle of a five-hundred-degree day in New York 'cause [indecipherable] I baked my friend into his body on 1-405. When I want to go home, there isn't one. And right now, you." 

Slings his black hole glare at a neighboring Subaru. Some vague, green taxi shape. A borough Ford. Crazy they'd ever need those cabs for Brooklyn and Queens. That Brooklyn was a place to be and people wore it on t-shirts in Berlin and Rome. 

"We close, cap? The sooner we get there, the sooner I get out of your hair." 

He smiles at himself in the cab's soap bubble window, a tense, spiteful smile that thins his lips a little. 

"There's a song on the phone," Ben mutters, voice treble-ing under blaring horns. He said it so suddenly he had to laugh. Is he laughing? Flat affect. Big whoop. "If you're barking up my tree with bullshit, you let me out right here." 

Ben. Crawley. The bridge. The green cabs. Steven. Jake. Someone else under that. Some third act. Seagulls scream into the dull drowning throb in the left side of his skull. Everything is funny. 

@silverjetsystm

[fangirlxwritesx67]

Make Me Wanna Kiss You

Dean x OFC Rhea, 1200 words, cute fluff and food

Written for my sweet @winchesterxfamilybusiness Make Me Swoon 250 Followers Challenge. Sabrina, it has been a delight to get to know you! I admire you as a person, a fangirl, and a friend. Hope this makes you swoon

Rhea sighed as she locked the door behind at the small family-owned restaurant where she worked. The last lunch customer had just left, and now she had only a couple of hours before the restaurant would reopen for dinner, and plenty of work to do in the meantime. She had to chop vegetables for salads, fruit for cocktail garnishes, and slice the bread that would go on the table with every meal. There was also cleaning to be done and silverware - always silverware to be rolled. 

But first, her own lunch. One of the perks of this job was that the owners provided a meal between the seatings. Usually it was a burger, hot sandwich, or the daily special, whatever the kitchen needed to get rid of, but it was free and better than what she could cook on her own. 

Lately, though, there was an added attraction to employee meal time: the handsome new line cook, Dean Winchester.

He had started a couple of months ago when the last line cook stormed out in a huff over food safety measures. Dean fit into the kitchen like he had always been there. 

At first, Rhea had been attracted to him for his good looks. His handsome face, sprinkled with freckles, was all chiseled angles, except for his mouth that was ridiculously plush.  His apple green eyes were bracketed by lines that deepened in the rare moments that he laughed. 

He turned out to be a hard worker, steady and less temperamental than most of the kitchen staff she had worked with over the years. He moved from stove to line to fridge to broiler with grace and rhythm that reminded her of a dancer. And his hands, those broad knuckles, scarred and freckled - she had lost moments, sometimes, watching him work. 

Dean didn’t talk a lot, but Rhea had managed to gather that he was new in town, that he had a younger brother, and that his pride and joy was his car, a ‘67 Chevy Impala he referred to lovingly as Baby. He smoked, of course, drank a little too hard, and was inked as far up his arms as she could see under his black chef’s jacket.

Lately, she had started to linger in the kitchen when he made her lunch, for no reason other than she wanted to be near him. Sometimes she felt like she was talking to a brick wall, but then occasionally he would chuckle or simply crack a smile so bright it made her blush. 

“It’s sandwich day!” He greeted her with a wide grin. “The other waitress already got hers and went-” he gestured with a spatula at the door. “So pick what you want, whatever you want, that I can put between two piece of bread.” 

Rhea paused, taken aback. 

“But wait.” Dean continued. “Let me guess, BLT on wheat toast, extra crispy bacon, add cheddar and avocado, side of fries.” 

“How- how did you know?” 

“I pay attention. You like things a certain way. And I know you usually eat the veggies of the day, but I see you sneaking fries off the warmer.” 

Rhea blushed, but it was true. “Okay, but I can’t eat a side of fries every day. Do you know how much fatter I’d be?”

Dean’s expression turned dead serious. “First of all, there is nothing fat about you. Second, who cares? Life is short. Eat the fries. I like to see a woman who enjoys her meals.” He turned away suddenly, as if afraid he had said too much. 

He was silent while he made and plated not one BLT but two. He handed her both and took off his apron before he spoke again. 

“C’mon, its a clear sunny fall day. Let’s eat outside.”

“Outside?” Rhea was confused. The restaurant didn’t have outdoor seating. But Dean held the back door to the kitchen open and she followed. Around the corner there was a messy pile of milk crates. He set three in a row against the side of the building and settled onto one. 

Rhea set the plates on the center crate like it was a table before sitting down. The sun-warmed brick of the building felt good against her back. When she picked up her sandwich, it was perfect. For a few moments, they ate in comfortable silence. 

A sudden gust of wind drove a shower of yellow and orange leaves in their direction, and she laughed as she tried to keep them off her food. Dean picked one up and looked at it almost solemnly. 

“I guess if the leaves are falling, it’s time for me to cook fall food. What do you think of pumpkin soup?” He turned to her, as if her opinion mattered for the restaurant menu. 

She shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “Eww, no. Everything is pumpkin this time of year. I like a good slice of pumpkin pie, but there can be too much of a good thing.” 

Dean smirked as if there was something funny about that before he spoke again. “What do you suggest then?” 

“Mac and cheese. Nothing like good old fashioned homemade cheesy pasta. And you can do so much with it, you can make it simple or fancy, you can add veggies, you can put bread crumbs on top, plus it’s not too expensive and everybody likes it.” Her voice trailed off.

“Great idea! See, I knew you were a lady who knew her food. Plus, my brother says I make the best mac and cheese in the world. Of course, he might be biased. When we were kids, we often didn’t have anything else. So I’d do my best to dress it up, add hot dogs, marshmallow fluff.”

Rhea laughed, but Dean was dead serious. “Well, it sounds like he thinks the world of you. I’m sure you are a great big brother, although now I have some doubts about your culinary ideas.”

Dean was the one who laughed then, head back, eyes crinkled. The thought crossed her mind that he looked younger when he was happy. When his eyes met hers again, they held a question she didn’t quite understand.

“But as long as you promise to keep it a little more traditional, I’ll try anything you want to make.”

“You gotta stop doing that.” Dean held out his hand unexpectedly over their empty plates on the milk crate table. 

“What?” Rhea slipped her hand into his. His palm was warm and he curled his finger over hers.

“Saying things that make me want to kiss you.” 

She searched his face for any sign that he was joking, but his eyes shone earnestly and his lips curled with hope. 

“What makes you think I don’t want you to kiss me, Dean Winchester?” She answered at last. 

Their first kiss tasted a little bit like bacon, and as Dean brought one hand up to caress her face, the wind blew another cascade of leaves down around them. 

Rhea had things to do, food to prepare and silverware to roll. She had mac and cheese to taste in the future. But that afternoon, with the sun on her face and Dean’s lips on hers, there was nothing else she wanted. 

*** SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @divadinag @emoryhemsworth @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @kalesrebellion @kickingitwithkirk @maddiepants @magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn   @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting Dean Curious: @adoptdontshoppets @awesomesusiebstuff @deangirl7695 @deans-baby-momma  @mrsjenniferwinchester @stoneyggirl @supersassyprobablysad @wayward-gypsy @winchesterxfamilybusiness Gay Screaming: @boondoctorwho, @cherry3point14 @cracksinthewalls, @fookinghelljensensthighs @itmighthavebeenintentional, @justcallmeasmodeus, @lastactiontricia @littlegreenplasticsoldier​ @mskathywriteswords​, @rockhoochie​, @there-must-be-a-lock​, @thoughtslikeaminefield​

[secrethauntedcollect]

Really Good Homemade Pizza

it’s PIZZA TIME

recipe from America’s Test Kitchen, but with better & more helpful instructions written by me

These are good pizzas, not like, “it’s a fine effort for being made at home” sort of pizza. These are Fucking Good Pizzas. No part of it is too difficult, and if you’ve never made your own pizza dough before, don’t worry! It’s easy! Even easier than bread, and bread is really easy to make.

While the time required for this recipe is 12+ hours, that’s mostly just letting the dough rest in the fridge overnight to allow its flavors to develop. The hands-on time is maybe 20 minutes, generously. If you want fucking good pizza, you gotta have a little forethought. Make the dough the night before. It comes together in like 15 minutes (and that’s with 10 minutes of wait time.)

The sauce is no-cook, saving your stovetop from getting covered in splats of tomato sauce. Just whir it together in a food processor & you’re good to go.

INGREDIENTS

makes enough for 2 pizzas

DOUGH

3 cups bread or all purpose flour 2 tsps sugar 1/2 tsp instant or rapid-rise yeast 1 1/3 cups ice water 1 TBS vegetable oil (olive is fine) 1 1/2 tsp salt

optional: ~2 tsp dried rosemary

SAUCE

1 14 oz. can whole or diced tomatoes 1 1/2 tsp olive oil 1/2 tsp red wine vinegar 2 garlic cloves 1/2-1 tsp salt (as needed, depending on if your canned tomatoes are salted or not) 1 tsp dried oregano 1/4 tsp pepper

TOPPINGS

1 oz grated parmesan (1/2 cup) 2 cups grated mozzarella a little bit of garlic powder, basil and/or more oregano dusted under the cheese

optional: whatever else you like on a pizza

INSTRUCTIONS

FOR THE DOUGH

1. Combine flour, sugar and yeast in a bowl. Slowly add water, a little at a time, and mix (with a spoon or fork) until it comes together. Let rest for 10 minutes (this lets the yeast start to act without the salt, added later, inhibiting it.)

2. Add oil and salt to dough, mix. Transfer to a lightly floured surface and knead just a little bit until smooth, maybe 1-2 minutes.

3. Shape dough into ball, place in an oiled bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 12 hours. It can be stored for up to 3 days; the longer it’s stored, the more the flavor will develop. It might taste sort of ‘sourdoughy’ at the end of 3 days, or smell a little beer-y. That’s okay!

FOR THE SAUCE

1. Dump all sauce ingredients into a food processor and pulse until smooth, about 30 seconds. If you’re unsure about the salt, add a little, pulse, taste, and repeat until it tastes just right. Store the sauce in the fridge until you need it.

note: I swear by those fancy Muir Glen canned tomatoes. You can coupon them/get them on sale fairly easily at Target (weirdly enough). They taste fucking phenomenal. If you can get your hands on some of those, I recommend it. I can always tell the difference when I use Muir Glen canned tomatoes in a recipe.

TO BAKE

ATK wants you to use a pizza stone, which I think is one of those niche, ridiculous kitchen things to own. I certainly don’t have one. This is my method for baking, which works wonderfully. You can use a round pizza pan or a large baking sheet pan. If you don’t have anything that can accommodate a 12” pizza, you can use a smaller pan and just make two small pizzas.

1. 1 hour before baking, take the dough out of the fridge to let it rise. Divide into two sections; roll each into a ball and place on a lightly greased baking sheet. Cover with a damp towel or plastic wrap (but not too tightly). This dough doesn’t have much yeast in it, so it won’t double in size, but it will expand outward, so make sure to space them out so they have enough room.

proofing notes (important!) : you can run into proofing problems in cold seasons and climates. If you want to help your dough along, you can try putting your tray in front of a heater vent. if kids/pets are a problem, you can proof it in your oven. DO NOT turn the oven on. Just boil enough water in a kettle to

fill a standard cereal/soup bowl. Place that bowl in the bottom rack of your oven with your tray of dough on the rack above. Fill the bowl below with boiling water, then close the oven door and let proof for an hour. The water helps raise the temperature of the oven, and the steam keeps the dough moist. This always works wonderfully here in the PNW when i’m making bread in the winter.

2. Once bread is done proofing, preheat oven to 450 F. Coat one ball generously with flour and place on a floured surface. With your fingers, gently flatten into an 8” disk, then, using your hands or a roller, stretch out to 12”. It doesn’t have to be perfectly round, and if you have a narrow cutting board, a rectangle-ish pizza is perfectly fine as well.

3. Pour 1/2 cup of sauce into the centre of the dough, then spread out evenly with the back of a spoon. Cover with 1/4 cup of grated parmesan. If you want, you can shake some garlic powder, basil, italian herbs or more oregano over the cheese for some extra flavor. I did this & it was very tasty. Then sprinkle 1 cup of shredded mozzarella. Add additional toppings, if using.

4. Bake in the oven for about 10 minutes at 450. Some of the cheese should be getting golden, and it might look “pretty much done” but trust me…. it’s not. We want GOOD done. We want beautiful. We want to turn the fucking broiler on.

*this next step uses the broiler, so the technique may be slightly different depending on your oven*

5. Very carefully remove pizza from oven. Take middle rack and put it right under the broiler, then turn the broiler on. Return pizza to oven, nestling it right under that top heating element. Set a timer for THIRTY SECONDS. Yes that it’!! Cook it in 30 second intervals until it’s as golden as you like. Yes, just 30 seconds. You can really really quickly burn stuff under the broiler. You might burn some pepperoni edges this way (but isn’t that super tasty??)

6. Once the top’s looking good, take it out. Let rest 5 minutes before devouring.

Any other notes?

You can freeze half this recipe really easily. Once the dough has proofed, wrap one ball tightly in cling film and place in the freezer. It’ll keep for 3 months. Leftover sauce can likewise be frozen in a tupperware (make sure there’s not a lot of headroom, this can cause frostbite.) Even left over cheese can be frozen. 

The cheese pizza I made up there came out to using about $3 worth of ingredients. Maybe just a little under $3, because I coupon a lot and buy as much from the bulk section as I can. That’s cheaper than a frozen pizza and it tastes as good as your locally owned, mom&pop, really fucking nice pizza that costs ~$20

[lre333]

yes. brilliant.

We need at least two Octobers. One goes by too quickly.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

[that explosion was beautiful]

Day 30: Endings #twdgdrabblechallenge

Note: I’m finally finished with this damn challenge! Three months late! I don’t even care, I finished it, and I’m proud and now I can move all of my focus into my one shot that I’m hoping to have published on Jan 31. Fingers crossed.

Next time I do one of these challenges [because yeah, spoiler alert, I’m doing one next month] it’s going to be much shorter hahaha. Anyway, we’re ending this with a quick look at the aftermath of the delta’s ship exploding since I’ve gotten asks in the past about Mitch’s role at that point. 

AO3

---

The word “beautiful” isn’t one that Mitch throws around a lot. Hell, he can’t remember the last time he of the word or even spoke it aloud.

But that explosion was beautiful.

The earth shook and it rained bits of wood and metal. The river sent waves of water crashing against the pier and the shore, and the world had a sunset glow to it made only uncanny knowing the sun actually set hours ago.

The whole sight was one Mitch would’ve enjoyed if not for the walkers roaming around, riled up from the commotion, drawn to the flaming, sinking ship enough to swim through the river. That topped with the fact that he lost Clementine and AJ after the broiler finally went off ruined the moment the explosion blew the boat into nonexistence. He managed to find Tenn, sending him in the direction of Aasim and Omar. 

Mitch tried not to be rough with the kid, even if he was still annoyed at him for breaking his cover to try and sneak onto the boat, getting them both caught when Mitch went after him. 

His cheek throbs painfully, bruised by the hand that was Lilly’s. 

“You’re tough, I’ll give you that. You’d make a nice addition to our community, a strong soldier... But you’re stupid. We’ll have to work on that.” 

Mitch scoffs. 

Joke’s on her- he’s not the one with a bullet in the face right now. Bitch. 

He stabs another walker through the head, shoving the limp body aside as he frantically searches the area, senses overwhelmed and on high alert. He takes out two more walkers before he sees someone through the thick fog of smoke.

Clementine’s lying face-first on the ground, AJ right beside her. They’re not unconscious from what he can tell, both shifting but obviously disoriented.

Walkers take notice of them, especially when Clementine sits up to grasp her thigh, grunting and wincing in pain. Mitch is running without a second thought.

“Shit!” he hears her curse, realizing that one of the walkers is stumbling towards them.

He makes it in time, kicking the back of the walker’s knee before directing his knife through its skull. It falls forward, limp against the dirt. 

“Mitch!” AJ cries, jumping to his feet. “You made it!”

“Yeah,” Mitch huffs, wiping at his brow with a grin and offering Clementine a hand. “’Course I did.”

Clementine’s arms are around him in seconds, hugging his waist and saying, “You have no idea how happy I am to see you!”

While Mitch isn’t a huggy person in the slightest, he tosses that aside to hug her back. They nearly died on that fucking thing, he can make an exception this time.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, awkwardly patting her back. “Don’t get your snot all over my shirt.”

That makes her laugh. 

“Sorry.” 

“Shit,” Mitch watches blood soak through Clementine the pants of her thigh where a wound cuts deep, “you okay? Can you walk?” 

“Yeah, it’s not bad-”

The relief of their reunion is short-lived when a cry echoes out from the shore.

It’s Louis with his arms around Violet’s waist, a walker clutching onto her boot, groaning and gurgling water. Louis kicks at it, but slips, causing both of them to fall into the mud, slipping further into the water. 

Violet doesn’t move. 

“Louis! Vi!” Clementine calls for them but steps back when she attracts the attention of nearby walkers.

“They’re hurt!” AJ gasps. 

“Get the fuck off-!” Louis shouts at the fucker, giving a final, hard kick to its skull, caving it in and sending the walker back into the water.

Clementine, injuries forgotten, snatches her bow from the ground and plants herself firmly. She shoots the walker with ease, as well as a few more taking an interest in Louis as he struggles to get Violet out of the water. 

She lunges forward, ready to dart towards them but stumbles, grasping at her bleeding thigh with a sharp intake.

“Clem!” AJ’s by her side in an instant, grabbing her arm and staring wide-eyed at the gaping wound. 

Fuck, more walkers are approaching. 

“Clem, can you get to them?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah, can you-”

“Go!” Mitch readies his knife with a firm nod. “I got it! Go get them!” 

Clementine returns his nod before dashing towards the river where Louis drags Violet fully out of the water.

The fuckers are everywhere, but they’re not hard to take out thanks to the little knee trick that Clementine taught him. How the hell did he not think of that before? Now it just seems so obvious. He’d have to remind himself to thank her if they all made it back to the school in one piece.

Gunshots ring through the woods, a chorus of walker cries and infuriated shouts follow suit. The remaining delta fuckers group together, shooting walkers and arguing with each other. 

Mitch watches one of them get grabbed, a walker sinking its teeth into her throat and tearing the flesh apart. 

It’s a strange feeling to watch someone get bit and feel zero remorse.

Fuck ‘em, they’re getting what they had coming.

“Mitch! Get over here! They’re hurt!”

"Fuck,” Mitch hisses, knuckles white around the handle of his blade. He dashes towards them to find Louis pressing on Violet’s chest, counting to himself before pausing to breathe into her mouth. AJ’s by Violet’s head, mouth pouting sadly.

Panic settles in his stomach as Mitch turns to stare wide-eyed at Clementine, asking, “Fuck, is she...?”

“No!” Louis exclaims, blood smeared along his jaw and dripping down his quivering chin, looking as though he may cry. “She’s fine, I just- we- fuck, c’mon Vi!”

“What happened?” AJ asks. 

Louis doesn’t seem to hear the boy’s question, leaning over to breathe more air into Violet’s lungs until her body convulses, water spewing from Violet’s mouth as she begins to choke.

“Oh, thank God!” Clementine falls beside Louis, helping him roll Violet onto her side so she can cough up the remaining water. 

“Violet!” Louis is crying now, tears falling down his face as he pulls her to him, cradling her in his arms. “Fuck, I thought- I’m so sorry, Vi. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” His voice falls quiet as he murmurs his apologies over and over again. 

“We have to move her,” Clementine says. “It’s not safe here.”

“Aasim and Omar are waiting for us,” Mitch agrees. “They’re over there.”

“I can carry her,” Louis sniffles. When he tries to curl her up into a position which he could lift her, Violet struggles, though it’s pointless. She’s far too enervated from the explosion, her injuries, and nearly drowning. All she can do is pound pathetically at Louis’ chest.

“You-” Violet manages, “-you bastard-”

“C’mon, Vi,” Louis says, “we gotta get up. I got you.”

She barely fights him, letting him pull her up on trembling legs. She leans into him for support, cheek pressed into his chest.

“God, what the fuck happened to you guys?” Mitch asks.

“Minnie-” Violet whispers, nearly collapsing until Louis leans down to place his arm behind her knees, lifting her up and turning to gaze back at the nearly sunken boat. 

The flames hide the despair behind his dark eyes, as for what that despair was about, Mitch didn’t know. He didn’t know what happened in that boat, only on top of it. 

Together, they make it over to Aasim and Omar with no trouble, crouching down beside them- well, Louis collapses, huffing with his back against the rocks, still cradling Violet who looks ready to pass out. 

“Oh, thank god,” Aasim exclaims. “You guys okay?”

“Violet?” Omar asks, still clutching his wounded leg. 

Louis shakes his head at him, saying, “She’s okay... we’re okay.”

“Willy and Ruby brought a cart around to get us the hell outta here,” Mitch nods over the rocks. “We just gotta get everyone over there.”

“We can do that,” Clementine nods, raising her bow. “You guys go ahead. I’ll stay back and cover you.”

“You sure?” Mitch asks. “You’re leg’s still fucked up.”

“Yeah, I-”

“Wait,” AJ grabs onto Clementine’s sleeve, eyes narrowed as he stares off into the distance. “Tenn..? Tenn! And- and James! Look!”

Fuck. 

Fuck, he’s right! 

Tenn stands close behind James across the beach. From what Mitch can tell, James has two knives that he’s using to take down every walker coming near them, bodies beginning to pile up. 

Holy shit...

It’s Tenn who spots them first, waving over at them with a pleading expression.

Mitch sighs, frustrated. He told Tenn to meet up with Aasim and Omar! He pointed him in the right direction, so what the hell is he doing over there? And with James? 

Well, shit, he shouldn’t be mad about that. The guy is protecting Tenn from being completely devoured so Mitch can set aside any annoyance for the moment. 

“We have to help them," says Louis, helplessly looking around and down at Violet, who’s fully unconscious now and deadweight in his arms. 

“I got it,” Mitch says, turning back to Clementine before she can speak. “Get everyone across to the cart. I’ll grab Tenn.”

“You can’t go alone,” Aasim objects. “There are way too many walkers! It’s too dangerous!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be alone,” Mitch jerks his thumb back towards Tenn and James. “Our little walker friend will be there to keep me company.”

Aasim narrows his eyes, clearly confused. “What? What walker friend?”

“James,” AJ answers. “He wears walker skin.”

“Wait, the one Clem said she’d marry? He’s here?” 

"Yes, Aasim, that James,” Clementine scowls. “He helped us break into the boat. He’s a friend. We can trust him.”

Aasim looks ready to ask another million questions but shuts up when another gunshot goes off, followed by a scream and ripping flesh. 

“Oh my god...” Omar’s eyes widen as he watches the rest of the raiders go down. 

More and more walkers are approaching the beach, finishing off the rest of the raiders and if they don’t hurry their asses up, they’ll be next.

“No time to argue,” Mitch insists, gripping his knife tight. “I’ll grab Tenn and meet you guys back at the school. Get everyone into the cart and ride like hell!” 

Before anyone else can protest, Mitch is running from cover and across the beach, dodging and kicking and stabbing his way to Tenn and James. 

[parson-kent]

you should die with me

""Nurse," he mumbled through a mouthful of cookie, "why do you always gotta make things so sexual? Can't you just enjoy things, for like one fucking time, without turning it weird?"

"Well, why are you such a fucking prude, Dex? How about letting me eat this goddamn cookie without judgement? 'Why do you make things so sexual, Nurse, blah blah blah?' It's because we're so rooted in early Protestant ideals that you're like this-"

And, yeah, it kinda devolved from there."

or Nursey and Dex get on each other's nerves and also get off on each other's nerves.

My first nurseydex fix!! Also posted on ao3. Trigger warnings for language, ignorance. Check below the cut for the fic :)))

and every word that you mock sounds so pretty to me, you should die with me - Saturday Night, HUNNY

-

Dex was working on the boiler in the basement of the Haus when he heard Nursey come in through the front door. He recognized the stomp of his hipster-thrifted boots across the living room floor and his laugh as he talked to Bitty in the kitchen. He recognized the way he could almost make out their conversation. He also recognized the way he said goodbye and turned to head down the basement stairs.

Nursey came clambering down the stairs with two big cookies, one in each hand.

"Dude, look what Bitty made!! It's his MooMaw's chocolate chip recipe, apparently she has like tasks he has to complete before she rewards him with the best recipe? Anyway, he just got this one. They smell so good, dude! I brought you one."

Dex smiled, face hidden behind the broiler. "Let me just deal with this last screw and I'll grab one."

Nursey apparently seemed content to stand there and ramble as Dex finished up. He was talking about his Mexican poetry class or something, but Dex wasn't really paying attention. He just let Nursey's words wash over him.

Finally, he gave the screw one final twist before standing up and grabbing a towel off the floor to wipe his hands. He brushed off any oil or grease that would be on them before grabbing a cookie out of Nursey's hand. They both took their first bite at the same time, and Nursey let out a small moan. Dex blushed and tried to focus on enjoying Bitty's delicious baking skills. And you know what? Dex could also attest to the sinful delightful-ness of this certain cookie, but did you see him moaning over it? No.

"Nurse," he mumbled through a mouthful of cookie, "why do you always gotta make things so sexual? Can't you just enjoy things, for like one fucking time, without turning it weird?"

"Well, why are you such a fucking prude, Dex? How about letting me eat this goddamn cookie without judgement? 'Why do you make things so sexual, Nurse, blah blah blah?' It's because we're so rooted in early Protestant ideals that you're like this-"

And, yeah, it kinda devolved from there.

-

Shitty stomped down the steps about 15 minutes later to break up their fighting. By then it had gotten so loud that Dex was pretty sure the Lax bros could hear it from their house. He was pretty sure he had been going on about respecting people's boundaries, while Nurse had been off on some rant about Protestant ideals and how they had cursed America. Whatever it was, it had been pretty bad.

But then, Shitty arrived and taken them into the reading room.

"Bros, I want you to reflect on this moment. Do you feel in anyway better than the way you were feeling before? Do you feel accomplished or satisfied"

Dex shook his head, but resolutely refused to turn even the slightest inch to see what Nurse said.

Shitty just shook his head before he launched into some complicated lecture about emotional control and shared space. Dex listened with some level of interest before tuning it out.

Suddenly, Shitty snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Hey, both of you, pay attention. You'll be quizzed on this later."

-

Dex woke up the next morning to sunlight leaking in from the windows. He blinked at the sudden brightness then quickly squeezed his eyes shut. Apparently, his roommate had forgotten to shut their black out blinds properly.

"Are you fucking shitting me, Trevor? This type of shit happens every week, you've got to stop it."

No response. Dex leaned over the side of his bed and stared at the empty bed across from him.

"Oh- fuck, you've gotta be kidding me? He's gone, that's just great, he already left," Dex mumbled to himself as he stood up, back cracking.

He stretched his arms up to the ceiling, twisting and yawning. Then, he stomped over and yanked their blackout blinds shut. Dex turned and grabbed his phone and then laid back down in bed in the blissful darkness. His first class wasn't until 1:00, so he had a nice day ahead of him, seeing as it was only 8:30. He checked Twitter first, liking some of Bitty's tweets and laughing at some new memes. Then, he stumbled across a tweet from one Derek M. Nurse posted only a couple minutes after Shitty's lecture.

derek loves smh @dnursey   when ur much better at shitty's end-of-lecture quizzes than that other guy #nailedit #educateyoself   [ Picture of a slightly crumbled piece of paper with what seems to be a quiz on it. Each answer is hastily bubbled in, and at the top is sloppy handwriting that reads "11/12 Excellent job, Nurse. Lots of improvement since last time." ]

Dex felt anger rising in the pit of his stomach. He snorted with intense derision as he finished reading Nurse's stupid post. He threw his phone to the foot of his bed. Dex laid there, just looking at the ceiling for a few minutes. Why the fuck was Nurse so annoying? Sure, his own quiz was lying next to his bed with a "7/12 Dex, I know you can do better. Don't let your anger get to you." written on it, but seriously, who the fuck even actually gives quizzes after lectures anyway. It was all too much for Dex sometimes. He had ideals and ideas and values and morals and a ton of other bullshit engrained in him from years of living in his small town in Maine. That type of stuff doesn't just fade away from 8 months at a private liberal arts college.

Sure, maybe he came to Samwell to discover more things and explore, but he was afraid sometimes. Afraid of rejection, of failure, of judgement. So many times he wanted to do something, but then worried about it getting out or being made fun of... or even of being supported. Knowing he now had people who would love and support him through whatever? That shit was scary. Dex didn't have any more excuses to push himself down because now he had people who wanted to build him up.

He leaned down and picked up the crumpled quiz off the floor. He smoothed it out before grabbing his computer. Maybe if they were so intent on building him up, he could help a little bit too.

-

A month later, Dex and Nursey were hanging out together in the Haus living room. Well, "hanging out" might be stretching it. They were in the same room, working on schoolwork separately. And not fighting. It was pretty much a miracle. However, getting to this point had required some hard work on their part. Something had flipped in Dex after Shitty's lecture. He realized the reason why he had picked Samwell. The slogan "1 in 4, maybe more" was burnt into the deepest recesses of his mind. Samwell represented everything Dex wanted to be - everything he couldn't be back in Maine. So, he had sat down with his computer that afternoon and searched everything he could on Protestant culture and its effect on modern America. Then, through gritted teeth with genuine emotion in his eyes, he apologized to Nurse the next day. Nursey accepted it with little chirping, apparently seeing something in Dex that was different from all the other apologies.

Dex continued to work on his behavior. He would borrow books on social justice and unbiased history from the Samwell library and engage respectfully in debates in his classes and even just out on the quad. He noticed that the team was being more open with him too. Before, they would hide the hard conversations and reprimands from him. But now, they had been including him, asking him for his opinions and educating him on important topics. Still, he and Nurse got into it sometimes, but now it was mostly just playful. Dex had come to love their arguments - it was amazing getting to be so intense and passionate with another person.

It felt... intimate, really. It was almost like, despite their two very different backgrounds, Nursey was the only person who really understood him. He knew the ins and outs of Dex's personality better than anybody, even Dex himself. He knew how to push his buttons, but he also knew to look out for Dex's shaking hands when he codes for too long and then get him a water or gatorade. Nursey knew Dex. And it felt good to be known.

Dex was deep in these thoughts as they laid together in the living room. Suddenly, a resounding BANG from the kitchen echoed throughout the Haus. The two of them scrambled to get up, Dex knocking over his computer and Nursey creating a shower of paper in the middle of the Haus. They rushed into the kitchen to find Bitty, covered in flour, the lid to the food processor missing.

"Oh y'all, I'm such a mess," he said, close to tears. "Finals are just stressing me out, no big deal."  

Dex ran to him, wrapping him in one of his signature bear hugs reserved for close friends. He locked eyes with Nurse over Bitty's head and they exchanged a curt nod. Nursey immediately began to clean up the mess in the kitchen while Dex led Bitty upstairs to the bathroom. He made sure Bitty was situated and ready to take a shower before heading back downstairs with a load of flour-covered clothes for the laundry.

"I'm going downstairs to do the wash," he called into the kitchen as he passed by the door.

Nursey just threw him a small wave before he turned back to scrub the tile. Dex smiled to himself the whole way down the stairs to the basement. Nursey and him were both learning; growing together.

Dex reached the bottom of the stairs still wrapped up in his thoughts. He really did love the way he and Nurse were getting along now - it caused something to stir inside him. He felt it deep in his stomach, something fiery and passionate just like Nursey coiling there every time they were together. Dex dumped the load into the washer. He just wished it had happened sooner. Nursey was one of his best friends now, along with Chowder. They were both such amazing people. Samwell had changed Dex - he was a better person now, with friends who loved him and helped him become the best version of himself that he could be. He set the dial to normal load and finished with pouring the detergent in. Then, he leaned against the washer and sunk deeper into his thoughts.

-

Nursey found him ten minutes later. He had flour in his hair and some in his stubble. His stupid hipster shirt was also covered in flour and he looked pretty angry. Dex had to laugh.

"God, Nurse, what was Bitty cooking in there?"

Nursey just groaned and glared at Dex. "Dude, get your ass up there! I need help cleaning up this mess."

Dex smirked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. ""Help'. 'Cleaning'. Two words I never expected Derek Malik Nurse to say at all, let alone in the same sentence. Didn't you have maids for that in your brownstone?"

Nursey stomped closer to him. "Well, you're the master of cleaning, huh? All those years in bumpkin Maine, on that lobster boat."

Let it never be said that William J. Poindexter was one to back down from a challenge. He stepped closer, laundry and flour both far from his mind. "Like you would know a thing about responsibility. It was all just prep school and expensive field trips and Broadway and hundred dollar dinners with you, huh? Never learned the value of hard work."

"Of course I know hard work, try writing a 20 page essay in a week. With a 15 page-"

Dex cut him off. "Try coding an entire plug-in in the 30 minutes so I have 30 minutes to troubleshoot in my hour long lab! English is just some words-"

"Oh, I've heard this one before! 'My name's Dex and I just think English is just some words on paper!'"

They were both yelling at this point, trying to outdo each other in the loudness factor. Their fights always ended like this. However, Dex was just realizing how close they were. In their fury, they had gotten almost uncomfortably close.

Intimate, Dex's mind whispered.

Dex tried to shove that thought from his mind and focus on Nursey's rant, but it lingered. Suddenly, almost as if he couldn't control his own limbs, he pushed Nurse against the washing machine. He held him there, wrists trapped against the cool metal.

Nursey became very quiet and swallowed.

Dex looked at him, with flour everywhere and a righteous passion still contained in his warm brown eyes. He leaned in close and released one of Nursey's wrists so he could cup his cheek.

"Is this okay?" He asked, head bent in close enough that his warm breath washed over Nursey's face.

Nursey nodded and whispered, "Just fucking kiss me, Poindexter."

Dex leaned in with just a faint brush of the lips. Then, Nursey pulled his other hand from Dex's grasp and pulled him in close, trapping him in an almost brusing kiss. They fought with each other just like in real life. Nursey moaned just a bit when Dex moved his body so he and Nursey were flush against each other. Dex took that as a sign, pushing his tongue into Nursey's mouth.

They pulled apart slowly, each breathing heavily. Nursey looked up at Dex from lidded eyes. Dex smiled in his head.

Finally, Nursey's passion was directed at him. And only him.

[unwritrecipes]

Easy Chicken Adobo

Everybody needs dishes they can turn to that come together in less than half an hour, right?

Dishes that use basic, easy-to-find ingredients, right?

Dishes that please the sweet and savory lovers in your family all at the same and earn you major points, right?

If you answered yes to even one of these questions, making this Easy Chicken Adobo tonight is the right thing to do!

It’s tangy, sweet, salty and garlicky—in other words, delicious!

Classic Chicken Adobo, a popular Filipino dish, usually involves marinating bone-in chicken pieces in a mixture of soy sauce, vinegar, peppercorns, brown sugar and lots of thinly sliced garlic and then slowly braising the chicken for at least an hour. I’m sure it’s totally yummy that way, but it’s not exactly practical for a busy weeknight, so here, we’re keeping the same basic ingredients but using boneless chicken tenders instead and sort of quick-poaching them in that salty/sweet marinade.

Then we just toss them under the broiler for a few minutes so they get a little charred (and cooked all the way through) and top them with some of the sauce that you reduce at the same time. Gotta love that multi-tasking!

Every bite is tender and coated with that lovely sweet/sour addictive glaze which definitely would benefit from a starchy side (I’m thinking rice) to mop up all of that finder-lickin sauce. Add in a green veggie or simple salad and dinner is done in less than half an hour! Doesn’t get much “righter” than that!! Happy Tuesday!

Easy Chicken Adobo

Makes 4 servings

Prep Time: Less than 30 minutes

Ingredients

4 garlic cloves, peeled

½ cup low-sodium soy sauce

¼ cup rice vinegar

1 packed tablespoon brown sugar

2 bay leaves

Black pepper

½ cup water

1 ½ pounds chicken tenders

3 tablespoons canola oil, divided

Chopped scallions for garnish

The Recipe

1. Place an oven rack in the second highest rung and turn on the broiler.

2. Smash the garlic with the flat side of a knife and place it in a large deep skillet along with the soy sauce, vinegar, sugar, bay leaves and a pinch of pepper. Whisk in the water and bring the mixture to a boil.

3. Add the chicken tenders and lower the heat so that it is just barely bubbling. Cover and cook for about 7-10 minutes until the chicken looks cooked on the outside and is mostly cooked inside.

4. Pour 1 tablespoon oil in a large rimmed baking sheet and spread it around. Use tongs to transfer the chicken to the sheet and drizzle the remaining 2 tablespoons oil all over the tenders. Place into the oven and let cook for about 5 minutes, watching closely. If the chicken is too close to the flame, this will catch fire easily, so be careful. You want the chicken to be cooked through and browned on top but not blackened. Meanwhile, turn the heat up on the sauce in the skillet, and cook for another 5-7 minutes, until the mixture reduces and becomes thicker and more syrupy. Place the chicken on a platter and pour the sauce over it. Garnish with the scallions and serve.

Enjoy!

Note: Recipe adapted from Dinner for Everyone by Mark Bittman.

[lovemesomesurveys]

do you have a lot of barbecues during the summer? My dad used to all the time when I was a kid, but he’s not into it anymore for some reason. My fam just uses this little kitchen Cuisinart Griddler and a cast iron skillet for stuff like burgers and steaks. Oh, and my dad has a hot dog broiler/roller thing lol.  do you plan on going to the movies soon? to see what? My mom and I want to see It Chapter 2 again. do you tie your shoes or just tuck in the laces? I tie them. What is one present you got for your last birthday? A Nintendo Switch with a couple games and a case, some Adidas clothes/shoes/socks/fanny pack/mini backpack, and a weekend getaway.  What is one thing that you took to show and tell as a kid? I really don’t remember. 

Do you remember losing your first tooth? Yeah. I was eating an apple, ha. In the summer would u rather have the windows down or the AC on in the car? AC for sure. Having the windows down does nothing for me cause the air blowing in is just hot air. are you itchy anywhere right now? No. Have you ever thrown anything at a moving car? Uh, no. Have you ever been addicted to a game? What game? I go through spurts where I’m obsessed with The Sims. What song makes you laugh when you hear it? Uhh. do you believe in “the one”? I actually thought I found a potential “one” in Ty. Or at least something serious and long-term. Silly me.  Do you like maple cookies? I’ve never had one, but I’ve seen them and they look/sound delicious. I love maple donuts, so I imagine I’d love a maple cookie. Have you ever volunteered anywhere? where? Yeah, various places. are you afraid to pop a balloon? I do get a little nervous in anticipation of the POP! Name one person you’d like to see this month. I’ll be seeing one of my aunts that I’m close to soon. How high do you put the volume while using headphones? When listening to ASMR I turn it up all the way, but something else maybe half way or so. When was the last time you laughed when you shouldn’t have? I don’t know. What would be the worst possible way to be woken up? I don’t enjoy being woken up ever so if someone does they better have a good reason and some coffee, ha. which was better: lion king 1 or lion king 2? Lion King 1. Do any of your grandparents have a tattoo? No. When was the last time you had a bubble bath? Not since I was a kid. have you ever had a pet rock? No. Do you believe in marriage? I just can’t see myself ever getting married. What word do you say way too much? I know what phrase I say too much, “I don’t know.” What do you usually buy when you go to the corner store? Like a Quick Mar/gas station/liquor store type store? I just get a drink, like a Starbucks Doubleshot. I used to get chips all the time, too. are you currently cold? No. It actually feels nice right now, which is shocking. It looks overcast out right now and it’s only 72 F, which is a big drop in temp for us Californians who have been experiencing upper 90s and triple digit temps.  do you believe that your pets feel love towards you? Yes. what is a creative way to paint your nails? I wouldn’t know, I suck at painting them just the basic way. I tried dabbling in nail art stuff a few years ago, but I sucked. does your computer have built in speakers or do you have some plugged in? They’re built in. bubbles or sidewalk chalk? I liked playing with chalk as a kid. What do you use to tell time when your gone out somewhere? My phone. what colour is your alarm clock? I use my phone, which is coral. what brand is your TV? Insignia.  are you proud of your body? Nooope. Watermelon or Cherries? Watermelon. What is your all time favourite song? I have too many, I couldn’t pick just one. Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? On TV shows and movies. Eric Northman, playing by Alexander Skarsgard, for example. That character first introduced me to Alex. What is the band you’ve listened to most lately? I don’t think there’s been one in particular. how much effort do you put into how you look? Not much at all. :/ Favourite brand of cookies? Oreos and Keeblers. what would you do if you found out your mother had killed someone? Wowwwww. That would be.....wow. I don’t even know. If you could meet anyone who lived before your time, who would it be? Lucille Ball. Do you pay for your own things? Some things, not everything.  Have you ever been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance? Yes. Do you think the world is getting worse every year? I think we’re just more aware. Have you ever had a reoccurring dream? Yes, a few. Have you ever gone a day without eating? Yeah. I’ve gone days. How do YOU believe the world & universe started? I believe in God and that He created the world and everything in it. What was the topic of the last essay you wrote? I don’t remember. That was almost 5 years ago. how old were you when you discovered what sex was? I remember making my Barbies do what I thought sex was haha.  Do you wish you had smaller feet? No, they’re already pretty small. Have you ever stuck gum under a desk/chair? EW NO. I hate when people do that, it’s SO disgusting. Throw it away it’s really not that hard. When shopping at a grocery store, do you return your cart or just leave it? I don’t use a cart. What is one thing you’d never want your parents to find out? They don’t know I’ve smoked weed a few times. Doesn’t sound like a big deal to most, but I don’t know I just haven’t told them.  Who is the best cook in your house? My parents and brother are all good cooks. They each have their specialties.  When you were little, did you like Dr. Suess books? Yeah. Do you have a ‘prized possession’? My laptop. Have you ever felt trapped in a relationship? I’ve felt that way in some friendships. How many dryer sheets do you put in a load of laundry? I don’t do the laundry. Recommend a good book to me. I don’t know what you like. What would you consider unforgivable? Someone murdering someone I love.  When you hear someone talking about lice, does your head start itching? Haha yeah. What would be a clever name for a giraffe? Lol I named my giraffe stuffed animals with G names. Like my 4ft giraffe I have is named Gigi, like GG for “giant giraffe.” lol. She’s giant in comparison to the other stuffed animals.  Are there any items of jewelry you never/rarely take off? No. What’s something you like to do while you’re drunk? I don’t drink anymore. Do you think you deserve more than what you have? I don’t think I deserve anything. Would you rather give your food to a homeless shelter or money to charity? Why not both. Kiss on the neck or kiss on the cheek? Depends who the kiss is coming from.  True or False: you this read wrong True. Don’t you hate when you hit your tooth on your cup trying to get a drink? Yes, or a utensil. I do that forks a lot for some reason. Which store would you choose to max out a credit card? I don’t want to max out any credit cards. I gotta pay it back, you know. Who has the loudest mouth in your house? My dog? lol. Can you understand shakespear english? Kinda, but I didn’t really enjoy Shakespeare, so I didn’t put a lot of effort into it. Do you usually buy or make your Halloween costumes? I’ve done both. Do you like eating out at restaurants? Not anymore, really. I like getting takeout to just eat at home. What was your least favorite year of your life so far? These past few years. What is the most ridiculous law you ever heard about? Hmm. I’ve read articles in the past about weird laws each state has, but I can’t think of an example right now. Is your name common? Yeah.  If you could have any pet in the world, illegal or not, what would you get? I love having a dog. Do you like fried bologna? I’ve never had it fried, but I love bologna sandwiches.  How do you act around people you dislike? I’d act civil, but I would probably be short and just keep my distance, not interacting unless I needed to. Do you like decorating rooms or would you rather have someone else do it? Someone else. I’m not creative enough. Have you ever been to Canada? No, but I’d love to go. have you spent money on a game online? Yeah. I’ve bought a few game apps and Sims games. Are you good at making small talk? Nopeee. Has someone ever taken something from you that you could never replace? Yes.  Are you a fan of tattoos? I mean, sure. Are you bikini ready? I don’t wear bikinis.  What do you dislike the most about being the gender that you are? Menstrual cycles were a bitch, but I don’t get them anymore.

[inthebrokenplaces]

{lost & found}

canon divergent and based/inspired by some threads with @cptsrogers​

1938

January in New York bit into your skin like a hungry wolf. The wind howled through the towering buildings, sending sharp needles that punctured through even layers of clothing. The air tore into your lungs. It kept most people inside, but Bucky was one of the few out on the streets. He breathed heavily through his threadbare scarf, his exposed skin numb. Just two more blocks. His boots skated on the slick sidewalk, but he didn’t dare lose his grip on packages he was carrying. Snow fell in a slanting angle, its heaviness quieting the city. Bucky turned the corner and held onto the rail with gloved hands as he climbed the stairs.

It wasn’t much warmer inside the apartment. Bucky laid his bags down on the sofa and went over to the radiator, pulling his gloves off with his teeth to hold his hands over it. Nothing.

“Broiler’s still out,” Steve said from behind him. He wore so many layers of clothing it was almost comical, but it had been at Bucky’s insistence. With the heat out, the risks for Steve went way up. A cold could turn into bronchitis, which could easily make its way into pneumonia.

“Back,” Bucky said, pointing to the bedroom. “I thought I told you to stay in there where it’s warmer.”

“I heard you come in.” Steve punctuated his words with a few coughs, and Bucky’s pulse quickened. Steve held up a hand. “I’m fine, Buck. Throat’s just dry.”

As if to prove his point, he went into the kitchen and got a glass of water. Bucky shrugged off his jacket and went to put it around Steve. “I’m already wearing four sweaters. I don’t need your coat. Besides, what about you?”

“I’m fine.” Bucky was always fine. He had to be. In the two years since Sarah had died, he’d taken it on himself more than ever that Steve was okay. Fortunately, he’d found steady work as a mechanic, which paid more a tidy sum, so he could both give wages to his family and to Steve. Even better, he was able to start a small savings, so that he could finally move out of his home. Anywhere was better than there—although he spent most of his non-working hours at Steve’s anyway.

Steve mulishly pushed the jacket off and laid it on the back of the sofa. He drank his water and tipped his head toward the brown paper-wrapped bundles on the cushions. “What’d you get?”

“A wool blanket, and ingredients to make stew.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Thought it’d warm us up.” He didn’t mention the folic acid, iron tablets, and penicillin he’d also picked up.

Steve sighed. “What’d that cost you?”

“Don’t worry about it. I gotta eat too, y’know.” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “Now get out of the way. You’re bad luck in the kitchen.”

He really wanted Steve to go back to the bedroom, but he sat down at the desk and picked up his sketchbook, and that stopped Bucky from saying anything. He loved to watch Steve draw, the little crease that formed between his brows when he was really focusing, concentration turning his eyes a storm-swept blue.

“Turn on the radio, will you?” Bucky asked.

Steve obliged, and for a while they didn’t talk, just listened to the sounds of Benny Goodman and Duke Ellington fill the apartment. Bucky cooked, occasionally holding his hands over the stove to warm them up, and Steve drew, sometimes blowing on his fingers for the same reason. The snow continued to bury the city outside, muffling what little traffic there was, and soon the savory smell of stew drifted through the air. Buck dished up two bowls, giving Steve the lion’s share of the meat, and sat them down at the table. He’d been careful about the ingredients, mindful of Steve’s food sensitivities. He got another glass of water for himself, more comfortable here than he was at home, and waved Steve over.

“C’mon, grub’s on,” he said.

Steve sat his sketchpad on the desk and walked over to the table, poking at the bowl with a spoon. “How do I know I can trust it?”

Bucky snorted. “It’s better than anything you can make.”

Steve grinned and did some more poking. “You gave me too much. Here.” And he dished some of the beef back into Bucky’s bowl before he could stop him. If he made a big deal out of it, it would just embarrass Steve, so he resigned himself to letting it go. They sat down at the table and began to eat, the stew warming their bellies. They talked a little, about nothing really of importance, just the easy conversation they always had.

After a brief lull, Steve cleared his throat. “So what’d Mac say when you told him you weren’t coming in?” There was a hint of accusation in his voice.

Bucky swallowed and shook his head. “Nothin’. Shop’s closed today.” Steve fixed him with a stare, and he held up his hands. “Honest. On account of the storm.”

“I make do, Buck. You don’t have to keep this up.”

“I’m not doing anything you wouldn’t do for me. When you make it rich and famous with your art you can pay me back.” He smiled, that warm, irresistible smile of his that made girls melt and men trust him. Steve couldn’t help but smile in return.

By the time they finished washing the dishes—with cold water—they were well and truly freezing. Steve had insisted on helping, and now he was tucking his hands under his arms trying to bring feeling back to them. Bucky felt like kicking the radiator. If Steve got sick from this, he was going to have some words with the super.

“Alright, enough, go get warm,” Bucky said, shoving the new blanket at Steve and pointing toward the hall.

“And what are you gonna do, stay out here and turn into a popcicle?”

Bucky hesitated. It was one thing to lay on the couch cushions the way they had, but laying in bed with Steve brought up a whole other set of feelings that he’d tried to keep locked away. It wasn’t appropriate. He was supposed to take care of Steve, not take advantage of him.

Steve rolled his eyes, grabbed his sketchpad and pencils, and pushed Bucky toward the hallway. Bucky could’ve stopped him with minimal effort, but he didn’t really want to, and if Steve was okay with it, maybe it wasn’t so bad. Steve shut the door to the room behind him and spread the new blanket on top of the three others on the double bed. Bucky turned back toward the door.

“Where’re you going?” Steve asked.

“I’ll be right back, just a sec.” He went into the living room and grabbed a book, one of the few he’d left here at Steve’s because reading wasn’t an encouraged hobby at home either, and then returned to the bedroom. Crawling in under the covers beside Steve, he switched on the bedside lamp. They were both still bundled in their layers of clothing, but with the extra blanket and the shared body heat, they slowly started to thaw. Steve propped himself up against the pillows and began to draw again, and Bucky started to read. A comfortable silence stretched between them, just like before, until Bucky felt Steve move. He looked over to see Steve shivering.

Without thinking, he put his arm around Steve’s shoulders and drew him close. Something squirmed through his stomach, and he almost let him go, but then Steve let out a sigh and stopped shaking. He readjusted himself so he could lean against Buck’s chest and keep drawing, and for a while they just stayed like that. Bucky read the same sentence over and over. All he could think about was Steve’s closeness, if this was wrong, if he was betraying their friendship, a million other thoughts coming at light speed. The only sound he heard was the soft swoosh of Steve’s pencil on the paper, and his even, blessedly clear breathing. Buried somewhere beneath all the anxiety was how good this felt, how happy this made him. It surfaced like spring flowers, fighting its way to the top until Bucky felt his body relaxing.

“Hey Buck?” Steve craned his neck back to look at him.

“Yeah?” He tensed.

“’m tired.” Steve sighed, annoyed with his fatigability, even when he wasn’t exerting himself, and handed his sketchpad to Bucky.

“I’ll go take the couch,” Bucky said, laying the sketchpad on the bedside table.

“No, don’t,” Steve said quickly. A flush crept up his neck. “You’re warm.”

Bucky gave a little smile. He could be a human heater for Steve, if that’s what he needed. “Okay, pal. But only ‘cause it’s subarctic out there.”

“’Course.” That’s all it was. Just sharing warmth on a frigid winter day. Steve hesitated. “Will you do something for me?”

“Sure.”

“Will you read to me?” He was staring at his hands as he asked, because this definitely wasn’t about keeping warm. This was about something else entirely. “I’m just interested in what you’re reading.”

The request caught him a little off guard, but his smile broadened. “It’s Jules Verne. Classic.” He flipped back to the beginning and began to read.

Bucky’s voice vibrated in his chest as he read, and Steve let himself get lost in the deep tones of his voice. He was half listening to the story, but mostly to Bucky. That voice warmed him in ways that no blanket or heater ever could. Bucky read chapter after chapter, his voice growing a little rough from the strain, but Steve thought that just made it sound even better. Slowly, Steve’s eyes began to close, and he drifted off into a heavy sleep.

Bucky took notice when Steve fell asleep, and he very carefully reached over to lay the book on top of the sketchpad and turn off the light. He was still half sitting up—not the most comfortable position for sleeping—but God himself couldn’t move him in that moment. For a little while, he just sat there, Steve curled against him, and he let those burgeoning feelings of happiness bloom. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe he should be at home. But this, this was home. He didn’t fully understand what that meant for them, but he knew wherever Steve was, that’s where he’d be. Gently, almost shyly, he leaned his head against Steve’s and pressed a small kiss into his hair.

2017

The last three years had been rough. Two on the run, one more half on ice as Princess Shuri worked to deprogram him. Bucky felt torn apart, in more ways than one. There was the rawness of it all, memories and gaps that crashed into each other until sometimes he wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t. He’d never exposed himself like this, even before HYDRA. He had a lot of baggage to let go of, and some of it pre-dated the war. That was almost harder than the deprogramming. When Princess Shuri was fixing his brain, he just laid on a table and sometimes laughed at her jokes and easy demeanor. But with the therapists, he had to actually talk. He’d expected to talk about the Soldier. He hadn’t expected to talk about his father, or the way he’d never really lived for himself. But he wanted it to work, and one thing drove him: Steve. That was the wish he kept close to his heart on the nights that felt too cold for the weather.

When Steve arrived in Wakanda, it hadn’t been how Bucky envisioned it. He’d been waiting, waiting, waiting. And Steve had stayed away. It wasn’t until the king evacuated Steve from a mission gone wrong and brought him to the medical facilities for healing that Bucky understood why. He’d let his anger win out and they’d fought, but Bucky never left his side. He’d been so afraid Steve wouldn’t want him because he could never be the same Bucky as before, he hadn’t stopped to consider that it wasn’t the same Steve, either. But he saw it now. And he resolved to help Steve through it, to help him heal the wounds no serum could touch. Old habits died hard.

He knew it wouldn’t be any easier for Steve than it had been for him. Harder, even, maybe. Bucky had never led a team. The weight he carried was different. His guilt was different. But he knew what it was to not sleep for days, to wake in a cold sweat from nightmares, to have your mind turn against you in the most insidious ways. He knew what it was to not be able to shake the responsibility of it all.

So as he let Steve work through it at his own speed, Bucky tried to be that same breath of hope for Steve that he had been for Bucky. He tried to show Steve small pleasures, like feeding the goats and playing with the children, or watching the spectacular sunsets from a particular hill he liked. He made them dinner, showing off some of the Wakandan dishes he’d learned. He took Steve to his favorite eateries in the city, played for him some of the modern music Princess Shuri had introduced to him. On some special occasions, he sang to Steve some of their old favorites, his voice rough but pleasing nonetheless. Sometimes, Steve smiled.

They spent time together in that easy silence, and they also comforted each other on the rough nights. Bucky bought a sketchpad and pencils for Steve, but he still hadn’t picked it up. Time. He knew it would take time. So Bucky just continued on. At least Steve hadn’t left. He took that as a good sign. As long as Steve was there, they could get through this together, just like they always had. Bucky had to believe that.

Just like Steve hadn’t wanted to push him when they were on the run, Bucky was careful about physical affection. Steve didn’t need more pressure. Sometimes his hand lingered on Steve’s shoulder, or he’d brush the hair out of his eyes. Simple, uncomplicated acts. He missed Steve’s touch so much it hurt, but he shoved it out of his mind. He’d dealt with that before. He could handle it again.

One day, he was cooking when Steve came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist, pressing his face against Bucky’s back. Buck stopped stirring the rice he was cooking and looked over his shoulder.

“Steve? You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice was muffled. “Just…needed this.”

Bucky gave a tight smile. “Me too.”

They stayed that way for a few minutes, just holding on to each other, until Steve reluctantly let go. They ate dinner and washed up together, working in tandem, and then settled in for the evening. Steve laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling, while Bucky sat on the floor beside him writing in his journal.

The nights in Wakanda carried a pleasant breeze, scented with some flower that Bucky didn’t know the name of.  It was cool in the small house, the sun marching across the floor as night fell.

“Hey Buck?” Steve said after a long while.

“Yeah?”

“Remember that time we were snowed in, and you read to me?”

How could he forget? “’Course.”

Steve was still staring at the ceiling. “That was a good night.”

“We almost froze to death.”

“But it was still good.”

Bucky hesitated, and then got up from the floor. He put his journal on the desk and went over to a small shelf full of books, running his finger along the spines until he found what he was looking for. Then he came back to the bed.

“Move over,” he said.

“What?” Steve looked up at him.

“Move over,” he said again. “You’re a lot bigger than you used to be.”

Steve shifted, and Bucky settled in next to him, his arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulling him tight against him. Then he began to read. Jules Verne. It was one of the first books he’d bought of his own accord.

Steve slung his arm over Bucky’s waist and listened to his voice rumble in his chest. It stirred the same feelings as it had that frigid night in Brooklyn. Some of the tension eased from his body and for the first time in a while he felt he could breathe. Bucky read a few chapters, and then stopped. Steve tipped his head back to look at him. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. I just—“

“What?”

Bucky hesitated. The timing was all wrong, it was inappropriate, it could be taking advantage. But Steve looked up at him with those eyes, and suddenly he was twenty-one again feeling those fissures of hope and happiness break through all his logic.

He leaned down and kissed Steve. It was all comfort and affection, a promise, a hundred years of longing and love.

“Sorry,” he said breathlessly.

Steve reached up to cradle the back of his neck and kissed him back. They tangled together in a mess of limbs, holding on to each other as if afraid the other would disappear.

“I’m a mess,” Steve said when they finally broke apart, his forehead resting against Bucky’s and his eyes closed.

“So am I. But I don’t care. Whatever kind of shape you’re in, or I’m in, I’ll always want you.”

Steve smiled. “That’s my line.”

“I know, I stole it.”

“Jerk,” Steve said.

“Punk.”

[ayearofpike]

Spooksville #6: The Witch’s Revenge

Pocket Books, 1996 116 pages, 14 chapters + epilogue ISBN 0-671-55065-9 LOC: CPB Box no. 394 vol. 4 OCLC: 34290856 Released March 1, 1996 (per Amazon; B&N says 1/31 but that’s gotta be a typo because it wouldn’t have come out the day before #5)

Ann Templeton is a witch, there can be no doubt about that. But what are her intentions? The Spook Squad (which I think I’m sticking with now as a descriptor) isn’t totally sure, but they know that she has a lot of power, maybe even enough to improve Watch’s eyes. When they go to ask her about it, though, they find temptations of improvement for each of them, and the witch is totally happy to share these talismans with the kids — provided, of course, that they can find their way out of the castle.

This story feels like it’s trying to dig a little deeper and incorporate some sort of a moral. This isn’t something Pike’s done with any regularity, which again puts him closer to Marvin Summer than he thinks or claims. (Near the beginning, Marvin complained about his teacher worrying about morals, when his characters considered themselves lucky to make it to the last page.) But here we’re getting more of a life lesson and less of strictly being told that the witch is an asshole. Which she kind of is, but we’ll get there.

We start at the ice cream parlor, which I haven’t talked about yet. Apparently there’s a sign that boasts of fifty flavors, but the proprietor will only ever sell vanilla.This place has been in a couple of books so far, maybe because it’s easier to put uncanny weirdness on ice cream than donuts (their other hangout spot). So they’re having vanilla shakes and arguing about Ann Templeton. The boys think that maybe she does have some desire to help or be good, while the girls can’t picture her being out for anyone except herself.

But Watch mentions how his vision is steadily getting worse, and he doesn’t really know what else to do. Already he’s legally blind without his glasses, and his doctors warn that it’s just going to keep going away. So maybe Ann Templeton is his only option. They go to her castle and knock, and when the door opens by itself they go inside, despite Sally’s constant and incessant warnings that this is probably a trap. A couple minutes of exploration leads them to a parlor, and inside this room are four necklaces, labeled Strength, Immortality, Maturity, and Beauty. This is an obvious setup, but Watch can’t just sit around and do nothing while his eyes die, so he tries on the Strength necklace. He gradually gets stronger and more powerful, not just in his eyes but everywhere. So now Adam and Cindy can’t wait  to grab the Maturity and Beauty necklaces, and Sally grudgingly goes along and puts on the Immortality necklace.

And now the witch shows up. Ann Templeton wants to know why they’re stealing from her, and the kids try to put the necklaces back. Only they won’t come off — suddenly the chain is too short or too tight to slip over their heads. The witch tells them that the only way to get the necklaces off is to pass a test: find their way out. So they turn back to the entrance they came in, but it’s not there anymore, and neither is the passageway that the witch leaves by. The only way out of this parlor is a tiny hole in the ceiling, maybe fifteen feet up. Luckily, Watch is now strong enough to break furniture to build a platform that will give him enough extra height to jump and grab the hole, and then pull everyone else up with the sheet that was holding the necklaces. They find themselves in a stone duct, and crawling along it eventually leads to a mesh grate that they have to carefully get across. Only Adam has grown so much since putting on his necklace that the mesh can’t support his weight, and Sally grabs at him but she’s gotten smaller and younger, and they both fall.

What can Watch and Cindy do? They can’t see the bottom of the hole, even with Watch’s new super vision or the light that Cindy is mysteriously producing. They have to keep going, and pretty quickly they get captured by the witch’s trolls, who immediately start arguing over the best way to prepare and cook human meat. They try invoking the Marines as a threat, but the trolls laugh and claim that no human forces can overcome them. So Cindy thinks fast, and tells the trolls she and Watch both have chicken pox, and that they’d better not eat them. The trolls don’t believe it, but they lock the kids in a cell for observation — if there’s no spots in six hours, it’s under the broiler, or in the deep-fryer, or on the spit over an open fire, the trolls still can’t agree. 

But what about Adam and Sally? There’s still eighteen of these books, so they were fine. Well, not fine exactly; they landed in a giant spiderweb and had to struggle out of it before two giant spiders ate them. Sally has a lighter and burns their way out, and they find another tunnel that leads to a beautiful garden room suffused by a violet light. There’s a kid sitting on an island in the middle of a pond in the garden, and she reminds them of someone with the long dark hair and the unearthly beauty. They tell her that the witch has trapped them in the castle, and the kid doesn’t know what they mean, because her mother certainly isn’t a witch. That’s right — Ann Templeton has a daughter, one who has never left the castle because it “isn’t time.” But she does have a problem with these kids (even though one is “getting really old, in his midthirties at least” and “soon I’ll be in my forties and unable to get around” ... little shit) being held against their will, and agrees to try to help them find an exit.

Cindy and Watch have some help too. The goblin leader comes back to them and wants to know more about these Marines, because he thinks he’d be a good fit. Cindy “reminds” Watch about the “brochure” he’s carrying in his “back pocket,” and Watch catches on and says he needs to be uncuffed to get at it. As soon as he is, of course, he knocks out the goblin and they make a break for it. They meet up with Adam and Sally, who are looking for them, but now they’re all on the run from a hungry goblin horde. The witch’s daughter pins them down with a fire spell, and then finds a secret door that leads out of the dungeons or the basement or whatever this place is where the goblins live. But now they’re all in the hall next to the parlor, where there’s a giant crystal hourglass and the witch herself.

She’s pretty annoyed that her daughter is suddenly speaking against her, but keeps her cool. She’s also kind of bugged that the kids don’t seem to have actually tried all their options for getting out. Yes, Adam is growing older, nearing death of old age. Sally is growing younger, to be reversed into a zygote. Cindy is getting lighter and more transparent, eventually to disappear entirely. Only Watch is the better for his necklace. If they’re in a trap, Ann Templeton says, they need to think about the circumstances that got them there and then reverse it. And then she disappears, leaving her daughter with the kids to try to puzzle it out. 

Why isn’t Watch suffering the way the other kids are? They slowly come to realize that he was the one who actually wanted a change, the one who had something to ask from the witch. The other kids all put on their necklaces out of vanity or curiosity, rather than from any kind of actual need. And that’s enough for them to be able to take them off. But uh-oh — they’re still changed to this point, even if they’re not totally gone. This room, though, has to be a clue. What if, Watch says, they put the necklaces back on and then turn the hourglass over? If it’s like the other hourglass they encountered, back in the mirror-Spooksville in the first book, time will run backward and reverse the effects. But Watch, the kids say, why would you take away all your awesome powers? To which he replies it’s not worth having them if everybody can’t. So they put the necklaces on, Watch flips the hourglass, and then ...

We are jarred to the epilogue, which puts the kids back in the donut shop. Evidently they blacked out and woke up outside the castle, back the way they were before they went in. Well, mostly — the witch woke Watch before the others and told him to take off the necklace before his strength totally wore off, enough that his vision was stabilized and not actively getting worse. Sally’s pretty pissed off for him: why wouldn’t she have woken Watch at a point where he didn’t need glasses at all? Well, he says shyly, the witch likes how his glasses look. What about the witch’s daughter? She was gone, no trace or sign, but maybe they’ll bump into her again.

And that’s the end of The Witch’s Revenge! The title is a little overwrought for what the story actually is, but, you know, marketing. And even though I was annoyed by The Cold People, we’re getting more hints in that book and this one that make me start to want to piece together the origins and effects of Spooksville. I really don’t know how clear of an idea Pike had for running this series to an end and having a concrete finish line, but I do see that there is one in sight, rather than just flailing away at it forever.

[gelasssoek]

Chicken & Shiitake Skewers. The chicken (Gallus gallus domesticus), a subspecies of the red junglefowl, is a type of domesticated fowl, originally from Asia. Rooster or cock is a term for an adult male bird. Перевод слова chicken, американское и британское произношение, транскрипция, словосочетания, примеры использования. chicken [ˈtʃɪkɪn]Существительное. chicken / chickens. (Received Pronunciation, General American) enPR: chĭk'ĭn, IPA(key): /ˈt͡ʃɪkɪn/. From Middle English chiken (also as chike > English chick), from Old English ċicen, ċycen ("chicken"), of uncertain origin.

They are members of the Phasianidae, or pheasant, family of birds. The original white meat is used in cuisines across the world. Learn how to make the most of chicken with these recipes.

Hey everyone, it's me, Dave, welcome to my recipe page. Today, we're going to prepare a distinctive dish, chicken & shiitake skewers. It is one of my favorites. For mine, I'm gonna make it a little bit unique. This is gonna smell and look delicious.

Chicken & Shiitake Skewers is one of the most popular of recent trending foods on earth. It's easy, it is quick, it tastes yummy. It's appreciated by millions daily. Chicken & Shiitake Skewers is something that I've loved my entire life. They are nice and they look fantastic.

The chicken (Gallus gallus domesticus), a subspecies of the red junglefowl, is a type of domesticated fowl, originally from Asia. Rooster or cock is a term for an adult male bird. Перевод слова chicken, американское и британское произношение, транскрипция, словосочетания, примеры использования. chicken [ˈtʃɪkɪn]Существительное. chicken / chickens. (Received Pronunciation, General American) enPR: chĭk'ĭn, IPA(key): /ˈt͡ʃɪkɪn/. From Middle English chiken (also as chike > English chick), from Old English ċicen, ċycen ("chicken"), of uncertain origin.

To begin with this recipe, we must prepare a few ingredients. You can cook chicken & shiitake skewers using 12 ingredients and 5 steps. Here is how you can achieve that.

The ingredients needed to make Chicken & Shiitake Skewers:

{Get 500-600 g of Chicken Fillets.

{Get 100-150 g of Shiitake.

{Make ready of Salt & Pepper.

{Take of Oil for cooking.

{Get 2 tablespoons of White/Brown Sugar.

{Get of <Sauce Ingredients>.

{Make ready 4 tablespoons of Soy Sauce.

{Make ready 4 tablespoons of Water.

{Get 1 teaspoon of Rice Vinegar.

{Prepare 2 teaspoons of Corn Starch OR Potato Starch.

{Take of <You Need>.

{Get of Bamboo Skewers.

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Steps to make Chicken & Shiitake Skewers:

Soak skewers in a shallow dish of cold water for at least half an hour, then drain..

Cut Shiitake into quarters and cut Chicken Fillets into similar size pieces. Thread Chicken and Shiitake onto skewers..

Combine the sauce ingredients in a saucepan and bring to the boil, stirring, until the sauce thickens..

Heat a barbecue plate or a frying pan. Season the skewers with Salt and Pepper lightly, and cook the skewers until cooked through..

Brush or spoon the sauce over each skewer and serve..

Chicken definition, a domestic fowl, Gallus domesticus, descended from various jungle fowl, especially the red jungle fowl, and developed in a number of breeds for its flesh, eggs, and feathers. I gotta get some chicken.. . From classic chicken tikka masala to Thai green curry, take a tour of global flavours with BBC Food's top Take on your takeaway and spice up suppertime with our favourite chicken jalfrezi, chicken. Find chicken logo stock images in HD and millions of other royalty-free stock photos, illustrations and vectors in the Shutterstock collection. Thousands of new, high-quality pictures added every day.

So that is going to wrap it up with this special food chicken & shiitake skewers recipe. Thank you very much for reading. I'm sure that you can make this at home. There is gonna be more interesting food at home recipes coming up. Don't forget to bookmark this page in your browser, and share it to your loved ones, friends and colleague. Thank you for reading. Go on get cooking!