#is it baking if i’m going to stick them in a frying pan??

[selfconsumerofmywoes]

going to try and do another 100 words of my essay (lol yeah right), get a shower, then run to the shop and get me some currents for *welsh cakes*

[jor-elsemissary]

Getting Martha to try and run for president must have been a fun conversation for Lionel

Martha: Lionel when are you going to get -?

Lionel: When are YOU going tobrun for president?

Martha:

Martha: what led to this?

Lionel: *eats apple.*

Lionel: Martha Kent for president

Martha:

Martha: How long have you thought of this

Lionel: It's...not important

Martha: I disagree

Lionel: I have full faith in you.

Martha:

Martha: You can make me president can't you?

Lionel: Martha I'm Lionel luthor. I can make PETE ROSS president

Martha: *sighs*

Martha: I am very much worried now.

Lionel: And it's that very attitude that would make you a great president.

Martha:

For President pt 1

———

The familiarity of her kitchen was comforting. It had been years since she had the opportunity to cook and bake within its confined space, basking in the sweet aroma of freshly baked muffins and bread, or listening to the sizzling fat pop in a frying pan as she seared steaks for the men in her life. Martha Kent stepped into the kitchen that had been a good part of her life as a farmer, housewife and mother. She sat her purse on the island, her curious gaze taking in the clutter that would have caused her to chastise her son and husband into cleaning up. There were papers strewn all over, some of them coloring pages for the four year old that now filled the house with child-like laughter and the pitter patter of running feet. A box of Crayola crayons lay toppled over, red and blue left outside next to it and on top of a drawing of her son as his heroic persona. A half eaten sandwich and an empty glass was the only sign that the boy had been there recently, no doubt busy with something else by now.

She looked over at the counters of her kitchen and took in that everything had been rearranged and added to with new items, reminding her that although it had been her kitchen for years, it wasn’t hers any longer. The old refrigerator was more than enough proof that it belonged to her son and his wife now. Magnetized to the door, like so many years before, were more colorful drawings of Superman and the child’s family. Martha moved closer to take a closer look and smiled when she saw a stick image of herself kissing—or at least she thought she was kissing—a Santa costumed Lionel Luthor. She wondered when the boy had seen them kiss and figured it had to have been this past Christmas eve. She did remember there being a mistletoe involved and Lionel had dressed that year for all of the Kent children.

Martha smiled fondly at the images and turned to explore the rest of her old home, finding herself missing the familiar warmth and homeliness that it brought to her. Although she might have a talk with her son and Lois about keeping the place tidy. She shook her head when she picked up her son’s football jersey laying rumpled on the sofa, suspecting that the untidiness was Lois’ doing rather than Clark’s. Her son was a lot neater than this, but then again, thinking back on how his room looked sometimes, she might be wrong now that he didn’t have a mother to nag him into picking up after himself.

She was about to head upstairs to see how that part of her home was fairing when the front door opened and bundle of arms and childish squealing of excitement came whirling through, “Grandmama!” Martha gave a quiet ‘oof’ as said whirling bundle wrapped his arms around her legs and gazing up at her almost in the same way Clark had done when they had first met him so long ago. A small pang of guilt and regret stabbed at her chest at the affectionate title, wishing that he would call her ‘mama’ instead. But despite her wants and desires, she knew that he could not know the truth until he was older.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she knelt down and embraced him in the hug her grandson, nay son, wanted. “How have you been?”

“I’m okay,” William Kent answered her and wrapped his arms around her neck, wanting to be picked up. It wasn’t easy lifting the boy into her arms. Either he was getting too big for her, or her heels really weren’t meant to carry any kind of weight. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Martha gives him a big kiss on the cheek and he wipes at it with a disgusted look. She rolled her eyes at the childish phase her son was going through. She knew it wouldn’t be long before he started chasing after girls himself and she only prayed that Clark and Lois were able to teach him respectability toward any he started dating. The last thing she wanted was for her son to carry on the same habits as his father and brother.

“Is grandpapa here?” he asked, stretching to look around his mother and Martha shook her head in reply.

“He won’t be here until later this afternoon, Liam,” she tells him and carries him over to the kitchen island to set him down on a stool. He really was getting too big to carried.

“Awww, I wanted to show him what I made.” He looked a little crestfallen and it worried her that his father wasn’t interacting with the boy enough. She would have to have a talk with Lionel later that evening.

“You’ll have to wait then.” She reaches up and ruffles his dark and thick locks, so much like his father’s. Blue eyes narrowed at what she had done and she laughed as he tried to straighten his already unruly hair. He was so very much like Lionel and it had her wondering what Lionel had been like as a child.

The front door creaked again as someone else came into the house, “Hey Missus K,” greeted her daughter-in-law. Martha came over when she saw that Lois’ arms were full with groceries. “Thanks,” Lois gratefully said as one bag was passed off to the matriarch of the family. “You’re here early,” she continues once her own load had been offloaded on the kitchen island. Liam protested as it covered his drawings and quieted when his surrogate mother carefully pulled them out from underneath for him.

“The flight was ahead of schedule.” Martha began unpacking the groceries, rolling her eyes at the number of sugary foods the younger woman had bought. She knew it was more for her than it was for the children or Clark. Lois had a sweet tooth that probably had dentists looking at her with dollar signs in their eyes. “Is Clark outside trying to get as many bags into his arms?”

Lois laughed lightly and shook her head, “No. He’s dealing with a broken fence and a stray cow right now. Daisy managed to break out again. Connor, though, is trying. Speaking of the devil.” Once more the door opened and the dark haired offspring of Martha’s son and step-son—she still struggled to wrap her mind around that—entered with at least a dozen bags on both of his arms. “Conner!” she came over and relieved him of several of the bags. Martha watched as the half-kryptonian boy lifted up his load and dumped it onto the kitchen counters with ease.

“I got it, mom,” Connor said as he arranged the bags so they wouldn’t fall off the counter. “There’s at least another half-dozen out in the truck. Oh and dad says Daisy is back in the pasture and the fence is fixed. Hi, grandma!” Connor greeted once he realized she was there. He came over to give her a tight hug before he sped back outside to go get the rest of the groceries.

“He looks happy,” Martha commented while moving on to her third bag.

“He still struggles with who he is,” Lois says sadly, looking after her adopted son while holding a bag of potato chips, “and what he is. But… He knows he is loved and he Liam adores him to death.”

“Connor lets me fly,” Liam revealed and both women looked at him with surprise.

“How?” Lois asked, dreading the answer.

“Like how papa lets me fly!” Liam answered. “But we’re actually flying!”

Lois quietly facepalms and Martha can hear her muttering under her breath several curses before turning back to the groceries. “I should not be surprised, to be honest. I married an alien with superpowers, of course, the children would have superpowers too and they would indulge the one child that does not.”

“Connor clearly loves Liam,” the senator diplomatically defended her grandson. “I doubt he’d do anything to endanger him.”

“Endanger who?” said grandson interjected once he was back inside with the rest of the groceries. Finding that there was no more counter space, he carefully sets them on the floor. Immediately Shelby came over and started to investigate what had been set down in his domain, tail wagging and nose snuffling and poking into each back for anything interesting.

“Liam,” Lois clarified and pointed a box of spaghetti at him. “You’ve been flying him around.”

“Only around the property and just a few feet off the ground,” Connor explained, cheeks turning a little red. “He wanted to fly like me and dad so much when we were racing. It was only fair.”

“Clark knows?” Martha raised an eyebrow at him and then glanced toward the door when she caught a glimpse of her eldest about to enter.

“Knows what?” asked the young alien survivor.

“That Connor is letting Liam fly.”

Clark looks a little sheepish and glances over at his son, “It was just a few feet off the ground. Liam was safe.”

“It was fun!” Liam added and started miming the memory with a hand and noises. He hopped down from the stool and started running around the kitchen and family room.

Martha couldn’t help but smile at the child-like happiness her youngest showed and realizing how much she missed the family life. She gave Clark an exasperated smile and held out her arms to him for a hug. Clark came over and embraced his mother just as tightly as Connor had, clearly missing her as much as she missed him. “Its good to see you, Clark. I’ve missed you and everyone.”

“I’ve missed you too, mom.” Clark stepped back just as a cry came from upstairs. His smile faded at the sound and he sighed heavily. “I don’t know how you managed, mom, but I envy your parenting skills.”

Martha looked up toward the staircase and just smiled at her son’s confession, “It takes a lot of patience and practice.” She pats him on the shoulder. “Why don’t you help Lois with the groceries and I will see to Jonathan.” She doesn’t let Clark protest as she heads up the stairs toward the bedroom that had been converted into a nursery. The cries of distress became louder when she stopped just outside of the room, a lopsided and hastily painted sign was tacked to the door declaring the room as belonging to the infant inside. She tried not to allow the name to give her any pause, telling herself that she had let go of her late-husband years ago even though it still hurt to think about him sometimes.

With a hand on the brass handle, she pushed the door open and entered. The room was decorated with a space astronaut theme, with blues and black and white being the main colors. There were stars and planets everywhere, and hidden very cleverly were kryptonian letters which she still could not understand after all these years. But she did recognize the symbol of Clark’s biological family, the House of El. The crib itself was a mockup version of her son’s spacecraft though it was painted to look like a spaceship that NASA would have used. In the center of the crib lay squirming and crying was her grandson, Jonathan Kent II, wearing a tiny blue shirt with the symbol of Superman printed into it and a diaper with a cartoonish sponge and starfish.

Immediately she knew what was needed, the smell from the diaper reaching her as she leaned over to pick up the screaming baby. “Sshh,” she coos at him and brings him over to the table to change his soiled diaper. He started to calm down once cooler air touched him and the wet, smelling diaper was rolled up and tossed into a bin. “See now,” she tells him once she was done tending to his need and picked him up into her arms. “Grandma has you,” she brushes at the boy’s thin strands of hair and boops his noise. Blue eyes stared up at her curiously, no doubt wondering who this person was. She had missed his birth and the first few months of his life, so it was no surprise that he didn’t know her.

“I sometimes forget how much of a mother you still are.”

Standing in the door of the nursery was Lionel Luthor, his long coat and gloves still on. He had let his hair and beard grow out again, but it wasn’t as full or as gray as his doppelgänger’s had been. There were a few more age lines around his eyes, but otherwise he looked as handsome as ever. “Lionel,” Martha smiled at him as he approached her. He leaned in to give her a tender kiss, mindful of the squirming bundle in her arms. “I thought you would still be in meetings?”

“I was,” he supplied, glancing down at the child she had. He hesitated in touching, but quickly overcame it to let the boy grab his gloved finger instead. “But as soon as I got an alert that your flight had arrived early, I cleared out the rest of my schedule to be here.”

“Lex won’t be happy with you,” she tells him and he just shrugs his shoulders.

“Lex has bigger concerns now.”

Martha furrowed her brow at her lover, “What’s wrong?” It took a lot to get Lionel Luthor to shrug off responsibility so whatever it was that his son was doing or dealing with, had to be big. She just hoped it wasn’t another scheme to challenge her son in a battle of wits and will. The last thing she wanted right now was for Clark to be dragged away to stop Lionel’s son and whatever mad scheme he had concocted this time.

What Lionel said next was the last thing she had expected.

“He just announced his bid for the White House.”

[vegi1]

How To Make Vegan Schnitzel With Oyster Mushrooms

You know, I wanted to create this vegan schnitzel to show everyone how diverse and delicious vegetarian dishes can be. Some folks might wonder if we vegans should be simulating foods that resemble meat, and to that, I say, why not? Simulating meaty dishes like this helps open up the world of plant-based eating to more people. Let’s face it, some might think veganism is all about just eating greens and salads, but it’s not true. By making dishes like this, I’m proving that being a vegetarian offers a wide variety of foods that are not only tasty but also great for your health! Simulating foods with vegan alternatives is a fantastic way to attract people to the vegan lifestyle.

don’t get me wrong, I totally get that some people find it challenging to give up certain foods. That’s why the names of dishes can be so powerful. When you hear “vegan schnitzel,” it sparks curiosity, right? You want to know what it’s all about and if it can really replace the traditional meat schnitzel. Well, let me assure you, it absolutely can! Many people have fallen in love with the vegan diet, and once you taste this oyster mushroom schnitzel, I’m sure you’ll join the club too!

So, let’s get cooking together! Follow me step by step as we make this delightful dish that will win your heart over.

let’s talk about the nutritional goodness of this schnitzel. It’s packed with essential and non-essential amino acids, powerful antioxidants, and vitamins B, C, and D. Plus, it’s a fantastic source of minerals like iron, zinc, calcium, and phosphorus.

It’s a great source of essential minerals like iron, zinc, calcium, and phosphorus. And let’s not forget about the immune-boosting powers of oyster mushrooms, helping you stay strong and healthy. Oh, and it’s got some absorbable protein in there, too, just what our bodies need!

Tips and tricks:

Alright, time for some tips and tricks to make sure your vegan Oyster Mushrooms schnitzel turns out perfect:

Choose your mushrooms wisely: Go for fresh, firm oyster mushrooms without any signs of spoilage. Give them a gentle clean with a damp cloth or paper towel to remove any dirt.

Marinate those shrooms: Whip up a mouthwatering marinade with grated onion, salt, pepper, smoky spice, coriander (or any aromatic veggie you like), lemon juice, olive oil, thyme, paprika, and turmeric. Let the mushrooms soak in this goodness for 30 minutes to enhance their flavors.

Get creative with the marinade: Feel free to add your twist to the marinade! A splash of soy sauce or balsamic vinegar can work wonders.

Coating is key: Make sure the oyster mushrooms are evenly coated with the marinade before frying. A crispy and golden crust is what we’re aiming for!

The frying mixture: Mix white flour, breadcrumbs, cornstarch, baking powder, and red pepper in a bowl. Gradually add water until you get a smooth, thick batter that sticks to the back of a spoon.

Test the oil: Preheat your oil and drop a little batter in to see if it sizzles and rises quickly without burning. That’s how you know it’s ready for frying!

Fry in batches: Avoid overcrowding the pan to get that perfect crispiness on your mushrooms.

Pat off the excess oil: Let your cooked schnitzel rest on some paper towels to soak up any extra oil and keep them crispy.

Serve it up: Now, here’s where your creativity shines! Serve these flavor-packed oyster mushrooms as an appetizer, side dish, or even a main course. Pair them with your favorite dips like aioli, sweet chili sauce, or a tangy Hommus dip.

Be a culinary artist: Feel free to experiment with different spices and seasonings to suit your taste buds. Get creative and enjoy!

There you have it! A flavorful, nutritious, and absolutely delightful vegan schnitzel. So follow my step-by-step guide below. Let’s get frying and enjoy this delectable Vegan Schnitzel with Oyster Mushrooms together.

SELECT THE FINEST OYSTER MUSHROOMS

Start by arranging fresh oyster mushrooms in a bowl. Ensure they are firm and free from any discoloration or spoilage.

Add grated onion to the mushrooms in the bowl. This will infuse them with a delightful burst of flavor.

Add a generous drizzle of lemon juice and olive oil to the mix.

SPICE THINGS UP!

Sprinkle thyme, salt, black pepper, smoked paprika, turmeric, and some fresh coriander over the mushrooms. Give it all a good mix, and then close the lid of the container to let the mushrooms marinate for at least half an hour. Trust me, this will taste a whole new level!

THE STAGE OF FRYING OYSTER MUSHROOMS

It's time to move on to the exciting stage of frying the oyster mushrooms. In a separate bowl, combine two spoons of flour.

GET READY FOR A CRUNCHY DELIGHT!

Add cornstarch and baking powder to the flour in the bowl. This combination will give your schnitzel that perfect crispiness you crave.

Now, for an explosion of flavor, sprinkle some red pepper into the flour mixture. Gradually add water and mix until you achieve a smooth and consistent batter. We don't want any lumps, so take your time with this step.

Dip the marinated oyster mushrooms into the batter, making sure they are well-coated. This is where the magic happens!

After coating the mushrooms in the batter, it's time to give them a breadcrumb makeover. Cover each piece thoroughly, ensuring every bit is coated evenly.

Now, let's sizzle some taste into our schnitzel! Pour oil into a container and let it heat up. Once it's nice and hot, carefully fry the mushrooms one by one in the oil, making sure to cook both sides until they turn a beautiful golden brown. Voilà! Your crunchy and healthy vegan oyster mushroom schnitzel is now ready to be devoured. Using a knife, cut through the schnitzel, and dip it in your favorite sauce for an explosion of flavor in every bite.

[official-lucifers-child]

mickey’s mac “recipe” incoming

ingredients:

about 1 lb of pasta, i use cavatappi

butter (i usually do like half a stick, so that’s 4 tbsp or 0.25 cup)

grated shallots, like maybe 2 of them?

spices!! uhhh smoked paprika, thyme, cayenne, garlic powder (sometimes), ground black pepper. you can add a fuckton of paprika, maybe half that of garlic, half that of thyme and black pepper, and your cayenne should not go above 1 tsp or else you get into Spicy Mac territory instead of just Tasty Mac. i like spicy mac and cheese, but someone who wants mac and cheese probably will not appreciate being whacked upside the head with cayenne. use your best judgement.

flour, the same amount as butter

1 or 2 cans of evaporated milk. this is like 1.25-2.5 cups bc cans come in 12 oz only so. whatever

mustard. like yellow or dijon or whatever. maybe like 2 tbsp?

an amount of milk. idk. i have never measured this i just pour until i decide to stop. maybe 1-2 cups?

cheese!! i use sharp cheddar, colby jack, gruyère, and fontina. usually it’s a 2:1:1:1 ratio, so if you have 1 lb of cheddar then it’s 0.5 lbs of each of the other cheeses.

instructions:

cook your pasta to al dente and then drain well and set aside.

melt butter. medium-low heat. add grated shallot and cook for maybe 2 minutes

add half of your spices and cook until fragrant, or about 1 minute

add flour. mix well and cook about 2-3 minutes.

add evaporated milk SLOWLY. whisk between each addition, and do not add more until the previous addition has been FULLY INCORPORATED.

bring back up to a medium-low heat, bc adding all the liquid lowers the temp.

add mustard. mix.

slowly add milk until you decide your done adding milk. whisk, same deal as the evaporated milk, don’t be too hasty.

if you want your mixture to be thicker, heat it for longer before adding your cheese. if you make it too thick, just add more milk. if it’s too thin, keep it cooking on that medium heat until it’s your desired consistency. i never look at the clock during this step so idk how long i usually cook mine.

lower the heat to low. THIS IS IMPORTANT.

add about half, or maybe two-thirds, of your grated cheese (which should already be pre-mixed so you’re not adding all the fontina and then all the colby jack one at a time. each handful should have an equal amount of each cheese.) one handful at a time. mix until it is fully melted and incorporated in between each handful. this may take a while. keep mixing. no shut up, just do it.

add your cooked pasta. mix well!! we don’t want any dry spots of pasta or pockets of boiling hot cheese.

in a large, deep baking dish like a casserole dish, add half your pasta mixture. sprinkle half of your remaining grated cheese over it. pour on the rest of the pasta, and then put the rest of the cheese on top. i sometimes pan-fry breadcrumbs and add those and a little fresh thyme on top. it’s whatever.

put the mac in a hot oven (like 350 or whatever i do not care) for an amount of time that makes sense. maybe broil it so the cheese gets all brown and toasty. who fucking cares, it’s your mac and cheese.

eat it.

this makes about 10 or so servings, depending on how much you’re eating per serving. it usually doesn’t last long at a potluck, and my family will finish it off in under a day. if you have leftovers, i’m sorry about your inability to cook (jk, refrigerate those and just heat them up in the microwave when you want mac and cheese, this reheats very well in my opinion)

note: more liquid means a runnier, wetter result. less liquid means a drier result. if i use 2 cans of evaporated milk and 2 cups of regular milk with my 2.5 lbs of cheese and 1 lb of pasta, it is a wet mac and cheese. 1 can and 1 cup of the milks makes a very dry pasta. if you’re scaling down, you HAVE to scale down your cheeses. honestly, you can scale down the cheeses and keep everything else the same, and you’ll still get a really really tasty mac and cheese. the cheeses i use are all strong flavours, so you aren’t really losing any of the “cheese” flavour if you go with 1.5 lbs of cheese instead of 2.5, or even less than that. again, your kitchen, your choices, your decisions.

“whatcha got there?”

2.5 lbs of cheese

[thebibliosphere]

Hello! My household is not gluten-free, but there’s someone who’s very important to me who has celiac and is planning to visit us next month. I’m hoping to be able to feed them while they’re here without inadvertently poisoning them. I’ve got some good gluten-free recipes, but I’m worried about potential cross-contamination from cookware since we do usually eat gluten (though we won’t be cooking with gluten while they are here). I’m wondering if you have any resources for what precautions are necessary to safely prepare food for someone with celiac. I’m happy to buy a few things to use exclusively for gluten-free food, but I’m not sure if storing that with the rest of our cookware would be okay or if it should be stored separately? Would we be better off just finding a gluten-free restaurant nearby and ordering delivery while the person is here? I just want to make sure they are safe and feel welcome.

Hello! Thank you for being willing to take such precautions for your friend. I'm sure it means a lot to them to know someone cares this much for them.

You are correct in thinking that gluten contamination can occur from cooking utensils. Gluten can stick to porous surfaces, even when thoroughly scrubbed, and while some people are not sensitive enough for that to affect them, some are and it's always best to err on the side of caution.

Things like plastic or wood cutting boards, plastic mixing bowls, wooden, nylon and even silicone utensils can all be potential risk factors, even when thoroughly scrubbed. Cast iron and non-stick pans and appliances, waffle iron, griddle, plastic components inside a food processor.) can also be a potential source of cross contamination.

I remember when we found out I was being glutened by an old mixing bowl. I yeeted everything out of my kitchen and bought all new utensils and cookware.

Now, I am not suggesting you do that as you do not live with this person full time. But depending on your budget and if you want to have utensils you know are safe for gluten-free individuals in the future, you could put together a little kit that you can store away for later. I'd suggest a cutting board, mixing bowl and getting a cheap set of utensils. You could also invest in a cheap frying pan/pot and maybe a baking sheet tray. That's pretty much what I take with me when I am traveling, so that I know I won't end up having an MCAS reaction when staying in someone else's house. (For those unaware, gluten is a mast cell destabalizer.)

Make sure they are not being washed alongside your normal utensils. If you normally dishwash your other things, I'd suggest handwashing the dedicated gluten-free things with a fresh sponge that hasn't been used on anything else. As for storing them, try to keep them away from places where wheat flour (or other gluten containing products) might be in the air. You've said you'll be eating entirely gluten-free while the person is visiting, but just remember that also means replacing things like butter and jams, as people often overlook those.

Again, this will all depend on how sensitive the individual is. There are some people with celiac who do not react to trace amounts, and there are other folks who can become extremely sick from even the smallest trace amounts.

Beyond Celiac has some more helpful tips and pointers as well.

If all of these recommendations sound too much, I fully understand. It was daunting when I had to do it for me, nevermind a guest. In that case, finding a dedicated gluten-free restaurant would be the way to go--and a worthwhile venture anyway so you can enjoy some down time not having to cook.

Also, talk to the person and see what their needs are. They might be able to eat just fine using shared utensils, or may even be planning to bring their own anyway, like many of us do.

I hope this was helpful, and again, thank you for being considerate. I am sure it will mean a lot to your guest.

[narumi-gens]

Sweet & Sticky

Gojo Satoru/Reader

summary: When you decided to make breakfast for Gojo, this wasn’t what you had in mind.

genre: smut, fluff

words: 1.4k

➔ part of The Breakfast Club drabble series

You couldn’t remember the last time you had woken up in such a great mood. As you yawned and lazily stretched in bed, you tried to put your finger on what exactly was behind it. 

Maybe it was because you still felt so wonderfully satisfied. Maybe it was because of the pleasant ache between your legs. Maybe it was because of how thoroughly you had been fucked the night before. Maybe it was knowing that the great Gojo Satoru was still passed out next to you, his hair sticking up at all angles as slept on his stomach and soft snores leaving him every so often. 

As you looked over at the man sharing your bed, you quickly decided that was the cause. It was a big boost to your confidence to know that the man who didn’t bat an eye when facing a special grade curse had been thoroughly exhausted by your pussy. 

Thinking back on the previous night with a smirk, you contemplated sliding onto his back and waking him up by placing soft kisses along his neck, ready for another round. But then your stomach gave an unattractive rumble and you quickly decided that food was more important. 

Making sure not to wake Gojo, you carefully slid out of bed before heading to the bathroom to clean up, grabbing his discarded shirt from the floor as you went. You slipped it over your head and when you saw your reflection in the mirror as you turned on the bathroom light, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. You were drowning in the fabric and it said more about its owner’s lanky proportions than it did about your own body type. 

“He’s like an alien,” you mumbled to yourself with an amused grin as you turned on the faucet. 

Once you were done with your morning routine — bladder empty, teeth brushed, face washed, and moisturizer applied — you flipped off the light switch as you left the bathroom, smiling when you saw that Gojo was still right where you had left him in your bed. 

You began to softly hum the song that had been stuck in your head all week as you made your way to the kitchen. Taking a minute to think about what was in your pantry and fridge, you brightly smiled when you realized that you had the ingredients needed for pancakes.

And so you quickly got to work, beating together your eggs and milk before combining them with your flour and baking powder to make the perfect pancake batter. Once it was ready and your frying pan was hot, you ladled in a heaping spoonful of batter and patiently waited for it to spread and cook, flipping it over once bubbles began to form.

You were about halfway done, a small stack of perfectly golden pancakes sitting on a plate on the counter, the mixing bowl filled with batter now half-empty, and a delicious smell in the air when you realized that you weren’t alone. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw that Gojo was behind you, leaning his shoulder against the fridge in nothing but his boxer-briefs with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“I’m making pancakes,” you told him as you returned to tending to the pancake currently cooking in front of you. When he didn’t reply, you looked back at him once more, only to pause when you saw his expression.

He looked hungry, but you were almost positive it wasn’t for breakfast. The desire in his annoyingly astounding eyes stoked the fire inside of you that you thought had died out last night after your fifth orgasm. 

“What’s that look for?” you asked him, pleased with yourself for keeping the breathlessness from your voice as you returned your attention to flipping the pancake. 

“You just look really, really good like that,” he said, sounding slightly dazed. With your back to him, you missed the way he brought his thumb up to rub at his bottom lip distractedly as he took in the domestic scene playing out before him. 

Before you could ask him what that was supposed to mean, he spurred into action. He wrapped his hands around your hips, turned you to face him, and then lifted you up to sit on the counter before dropping down to his knees in front of you — all his motions smooth as they flowed one right into the next. In your surprise at the sudden movements, you let out a yelp and dropped your spatula to the floor. 

“S-Satoru!” you cried out, your eyes wide as he yanked you to the edge of the counter and spread your knees apart. You frantically looked over to the stove and the still-cooking pancake in the frying pan. “The stove! The pancakes!”

But your protests were all for show, your actions speaking much louder than words as you buried your fingers in his hair, encouraging him as he eagerly moved his head between your legs and tugging him closer when his tongue dipped through your folds. The whine that left you when he expertly found your clit and wrapped his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves went straight to his half-hard cock. 

It doesn’t take long for your hips to begin moving to match the perfect rhythm of his mouth and tongue. Your eyelids fluttered shut and your head dropped back, making you miss the way he was watching you with those all-seeing eyes of his like he was trying to sear the sight of you like this into his brain. 

Gojo was talented in everything he did, so he knew exactly how to turn you into a mess under his ministrations. With every suck of your clit, he brought you closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm until your legs were shaking, your toes were curling, and your breath was coming in uneven gasps of his name.

You were right there, the tension in you about to snap, when a shrill beeping so loud that it hurt your ears cut straight through your pleasure. Your eyes flew open to see that while Gojo had been busy eating you out, the kitchen had begun to fill with smoke, the pan sitting next to you on the stove with a now-blackened pancake at the center of it the clear culprit. 

Panicking, you shoved Gojo out from between your legs and hopped off the counter as you raced to remove the pan and turn off the stove. With a pout on your lips, you turned on the tap and shoved the pan underneath the stream of cold water.

Gojo’s laughter was almost loud enough to drown out the smoke detector that was still going off and when he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, you could feel his body shook with each laugh. He then placed a kiss on your cheek — his mouth still wet. 

“I burnt the pancake,” you whined and you could feel his grin against your cheek. 

“Don’t worry, your pussy makes a much better breakfast than any pancake,” he assured you, but you were too busy frowning as you watched the remains of what had once been a pancake swirl down the drain to bother elbowing him in the stomach for his crass remark. 

Before you could sulk for any longer, he reached around you to turn off the faucet. He then sank down to his knees behind you, a firm hand coming up to rest on your back and push you forward until you were bent over the sink. You scrambled for purchase on the far edge of the sink’s rim, its metal cold underneath your fingers. 

“Satoru!” you protested, although considering the way you eagerly widened your stance to allow him easier access, your resistance was even flimsier than earlier. 

He pushed his shirt that you were wearing up to reveal your dripping wet pussy and he instinctively swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, still able to taste your arousal from earlier on it. He smirked, ready for more straight from the source. 

“Besides, why do I need a stack of pancakes with syrup when I’ve already got something sweet and sticky right in front of my face?” he continued, making you whimper as you felt his breath hot against your folds.

Your own impishness getting the better of you, you looked over your shoulder and gave him a wicked grin, loving nothing more than the sight of him on his knees.

“Well then, eat up. Don’t you know that you shouldn’t let your food go to waste?”

[forlove2020]

Suptober Day 4 - Secrets

Dean is bed-warm and bleary-eyed, but it's not too much of a problem because cooking seems to be one of those things that comes to him naturally, like breathing or reloading his gun. He can do all of these with his eyes closed, which, in this case is pretty handy as his eyes are mostly closed this morning.

He's still barely awake as he beats the buttermilk into the eggs, adding flour, baking powder, sugar, oil, salt. The first of two frying pans gets hot fast, and Dean places the bacon down, enjoying the crackling sound of meat becoming crispy. 

His life depends on remembering to turn on the coffee pot, and he is sure to double check and see if it has begun brewing before he moves on to ladling the batter into the pan.

This is the time of day Dean likes best: the slow, quiet mornings in the dim sunlight of his own kitchen where he can finally just breathe. The years of misery and grief had worn him down, but as the saying goes, coal makes diamonds, and since there was so much damn coal in his life before, he is now one fine diamond.

Or, anyhow, something along those lines. Dean's too tired for frickin' metaphors right now, okay?

The clatter of dog paws on wooden flooring makes Dean smile. Miracle has awoken and joined him in the kitchen; she is eyeing Dean expectantly, sniffing at the bacon-scented air with hopefulness.

"Hey there, girl," Dean murmurs quietly, so as not to wake the other occupants of the household. She wags as she greets him and he pats her head fondly.  Never once, in all of the years preceding had Dean ever considered adopting a dog but now he knows that Miracle, in his unbiased opinion, is definitely a cut above the rest of those flea-bitten mongrels.

Fine, so maybe he is a little biased but Dean still believes he has the best dog in the world.

Miracle lies on the floor at his feet as he finishes cooking breakfast, she sleepily watches him flip pancakes but her cute little ears perk with interest as he places a couple slices of bacon on each of the three glass plates. 

Dean darts a quick look down the hallway that leads toward the staircase, then glances at the backdoor to make sure it is still locked. He can't hear anyone stirring upstairs, so he raises his eyebrow at Miracle, who leaps to her feet with all the stealthy grace of an apex predator. She is ready and waiting for what has become their morning ritual.

Dean tosses her a piece of crisp bacon, and Miracle snaps it up mid-air, her body wriggling with glee as she wolfs it down.

"Remember, this is our secret, ma'am," he murmurs, giving her a gentle scritch behind the ears. Her tail thu-thumps on the floor, and Dean grins. 

Light footsteps fall on the creaking stairs, and Dean sticks his hands behind his back like a naughty child caught misbehaving.

Jack is wearing one of Sam's old t-shirts and it's so comically big on him that it seems almost more of a nightgown. He's rubbing his eyes as he stumbles into the kitchen, but his smile is as bright as ever as he goes immediately to hug Dean.

There are many good things in this world that Dean doesn't believe he deserves, and Jack's forgiveness and love is pretty much the top of that list. But Dean's really making an effort to treat him better now and god, if the kid doesn't deserve every last good thing in this world. Jack had offered Dean a fresh start when he came back from Heaven; it was a second chance to make things right between them and Dean had taken the offer with no hesitation. He would rather throw himself into the Pit headfirst than hurt Jack again. Dean knows he can't erase the past but he sure as Hell can do whatever it takes to make things up to his kid.

He presses a kiss to the top of Jack's head; he smells like sleepy sweat and that expensive lemony shampoo Sam had sent him for his fourth birthday. "Sleep okay?"

Jack nods, and yawns. "No nightmares last night, so that was nice." He breaks their hug to pet Miracle, who fawns over him.

"Good," Dean says firmly. "Maybe that spell Sammy used actually can help." Jack nods, but doesn't answer, still attempting to wake up. He reaches for the coffee pot.

"Hey," Dean scolds gently, and Jack pauses, confused. "Wait until I pour your Dad a mug first."

A wry smile comes to Jack's face. They've both seen what happens on mornings where Cas doesn't get hot coffee and Dean and Jack have a silent agreement to avoid the circumstances causing those events at all costs.

"Help yourself to some pancakes," Dean pops half a slice of bacon into his mouth and continues talking while chewing, "Me n’ Cas will eat later. I'm gonna take Sunshine his elixir of life first."

Jack chuckles while Dean pours a very full cup of black coffee into an ugly, handmade pea-green mug, and carefully climbs the staircase he made with his own two hands over the past summer. 

Their bedroom is upstairs and on the left in this little house that Dean built. He nudges the door he'd partially left open with his foot, maneuvering cautiously around the dresser and the clothes that were tossed onto the floor last night. 

Cas is asleep, more or less, when Dean sits down beside him and places the coffee mug on the bedside table. He mumbles something that Dean can't quite understand, either because he is drowsy or because he may be speaking Enochian. It’s hard to tell with his face half-pressed into the pillow. 

Dean lets his fingers drift up Cas’ shoulder and neck and then brushes his hair away from his face. He's going to have a bad case of bedhead when he gets up, Dean thinks with amusement.

"Wake up, Sweetheart," Dean tells him. "There's coffee." 

Cas' breathes out slowly, his nose scrunches up, and then he's waking, shifting under the covers, squinting at Dean in the early morning light sneaking through the blinds.

"Heya, Cas." Dean is ridiculously in love with him. The confused look Cas gets when he first wakes up makes Dean think about crazy things, like saying 'screw the world' and crawling back into bed and burrowing under the covers with him. These are things that a younger, sadder Dean Winchester had never known and never would have believed he could have, ten, fifteen - hell, even just two years ago.

(Today's Dean Winchester is a much happier man.)

Cas stares deep in Dean's eyes as he half sits up, rumbling out the familiar, "Hello Dean," and moves closer to kiss Dean good-morning very thoroughly.

After a long minute Cas pulls back, breathless, and asks, "Wait, what did you just say about coffee?"

Still gathering his wits, Dean gestures vaguely to the steaming mug, and Cas turns back to him with a faint smile. "Have I mentioned that I love you, Dean?" 

"Guh...not, uh, yet today," he manages to stutter out and Cas smirks as he raises the mug to take his first sip.

They go downstairs together, both so they can eat breakfast and so that Cas can get a refill, and in the process, they catch Jack in the act of handing Miracle a piece of bacon and a chunk of pancake. 

Everyone freezes in a domestic tableau; the hunter, the angel, the nephilim-god, and the world's best dog.

Cas recovers first, and sighs. "You know, he gets this from you," he accuses Dean dryly, and goes straight over to refill his coffee mug.

"Traitor," Dean tells a wagging Miracle. 

She isn't ashamed in the slightest.

END

[sadiests]

ok hopefully i cover enough but i’m also an idiot so here’s what this british bitch took when moving into a house with students that wasn’t completely obvious (it was shared but i acted like it wasn’t) 

Bedroom

bedding (sheets, pillows, mattress protector, mattress topper if you want to be fancy) and at least 2 sets, you can also get double bedding if you have a single bed for a bigger duvet cover but not needed

a blanket or bathmat for a hard floor so my feet weren’t cold in the mornings when the heating wasn’t on bc it was expensive

dressing gown (bath robe) was a lifesaver in the cold, same for slippers

if you can, take stuff to use as storage under the bed, use any and all available space you can

Bathroom

something to keep your toiletries in, so a pot for toothbrush and toothpaste, or a hanger for shower stuff, either for easy of access or to help keep it separate from other people

toilet roll, always forgotten at first but you won’t have any and you don’t want to be stuck without

bring or buy bleach, trust me it will be needed (even if it’s just you)

you can get hooks that have sticky suction cups that are amazing for hanging towels in the bathroom. idk where i got mine from but they are the kind that have to be removed using a credit card (but not like actually sticky) but don't stick them to paint

hand soap

an air freshener 

there's stuff called V I Poo (yes im serious) that you spray before you have a shit and it helps stop the smell and it does actually work

Kitchen

don’t go overboard on pots and pans, you do to need a full ikea set of 5 pans, 3 baking trays, and a wok. it is dependant on what you will be eating but as someone who made rice and pasta, along with frying stuff, take a small and medium saucepan, a medium baking tray, and a frying pan. YOU DO NOT NEED A WOK (i got a wok bc it was funny and i haven’t used it at all over 2 years)

take at least 2 of each crockery, so plates, bowls, mugs, glasses. if it breaks you'll need a spare and you then have an extra one if anyone comes over for food

take 4 of each cutlery. you will lose a fork at some point. that fork will be in the nether regions.

do not take wooden spoons, they go mouldy super easily, use a nice plastic one instead. a solid plastic spoon and a fish slice (a lifter idfk i call it a fish slice) and NEVER use a metal spoon on a pan especially if you have non-stick

i’d recommend a plastic bowl for in the sink for doing the washing up. it will allow for any food bits to not get into the drain and you can then tip them into the bin

a scrub daddy, it’s so much better than a sponge

not really something to bring but tin foil for in a baking tray. if you put tin foil on the tray (shiny side down) and then what every you are cooking, the grease ad oil stay off the tray and you don’t need to wash it. massive time and effort saver and you won’t have gross dirty looking trays with baked on burnt stuff

a drying rack for next to the sink is useful but honestly just wash and dry your dishes at the same time, right after you have eaten, and then put them away. keeps the kitchen super tidy and develops that habit

tea towels work to get stuff out the oven, you do not need an over glove

kitchen roll

hand soap for the kitchen sink

Other stuff/advice

don't go overboard on decor, you can always bring more the next time you go home and its much better to have a room that is a little sparse than one that is wall to wall with stuff and you barely have room for everything

the first couple of months are for you to really figure out what you need and what you don’t. it is probably better t be over prepared but it causes space issues, so if you do go with a lot, be prepared to take it away when you don’t need it. and if you are sharing space, everyone will have like 5 pans and 20 forks so if you get along, you can always borrow (always ask first, one of the bitches i lived with used my baking tray and got it dirty

if you are sharing with people, have a conversation at the start about boundaries and other useful stuff. are it from someone that has shared a house/apartment with people before, close the toilet seat lid, have a bin rota, only clean your dishes to stop bad habits forming

anyway, hopefully some of that helps, probably won't bc again, im an idiot and so its probably just stuff i would forget about

i am here for any other questions about any university stuff from anyone <3

my qualifications are 2 years of uni before leaving bc the people and teaching was shit and now im starting 1st year of a different degree again :D

dude i am so late to the party because i still haven't full rapped my head around the fact that i got my first choice in UL, but now i gotta pack my shit to like into accomidation

i just have no idea what the fuck to pack at all, all of the advice is for people living in like student flats but i'm in diggs and have no idea what to bring for the house

[13uswntimagines]

Chanukah party (USWNT x Baby!Reader)

This isn’t a request but @literaryhedgehog​ and I thought it would be fun. The basic premise is that reader is at camp during Chanukah, and the team feels bad (especially Lindsey) so they throw her a party. (thank you @notmia101​ for betaing this for us). 

You smiled at Alyssa as she described her winter plans after training camp. How she was going to visit her sister and her family for Christmas. How they were hoping for snow and how they were going to kill an innocent tree and desecrate its body with lights for their amusement. Her words, not yours. It was a game she and the other girls played every year, trying to make their Christmas plans sound as horror-movie-ish as possible. It was a way of trying to make fun of themselves so you could share the amusement and join in laughing at them. 

But despite their efforts, a little piece of you always felt left out because you couldn’t (wouldn’t?) participate. See, you were one of the few who didn’t celebrate Christmas. You were proud of your Jewish heritage, even if your family wasn’t the most ~religious~. But you were proud of the culture you had been raised in. You held its traditions very near to your heart and weren’t AT ALL bitter that the rest of the team had time designated to visit their family during their winter holidays while you still had training camp through the third week of December.  

You were kinda zoning out because you could only take so much of their cookie baking, their stalkerish man that watched kids while they slept, and their hiding of a stupid stuffed toy you were sure would give you nightmares (who the fuck thought having an ‘elf’ stalk your family all month was cute?!?!? Capitalism was a weird man). (Though you may or may not have paid attention to Lindsey’s plan to dress Ferguson like a little elf…) 

“What about you kid?” Tobin asked, nudging you out of your daydream. 

“What?” You shook your head, making everyone around you laugh. 

“Do you have plans for the holidays?” Lindsey repeated, her smile showing off her dimples. 

“Oh, um. Chanukah started a few days ago. It’s cool, they have an app with a menorah and everything. My family has been face timing me most days, but it will be over before training ends.” You shrugged, hoping they couldn’t see how much being away from your family during this time of year sucked (though you were glad to be included on the camp roster). 

Most of the veteran's jaws dropped, how had they not known that you were missing something so important to you? How had US Soccer overlooked a holiday (and inadvertently given you an ultimatum- celebrate or make the national team). 

“Then why did they schedule training camp this week?” Tobin mumbled. Again you shrugged. 

“There’s 23 of you and only one of me… it’s really not that big of a deal,” you smiled briefly and gave the same speech you had given since middle school, “It’s not like the ‘Jewish Christmas’ even though it happens around the same time some years, my family doesn’t even exchange presents, so I’m really just missing the party they’re throwing on the 18th.” 

“That still isn’t fair though. I mean, we get Christmas off automatically, even if we don’t celebrate it!” Christen huffed, throwing her hands up. 

“I mean, this isn’t like a new thing. We’re always at camp during this time. And next year the holiday starts in November, so it’s not something that can consistently be scheduled around. I guess it’s just a sacrifice I have to make to be the best right?” You said earnestly, shaking your head. You knew all of the arguments, you had heard them for all of your life. 

“But-“ Emily started to protest, but before she could get the words out you cut her off. “Don’t make a big deal guys, it’s fine. Really,” 

The team stared at you for a few seconds, several women opening and closing their mouths several times. You shifted uncomfortably under their gaze, breathing a sigh of relief when your phone rang, glad to have an excuse to get out of this situation. 

“Ok so we’re totally going to make a big deal out of this,” Lindsey said turning back around to face the team the second you were out the door. 

“I’m guessing you have a plan to woo your girl?” Emily smirked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“It’s not to. No. We are doing this as a team to be supportive of our teammate who is part of a traditionally marginalized culture that we need to be more supportive of,” Lindsey grumbled sternly, smiling when Christen nodded in return. “I’m googling “Chanukah for Dummies” right now. 

They were going to make this camp different from the others (and if she got to impress you that was just a bonus). 

…..

“Umm, why does it smell like something is burning?” Becky asked, walking through the hotel corridor towards the dining room. 

“Because Latkes are apparently more difficult to make than I expected,” Kelley said, tossing what looked like a stack of burned hockey pucks into the trash. “I didn’t realize the whole room was going to smell like fried food- do you think they’re going to fine me when we check out?”

“If they fine you, they better fine Em too. The stench from such a little jar is kind of amazing,” Lindsey huffed. 

“What did she do, get her sardines or something?” Becky asked, shaking her head, remembering the smell that she couldn’t quite place. 

“No. Something called ‘Gefilte fish’”. 

“But isn’t that usually for Passover?” Kelley asked, looking up from where she was trying to scrape burned potatoes off her pan.

“They said it was traditional, isn’t that what we’re going for?” Emily huffed, pouting. Lindsey rolled her eyes at her best friend. 

“I’ve got music!” Chrystal called, walking through the door in a star-patterned sweater. “It turns out there are not a whole lot of Chanukah songs. There’s a Spotify playlist that’s only 3 hours long, or so, so I supplemented it with a lot of Leonard Cohen and Paul Simon.”

“And I brought the sour cream and applesauce as requested!” Sam called, walking in after her, “also some apple juice and honey bourbon. I know apples and honey are a thing for Rosh Hashana, so I thought maybe we could make some cocktails?”

“I won’t tell coach if you don’t,” Kelley said taking the bottle and pouring herself a shot. “Someone else needs to take over the latke making. My attempts have all either looked like lefse, hashbrowns or just burned.”

“Lefse?”

“I had an ex-girlfriend from Minnesota. It was a potato tortilla thing her family sent her at thanksgiving. The point here is that someone else needs to cook or we are just going to be eating sour cream and applesauce on their own.”

“We could make french fries?” Rose suggested tentatively. 

“With bacon and cheese! Those are the best,” Emily exclaimed, only to have Lindsey (gently) slap the back of her head. 

“No, Sonnett. She can’t have bacon and I don’t think she’s allowed to have cheese and meat on the same plate…” 

“I think if we just batter potato pieces in egg and flour and fry them it would taste nice with the apple sauce and sour cream. And we’ve made french fries before so it won’t be so much of a… learning curve. Though you did a great try, Kelley!” Rose said, patting Kelley’s arm.

“You guys are useless. Did you even look at a recipe?” Megan shook her head. 

“If you think it’s so easy you try it.” Kelley scoffed. Megan raised her eyebrow at the woman, stealing the spatula from the defender's hand. 

“Tasty made here we come,” 

*****

“Happy Chanukah!” came from all around as you walked in. Lindsey was very proud. Not only had she gotten the team on track and ensured that they had all of the stuff google said would make the perfect Chanukah celebration; she had also kept you off their trail until this moment. The shock on your face made all the work on their day off entirely worth it. 

The room was decorated in tinsel with a shiny plastic menorah in the center of the table. Several people were wearing ugly sweaters with different “decorations” taped on. A sign on the back wall said “We survived, let’s eat!” Lindsey had decided against hanging up the posters Rose and Mal made saying “Stick it to the (ro)Man!” and “MaccaBEe mine.” The first one because she wasn’t sure it was appropriate, the second one because she knew it wasn’t.

“Ooo who brought the hotdog of the sea?” You asked, biting your lip to suppress a giggle as you walked over to the table to see the food on display. 

“What?” Lindsey’s eyes tried to follow yours, utterly confused. They didn’t get hotdogs. They most certainly weren’t on the list that Chanukah for dummies had given her. 

You smiled softly and shook your head, pointing to the tan balls that Emily had provided. 

“That’s what my siblings and I call it during Passover. Gefilte fish is kinda a love it or hate it thing…” you trailed off, scrunching your nose just slightly. 

“And you’re not a fan?” Lindsey smirked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

“Umm, I plead the fifth,” You mumbled, shaking your head slightly. It wasn’t your favorite item in the world. 

“That was all Emily,” Kelley snorted, clapping you on the back, and you grinned devilishly back at her. 

“Well, it was very nice of her to be so thoughtful. She can try a piece with me,” 

Emily cringed at the idea, but nodded nonetheless. It was your party and if eating the smelly thing out of a jar made you happy, then that’s exactly what she would do. (She also stealthily shot Lindsey the middle finger while you were surveying the rest of the items on the tables). 

“Honestly the sufganiyot is my favorite,” you said, taking a step towards the platter, your lips ticking up at Lindsey’s adorable confused face. “sorry, the donuts,” you clarified, picking up one of the many powdered sugar-covered donuts in the stack, inspecting it to see what kind it was. The Jelly ones were particularly important for the celebration. 

Lindsey blushed a little. “We didn’t know if you wanted jelly or custard,” She said hesitantly, watching as your eyes got impossibly brighter. 

“Both are amazing, thank you,” You smiled softly at the midfielder, brushing a stay bit of powdered sugar off her pink cheeks. You held her gaze for a moment before seeming realizing you had an audience, and turning towards the rest of the team. “thank all of you,” 

It wasn’t the traditional Chanukah you usually shared with your family, but the friends who had become your family made it special nonetheless.

[husbandomail-archive]

my own Christmas prompts

cooking with Shinjiro

You don’t think you’ve ever actually watched Shinjiro work.

He’s clearly in his element— with his hair tied back and sleeves rolled up, his movements are fluid and smooth as he pulls things in and out of the oven, and he manages to give equal attention to each dish simmering on the stove. The sugary glaze he’s preparing for the baked ham is especially tempting now, slowly turning a creamy shade of caramel, and it sticks to the spoon like honey as he stirs it to check. Vegetables sizzle in another pan on the stovetop; carrots, broccoli, squash, all coated in oil with an endless amount of garlic thrown in. Potatoes are reaching the end of their boiling time, almost ready for whatever comes next.

Shinjiro snatches another of the well-worn spoons off the counter and moves to stir something else. You, sitting on the countertop out of the way, swing your legs back and forth as you study his movements.

“Y’know you don’t have to hang around if you’re bored.” Shinji doesn’t look up at you as he speaks. “I’ve got most everything covered. I know what everyone wants.”

You pout, although he doesn’t see it. “I wanted to spend time with you! Even if I can’t help out, I wanna be where you are.”

He pauses, setting the spoon back down, lowering the heat on a stovetop burner before he glances over at you. With the way the corners of his mouth twitch downwards, he seems confused. For a moment longer, the only sounds are those vegetables in the frying pan.

The oven timer dings loudly, drawing your attention. Shinjiro has already grabbed oven mitts and yanked the door open; he lifts the roasting pan like it weighs nothing, and it vaguely crosses your mind that he could absolutely do the same with you.

You hop off the counter, and he sets the heated dish where you’d been sitting. He shucks off the oven mitts and, without warning you, gently rests one of his calloused hands on the small of your back, nudging you in the direction he’d like you to go.

“If you’re insistent on hanging around, you can help.” His voice is low as always, and he’s so close that his breath rolls across the back of your neck. You have to fight to suppress a shudder. Shinjiro parks you in front of another space on the counter and busies himself with gathering everything you’ll need.

“We’re making scalloped potatoes,” he starts, “and it might sound tough, but arranging them is harder than actually cooking them.” In the time it’s taken him to speak, he’s already drained the water the potatoes had been boiling in, and dropped a cutting board and knife on the counter in front of you. He gently nudges you to the side yet again, his broad shoulders bumping against yours to make room and grab your attention.

“Hold the knife like this,” he says, “and keep the fingers of this hand curled, so you don’t chop anything off.” You make a face, and he almost smiles. “I’ll show you real quick—”

And he does, deftly slicing his way through the potato like he was born in the kitchen. His movements are confident and hypnotizing. You take the knife when he offers it to you.

Shinjiro turns to get back to the rest of his cooking, although he does keep a sharp eye on you as you fumble with the sharp knife. “I’m here if you need me.”

[amanda-glassen]

The Wonder Years: Part 11

While getting ready for her first school dance, twelve-year-old Olivia starts a path toward discovering who she is truly meant to be. Parts 1-10 and one-shots in this universe can be found in the tag #alex and liv: the wonder years

Jamie stayed up with Olivia until 2 a.m. playing video games to take their minds off of the night’s events when Serena finally came home. She didn’t talk to either of them despite Jamie asking if she was okay and Olivia telling her that she loved her. Olivia didn’t know who this woman was that walked through the door. She was fragile and worn down, nothing like the vibrant woman she knew. Olivia was used to giving her mom a hug every time she got home, but this time there was no talking to her, no touching her, and Olivia felt for the first time in her life that her mom wished she hadn’t been born. The only words she heard from her after a few minutes was her mom yelling at her to go to bed.

...but she didn’t go to bed. Instead, Olivia left her bedroom door slightly ajar so she could peek down the hall.

Olivia didn’t know how it happened, but Jamie was able to embrace her mom and Serena clinged to her and smiled some goofy smile that Olivia had once seen in a romantic comedy, until she remembered she and her mom didn’t actually watch romantic comedies. Or was that a horror movie before the woman went on a rampage and killed the man who wronged her? Either way, she’s actually smiling.

“I’m sorry our first full night together didn’t go according to plan,” she heard her mom say to Jamie.

Olivia didn’t remember falling asleep and, when she woke up the next morning, the noises she heard from down the hall made her feel as if she had woken up in another universe. She heard pans clinking in the kitchen and the sound of her mom laughing. Oh my god, she killed my dad with a frying pan and she’s laughing about it. But Olivia quickly shook that thought from her head and took a deep breath before walking down the hall.

“...Mom?” Olivia hesitated.

“I’m in the kitchen, Olliegator!” she heard her mom call out.

She walked in to find Jamie standing in front of the stove, making omelets and her mom sitting on the counter, eating from a bowl of shredded cheese. She was smiling and happy and Olivia began to wonder if last night had even happened at all or if it was just a horrible dream.

“Morning, Ollie. Your mom has been banished to the counter,” Jamie informed her. “She kept trying to do non-stick pan demonstrations, but she couldn’t do them without making the omelets fly out of the pan and onto the floor. I figured the bowl of cheese will keep her happy, though.”

“Treating me like a common mouse,” Serena scoffed. “Do I at least have permission to get off of the counter so I could talk to my daughter?”

“Permission granted,” Jamie responded, too preoccupied with the omelets to care if Serena got off the countertop.

While sitting on the couch in the living room, there wasn’t a single moment of awkward silence before Olivia felt herself wrapped up in her mom’s embrace. She was holding her close and giving her kisses on the cheek to make Olivia giggle, which made her more confused than ever. It’s like last night never even happened.

“My Ollie,” her mom said as she hugged her again. “My sweet baby. I’m so sorry I hurt you last night.”

“It's okay."

She felt her mom cup her face in her hands. "I need you to listen to me, Olivia. It's never okay for anyone to hurt you, especially me. I’m your mom and I should always protect you.”

“Mom?”

Her mom kissed her wrist where she had roughly grabbed it the night before. “Does it still hurt? Do you need ice? Olliegator, please tell me how I can make it up to you? I’ll get you anything. I’ll get you the bat you’ve been wanting.” Her mom shook her head. “No, that’ll make it seem like I’m buying your forgiveness. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so bad at this.”

“Buying my forgiveness is okay,” Olivia smiled. “I’ll take the bat.”

“I bet you will,” her mom playfully pulled her onto her lap and wrapped her arms around her waist. “My big baby. You’re growing so fast. You’re almost as tall as me now.”

“Mom?” Olivia asked nervously.

“Yes, Ollie?”

“What you said earlier...you’re not bad at this,” Olivia averted her eyes. “And this whole you being in love thing...I guess it’s okay. Jamie played video games with me last night while you were with Uncle Kyle. I really like her. I just don’t like her kissing you. No one is supposed to be kissing my mom.”

“No one?”

Olivia turned around to face her. “Just me,” she said after giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. She saw her mom give her that dopey smile that meant she was feeling soft and sentimental. 

“Okay, only you.” Olivia felt her mom’s fingers combing through her hair. “I know what you can do for your science project.” With everything that had happened around her in the course of twelve hours, Olivia had completely forgotten about her science project. Even if it was a significant portion of her grade, it all felt so trivial in comparison to meeting her dad. “When I was in middle school, my best friend and I did a cupcake geology project and made cupcakes with different layers to represent the earth. Instead of your classmates just observing the project, they’ll get their own cupcakes and straws to use to simulate what it’s like to drill and collect core samples. I’ll help you bake them.”

Olivia gave her a confused look. “But you can’t bake.”

“Then I’ll help you convince Jamie to bake them,” Serena playfully touched her finger to the tip of Olivia’s nose. “Come on, Olliegator. I think breakfast is almost ready.”

“Race you to the kitchen. First one there gets the cheesiest omelet.” Olivia took off running but felt her mom wrap her arms around her waist from behind and push ahead of her. “Mom! That’s cheating!”

....but the moment her mom stepped foot in the kitchen, Jamie scooped her up and refused to let her go. “Get the cheesy one, Ollie. She’s trapped.”

Olivia raced toward the plate with the cheesy omelet and piled some hash browns next to it. She looked back at her mom who was still struggling to get away from Jamie’s embrace. “Jamie! Now I have to have the veggie omelet.”

“Serena, you ate half a bowl of cheese this morning!” Jamie released her once Olivia was sitting down with her breakfast. “I did it on purpose, babe. When was the last time you ate a vegetable that wasn’t on a pizza?”

“I ate a chicken caesar wrap for lunch two days ago,” Serena pointed out as she begrudgingly piled some hash browns next to her veggie omelet.

Jamie came up to hug her from behind and Olivia couldn’t help but giggle when she saw her mom pout. “Yeah and I bet you doused it in dressing,” Jamie smirked.

“She’s just gonna cover this in ketchup anyway and that’s loaded with sugar,” Olivia told Jamie although she had just squirted ketchup onto her own hash browns. “And not just the hash browns either. She covers her omelets, too.”

“Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” her mom asked as she poured what remained of the shredded cheese onto her omelet when Jamie wasn’t looking. “Are you two going to call me out on all of my eating habits?”

As her mom really didn’t know how to cook, a homemade breakfast was a rare treat in the Benson household. On weekend mornings, they usually ordered from Doordash or went to her mom’s favorite coffee shop for bagels. Weekday mornings were always hectic between Olivia rushing to get ready for school and her mom getting ready for work so she’d scarf down a Pop Tart while her mom grabbed a cereal bar and some coffee in a tumbler. But sitting at the table that morning, just the three of them, eating a breakfast that Jamie cooked and talking and laughing made Olivia feel like they could eventually be a family and her mom could be happy like this every morning. 

“What’s on your mind, Olliegator?” her mom asked as tousled her hair. 

She wanted to tell her mom that she was happy for her and that her being in love was one of the best things that could happen to the two of them. She wanted to tell her that she was going to meet her dad so she could alleviate some of the guilt. Olivia still didn’t know what happened between the two of them, but she held onto the hope that it was a fight－something they could finally work out－and when they did, Olivia would have a relationship with her dad. She didn’t want her parents together now that she knew how much her mom loved Jamie and how much Jamie loved her mom, but she still hoped that he could go to her games and maybe she could spend every other weekend at his house like all the other kids she knew whose parents were divorced. She thought about what her grandma said about going to Disneyland and she wanted to tell her that she’d do anything for the chance to ride the teacups with Alex, but none of the words formed.

“I’m just thinking about how good the cheesy omelet is.”

[gamer-logic]

Since my state, Georgia, is having the annual Peaches to Beaches event which is two days of statewide yard sales, I thought it would be interesting to show how America, the states, and any other countries wanting to participate both 1p and 2p would be during this event. So here you go!

Georgia is happily selling fresh produce like boiled peanuts and Vidalia onions and peach-based deserts. Her homemade peach cobbler and ice cream are to die for!

Antonio (Spain) also sells many fresh tomatoes, olives, and other vegetables. He doesn't understand why no one wants his Olive Juice though.

Hawaii and Alaska make a killing selling lemonade at their stand with a free complimentary handmade flower crown with every purchase. While using their sheer cuteness to attract everyone including one of those sweet biker gangs. It's really surreal to see a huge gang of buff, tattooed, tough-looking guys in leather wearing flower crowns and drinking lemonade. Allen's also there to supervise and ward of creep. Also, to provide people more 'incentive' to buy their lemonade.

Texas breaks out the Texas BBQ and is in a Barbecuing turf war with Jett (Australia). They draw huge crowds for the five-alarm chili as well and hold a competition who can eat the most without burning out their tongues and/or passing out.

Florida sells some of the weirdest stuff you'll ever see. "Want a full-scale model of a gator made entirely out of bottle caps? Only ten bucks! Want a portrait of Florida Man painted with orange juice? 15 bucks!"

Nevada also tries to sell weird and sketchy stuff to scam everyone. "This piece is the genuine article folks! One napkin gently used by Elvis Presley himself! Just 500 bucks! Also, gets into a haggling war with Lars (Netherlands). Somewhere Alfred's dad instincts go off and he reminds himself to ground Nevada.

California, Oregon, and Washington collaborate and California sells anything vegan or made with avocadoes and the autographs of Hollywood stars, Oregon sells his old tye-dyed shirts and records, they also made him sell his old groovy hippy bus from the sixties he'd never got rid of no one knew they had. Oregon can be a bit of a hoarder, so they had to tie him to a chair and gag him because he wouldn't surrender the bus without a fight. Washington also tries to sell and drink cups of coffee, but in the hot Southern heat, this doesn't end well.

Louisiana sells anything Cajun-style from frog legs to fresh gumbo, to beignets. Also has a full collection of Mardi Gras masks and shrunken voodoo heads on sale for two bucks a pop.

Gilbert (Prussia) gets tricked by Nevada and gets a ton of stupid things he doesn't need. Ludwig (Germany) tries unsuccessfully to keep him on a metaphorical leash.

Ludwig always checks the quality of things he sees and buys dog toys and supplies for Blackie, Berlitz, and Astor. Later, he actually buys a kiddie leash for Gilbert.

All the while Lutz (2p! Germany) is asleep in a lawn chair with his hat on his face after drinking like six cold beers from this really good booth. All the while, Klaus (2p! Prussia) finds an antique Teutonic Knights flag from a vendor whose family was from Germany.

Vash (Switzerland) buys antique guns from Alabama and Roderich (Austria) also checks out some of Tennessee's guitars. He's horrified upon seeing Alabama's banjo and washboard.

Mathew (Canada) and Emma (Belgium) combine their powers and tag team to sell the best pancakes and waffles on earth with genuine Canadian maple syrup.

New York sells tons of baseball memorabilia and collectibles. Allen, trying to save his bad-boy image, tries to be discreet when buying some while taking Hawaii and Alaska around to get something with their lemonade money. James also gets some hockey memorabilia with Michigan and Minnesota who also got snow cones.

Alaska and Hawaii see a giant deluxe dollhouse but are almost in tears when they don't have enough money. But they end up getting it for free because no one can resist their weaponized puppy dog eyes. Also, no one can resist a growling Allen. Using the leftover money, they buy cute little rainbow umbrella hats for everyone and have Allen wear one who begrudgingly accepts it.

James, walking by with an armful hockey gear and flannel shirts, bursts out laughing when he sees this. In revenge, Allen forces him to wear one too and help him carry the dollhouse, much to Hawaii and Alaska's delight! "I said go my way puck head!" "No, it's my way, you vegan loving hoser!" A passing Francis (France)' is in stylish horror when they also make him and a nonchalant Luis (2p! France), holding a case of vintage wines, wear them too. Hawaii and Alaska go around giving umbrella hats to everyone including a sleeping Lutz they pass by.

Loving (Romano) practically has to supervise Feliciano (Italy) and keep him from buying anything too stupid on impulse or get scammed. They still end up with stacks upon stacks of cookbooks, kitchen wear, and a Mona Lisa made entirely out of Macaroni. They also get umbrella hats.

Flavio (2p! Romano) browses through clothing racks to get ideas for his vintage line. Also checks out the handmade fabrics like quilts. "Such craftsmanship! This pattern is so unique and chic! I simply must have it! What's your price Bella?" The nice old woman selling the quilt just smiles, "Oh just about five dollars young man." "Perfect!" Flavio hands the quilts off to Andreas (2p! Spain) who's practically buried underneath the fabric. Luciano (2p! Italy) facepalms while holding a new knife set in its case. "Oooh! Look at those adorable hats I just have to have one." Cue three more umbrella hats and a humiliated Luciano. "Just kill me now..."

Katyusha (Ukraine), Elizaveta (Hungary), Lillie (Liechtenstein), Natalya, (Belarus), Katya( 2p! Ukraine) and Anastasia (2p! Belarus), and Michelle (Seychelles) explore with armfuls of clothes, new ribbons, and a gun case for Switzerland (Lillie), cast iron frying pans (Elizaveta, watch out Prussia!), farm tools (Katyusha), Jewelry and unmentionables (Katya), dresses (Anastasia), an assortment of switchblades (Natalya), and one of those singing fish on a plague (Michelle). It's definitely an interesting group.

Kiku (Japan) and Kuro (2p! Japan) find a nerd booth selling comics, manga, and Japanese weapons like katanas. Kuro test swings a blade and tries to slice the table so hard it breaks the blade, "Hmmm, not sharp enough for me, got anything else?" He throws it on the pile of broken blades he's already tested. Kiku stockpiles on limited-edition manga and he and the vendor end up getting into a huge, heated by Kiku standards, debate on who's waifu is best. Further down, Alfred reads every Marvel/DC comic while keeping an ear out on every state's location. He checks on Texas via his glasses and notices he's beating Australia in the chili contest. "That's my boy!"

Wisconsin wearing a cheese head sells anything cheese-based. He's got cheddar, goat cheese, string cheese, cheese spray, gorgonzola, grilled cheese, cheese curds, Mac n' Cheese, cheese sculptures of all world monuments, you name it he's got it! He also starts a war with Iowa's corn dishes and Idaho's potato dishes. They eventually end up flinging cheese, potatoes, and corn after they start dissing each other's foods. "Take this cheese brain!" "Nice aim, I-da-ho!" "I told you not to call me that!" "I'm gonna go children of the corn on y'all's behinds!" Poor Nebraska is stuck in the middle.

Alfred (America) hears the commotion and using his parent radar, immediately knows who it is and reminds himself to ground Iowa, Wisconsin, and Idaho later along with Nevada who, though still grounded for sure, makes him feel a little proud of since he managed to out haggle Netherlands.

New Mexico and Arizona also sell Native American handicrafts along with things like dreamcatchers and giant inflatable aliens. While Delaware, being the boring stick in the mud that he is, walks by with a framed and complete U.S. quarter collection from a vendor.

Kansas sells out of every sunflower she had courtesy of Ivan (Russia). Ivan and her the team up to buy out every sunflower seed from here to kingdom come. Viktor (2p! Russia) buys all the vodka he can find and a new shovel while Xiao (2p! China) tries giving people tattoos for 10 bucks a pop.

He tries to convince Yao (China) to get a hello kitty one to match the giant plushie he's holding, with the encouragement of Leon (Hong Kong) and Yong Soo (South Korea) who all collectively agree he needs to quit being such a grandpa. They also like calling him an antique-like the items on sale. " Aiyah! I'm not that old, aru!" "Yeah, you are Sensei." "Don't deny it! Da Ze!" Respect your elders!" "Tattoos originated in Korea da ze!" He totally is that old.

Oliver (2p! England) holds a bake sale and has people lined up for blocks to get some. Arthur (England), after having his scones shut down after it poisoned some unlucky squirrels, fries selling authentic magical items like unicorn hair or pixie dust. Everyone thinks he's a little crazy but he did sell a good bit of old magic books he needed to get out of his house, after making sure no one could actually use them of course.

The Nordics also went perusing for antique and handmade furniture when Mathias (Denmark) spots two full sets of Viking costumes and tries to get Lukas (Norway) to try them on with him. Lukas wasn't amused.

Berwald (Sweden) and Tino (Finland) also find a great handmade table to get after inspecting the workmanship and a full Lego set for Peter (Sealand), now if only Mathias would stop squealing like a little kid at the full piece lego death star. Emil (Iceland) keeps thinking he's the mature one until he spots a mini top hat and cane for Mr. Puffin.

In the end, everyone ends up wearing umbrella hats courtesy of Hawaii and Alaska, loving all the strange things they bought or counting the profits they made. Alfred (America) is proud of his kids and visits everyone one of their stands. He ends up looking pretty funny with an umbrella hat (HW, AK), a washboard, (AL),a picture of Florida Man, (FL), a balloon alien (NM, AZ), a tye dye shirt (CA, WA, OR), hockey stick shaped glasses (MN, MI), a giant stack of comics with a replica Thor hammer and Captain America shield on his back, all in a shopping cart (NV), and a giant turkey leg in his hand (Tx). Unsurprisingly, it was a tie between Oliver, Texas, and Australia for who earned the most with their food. Georgia just smiled as this was another great year for her state and people!

[ladylynse]

Chapter 6 [FFN | AO3] of Forewarning

All Dipper knew was that there was something buried in some special thermos behind the shack; all Danny knew was that he had no idea how he'd gotten here.

Based off this artwork by @hashtag-art. Happy birthday, @bibliophilea!

(beginning | previous)

-|-

Once safely back at the Mystery Shack, Wendy turned off the golf cart and grabbed her supplies from the rack in the back. It had been a bumpy ride, but she’d only needed to sacrifice one bag of marshmallows to the forest. That wasn’t bad, considering how many creatures she was fairly sure lived there.

And, fine, maybe it made her a little paranoid to think that some of the bumps she’d hit had been deliberate, a growth of tree roots just so or deep holes suspiciously covered with leaf litter, but it wasn’t like she voiced her thoughts to anyone else.

Besides, whatever lived in the forest seemed happy with the occasional sacrifice of candy. At the very least, she’d never been stopped by something yet, and she took a lot of shortcuts through here by herself. That wasn’t exactly recommended, even for those who knew the territory well. When her family went out for apocalypse training, they were supposed to pair off. They didn’t always, but they did more often than not.

It’s easier to survive if there’s someone you trust around to watch your back, but you have to know how to fight if there isn’t.

Whatever had stopped by the Mystery Shack wasn’t bringing the apocalypse with it—she was pretty sure about that—but she didn’t want this to turn into that. Taking the twins to see the haunted grocery store? Sure. She still hadn’t been sure they’d actually see ghosts despite the stories—no one had been until it had happened—but that was different. That was contained. That was very much not in the Mystery Shack. Where the kids slept. With only the oblivious skeptic Stan around to fight the things that went bump in the night.

Now, if those things were corporeal, she wouldn’t be concerned. The man knew how to punch, and he’d punch before asking questions. But whatever had turned up this time clearly had the option to not be corporeal. Like a ghost.

She remembered the footprints appearing in the scattered baking soda a split second before the boy who’d visited earlier appeared. The same boy who had flashed a careless grin and flipped through postcards and keychains and magnets in the gift shop before taking a tour with Mabel.

Whatever he was, he wasn’t a ghost, but he was entirely too much like a ghost for comfort.

There was no sign of Stan yet—not a surprise; she hadn’t heard his car—but chances were good he wasn’t far behind her.

She saw Soos walking in from the lane and raised her hand in a wave. He spotted her and held a finger to his lips before pointing, and something cold and heavy settled in her gut as she spotted three figures by the woodshed: Mabel, Dipper, and the not-a-ghost boy who’d called himself Danny.

She cursed under her breath as she hurried to meet Soos. “That’s him,” she hissed. “We need to get him away from the twins.”

“Did you find anything in town that we can use?”

“I bought a couple more boxes of salt.” Silver was expensive—too expensive for her, anyway—and she wasn’t exactly guaranteed to find holy water even if she tried breaking into a church, mostly because she didn’t know where she’d look for it. She could’ve bought a cast iron frying pan, but she might as well grab one from the kitchen. The ideas of what they might be able to do had quickly fallen apart when she’d realized what was actually feasible. “It’s better than nothing.”

“What about garlic?”

“For a ghost?”

“You said he wasn’t a ghost.”

“Close enough to a ghost. And, anyway, there should be some in the kitchen. We can always chop up a couple of cloves and see if it does anything.” If it didn’t, and they didn’t waste it, they could always throw it into hamburger meat or make garlic bread. “How long has he been here? The kid?”

“Just a couple of minutes,” Soos allowed, “but this isn’t the first time the kids have met him.”

Wendy closed her eyes. “I know, I just…. I’d hoped they wouldn’t realize he wasn’t normal.” More to the point, she’d hoped that he wouldn’t come back. What the hell did he want, anyway? Sure, he’d said something about fixing whatever was wrong, but their ideas about what needed fixing weren’t likely the same.

“They might not. He was pretending to be normal when he talked to me.”

“He talked to you?”

“Just to ask after Dipper and Mabel.”

Wendy frowned. Soos didn’t sound too optimistic that Mabel and Dipper wouldn’t realize there was something weird about the kid, and frankly, she thought he was right. Mabel might be more forgiving, but Dipper…. “We’ll play it cool. Keep doing whatever you were doing. Try to keep an eye on them without being too obvious about it. I’ll prepare the fire pit.”

“The wood, campfire forks, hot dogs, marshmallows—?”

His gaze had wandered pointedly down to the box of salt pressing against the white plastic bag she carried, its blue label clearly visible. “Yeah. I won’t ring it thickly enough that it’s noticeable, especially since it’ll have to be in the gravel where nothing’s growing anyway, but if he’s going to pretend to be normal, then we’ll see how long he can keep that up.”

“And if he’s not affected by the salt?”

“We cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“And if we’re wrong and he is normal after all?”

Wendy snorted. “If he’s normal, he’s only normal for here.” She saw Soos shift uncomfortably and added, “If Stan comes back before I’m finished, give him the pitch about taking measures to ghost-proof the Mystery Shack and advertising doing that because it’s haunted. He’ll know how to get more of what we need, even if he doesn’t think it’ll do anything.”

“What if he’s not bad? The kid, I mean. Not everything is bad. Not everyone is bad.”

The kid had claimed he wasn’t a threat. He’d said he was stuck, that he just wanted to go home, that he had to fix something, not break it. What if it hadn’t been a lie? She didn’t see how his sneaking around could mean his intentions were honourable, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t missing something.

On the other hand, if he were simply determined to show a friendly face to the twins to get them to lower their guard, only to strike once he’d fooled them—

Wendy wasn’t sure if she wanted to take that risk. Having a healthy amount of suspicion now and apologizing later sounded much better to her than being overly trusting and being burned—especially if she wouldn’t be the only one caught in that fire. She and Soos had lived their entire lives here. Mabel and Dipper had not. They might not yet appreciate the degree to which not everything was as it appeared.

“You don’t need to be ready to attack,” Wendy finally said. “You just need to be ready to defend.” Soos nodded, maybe thinking her words were for both of them, but they weren’t. She had no intentions of simply being ready to defend. She wasn’t about to attack unprovoked, but if this kid did anything that set off alarm bells for her, she’d act on her gut. She trusted her gut more than her head. It was reliable in these sorts of situations.

The trouble was, her gut should have made a call on this already. Instead, she was still conflicted, and more time to mull it over on her trip into town hadn’t helped. Part of her still wanted to take the kid’s words at face value, but the little she’d seen of what he could do backed up the part of her that insisted he was far too dangerous to blindly trust. Soos wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there was so much that could seem innocuous at first….

The knowledge that Soos was right and they had no idea if salt would actually help defend them didn’t make this any easier—especially when Danny was clearly interested in Mabel and Dipper. Soos had mentioned Dipper having a book, and she remembered seeing glimpses of it before. If that’s what the kid was interested in, how was she supposed to help Dipper and Mabel protect it while still protecting them?

Salt first. Purifying fire and questions later, if the kid decided to stick around for it. As long as he wasn’t hurting her friends, she was willing to give him a shovel and see how deep he dug.

XXXXXXX

Danny didn’t see the journal around, but Dipper apparently didn’t need it to draw his magic circle thing in the dirt. To be fair, Danny didn’t know if it was the same one as before, but he also didn’t want to find out. Which meant taking the initiative and trying to explain before they decided to pull more magic stuff on him.

“Please don’t do whatever you’re planning on doing,” he said, keeping his voice low in the hope that the guy he’d been talking to earlier wouldn’t hear it. “I just want to talk, I swear.”

“Are you ready to explain now?”

That was Dipper, with a bite in his voice that reminded Danny a bit of Valerie. Dipper might not sound even half as malicious as Valerie could when she was spitting curses at Phantom, but he was appropriately wary. “Yeah. But you have to promise you won’t try any magic stuff.”

“No. You’re not defenseless, and I’m not swearing away my ability to protect anyone.”

Oh. Right. He might think that particular promise carried more weight than a regular promise. He seemed to think giving his word would make it impossible to break. Danny didn’t know of any ghosts with that power, and frankly he didn’t want to meet one who had it. “You don’t have to. I just…. I promise I’m not here to hurt you or anyone else. I only want to talk. And not, y’know, risk being exorcised if you don’t believe me.”

Mabel looked from Danny to her brother and raised an eyebrow. He scowled at her but said, “Fine. If you don’t do anything except tell us the truth right now, I won’t try to exorcise you.”

Not ideal, but it wasn’t like Danny was planning on lying through his teeth to them, anyway—or that he couldn’t still attempt a lie if he felt he needed to. He had a feeling it wouldn’t work, though. He hadn’t had a whole lot of luck earlier. Maybe seeing through that thing was a kind of survival instinct around here, just like Secret Lab Guy had said.

Come to that, though— How had he had an entire conversation with someone, spilled half his life story to that someone, and not actually gotten their name?

Whatever. He’d ask later if he didn’t figure it out before then. It just proved the point, though. These people were good. Sharper than he was used to, unless almost everyone in Amity Park had already figured out his secret and was just being nice and waiting for him to make some kind of grand announcement.

Yeah, right. If Amity Park’s continued obliviousness wasn’t natural, then Vlad had done something. Not something Danny would thank him for, exactly, but something he wouldn’t fault him for, either.

“Thanks. Can I sit?” There weren’t chairs. There weren’t even logs. Dipper would be able to tell that he was staring at the circle drawn in the dirt, though, and know the question for what it was.

Mabel reached out one foot and drew a line through it with the toe of her shoe. “Yup!” she said, dropping down in place. “Pull up some grass.”

Dipper glared at her as Danny sat down on a patch that was more gravel than grass, but the other boy didn’t say anything; he just settled down and looked like he’d be ready to grab the axe beside him at a moment’s notice. Danny didn’t really want to find out if he knew how to use it. Then again, going by the assorted sizes of split logs nearby, he wasn’t overly skilled; even if it wasn’t a normal axe that Danny could avoid with intangibility, there was a good chance that Dipper was clumsy enough with it that he’d be easy enough to avoid.

“I’m sorry about not being entirely straight with you earlier when I said I would be.” Danny didn’t know where to begin, but an apology seemed smart when he still wanted their help.

“Which time, Phantom?”

Well, at least there wasn’t any lingering doubt. Danny sucked in a breath and let it out slowly to give himself a bit of time to think. Mabel looked ready to listen, but Dipper…. He still wasn’t sure about Dipper. “This isn’t exactly something I tend to tell strangers,” Danny said slowly, “but you’re right. I’m Phantom. I’m the one you let out of the thermos.”

Dipper was still practicing his glare, but Mabel asked, “So what are you? You’re not a ghost. We’ve seen ghosts.”

“I’m still a ghost,” Danny said, since as far as he knew, that was true. “Just…part ghost. Part human.” He rubbed the back of his neck and offered them a smile. “Remember when I joked about being the poster boy for interdimensional safety?”

“You expect us to believe you were in some sort of accident,” Dipper said flatly.

They didn’t need to know all the details, but— “Yeah. Lab accident. It didn’t kill me, or at least I don’t think it did, but I did get ghost powers, so that’s cool. Not something I’d recommend to anyone, but cool.”

Okay, Dipper definitely didn’t believe that, but Mabel nodded as if Danny had said something normal and not what probably sounded insane. “Why were you in the thermos?”

“Clockwork, I think. He’s the one who gave me the message to warn you in the first place, remember? Also the one who likes to pretend he doesn’t interfere but interferes like this. I thought it was Vlad, until I…until I realized how long it had been. And, no, before you ask, I don’t know who wrote that journal. I wasn’t lying about that. The only important bit I lied about was ‘Danny Fenton’ being a friend.”

“Why fess up now?” Dipper’s question was a challenge, sure, but Danny could hear the genuine curiosity behind it. Chance were, he wasn’t a great liar, either.

“Because I might need your help to get home. Especially if that help involves you trusting me enough to let me help you and you not trying to kill me first.”

“What were you looking for earlier?” Danny blinked, trying to figure out what that meant, and Dipper must have read that confusion on his face because he elaborated, “Mabel heard you. We know you were back before you showed yourself now.”

Right. She had been in the gift shop area, hadn’t she? “I was trying to find some clue about what else I’m supposed to do here.”

“And?”

That meant did you find it? Danny might’ve promised them the truth, but he’d also promised the other guy that he wouldn’t blow that secret, either. More or less. Hopefully that wasn’t what he was supposed to do here? “There’s something weird about this place,” he said instead. “It’s got this…feeling. I don’t know how to describe it.” It was something unnerving, like the feeling the Fright Knight could give you, but with more…. More I’m-watching-you vibes. Vlad times a hundred. If he didn’t need to stick around to get home, he’d be gone by now. Whatever Clockwork was trying to warn these guys away from, it felt like a danger on par with Pariah Dark.

Not that he’d be able to explain that to them.

Mabel reached over to poke Dipper in the arm. “Show him the journal.”

That would make things a lot easier for him. “I could tell you what it has wrong about ghosts. Or at least about me,” he offered. He wanted to do that regardless, but if he could give them more reason to show him, well….

“It seems to be right about you,” Dipper said, “unless you want to pretend that you’ve never been affected by anything we’ve done.”

Danny blew out a breath. “Look. Being part ghost doesn’t mean I’m exempt from everything that works on ghosts. It also means that I need to be careful around hunters, including you guys. But I’m not here to fight you or steal something or whatever your book says about me. I’m the good guy, I swear.”

“The good guy. Who needs his own little dedicated section in the journal.”

“Dedicated section?” That sounded worrisome. How much info did these guys have on him? Some of it had to be accurate, but if it was just full of things he’d done as a ghost with no context, like the stealing—

“More like a paragraph,” Mabel interrupted, “and it’s not even in the same language as the rest of it.”

Wait.

“Not the same language? What language is it?”

“See for yourself,” Mabel said. She elbowed Dipper when he didn’t immediately produce the journal and offer it up and then hissed a few things in his ear for good measure, which finally seemed to convince him. He pulled the journal out from beneath the vest he’d been wearing earlier, flipped through to the right page, and turned it around to show Danny.

Danny leaned closer, but he didn’t recognize the language, either. If it was something ghosts spoke, he’d never seen it written down, but aside from Wulf, most of the ghosts he’d met spoke English. He didn’t know how many other languages they spoke, though. He’d never asked. If this was some common language he had yet to learn….

“It might be the way it’s coded,” Dipper admitted, “instead of actually being in a different language. Some passages in the journal are coded, but they’re all the same code, except for this. I haven’t had any luck cracking it.”

Danny frowned, reading the page over before Dipper could take it away. He couldn’t see anything about a thermos or anything else that would have led them to him in the first place, but there was a bit of gibberish above that section written in green ink that might be the first code—

Wait. Green ink? Everything else in here was black or blue or some kind of brown that Danny really hoped wasn’t blood. “What else is written in this colour?” he asked, pointing to the passage.

“That’s it.”

“In the entire book?” That didn’t make sense. “But…why?”

“When I find the author of the journals,” Dipper said bluntly, “that won’t be one of the first questions I ask.”

“It won’t even be one of the first hundred,” Mabel added. “Dipper’s never understood the importance of colour.”

To be fair, it wasn’t typically high on Danny’s list of priorities, either, but this colour thing was definitely strange. How many other weird things were in that book if this didn’t make the list?

“Does it mean something to you?” Mabel asked.

Danny hesitated. The fact that it happened to be the same colour as his eyes—or his ectoplasm—in ghost mode could be a coincidence, but things tended to be a lot less coincidental when Clockwork was involved. Danny wasn’t really ready to bet that whoever had written this journal had simply run out of every other colour of pen that day. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but only in that it might point toward me.” Or another ghost like him. Hopefully not Danielle.

“So do you know who wrote it?” she prompted.

He shook his head. “I don’t know the handwriting. That’s not saying much, though. There are a lot of people—and ghosts—I know whose handwriting I’d never recognize.” He wasn’t even sure he’d recognize the Ghost Writer’s handwriting. “What does the other part say about me?”

“That something was stuck in a thermos behind the shack,” Mabel answered immediately, ignoring her brother’s glare. “Which it was.”

“It’s a Fenton Thermos, something specifically designed to contain ghosts. My parents build them.” If he wasn’t trying to keep his secret anymore, there was no harm in admitting that. “They’re paranormal scientists and inventors.”

“Like the author of the journal is,” Mabel said, shooting Dipper a pointed look. “That must be why the bit about the thermos is in there.”

“Not— I mean, I’m not thirty years old. Seriously. Do I look that old to you? I just turned fifteen last week.” Well. Last week for him. Not for whenever this was, five years in his future. “Me being in the thermos is Clockwork’s fault.” Probably. Except Clockwork wouldn’t have needed to catch him in a thermos to force him back here; he could’ve simply asked and called in a favour if Danny had complained, which he would’ve. More likely, Clockwork had merely taken advantage of someone else capturing him in a thermos, and that list of possibilities was long—and included more than one ally, even when the capturing was intentional.

“I don’t know all the details, okay? I just…. I haven’t met a ghost besides Clockwork that messes with time.” His evil future self didn’t count, not when Clockwork’s power had still been the vehicle for everything he’d done.

…Danny really hoped this had nothing to do with him. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t appreciate the thermos parallels.

Of course, now that he thought about it, the fact that he’d been stuck in a thermos had to be deliberate. Sure, it was a way to skirt the notice of the Observants, but Clockwork had messed with the timeline before without doing anything sneaky like that. If the thermos was important…. Coupled with the fact that there was a portal being built beneath a place called the Mystery Shack….

“That’s why I’m here.”

“You care to share with the class?” Dipper asked.

“The thermos, the portal—”

“What portal?”

Oops. “The, y’know, whatever, it doesn’t matter, the point is, you said the author of the journals was a paranormal scientist? Maybe an inventor, too?”

“No, no, don’t change the subject. What portal?”

“Like a portal to another dimension?” Mabel queried. “Is that why you talked about interdimensional safety earlier?”

Oh, crud. They weren’t going to let his slip about the portal go. So much for that secret. “Just…never mind that right now. Paranormal scientist. Inventor. Like my parents. He probably didn’t know them, it would’ve been too early on for them to have made a name for themselves, they might not even have been together yet, but…. Okay. This is gonna sound crazy—”

“Crazier than everything else you’ve said?” Dipper asked dryly.

“—but just go with me on this. Please. I know what happened when my parents messed stuff up, and—”

“And you’re warning us so we’re prepared and more careful,” Mabel finished. “So I don’t get impatient and Dipper doesn’t get complacent.”

Danny frowned. “What?”

“Your warning,” she repeated. “You’re not trying to get us to stop what we’re doing. It’s a terrible warning for that. That kind of thing just makes you wanna do it more, whatever it is. So you’re actually warning us to be more careful than you think we would be otherwise.”

Danny opened his mouth to tell her that warning someone not to do something obviously meant they shouldn’t do it, and then he remembered all the times his parents had warned him not to touch stuff in the lab.

Right.

Maybe she wasn’t wrong.

Just because that was what a warning meant, didn’t mean it would always have the desired effect.

Moreover, Clockwork would know exactly what to have Danny say to get the desired effect.

He’d thought he’d come to help with the portal, but he still didn’t know the blueprints of his parents’ portal as well as Tucker did. If this were just about helping them build or fix the portal in the basement without bad consequences, Tucker was a better choice than he was, and Clockwork could most definitely have arranged that.

But Danny had joked about being the poster boy for interdimensional safety, and he could still disassemble and reassemble most of his parents’ weapons in order to tweak them, even if he wasn’t as good at it as Tucker, and he’d be an idiot to keep ignoring the fact that Clockwork had made sure he had a thermos here.

The thermos wasn’t for him. It had never been for him. It had contained him, sure, but Clockwork must’ve made sure he was stuck in one so that he’d think of this. So that he’d think of what they’d done with his evil future self. And so he’d have it when he needed it.

There was a portal in a secret lab in the basement of the Mystery Shack, and the thermos written about in Dipper’s journal was for whatever was coming out of it.

(see more fics | next)

[junewild]

may we have your cupcake recipe? <3

HELL YEAH, thank u anon. i’ll give you vanilla, citrus, spice, and chocolate cupcakes & if you want anything else let me know! this is going to be stream-of-consciousness rather than linear recipe, because unfortunately that is how i bake. if you want a linear recipe, let me know which particular set of pieces you want and i can write it up for you. i’ll even guesstimate times and such.

BEFORE YOU READ FURTHER: this is very long. if you are not into cupcakes, bookmark this for later when you suddenly decide to make cupcakes and keep scrolling. now with new added read more for additional readability <3

making cupcakes takes me about two hours if i’m doing two batches or an hour and a half if i’m doing one. it might take you a little longer the first time because you don’t quite know what order to do things in or how long everything takes. i like to start my fillings first because they take longer to be ready, then turn on my oven, then mix my batter, then make the frosting while cupcakes are baking.

SUPPLIES

you will need: a cupcake tin, cupcake wrappers, at least one large mixing bowl (2 is recommended to avoid a lot of washing dishes between steps), a hand mixer or a lot of elbow grease, spatula, whisk, small bowl, a small grater or microplaner, a piping tip + bag (or just a plastic bag with a hole cut in one corner) and at least one saucepan or small frying pan. measuring spoons/cups are useful but i’ve tried to include thicknesses and alternatives so you can eyeball it if you have to (i usually do, just because i know what i’m looking for lol)

you will also need some of the following (check your specific cupcake type to find out which): a box of cake mix or ingredients to make your own cake mix, cream cheese, condensed milk, butter, powdered sugar, lemons/limes/oranges, chocolate, vanilla extract (real is recommended; i know it’s more expensive but the increase in quality is worth it if you can), lemon extract, heavy cream, pumpkin pie spice (or at least nutmeg + cinnamon), and fruit of your choice.

CUPCAKE

okay so: box mix is fine. it’s good. great, even. as long as you do this: replace the oil with butter. add an extra egg. i don’t care how many eggs it calls for. i know it feels like a lot of eggs. add an egg anyway. add a sprinkle of extra salt. a tsp or so. you’ve already made a good cupcake!

vanilla:

add a tablespoon (about three capfuls, if you don’t have measuring spoons) of REAL vanilla extract if you can afford it (or i really like the vanilla paste that has specks of bean in it. 10/10)

citrus:

one teaspoon (one capful) vanilla extract. two-ish teaspoons of lemon extract. zest of one lemon. zest of one orange (i like blood orange particularly much) or lime. replace 1/2 cup of the water with lemon and lime or orange juice. add about a tbsp of extra sugar.

spice:

two teaspoons pumpkin pie spice (you can see the spice in the batter without it discoloring the batter) + one tablespoon vanilla extract.

chocolate:

it’s already perfect xoxo. JUST KIDDING. add a tablespoon of vanilla extract.

instructions:

these ratios are for 24 cupcakes. take your cupcake pan and line it with cupcake papers. you can grease the top of the pan if you’re anxious, but it shouldn’t be necessary, especially if you have a nonstick pan. then just mix your batter until it’s not particularly lumpy and fill your cupcake papers about a third of the way full. a quarter cup measure is easiest for me to use bc the amount that easily comes out of it is about the right amount & it drips less than a spoon does. then i like to use a spoon to push the batter up the sides a little so it holds the fillings better.

FILLINGS

you can mix and match the hell out of these, honestly. i typically do cheesecake in everything & then fruit in vanilla or citrus cupcakes, specifically apple or cranberry in spice cupcakes, & chocolate in vanilla or chocolate cupcakes.

cheesecake:

one package softened cream cheese + 10 oz (2/3 a 14 oz can) condensed milk. stir on low heat until smooth, then add 2 teaspoons vanilla extract. DON’T add sugar. it’s not supposed to be very sweet.

fruit compote:

literally just half a cup or so of frozen or fresh fruit. i’ve done this with raspberries, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, cranberries, apples (fresh and cubed is best), and peaches. anything is fair game, honestly. i want to try stewed kumquats and plums at some point. if frozen, add a tiny bit of water. if fresh, add about as much water as you have fruit. squeeze some lemon and lime in there. add sugar to taste. for the apple spice mix, add another teaspoon of vanilla and a teaspoon of pumpkin pie spice.

IMPORTANT: you do NOT want this to be sweet. this is NOT jam. it should be a little tart when you taste it. if it’s not thick enough, slurry a tbsp of cornstarch in a little bit of cold water and stir it in. it should be thick enough to not drip off of a spoon when you turn it upside down.

ganache:

heat a cup of heavy cream on very low heat. i like to do a double boiler: saucepan half-full of water, bowl full of cream in the saucepan. when the cream is warm, stir in most of a package of dark chocolate chips. stir HARD—whisk the shit out of it. DO NOT let any of the water get into the bowl!! you want the ganache to be gloppy when you lift it with a spoon—it has to not soak into the cupcake mix.

instructions:

so you have your 1/3 full cupcake wrappers with the batter spooned a little bit up the sides. using a small kitchen spoon, drop a spoonful of cheesecake into each cupcake. then top that with a spoonful of ganache or a spoonful of fruit compote (or both! it’s your kitchen!). spoon batter over the top and down the sides. fully covered, it should come to just under the top of the cupcake wrapper—i usually have 1/4 to 1/8 of an inch grace.

pop that in the oven according to the box instructions. i usually find that cupcakes with fillings take the longer time listed, rather than the shortest one. when your time goes off, touch the top of a cupcake. if it feels firm (think: ripe plum; you can push on it and it’s soft but it doesn’t cave in), it’s probably done. you can also put a toothpick down one of the sides, rather than the middle. pull your cupcakes out of the oven, put in your second batch, and set these aside to cool.

FROSTINGS

there are two frostings that go well here. i tend to like buttercream for vanilla and citrus and cream cheese for apple spice and chocolate. your mileage may vary. this is where the sweetness comes from, without overwhelming the cupcake!

buttercream:

let two sticks of butter (one unsalted and one salted) soften on your countertop. DON’T melt them. when they’re room temperature and you could mold them with your fingers, put them in a bowl. a mixer is best for this stage, but you can do it with a whisk and spatula if you’re determined, have patience, or can switch out with someone else. whip the butter a little. add five cups of powdered sugar, a cup at a time.

for a vanilla cupcake, add a tablespoon of vanilla extract (or vanilla paste! the specks are SO cool looking!) and use heavy cream to even out the texture until you think it’s pipeable (you’re looking for “holds its shape without being Chunky”). for a citrus cupcake, add a teaspoon of citrus extract and lime juice until it’s pipeable. two sticks of butter is too much, but one stick usually isn’t quite enough, and i prefer to have extra to practice piping with.

cream cheese frosting:

let one package (8oz) of cream cheese soften on your countertop. mix it in a bowl until smooth. add about four cups (3/4 a regular water cup, i think) of powdered sugar—again, we’re looking for “pipeable without being inflexible”. add a tablespoon of vanilla extract/paste and use heavy cream if you need to soften the texture at all.

both of these frostings take coloring very well. something that i personally love is doing a sort of gradient, where i’ll add red to one side and mix it well, yellow to another side and mix it well, make some orange in the middle, and leave some white here and there. then spoon from each section into a piping bag and voila, free beautiful swirls. you can also use a knife to frost your cupcakes, but i think piping is fairly easy to pick up on if you try it a few times, and it makes your cupcakes look that much more professional.

instructions:

make SURE your cupcakes are COOL TO THE TOUCH before you frost them! pop them in the fridge if you’re in a hurry! a single layer of piping should be enough, but decorate if you want. icing sugar is pretty. don’t go too overboard with sprinkles—they make it hard to eat.

voila! cupcakes.

SUBSTITUTIONS

i have made these gluten-free, dairy-free, corn-free, vegan, etc etc. gluten free box mix is fine. your own powdered sugar (powdered sugar + tapioca starch) is great. you can do a coconut milk pudding instead of cheesecake or ganache. you can do baking soda + vinegar instead of baking powder (1/4 tsp bs + 1/2 tsp vinegar per tsp baking powder). if you’re allergic to fruit, i am SO SORRY for you but please try the chocolate ones. you can substitute any extract, any flavor profile, any combination of ingredients. if you’re using a commercial egg substitute, just add an extra 1/4 cup of it. if you’re using flaxseed, just add an extra tablespoon of flaxseed + 3 tablespoons water.

it may not come out exactly the same as the standard ones, but my friends with dietary restrictions still swear by them. i have never brought cupcakes home from a party. i don’t think anyone who’s ever tried one has not gotten a second helping. people who swear they aren’t cupcake people love these cupcakes. (it’s because they aren’t overly sweet or moist or dry and they aren’t one-note, because the fillings add complexity of texture and flavor. there you go, now you know how to describe your new cupcakes to people).

congrats! you’re about to be everyone’s favorite party guest!

[mrgan]

Sourdough English Muffins

If you’re going to have a sandwich for breakfast, your best bread option is an English Muffin. If you’re going to buy those, your best choice is Bays brand. But if you’re a Sourdough Person, you can make the best Anglo Muffs of your life at home.

This recipe should be super chill for anyone who has baked sourdough before. It’s largely based on the method employed by The Model Bakery. We're gonna be frying these buns.

Neven’s Sourdough English Muffins

Servings: 12 Time: 15 min mix + 6 hour proof + 10 minute shape + overnight proof + 20 minute cook

INGREDIENTS:

400 g all-purpose flour

100 g high-gluten flour (or more APF)

10 g salt

300 g water

135 g ripe-and-ready sourdough starter

18 g olive oil

~1/4 cup semolina, or medium-coarse cornmeal

6 tbsp clarified butter (ghee), or plain butter

DIRECTIONS:

In the bowl of your stand mixer, stir together the flours and the salt. Add the water, the starter, and the olive oil. Attach the bowl to the mixer equipped with the dough hook attachment. Start the mixer on the lowest speed and mix for 3 minutes, then stop and scrape down the sides, releasing the dough ball from the dough hook. Kick up the speed to the next notch and mix for another 3 minutes. Stop, scrape, and increase the speed by 1 again; mix another 3-4 minutes, until the dough is smooth.

Transfer the dough to another, lightly oiled bowl (I like a wider, shallower container for this) and cover. Leave on the counter for 4-6 hours; it will need less time on a very hot day, more on a cold one.

Once the dough looks smoothly inflated—note that it may not double in size—flour a workbench. Grab a half-sheet pan (18″ x 13″) and lay a piece of parchment paper on it, then generously and uniformly dust it with semolina or cornmeal.

The dough should be light and gassy, so handle it gently and use flour as needed. With a bench scraper or knife, cut it intos dozen ~80 g pieces. Shape each into a ball by pulling the sides towards the middle and pinching together, then flip it over and roll on the bench to form a smooth top and a bottom sealed together by rolling. Place these balls on the dusted half-sheet pan, spacing them evenly; they will grow somewhat during their second proof. Cover carefully with a large proofing bag or plastic wrap.

Proof overnight (12-18 hours) in a cool place—either the fridge, or something like a basement/garage if it gets no warmer than 55ºF.

In the morning, we’re going to "fry" the English muffins. You'll want to use a large cooking surface—either a griddle that will hold 1/4" of melted clarified butter, or one or more cast-iron skillets. I used two 12" cast-iron skillets. Heat them up for a few minutes over medium-low-to-medium heat.

Melt the clarified butter; this will happen quickly. Now pick up your muffins very gently and flip them into the oil with the un-dusted, top side down; you'll fit 3-4 per skillet. Cook for 3-4 minutes, then flip and do another 3-4 minutes. Look for beautiful browning, but without burning; adjust the heat if needed. Also remember to rotate the skillet occasionally to avoid hot spots.

When cooked, move the muffins to a cooling rack lined with paper towels. Rest for at least 20 minutes. Split with a knife and toast the inside if you'd like. Make into a sandwich, top with jam, or eat as-is. Store in a sealed container, and freeze after 1-2 days if any are left over.

Notes on ingredients and technique are discussed below these two braggy pictures. Yeah, I eat English Muffin sandwiches!

JUST A FEW QUICK SUGGESTIONS AND OBSERVATIONS, IF YOU HAPPEN TO HAVE A MINUTE

What’s a clarified butter?

Clarified butter is butter with its milk solids and water removed—so what’s left is just the fat part of it. It lasts longer and won’t burn as easily in the pan. To make it, you can just melt a stick or two of butter over low heat, then scoop off the floating milk solids and discard any watery stuff left at the bottom. 

I’m sorry, I thought we were making English Muffins, not doing chemistry!

Yeah, well. You’re totally welcome to fry these in regular butter, but watch out for burns. Maybe turn down the temp and cook for longer.

I’m supposed to split these with a fork, not a knife, right?

No.

Are you sure?

Yes.

I’m pretty sure everyone says to split your English Muffins with a fork, NOT a knife. 

People say a lot of things.

It’s how you get the nooks and crannies!

Oh here we go with the nooks and crannies…

Those are the best part of the muff!

I think we’re done here.

Nooks. Crannies. Hello!

Thank you, please leave now.

Who the hell splits things with a knife??

(yelling through the closed door) It’s what knives were invented for! Cutting things!

(crowd dressed up as Nooks and Crannies picketing outside my house) NOOKS AND CRANNIES! NOOKS AND CRANNIES!

Fine! Use a spoon! Use a cheese grater to “cut” your English Muffin! Put them in the dishwasher! Pickle them, for all I care.

Do you have a recipe for these based on commercial yeast rather than sourdough?

Not right now, sorry.

[fishmongeringstudies]

forty six: stick and stick

yesterday's dessert is some kind of chilled lychee soup containing what i initially thought was exactly two lychees but turns out, i have just discovered, to be two lychees and a fuckton of nata de coco. for the uninitiated, nata de coco is a kind of compact jelly-like substance made from fermenting coconut water, a fact that i learned of fifteen seconds ago despite the fact that i have been inhaling nata de coco like a vacuum cleaner with a broken power button since primary two and probably even before that. the initial metaphor i wanted to make here was one for how we often overlook the bright spots in life because we are too busy focusing on the lychees, but perhaps the real takeaway here is that we should stop looking altogether and look things up on google every once in a while.

day six: i've figured it out. breakfast comes with some kind of fruit juice (typically orange or apple), lunch is accompanied by a liquid-based dessert like red bean soup or cheng teng, and dinner is served with a side of fruit. the same kind of protein is never brought out twice in the same day, which means a white dory afternoon will be followed by some form of the chicken, and a chicken-based afternoon will never lead to a chicken-steeped evening. vegetables. which usually means broccoli and/or cauliflower (good) and other times means carrots.

when i was a child i hated carrots because they didn't taste like crunchy water but instead had a mild and disgusting sweetness to them alongside the distinct taste of something that had risen from the earth like a mushroom or a zombie. my father would force me to eat them whenever they appeared in the wild, that is, in restaurants and at friends' houses, and i would cry and throw a tantrum and then he would hit and/or scold me, deploy the well-worn battle tactics of asian parenting, et cetera. 'just pretend you're eating something else,' my mother would reason with me very reasonably. 'yeah, well,' i would say with the kind of eloquence only an eleven year old who's read too many books from the young adult section of the library possesses. 'no.' and then i would cry and throw a tantrum and if my dad wasn't here i'd go pour myself some milk and sulk in a corner of the living room. if he was, well, you know.

so there are a number of ways to cook carrots. this presupposes of course that one cooks one's carrots, something i will humbly allow because if you eat carrots raw then you are a rabbit or a furry and i will never acknowledge your existence no matter how many fursuits you buy me. returning to the matter of the non-heathen population, you can either cook carrots very slightly by means of such technologies as 'the boil' or 'the steam', or you can cook them a lot by means of such technologies as 'the boil but harder or 'some kind of pan-frying, preferably with onions'. my point is carrots can be made to neither taste nor feel like carrots. if you have ever had japanese curry i'm sure you've had the experience of putting something chonky in your mouth and discovering that despite the deceptively similar mouthfeel, that was not a chunk of potato, but the carrot. carrots that can pass for other vegetables are not true carrots in my mind and therefore have rights. carrots that look and taste and do wushu like carrots do not have rights.

the carrots that sometimes appear in the bento boxes which some kind soul i have never had the luxury to speak to because i am in government-mandated quarantine due to potential exposure to covid while flying halfway across the globe delivers to the little table propped up outside my room at eight, twelve, and six o'clock every day do not have rights. they are barely boiled and completely unsalted, unflavored, unwanted, unicorn. they are not submerged in a homicidal sea of sauce. and worst of all, they have the mouthfeel of a fist-sized clump of dental floss baked in an oven at medium heat for five hours. to put it more bluntly: the mouthfeel. bad.

you may be thinking at this point that i am throwing away all of the carrots, but i'm not the kind of loser you think i am; i am an even greater loser. i am the ultimate loser, the loser of all losers, which actually makes me a winner, which cancels out the loser accusation, which means i am probably a real human being, and if i don't eat my fruits and vegetables my digestive system will digest itself or my primary five science teacher will be disappointed in me. this is how you eat carrots. you shove all of them in your mouth in one go like hamsters do with their mouth pouches, pinch your nose shut, and then chew like a madman until you can swallow without ripping your throat open. this doesn't erase the mouthfeel problem. but at least it solves everything else.

a confession: i fear that i will give in to my cowardice. it is day six and i have figured everything out but there are eight days to go, and history has proven that eight days can change the effective composition of the world. i know as little about myself today as i will tomorrow, and yet we try to establish the parameters of our lives regardless, plotting the graphs over and over again until our mouths are green with mildew and our skin is clear as glass, revealing veins pulsing with blood, oxygen, nutrients, whatever else secondary school biology imparted to me. we can only learn how to live life by living it, after all. so it's all right if you don't always want to look back over your shoulder. your neck might snap off, you know? you're right to be afraid. but give it a try sometimes. put that carrot in your mouth.

07.08.21