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kcrossvine-art · 6 months

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Hi fellow adventurers!! Welcome to chapter 2! We're going to be attempting a nice lil fruit-focused quiche/frittata/pie thing. And yes, tomatoes are fruits.

Who says you cant eat totally normal things in a dungeon with definitely no monsters in them?

You know what that means; Man-Eating Plant Tart!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Man-Eating Plant Tart?” YOU MIGHT ASKThe way its prepared in the show is akin to a frittata, but the crust is borrowed from quiche world.

Eggs

Whole milk

Bell peppers

Persimmons

Cherry tomatoes

Pitted green olives

Thinly sliced OR shredded sweet potatos

Salt

Pepper

In the show they use leftover hotpot stock, slime, and mashed up fruit as the batter ingredients. Fruit mush is easy to work with but I couldn't find any stand-in for slime that would cook correctly into what they made in the show, and the hotpot stock is just not thick enough to carry the base. It is too many watery ingredients at once. Needing a thickening agent, both gelatin and agar agar were tried. It was edible but the texture was… gelatinous. Regular egg and milk will serve for our purposes.

The next complication was the crust- so in the show its made with the skins of fruit, straightforward yeah? Well. You see it also has to be 1. Thick enough to bake without burning 2. Harden through cooking to be sliced and held and 3. Inedible. Lotus leaves? Plantain leaves? Really thin gourds? I couldnt find any historical basis for a savory food cooked in this method, or similar method, with an intentionally inedible crust. I could find a few dishes which used leaves as their crust, but none that hardened during cooking and even less that used fruit skin. I chose sweet potato skin for its visual match and texture. It is edible, and it is not a fruit.

I hope youll forgive me for these 2 major deviations as i wanted to keep it looking how it does in the show while also ensuring it tastes good.

AND, “what does a Man-Eating Plant Tart taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKFluffy, airy, savory, salty.

The density of the eggs is offset by the crisp fruits

And the saltiness doesnt overpower the remnant fruit-sweetness

(If you eat the crust) the sweet potato brings this nice muted, smokey, flavor

Spongecake-esque in consistency

Would pair well with cranberry or strawberry juice

Would also pair well with a mellow hot sauce?

. You can use heavy cream instead of milk for a creamier batter . Roast the fruit longer to remove more liquid if too wet (and vice versa if too dry) . Smoked paprika, pepper flakes, cumin, garlic powder, and onion powder would taste good in the mixture

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"A mixture of mashed up and cut up Man-Eating Plant fruit, slime and scorpion soup is poured into a pan lined with the flattened peel of the fruit and cooked before garnishing with some more fruit. Described as salty by the group."

From start to finish this recipe took 3-ish hours? Shredding the potatoes took the longest, so if you get them bagged itd be cut down. A very filling recipe and a good way to sneak veggies/fruits in if you have a hard time getting enough of those essential nutrients. The best advice i can give is to add salt/seasonings at every stage of the process, to build up layers. It makes a difference flavor-wise (even if its just salt). I advise against reheating if possible. The filling will make the crust soggy over time.

If you want to be closer to the cooking of the show, you could double the fruit amounts and mash them together while halving the amount of egg and milk. I hadnt tried due to budget reasons, but it should work with some finangling. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys with how todays recipe turned out <333

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do better, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

3 Eggs

13oz whole milk

2 bell peppers

2 small persimmons

140oz cherry tomatoes

12oz pitted green olives

34oz thinly sliced OR shredded sweet potatos

Salt

Pepper

Method:

Heat oven to 420f and grease a 9-inch pie pan.

Thinly slice (or shred) your sweet potatoes and squeeze out any excess moisture. Coat in olive oil, salt and pepper.

Press sweet potato mixture evenly into and up the sides of the pie pan.

Blind bake for roughly 25 minutes or until lightly golden-brown. No worries if the edges get crisp.

Remove pie pan from oven and set aside.

Core and chop up your bell peppers and persimmons. Coat with olive oil, salt, and pepper.

Line out on a baking sheet, evenly spaced, and roast for roughly 20 minutes or until softened. (you can do this at the same time on a separate rack from the pie crust if you have room)

Remove the stems from your cherry tomatoes, and drain/dry your green olives if canned.

Bring a frying pan to medium heat with olive oil. Add the green olives and sautee until their skin texture starts dimpling. Add the cherry tomatoes and continue sauteeing for about 5 minutes or until lightly browned.

Once the bell peppers, persimmons, cherry tomatoes, and green olives are all done, set aside to cool until just above room temp.

Lower the oven temperature to 350f.

In a mixing bowl combine your eggs and milk, add salt to taste. If you want other seasonings nows a good time!

Once uniform in color and texture, add your cooked fruit. Stir until evenly distributed.

Pour mixture into the potato pie crust.

Bake for roughly 40 minutes. The filling should be mostly firm, but wiggle *slightly* when you shake the pan.

Remove from oven and let rest for roughly 15 minutes before serving.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #cooking recipes #digital art

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queer-little-demigod · 4 months

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i wish i were special - clarisse la rue

summary glory matters more to her than you do.

fic type angst/hurt

pairing clarisse la rue x fem!hades!reader

word count 1k

warnings clarisse being mean, neglect, sadness, hurt, breakup, implied su!c!de

masterlist

That evening in the Hades cabin was lonely as per usual. You sat there, feeling stupid as you stared at the black candles flickering their orange light against the silver candleabra you had so painstakingly found out from the lost-and-found (ironically).

The dinner had been set, with Clarisse's favourite pasta with meat sauce, and two glasses of cranberry juice. All for her.

It had started with shying away from your touch in public, passing a comment here and there. But over time it got harder and harder to ignore.

Why didn't you do anything, Y/n? You might be thinking.

You just couldn't bring yourself to tell her she was being shitty, because more often than not she'd dedicate a win to you. With a speech, her lips on your skin, her hands on your body.

But ever since Percy came to camp, it’s always been about glory. It’s always been about being one step ahead of that random little twelve year old who just had a bout of good luck (in Clarisse’s opinion) and killed a Minotaur on his first monster encounter?

It was obviously more than that, too, but it still hurt the same.

It hurt even more that you had planned this date all by yourself, when she knew what a problem attachment and intimacy was to you, and she just didn’t show up.

You had poured your heart and soul into this, a way to show her how much you love her. A way to show her that you cared and weren’t just some unemotional Hades kid like everyone else thought you were. You actually wanted to show that you were different from everyone, not just the girls, because your godly parent, for the last eight years, had dictated how people saw you. How they assumed you were.

You gave up after a while, and lay back in your bed, staring at the ceiling after blowing out the candles on the little desk you made a makeshift dinner table.

‘What did I do wrong?’ Was your only question. ‘Was she tired of me?’ ‘Am I too much for her?’ ‘Is it because I’m a Hades kid?’

Little by little, you felt your heart break. Like a sculptor’s stone being chipped away bit by bit to make a painful masterpiece. You loathed having such a godly parent, you wished with all your might that things were different.

That maybe you were still special to her.

The next day, she came up to you with excitement. “Y/n, baby guess what—“

You didn’t want to hear it. Your whole body screamed at you to leave that situation, to walk away, make her feel shitty the way she made you feel shitty.

But you just couldn't.

You thought it would mzke you too vengeful, thought it would potray you as petty. It was just a missed date, she could've been busy, she forgot to tell you.

Intentional or not, it still hurt.

"That's amazing," you smiled tightly, resisting the urge to slide out of her touch as she swung an arm across your shoulders.

You loved her, but why did her touch feel like it was knives dragging down your skin? Why did it feel like she was not your girlfriend, but an outsider? An outsider who was trying to touch you.

She was just a stranger wearing your lover's face.

Three days later, it happened again.

You sat at the campfire alone, feeling far too shy to talk to the other campers, noticing how they shuffled away from you or formed such close-knit groups that you were physically excluded as well. How they whispered and stopped when you came. You saw it all. It sucked.

But what sucked the most was Clarisse not saying a single thing against it. How she, too, stayed with her group, not bothering to include you in any way whatsoever.

Your mind raced. Did you do something wrong again? Why was she doing this?

You saw that unlike usual, she didn't come to you in the evening to stargaze or just talk. She was at the training grounds. Again.

You understood that the battlefield was her temple, her spear her idol, the battlecry her prayer, but you also wished that you were as special to her as you once were.

You were a battlefield, but just the aftermath. The battlefield when it was littered with bodies, blood clumping up the soil and the air hanging heavy with the stench of death.

But you wanted more. You wanted something different.

You wanted to be the battlefield she was so devoted to. You wanted to be the spear she was with every evening, you wanted to hear the loving prayers she whispered to her spear once she finished her training.

Was it the loving prayers you wanted or the sound of her voice in that sweet tone once again? The tone which held all the adoration the world of war could offer, all the gentleness a child of the fierce battle could provide.

You wished you were special.

"Clarisse, you wanna hang out this evening?" You asked her again the following night.

"Can't," she said after ushering her friends away. Atleast she still valued private conversation.

"Why not?"

"I'm busy,"

"Doing what?"

"Why do you need to know?"

The way she snapped that last sentence, it made something in your heart ache. She knew you hated it when she snapped at you. She knew that you did feel lonely.

She knew it all.

You stared at the ground and sighed softly, "I don't,"

"Exactly," she scoffed. "Stop being so clingy, Y/n."

Clingy? Were you...was this her actual thought? Every time she said she loved it when you spent time with her...was it a lie? A petty lie sold to the naive, lonely Hades kid?

"Sorry," you shrugged, "I'll stop asking," you punctuated your sentence by turning around and walking off.

Why didn't she call back for you?

Why didn't she run after you?

Why weren't you special?

The next week went by the same. She would say she'd show up, she wouldn't, you'd ask, you'd be insulted. Over and over and over again.

One night, after you had spent another evening alone, you took a deep breath in and tapped on her shoulder, stating firmly, "We need to talk, Clarisse."

She was shocked. Shocked by the fact that you used her full name. You never used her full name. Ever.

You felt your palms sweat, your mind race, and your whole body almost seize up with nerves.

"Look, I get that you want glory in the upcoming capture the flag, you want glory at camp, you want glory in some quest or the other," you firmly stated. "But is glory worth more than me?"

A small, amused smile spread over her lips. "Is someone jealous?"

"Don't fucking tease me," you snapped, having had enough. "I'm not jealous, I'm--I'm angry. I hate being angry, but I especially hate being angry at you."

"Me? What did I do?"

An incredulous laugh escaped your lips. "What did--what did you do? How about we focus on what you didn't do?"

"Didn't--? Get to the point!"

"So you don't remember the missed dates, forgotten evenings, times where I wanted to talk but you called me--" You inhaled deeply, keeping yourself from bursting into tears. "You called me clingy or annoying or attention-seeking. I have ignored your shitty treatment for far too long Clarisse!"

Your heart ached as you saw her deadpan expression, her emotionless gaze. You felt your throat close up. You were in the middle of the ocean, salt water filling your lungs, stealing the breath out of them.

"I think you're overthinking it," she shrugged.

The water vanished. Now all that remained was fire. A new fire that coursed through your normally cold veins, that made you see red. It took everything in you not to punch her in the face.

"Really? You said that I was special," you snarled, glaring at her. "You said you'll never leave me alone, you'll never make me believe the bad thoughts in my head, and now I see that it's exactly what you do!"

Her silence is what hurt the most. She wasn't denying it, she wasn't apologising.

"Clarisse, don't you know how I feel? When I try to talk to people, they turn their heads with an awkward smile. When I walk into a room, people stop talking or laughing. When I sit near people they shuffle away, and for what? Because my father is the god of the dead. I'm punished day and night for something that I can't fucking control.

"You were the one who got me. You made me feel wanted, you made me want to wake up and live to see another godsforsaken day! But now..." you looked at the ground. No, you glared at the ground. You couldn't see her face.

"I always emerge victorious in the end," she said, shoving her hands in her pockets.

Gods, you wanted those hands to hold you close and wipe your tears away.

You felt your heart break. "What?"

"I always emerge victorious in the end. Glory is what I live for," she said plainly.

Each word felt like a stab to the gut. Each word cut through you like a knife, like her spear tip cut through the training dummies in the arena.

"Glory matters more than me?" You whispered, looking up at her.

Clarisse felt her heart break at the look in your eyes.

You looked...hollow. Empty, a shell of a person. There was no twinkle in your eye, there wasn't the flash of laughter within them that she always saw. They didn't glow with an aura of love.

Empty. Like every child of the god of the dead would have seemed to be.

"Glory matters more than everything,"

"You said I was your everything,"

"Did you note the past tense, death girl?"

You didn't want to reply. You couldn't. You refused to talk to her after that sentence. Death girl?

If this is what love is, you didn’t want it.

Why did glory matter more to her than you did? You probably would never find out.

You wished you were special.

And you would just have to keep on wishing.

Hi! It’s me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x reader #x fem!reader #pjo #wlw #gl #dior goodjohn #clarisse la rue x y/n #angst #hurt #slight tw #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue gif

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virginsexgod69 · 5 months

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Hi!! I love ur work for Daryl. I was wondering if you could write a daryl dixon oneshot where maybe him and the reader find an abandoned tattoo parlor while out on a supply run and reader gives him a tattoo and eventually that leads to smut! 🩷

❝ Inked ❞

pairing Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

cw established relationship, smut, unprotected p in v, pet names, pussy eating, needles (for tattoos), idk how to do tattoos so i apologize in advance for any inaccuracies

note omg i had a jolly good time writing this! tysm for the request =] i did lowkey tweak it slightly, but nothing major, i pinky promise

2.1k words

“I don’t think there’s anything else we can get outta this place,” you commented as you placed the only can- a can of cranberry sauce from who knows how long ago- into your backpack. You looked around, only seeing more bare shelves and Daryl. You smiled, a natural reaction you had whenever you saw him. He wrapped his strong arm around your shoulder, pulling you close before placing a kiss to your hairline.

“We should take a look a’ these other stores ‘fore we start headin’ back,” he suggested as he guided you out the store, arm still wrapped snugly around you. You nodded your head in silent agreement, following beside him. It was hard to tell what most of the other buildings were since they were all dirty with broken or boarded up windows, but one in particular caught your eye.

“Hey, look! A tattoo shop,” you pointed at the building, “Let’s go check it out!” You hurried toward it, semi-dragging Daryl with you.

“The hell we gonna find at a tattoo shop?” He asked, seeming genuinely confused at why the hell you’d wanna go.

“Hopefully more than some nasty ass canned cranberry sauce.” He couldn’t disagree with you there, so he fell in line with your fast paced steps toward the shop.

You both entered the shop with knives drawn in case any walkers decided to stumble out of the shadows. Nothing came when the two of you made noise in an attempt to draw them out, so you sheathed your knife and went all the way inside, Daryl in tow. The shop was small, which allowed the sunlight shining through the window to fill it. The walls were covered in framed pictures of tattoo designs, although they were covered in dust. The shop itself was in fairly good shape, considering. You and Daryl split off in different directions in search of anything that could be brought back to the prison. You couldn’t find anything that wasn’t tattoo related, which wasn’t surprising since this was a tattoo shop. What you did find, though, was a lot more exciting. Everything that you would need to do a tattoo was all there, right in front of you.

“Find anything?” Daryl asked once he found you again.

“Yes and no?”

“Wha’s that s’pose to mean?” He asked.

“There’s still everything here to do tattoos with, isn’t that cool?”

“We gon’ get matchin' tattoos or somethin’? He teased.

"Not a bad idea, Dixon," you mused. You patted the seat and he sat down after setting aside his crossbow and got comfortable. You thought about what to put on him. You had so many ideas that you may as well have had none.

"Wha's goin' on in there?" he asked. It was something that he'd say whenever he noticed you deep in thought.

"I don't even know what to put on ya," you admitted as you traced lazy lines on his bare arm with your finger, "or where to put it." Your face brightened when an idea finally passed through your head. You grabbed his arm and turned his hand to face upward before wiping a spot on his wrist clean with the alcohol wipe you got lucky enough to find. You unpackaged a needle before dipping it into the ink cap. Since there wasn't any power, you'd have to do a stick and poke. You were vaguely familiar with them from a time of experimentation during your teen years. With your non-dominant hand, you stretched his skin before getting to work on your design. You could feel Daryl trying to take a peek at what you were doing, but you purposely blocked his view with your head each time. You worked slowly and carefully, doing your best to make something cute despite not even being an amateur.

“Okay, you can look now,” you muttered timidly as you handed him back his arm. You weren’t sure if he’d like it or not and were starting to regret not finding a pen and making a sketch to run by him for approval first. But, it was too late now and all you could do was hope for the best. He brought his wrist closer to his face to get a better look. It was simple, a small love heart with his first initial plus yours. It looked like something a girl would doodle in her notebook while daydreaming about her crush.

“S’cute,” he said as he admired the tattoo with a small, but genuine, smile on his face. His bright blue eyes looked up at you, filled with all the love and adoration in the world. “I love it.” You couldn’t help but smile at him. “You wanna gimme a matching one?” You joked, referencing his earlier comment. He glanced out the window, the sun was setting and it was likely you and him would have to spend the night here if he and you stayed for one more tattoo. Some privacy with you, alone, away from everyone at the prison sounded like heaven, and matching tattoos were a bonus.

“Sure.” He got out of the seat and you got in.

“You wan’ it in the same place?”

You thought about it for a second. “I want it somewhere special, in a place for only you to see.” The rosy tint that blossomed on his cheeks wasn’t missed by you. You found it endearing how he sometimes grew flustered at your flirtation, despite it being nothing new.

“Yeah? Where’s that?” He asked.

“I dunno, Daryl. You pick,” you insisted with a smug look upon your face. He made quick work of unbuttoning your jeans and you lifted your hips to assist him in pulling them down all the way to your ankles. He stepped away and grabbed a new needle and ink. With another alcohol wipe, he cleaned a spot on your inner thigh before comfortably situating himself on his knees between your legs. You felt the small, frequent pokes of the needle as he got to work on the tattoo. Seeing him on his knees between your thighs made your stomach flutter. You knew that was his favorite place to be and having the tattoo there seemed like he was marking it as his own. As he was working, his hand accidentally brushed against your clit, eliciting a whine from you. He paused his work and glanced up at you, struggling to hide the smirk that tugged at his lips. You avoided his eye and he got back to work, but his hand bumped your clit more often. Each time left you desperate for more. You so badly wanted to close your legs and rub your thighs together or reach down and get yourself off, but you had to stay still. His hand brushed against you once more, causing you to squirm a little.

“Keep still.”

You glared down at him. “I’m trying to, but you keep-” He did it again and this time you were one hundred percent sure it was on purpose. Grumbling under your breath, you leaned back against the seat and did your best to keep still as he finished up. Once he was done, he wiped off the excess ink.

“We should probably secure the place since we’re gonna be spendin’ the night here,” he suggested.

“But Daryl,” you whined, “you can’t just leave me like this. You knew what you were doing earlier!”

"Wha? Givin' you a tattoo?" You huffed and rolled your eyes and reached down to pull your pants back up, but he stopped you.

"I'm jus' playin' darlin'. Sit back." He gently pushed you back into the chair before getting back on his knees. Slowly, he pulled your panties down to your ankles with your formerly discarded pants and yanked them both off over your shoes. He firmly gripped your hips and pulled you to the edge of the seat and placed your legs over his shoulders. Feeling his hot tongue lick up and down your soaked slit had you gripping the arm rests for support. With his thumb, he rubbed slow, teasing circles on your hard clit. His tongue was a welcome intrusion in your soaked entrance. You gasped and moaned out his name and your hands flew to his hair, your fingers getting tangled in his soft locks. This motivated him to rub faster circles on your clit, earning more gasps and moans from you. His tongue thrusted in and out of your dripping cunt as he tasted all of your juices, refusing to let any go to waste. You tugged his hair as your thighs involuntarily clamped around his head and he moaned unexpectedly, the vibrations from it bringing you closer to the edge. Your walls clenched around the pink muscle as he focused it on that one spot that always did things to you.

"Daryl, please! I'm so close," you whined, desperate for him to bring you to your orgasm. If he weren't trapped between your plush thighs, he would've talked you through it, but instead he moved his lips to your clit and started sucking on it while prodding the bud with his tongue. You squeezed your eyes shut as the white hot waves of pleasure overtook your body. Daryl worked faster once he felt you tense up and your thighs convulsing around his head. Your fingers tightened in his hair as your toes curled. You could the vibration of his pleasured grunts against your soft flesh.

"I'm gonna-" your back arched and head fell back as he pushed you over the edge, immersing you in a world of pleasure. He continued to lap at your pussy as you rode out your orgasm. Once you came down from that high, you relaxed and slumped against the chair. Daryl reluctantly freed himself from between your thighs since he needed to catch his breath again. His dick was straining against his pants with how hard he was just from hearing your sounds of pleasure and tasting your pretty pussy. And now, just seeing your fucked out face made him want to cum in his pants.

In one quick swipe, he cleared a nearby table of all its supplies. He picked you up from the chair with ease, tossing you over his shoulder before gently laying you onto the table. He made quick work of freeing his erection from his pants and stroked it a few times, causing precum to bubble up on the angry red tip. He lined it up with your slit, rubbing it up and down your slick folds teasingly.

"So wet fer me, baby," he groaned as he lined himself up with your needy hole. You wrapped your legs around his hips, desperate for him to fill you up. Your body welcomed him as he slid in easily.

"Yer takin' me so good, sunshine." He leaned down and connected his lips with yours. You moaned as you tasted yourself on his tongue. His tongue danced with yours as you kissed each other passionately. Large, rough hands palmed at your clothed tits as he started thrusting into you. Frustrated with your shirt, he hurriedly pulled it over your head before attaching his lips to your neck, roughly sucking and biting your skin. His tongue slid over your carotid artery, feeling how fast your heart was beating. You clumsily tugged at his shirt and vest, a silent plea for him to take them off, which he did. When he was with you, his insecurities were non existent. You tightly gripped his shoulders, nails digging hollow indents into his skin as he increased the pace of his thrusts.

"Feel so good," you slurred. He kissed open mouthed kisses down your body, occasionally leaving marks in his wake. You squirmed and moaned beneath him, your second orgasm approaching fast. He was close too, you could feel it in the way his cock twitched inside you and his pace became slower snd less rhythmic.

"I'm boutta cum, baby," he groaned. You wanted to tell him you were, too, but your mind was a jumbled mess that was drunk off his cock. When your second orgasm came, your walls tightly hugged his shaft, squeezing him closer to his own climax. He quickly pulled out and stroked himself the rest of the way. His mouth fell open and eyes rolled back as he shot white hot ropes of cum all over your naked body.

He collapsed into a nearby chair, panting for air. You slid off the table and joined him in the chair by sitting on his lap. Both your bodies were coated in the thin sheen of sweat as you held each other close as exhaustion took over your bodies.

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Masterlist

Taglist @banquetwriter @eternalrose81 @the-dixon-effect @dilfsandmartinis @millybaby @daryldixmedown @theoraekenslover @aeriean @lesbian-horror-fan @in-this-minute @paintlavillered @zhannamustdie @thegeorgiahuntsman @bigbaldheadname @Lumi362 @lettersfromyourlover-blog @princesssparkel2024

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ghulehunknown · 10 months

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Papa Headcanons - Thanksgiving

They may not be accustomed to American holidays, but they’re excited to eat food and spend the day with you!

Primo

Falls asleep in front of the TV during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade (but grumbles a few times in his sleep “Is it ready yet?”) and doesn’t wake up until the ghouls yell “dinner time!”

Has to take an antacid before eating

Carves the turkey

Mostly only picks the mushy foods to eat (i.e. casseroles) and only eats half his plate

“I’m thankful for all my ghouls, even the least favorite one.”

Hogs and clogs the toilet after

Secondo

Helps by setting the table and running to the store for last minute things that were either forgotten or you ran out of

Makes a surprisingly good roux for the mac n cheese and the gravy

“What is this American shit?” he asks about half the food on the table

Proceeds to eat and enjoy literally everything, except he still can’t get behind the cranberry sauce. “It wobbles.” (Copia’s head pokes up from his plate, mid face-stuffing.)

“I’m thankful for good food and good company” (he would say while holding his glass up to cheer)

Dutifully helps clean up and washes dishes

Terzo

Peels one potato and says “I’m bored” and walks away. You have to finish peeling them. Then he brags about how he made the mashed potatoes. When you tell him off he says, “Okay, well I helped!”

“Why is everything the same color? I’m not eating that. Oh wait, actually…that’s very good…mmm. Can I have some more?”

Compares everything to Italian food and admits you are an amazing cook and could put his nonna to shame (he never met his nonna but he’s not going to tell you that)

“I’m thankful for titties and ass, dongs of every shape and size, and eh - the female orgas-” (gets interrupted by an elbow to the ribcage, courtesy of you)

Says he has to go to the bathroom to avoid having to help clean up and you never see him again until morning

Wakes you up early the next morning to go Black Friday shopping in his Christmas sweater. (“I’ve always been fascinated by this American sport”)

Copia

He’s in charge of the turkey and he’s very nervous and is taking this job very seriously

In fact he barely speaks to anyone all day because he’s busy burning things in the kitchen and sweating on everything. It’s like a scene from Ratatouille, except it’s just his rats running all over the stove and nibbling on the stuffing.

“I’m not even hungry!” as he shovels food in his face

“I’m thankful for my rats, and cheese. And of course, all of you.”

After dinner he runs dishes back and forth from the table to the kitchen until someone forces him to sit down

Passes the fuck out immediately afterwards in front of his video games

Also clogs the toilet (when did he even have time to do that?)

Nihil

Mumbles something about how he tried breeding dogs once while the National Dog Show plays on TV

Has been systematically picking things from the dishes as they’re being prepared so he truly isn’t hungry during the meal and doesn’t eat much on his plate

Complains about how much Copia burned things and that’s why he’s not eating

“I’m thankful for Seestor”

Falls asleep immediately after dinner

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maxinemaxmayfield · 10 months

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@steddieholidaydrabbles • December 6th • Cooking Together

Tradition (slightly longer version on ao3) rating: T words: 999 tags: first kiss, post-s4, getting together, friends to lovers

It’s been their Christmas Eve tradition since Eddie moved in and Wayne switched to working nights at the plant for the extra pay.

It started off with microwave dinners and a side of cranberry sauce from the can. But as Eddie got older, he would spend the night in the kitchen, whipping up whatever he could manage for their late-night feast.

The Christmas of ‘86 isn’t any different, except for the ways that it is. After everything they’d been through, Eddie and Steve hardly go a day without seeing each other or calling to check in. So when Eddie finds out that Steve’s parents are going to be out of town for Christmas, he insists Steve join them for their silly little tradition.

Steve only agreed on the condition that he could help with the cooking and bring dessert.

So here they are, at two in the morning, on opposite sides of the small kitchen – Steve mashing potatoes within an inch of their life while Eddie stirs the instant gravy, going blue in the face trying to argue with him.

“You’re wrong! You’re so utterly, completely incorrect!” Eddie proclaims, exasperated.

Steve huffs out a laugh, grabbing the electric hand mixer and sticking it into the bowl of potatoes.

Eddie nearly shrieks and storms over. “No, no, no, STOP! You gotta leave the lumps in the potatoes – it’s the best part!” He reaches out, trying to wrestle the mixer from Steve’s hands.

Potato hits the cupboards, their faces, even the ceiling.

“Eddie,” Steve sighs. It’s the same tone he uses when one of the kids does something supremely stupid that Steve specifically told them not to.

“Oops.”

Steve just raises his eyebrows at Eddie, mashed potato splattered across his cheek. It isn’t fair how cute he manages to look with a dollop of potato in his hair, Eddie thinks, as his stomach does that pathetic little swoopy thing it tends to do around Steve.

Eddie turns to grab a nearby dish towel to pass to Steve, taking the moment to try and compose himself. But when he spins back around, Steve’s so much closer than expected and he freezes, the tacky floral towel trapped between them.

“Hi,” he says stupidly.

“Hi,” Steve says, and Eddie can feel his breath, warm and laced with chocolate.

Eddie’s arm is already raised, so he follows through, reaching up to wipe the mess from Steve’s face. He doesn’t mean for it to be so intimate, but the closeness, the silence that surrounds them…

And Steve still hasn’t moved, standing there like a fucking statue.

“Better?” Steve asks. Eddie just nods in return, his voice stuck somewhere in his throat.

Just as Eddie’s debating whether to make a move or lock himself inside his bedroom, Steve surges forward.

It’s somewhere in the middle of urgent and hesitant, like Steve’s doing everything in his power to hold back how he really wants to kiss Eddie, to stay on this side of soft and sweet. Eddie realizes then that he’s far too in his head, thinking all of this through and not kissing Steve Harrington back.

So he melts into it, dropping the kitchen towel and replacing it with the front of Steve’s woolen sweater, pulling him in closer and deepening the kiss, letting his tongue dart out and swipe along Steve’s bottom lip – a question.

Steve answers it eagerly, parting his lips and letting Eddie in, breaths growing hotter and heavier between them.

But Eddie hears it first – the sound of gravel crunching outside. He stiffens, releasing Steve’s sweater and breaking the kiss, his eyes flying open. The moment of bliss broken.

Steve looks worried, confused. He opens his mouth, a question on his lips, but before he can ask it, the door opens behind Eddie. Steve’s eyes grow wide and he tugs at the hem of his sweater before plastering a wide smile on his face.

“Hi, Mr. Munson! Merry Christmas!” he says.

Eddie turns to see Wayne watching them both with a look of amusement.

“Merry Christmas, boys,” Wayne says, hanging up his hat on the hook next to the door. “Smells good in here, you been cookin’?”

“Got carrots, mashed potatoes, roast chicken, gravy… and cranberry sauce!” Eddie lists. “And Steve brought pie for dessert.”

“Pecan pie, sir,” Steve chimes in. “Hope that’s okay.”

“Sounds good, kid. And quit it with the sir and mister, call me Wayne.” There’s a pause, and Wayne’s eyes dart up and then back down to them, his facial expression never changing. “Do I wanna know why there’s potato on the ceilin’?”

“Nope,” Eddie says, lips popping around the p. “Food’ll be about ten minutes if you wanna wash up first.”

“Yup,” is all Wayne says before heading down the hallway.

After dinner, Steve gets up to serve the pie, and Wayne fixes Eddie with an expectant look.

“What?” he asks, baffled.

Wayne lowers his voice. “Just thought you mighta told me when you got a boyfriend. Y’know I’m fine with it, and especially with Steve. He’s a good kid.”

Eddie chokes on a mouthful of eggnog, spluttering.

“Come on, kid. I’ve seen you two together. And the fact he calls here near every day to check on ya? I might be old, but I ain’t blind.”

“Wayne, we–”

Steve chooses that moment to return with dessert, setting it down on the table. He looks at Eddie. “Sorry, am I interrupting…?”

“No, no, no, all good. This looks great,” Eddie insists, changing the subject.

“Hope it tastes as good as it looks.” Steve smiles and reaches out, wiping a stray drop of eggnog from the corner of Eddie’s mouth. He can feel his cheeks burn hot.

Wayne tosses him a knowing look from across the table before digging in.

It isn’t until Steve and Eddie are laying side-by-side as the first rays of the winter sun start to peek through the bedroom window that Steve Harrington officially becomes Eddie Munson’s boyfriend.

He’ll tell Wayne in the morning.

Officially.

#steddieholidaydrabbles #steddie #stranger things #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie fic rec #my fic #steveddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington

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omelettemom · 10 months

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🎶Pass the cranberry sauce🎶

🎶We're havin' mashed potatoes!🎶

#bob's burgers #linda belcher #bobs burgers #fan art #digital illustration #digital art #fanart

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allfryam · 10 months

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thanksgiving feast

in honor of thanksgiving coming up, I wanted to write a super short weight gain story. Let me know if yall like it!

mark had been away at college for a few months and he loved it. He liked all his classes, his roommate was cool, and the food was especially great. It had a bit of an effect on his waistline however. Mark had never been in shape or anything, but he never weighed more than 145 pounds. But recently, he had stepped on the scale to see 163 pounds. He had surpassed the freshman 15 and it was noticeable. He tried to wear baggy clothes to hide it, but it was the first thing his mom noticed when he walked in the door. “Jesus Christ. How much junk have you eaten? You look like a damn pig.” She sighed and walked away without properly greeting him. His dad passed away when he was little and she hasn’t been the same since. His two little brothers were nicer. They greeted him and asked him about college before teasing him for his beer belly. Marks mom kept commenting about how disgusting he was every time he would grab a snack. Before Thanksgiving dinner, when all of marks family had arrived, all of the fat comments kept coming. “I didn’t know you could have a dad bod without being a dad.” “I bet they have a McDonald’s on campus” “I bet you’re excited for the feast” after an hour of this, mark couldn’t take it anymore. He decided that he would eat so much at this feast that it would make all of them uncomfortable. When it was time to eat. Mark was the first to the kitchen, loading his plate high with mashed potatoes, turkey, Mac and cheese, ham, greens, stuffing, cornbread, and gravy. He got some odd looks as he sat down, but mark dug in. He was eating like he never had before. His stomach grew and grew but he wasn’t done. He finished his plate quick and he got up for more. His bloated stomach began pushing against his buttoned up shirt, and the buttons started to strain. He soon got up for a third plate, and he was having a great time. He took one large bite into some turkey and he heard a pop. He looked down to see one of the buttons on his shirt was gone. His fat stomach was peeking through the hole it created. Mark didn’t even flinch. As everyone at the table looked at him with judgmental eyes, he kept eating. When he was bored of the meal, he got up for dessert. He got a slice of pumpkin pie, apple pie, pecan pie, chocolate chip cookies, ice cream, cranberry sauce, and an entire chocolate cake. “You guys don’t mind if I take off my shirt right?” Mark asked sarcastically. He took it off and fully revealed his distended gut. He undid his belt and let out a burp. He had to make room for dessert after all. He tore through the food and grunted like an animal as his stomach began to hurt from being so full. But he couldn’t stop. His brothers were cheering him on as he started on the chocolate cake. He slammed his face into it and laughed as he ate it without his hands. By the end of the night, mark was sprawled out on the couch with his gut sitting happily on top of him. He had passed out in his underwear but when he awoke, the scale said he weighed 180 pounds. He was proud. Maybe he shouldn’t lose this weight after all.

#fat #fat belly #fatty #gaining fat #chubby #fat gut #fatty piggy #gaining #gaining weight #getting bigger #thanksgiving #thanksgiving stuffing

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babiebom · 10 months

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Sdv Bachelor/ettes at a Thanksgiving Dinner

A/N:happy thanksgiving if you celebrate!! I don’t really celebrate but I do like to eat a lot and sleep all day :)

Tw:cursing/ some sus content/mention of drugs and alcohol(not hard drugs)/ death mention

Wc: I have no idea it’s headcanons lmao

Sdv Masterlist

Sebastian

Shows up to eat and leave

Does not like the spending time and emotional part

Would rather not say what he’s thankful for just please fill his plate so he can eat and sleep

Would probably be the older cousin that you rarely ever see during the year you only ever see him on holidays and for like 20 minutes at most.

Will be found in a room smoking it up.

Will offer you some weed

Will probably forget how old you are and if you’re underage would be like “oops don’t snitch/get out of here”

Is the first to say bye

No one even realizes when he leaves because his bye was so quick and quiet

Sam

Constantly laughing and having a good time

Like actually before the food is ready he is so energetic

Singing

Dancing

Telling jokes

He’s literally the life of the party, and will not hesitate to get up and dance to the music at all

Does drag you to dance with him

He is probably sibling or cousins best friend that they bring and you lowkey have a crush on.

Wants to help cook is not allowed

Also sleeps over for some reason

Shane

Somehow gets there early and is angry the entire time

He’s only early because he was anxious about being late and now he wishes he was home

Doesn’t really interact with anyone just sits on the couch and watches tv

Gets his plate and eats by himself

Would be the alcoholic uncle that is cool but also makes everything depressing

He’s not the partying type

Is amused and is nice to the kids

But like his face is just stoic the entire time

No one bothers him to keep the party mood going.

Elliott

Brings like a pie or something

Like he does make a dish to bring ALWAYS

Wants to make sure that he’s not just eating and taking up space

Talks to EVERYONE and is VERY like….poetic

It annoys the women how lovely he is

Everything turns into a deep discussion the second he starts drinking

Is probably like your aunts husband that she brags that she bagged while on vacation somewhere expensive

Harvey

Surprisingly doesn’t eat a lot

Like everyone thinks that he’s going to CHOW DOWN but he doesn’t

Does however take a nap immediately

Is on the couch and he is passed out, his tie is loose and his tummy is slightly out

Is the older cousin that everyone is proud of and compares you to because HES A DOCTOR and YOU ARENT

Doesn’t drink much either, he’s literally just so tired

The kids are lying on him because his body is comfortable and his mustache is funny

Absolutely does not notice it and allows them to be all over him because he’s napping anyways it doesn’t matter

Loves to talk to the kids about airplanes and really gets into detail

Is the one sleeping over

Alex

Is 100 percent outside with the kids playing sports

Forces the kids to play with him because everyone else is too old to want to play outside anymore

Sam probably plays with him ngl

Does not go easy on the kids at all

Like absolutely demolishes them in football.

Just because you’re a kid doesn’t mean shit you’re getting massacred on the field.

Is your older brother that thinks he’s super cool, is actually really nice

He eats a LOT and passes out right after.

Probably has sex with someone (not a family me never you FREAKS) upstairs in his room and doesn’t hide the fact

He’s just like heheheh then gets yelled at for being vulgur in front of everyone.

Penny

Probably the one who cooked/helped Emily cook

Is VERY proud of her desserts

Makes all of the sides and leaves the main courses to Emily

Gets super anxious about being around everyone and what they’re going to think about her food

Absolutely doesn’t experiment with food because of anyone dislikes anything she’s gonna have a breakdown.

I think she likes the cranberry sauce the most, puts it on her rolls

Eats more than people think she’s capable of

Somehow doesn’t nap after stuffing herself, gets some chores done instead and starts cleaning as things are starting to be empty.

Is probably the mom, and it’s her house that everyone is going to for the dinner.

Very annoyed that her house is a mess now but won’t say anything.

Lets people sleep over

Abigail

Girlfriend of someone in your family

You really can’t tell if she’s the girlfriend of a sibling or cousin or anyone

She just doesn’t elaborate

Like she’s like “oh I’m their girlfriend”

And you’re like ?????WHOS GIRLFRIEND???

and she walks away

Somehow knows your family well enough even though no one knows who’s girlfriend she is

Will also supply weed

Is high as fuck

Also sleeps over for some reason

Leah

Eats all the sweets

Like every single dessert there is is on her plate

Eats like a salad right before to offset it

Also to be able to say she actually ate food

Eats SO MUCH

She’s your uncles “wife”

Met him while on a retreat somewhere and they have been together for 20 years

Like your uncle is dead and she’s still around even though they never got married bc she’s literally just your aunt now

Brings the salad that she eats to say that she ate some food

It’s funny

Maru

Also eats SO MUCH

And she’s not self conscious at all

She’s next to the dining table at all times

She’s definitely your younger sister

Shows off her robots and stuff to the kids

Gets in trouble because her robot catches on fire(idk why she’s Spencer from icarly but she is now and I refuse to change it)

Also makes something for dinner but only a couple people actually eat it because she experimented and it’s weird

She is offered weed by someone’s friend and gets everyone yelled at.

Haley

Older sister that wants nothing to do with anyone

Brings her friend and they stay in her room the entire time gossiping

Comes down to get her and her friend a plate and returns to her room

You can hear laughing from her room if you listen closely

Is probably drunk up in her room

Ignores your parents pleads for her to spend time with the family

If she comes down she’s going to openly make fun of everyone

Also will flirt with you and your other siblings friends she absolutely doesn’t care

Take pictures though because in reality she does care just hates to show it

The pictures are very cute and she hangs them up in her room

Emily

Aunt that made the turkey and other main dishes

Will also make the effort to make something vegan or vegetarian for people who don’t eat animal products

Her food is surprisingly good like it’s so good that people will over stuff themself

Is the aunt that everyone is always around

Is on the dance floor with Sam and is not embarrassed at all

Also makes the animals something

Just a joy to be around

Brings Shane his plate

Chats away with Penny while cooking together because everything is fun for her

Loves the quality time together

She loves when everyone is in the same room

Is annoyed that there’s no thanksgiving music because she loves getting into the festive mood.

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octuscle · 9 months

Note

I just wanna be a dumb, dull teenager biker… not caring or thinking about anything, only having knowledge is bikes and not even being able to do simple maths, just riding, stinking and farting on my motorcycle….

Do you think you could make it happen? Thanks

Bloody hell! Do you have any idea what's going on here so close to the holidays? Read. The. Fucking. Manual! Select properties, define characteristics, activate. And if that's too much work for you, select one of the default settings. Here's a really cool one. 19 years old, well-trained, C-student throughout. Motorcycle fan. Here you go!

You can't get enough of the feeling of being in a motorcycle suit. Your bare, sweaty skin in tight nylon and leather. And then off you go on your racing bike, onto the highway and steel, leather and asphalt become one with you. It's not the first time that your jockstrap has gotten wet from precum while riding.

You and your bike get hungry. You pull out at the next rest stop. You fill up, take a piss and sit down in the diner. The waitress is on the ball. While the waitress takes your order, you take off your helmet and open your jacket. A gush of musky air comes out. You run your fingers through your long, sweaty locks. The waitress looks a little disgusted. And passes on your order.

Just as your salad with tofu and the cranberry spritzer are served, a group of truckers come in the door. The diner is full. There's only room at your table. Without asking, the four giants join you. The first one asks if that's your bike out there. A rarely stupid question, you are the only guest in motorcycle gear. Your mouth is full and you just nod. "1992 Fatboy?" asks the trucker. The baby is your pride and joy. You nod again. "Difficult bike, but I assume you have experience with the engine". You're still chewing, but you show your calloused and oil-smeared hands to prove it. Yes, your baby is not really reliable. But it's honest American steel. Not some crap from Japan, Italy or Germany. With your mouth full, you say that you used to have a Triumph. But nothing beats the machines from Milwaukee. And then you bite into your burger again. The second trucker orders a large portion of scrambled eggs and bacon, gives you a fist bump and says. "Damn right, buddy. America first!" You burp and confirm "America first!"

Half of your burger is hanging in your beard. You're still hungry. When the truckers' food arrives, you order a portion of the ribs. And another beer. You ask the guys if they want another one. The ribs are delicious. They are dripping with sauce. Your fingers are not only oily, but also covered in fat and sauce. You wipe them on your jeans and the hair on your belly. Your next round of beer is coming. You toast with an "America first", take a big gulp, look at each other and burp simultaneously. You like these guys. Big honest heroes of the highway. You pay for your meal at Lucy's and promise to come by again soon. You say goodbye to your friends and go out to smoke a cigar before continuing your journey. And you really need to piss. But you'd rather do that behind the shed.

Hehehe, you already know why you don't piss in the toilets. It doesn't take long for one of the truckers to join you. He doesn't smoke a cigar. But what's in his mouth is hardly any smaller

Preset found @neusatz-an-der-donau, later pic found @vareddman76

#male tf #reality change #chronivac #leather tf #redneck tf #age progression #bear tf #biker tf

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rebelliousstories · 10 months

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Cranberry

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Reader

Fandom: Top Gun

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Death, Light Angst

Word Count: 2,100

Masterlist: Here

Summary: A certain unusual flavor that has held a special spot in the Mitchell and Bradshaw family every Christmas.

Christmas 1985

“Alright! I’m here! I’m here! I’ve got the goods!” Pete’s loud voice rang out into the government issued housing known as, the Bradshaw abode. A two foot tall blur came barreling towards his knees, and it was only a split second decision that still kept them in tack. He grabbed the youngest Bradshaw and hoisted him hip on to his hip.

“Uncle Pete!” Bradley exclaimed, hugging his favorite uncle. The man hugged him close, never once letting go of the boy or the bags in his hand.

“Hey bud! Oh, I missed you.” His words were music to the woman’s ears as a certain blonde haired lady rounded the corner.

“Pete!” Carol exclaimed, piling on to the hug that was started without her. Maverick took one arm and wrapped it around her, while pressing a brotherly kiss to her cheek.

“Hey Carol.” Pete took a deep breath in, finally enjoying being able to relax a bit with his closest friends.

“Oh, so this is where everyone went.” One more set of arms piled on to the group hug and encompassed them all.

“Hi sweetie.” Pete teased at his taller friend.

“Hiya hun.” Nick threw back at him. The one great thing about their friendship, is that each one could give as good as they got. But they were there to enjoy time as a family. Slowly but surely, each layer peeled away to reveal the bags that were still in Pete’s hands.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Should’ve taken these first, Pete. Here let me get those.” Carol tried to reach for the bags, but Maverick went head and stepped towards the kitchen to set them down. As he did, he felt Bradley being pulled from his arms by Goose, allowing him to move freely.

“I got it, Carol. Just tell me where you want stuff.” He offered, watching the woman fight every bone in her body not to take over.

“I just… well, alright.” While Carol and Maverick were busy in the kitchen, Bradley and Goose were busy playing with each other in the living room. A huge tree sat in the corner, complete with lights, ornaments, garland and other pretty decorations. It provided endless hours of entertainment as Bradley was still so little. He was amazed by the lights and colors coming from the tree.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Pete and Carol were having a blast doing the last minute preparations for their big Christmas dinner. Turning the giant turkey in the oven and basting it, toasting up some Hawaiian rolls, making the side dishes, and most importantly making the cranberry sauce. It was the one thing that Carol always insisted on making from scratch herself. An old family recipe that had been passed down for generations. It had become a staple of any holiday meal, or even one made on special occasions.

The family sat down for their meal, and Carol set the cranberry sauce delicately down on their table. For the rest of the night, there was conversation, laughter and entertainment in general. The cranberry sauce was always the highlight of the meal. No one was allowed to know exactly what or how much of anything was put into the sauce, but none of them cared. No one cared what she put in the sauce, only that it was delicious and a staple of their table.

Christmas 2020

“Babe! I’m back from the store. I got everything you needed.” A feminine voice rang out, carrying bags into the home. Pete wiped his hands down on a rag before stepping out into the foyer to help her with them.

“Thank you for getting these, dear. It really helped.” Maverick grabbed majority of the bags and pressed a loving kiss to his partners lips, before moving to the kitchen to prepare the very last thing they had to make. An old, and worn recipe card laid on the counter amongst all the ingredients that they needed for this particular dish.

“You’re welcome, Mav. Do you need or want any help?” She wrapped her arms around his body and pressed another kiss in between his shoulder blades. Maverick pressed his hands to her arms, yet shook his head.

“No, I got this. You go ahead and get ready for company. I’ll take care of this.” And with that, Maverick stayed in the kitchen while his lover went off to go get ready. He tried to follow the recipe as closely as he could, but these were written in not quite so accurate measurements. Finally, he understood when she used to say, “southern measurements.” It confused him to no end. A pinch, a smidge, a helping; these did not make sense. How much were each of them? By the time he finished the batch, his lover appeared from their bedroom, looking refreshed and festive in her brilliant red sweater.

“Mav, you okay honey?” Her hands trailed up his arms while he was standing over the pot on the stove.

“Will you taste this?” Pete gave the spoon with a small helping of the sauce to her lips. When she tasted it though, her face scrunched up in displeasure.

“How is it both too sweet and too salty?” She questioned, staring at the offensive cranberry sauce.

“I don’t know. I can’t understand these measurements so it didn’t turn out like I had hoped.” Maverick admitted, thrusting the card in front of her eyes. They scanned over the card and turned to her partner with a certain mischievous grin.

“Would you like me to help?” She teased, already getting to work on restarting their work station.

“If you think you can do better, be my guest.” He waved his arm to the mess he had made. She worked to first clean and dispose of the cranberries that had been used already, before setting up to try again.

As she read the recipe card, and followed the corresponding instructions, Pete was suddenly thrust back to all those years ago. Every Christmas and Thanksgiving where he watched Carol move around the kitchen to make this simple dish. He had a hard time shaking the memories of Carol and her loud, obnoxious singing that would inevitably bring him and Goose into. The way she would dance with Nick in the kitchen as she finished up their meals, or after them.

His mind blended them together, unable to discern one from the next. It brought him a sense of comfort that he had not felt since her untimely death. She seemed to understand the writings on the small piece of paper, as her movements never slowed preparing the dish. Turning off the stove, she set the pot off to the side to cool and grabbed a new spoon to scoop out a bit of the sauce to try. She blew on it to cool it down even faster and after several attempts to eat it, it was finally the perfect temperature for her to sample. Letting out a pleased hum, she grabbed another spoon and gave it to Maverick. He, too, stuck it in the cooling pot, and blew on it a few times before bringing it to his lips to enjoy. But he could not enjoy it. All that he could do was keep tears at bay. Noticing her lover bent over the counter with the heels of his palms in his eyes, she set her spoon down and wrapped her arms around the pilot.

“Mav, what’s wrong?” She asked, and he heard, but he could not bring any words to his lips.

“Pete?” She pried once more, and got an embrace in return. The man had turned around and brought her into his arms, while placing his head into the crook of her neck. There was no noise from the man, but there was a wet spot slowly forming on her sweater from where his head laid. She did not try to get him to talk anymore, just stroked a hand through his hair and over his back as he worked through whatever he was feeling at the moment. His tears slowed, as did the shake in his shoulders, to a point where he felt comfortable enough to pull his head from her neck. Pete wiped his hands across his face, trying desperately to remove the evidence of tears, however her hands caught the few stragglers that were still falling.

“I’m sorry. That just… that tastes exactly like how Carol made it every year. And your mannerisms are so similar in the kitchen. I’m sorry.” Tears welled up in Maverick’s eyes, but none dared fall. That was until she returned her hands to his face to cup it so gingerly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Mav. It’s okay to miss her. It’s okay to still hurt when you think about her.” She assured him, stroking gently over his cheeks. Pete grabbed her hands in his, and turned to place a soft kiss to each palm, before taking the hands from his face and holding her close.

“Thank you.” He whispered, leaning in to steal a kiss straight from the source. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, and enjoyed the feeling of closeness with her lover before they both were drawn away by the sound of a door opening. Turning in his arms, the couple watched a young mustachioed pilot walk through the door, taking off his boots, and removing his sunglasses.

“Mav?” He called out. The couple turned back to each other, and disengaged to go greet the man. Bradley stood in a Christmas patterned Hawaiian shirt, which Maverick was shocked he could even find but he guessed anything was possible with the internet now. Once the couple came into view, the woman ran up and greeted him.

“Bradley! So good to have you here.” She hugged him close, and he allowed himself the small bit of affection.

“Good to be here, Mrs. M.” He responded, only drawing back when she did.

“Bradley.” Pete now greeted, with a handshake, but that quite got drawn into a hug as well.

“Uncle Pete.” Both men knew what he said, but neither dwelled on it for too long. They pulled away as well, and went to the table. Both men grabbed plates of food, and set them down on the table. However, Bradley was stunned to notice the homemade cranberry sauce on the table. It looked so similar to-

“Alright, boys. Dig in.” Everyone went to work plating and serving themselves the bountiful feast before them. The couple placed a little bit of cranberry sauce on their plates, but when Pete passed the dish to Bradley, he refused.

“Sorry. I don’t like cranberry sauce.” He dismissed the plate that was still in the older pilot’s grip.

“Just try it, Bradley. Trust me.” Thy stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, before the younger pilot took the dish from Maverick, and dished some onto his plate. The couple watched Rooster as he tore off a chunk of bread and reluctantly ate the cranberry sauce on his plate; wanting to get it out of the way to hopefully wash down the store bought taste with the rest of his food. But this did not taste store bought. This tasted homemade. This tasted exactly like the cranberry sauce he ate growing up when his mom was still alive.

He could not believe what was in front of him now. In disbelief, he stared at Pete, who simply nodded his head with a wide grin plastered on his face. Turning, Pete’s lover was staring nervously at the man, hoping she did it justice.

“Did you make this?” Rooster whispered, fearing if he raised his voice even a little bit, that he would break whatever spell this one little dish had over him.

“Mav found an old recipe card that your mom had when she would make this. He tried to make it but he can’t read southern measurements like a woman can.” She joked, jabbing her eyes towards said man teasingly. Bradley vaguely heard a, “they’re so confusing,” and “not real measurements,” from the man, but his ears were rushing, drowning out all sound. Eventually, he took another bite, and another, and another, till there was no more sauce on his plate. It tasted like home. A home he had lost and never found his way back to yet.

“Thank you.” Bradley looked the woman in the eyes, hoping that his sincerity came across as much as he felt it. She rubbed his shoulder from here she sat, and everyone turned back to their meal.

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iboatedhere · 6 months

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Thank you @henryspearl @suseagull04 @orchidscript @cha-melodius @lemonlyman-dotcom & @jmagnabo92 for the tags!

I hit the lower limit for my @aroyallybigbangrwrb fic this week!

It takes him almost forty five minutes to go less than three miles but he doesn’t mind it. He sits with his head against the window and watches the city pass in jilted starts and stops, his breathing getting easier and deeper the further he gets from home.

The shelter is packed, but it’s easy to spot Henry behind a long row of tables, scooping steamed corn and carrots onto plates.

He smiles warmly at everyone who steps in front of him, dressed in an orange volunteer shirt, a red apron, and a hairnet.

Alex feels like a complete fucking asshole standing there in his designer leather jacket and hundred dollar shoes.

He thinks about cutting and running, but then Henry lifts his head and spots him, pinning him in place with a smile.

Alex tries to smile back, but whatever he manages to do with his face must be worrying because Henry’s smile fades and he tilts his head with concern.

Alex really wants to run now but his feet carry him forward instead of away and soon he’s standing in front of Henry.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Henry raises his brows.

“Seriously, I’m good,” Alex tells him. “Just put me to work.”

Henry looks him over then nods. “Go see Donna,” he says, “she’ll tell you where to go.”

Donna, the recreational coordinator who takes Thanksgiving very seriously if her pilgrim hat and light-up turkey necklace are anything to go by, throws an apron and a hairnet at him and sets him up at the beginning of the line, handing out rolls and prepackaged pads of butter.

It helps to take his mind off things. Having something to do with his hands and people to talk to.

When the line ends Donna pushes a full plate of food into his hands and tells him to enjoy.

He finds an open seat and doesn’t look up when Henry sits down across from him with his own plate.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Alex says.

“I didn’t say that you had to.”

“I know, but the way that you’re looking at me….”

“How do you know how I’m looking at you? Is it projected in your cranberry sauce?”

Alex heaves a sigh and lifts his head to meet Henry’s ocean blue eyes.

“You’re looking at me like that.”

“I’m afraid it’s just the way my face looks.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” He pokes at his food then groans. “I left,” he admits. “My parents had been at each other's throats all night and then June got into it with them and I couldn’t take it so I left.”

“That seems like a valid response.”

Alex scoffs. “How? I left my home.” He taps his finger against the table. “I ran away like a little kid. I’m thirty three years old.”

“And I still think it was a very mature thing to do. You were in a situation that made you uncomfortable and instead of engaging or making things worse for yourself or others you left. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You really are best friends with Dr. Okonjo, aren’t you?”

“The bestest,” Dr. Okonjo says, appearing at Henry’s side as if he’s been summoned. He’s stolen Donna’s turkey necklace—or maybe he has his own—and his hair is a rich auburn, perfect for fall. “What are we talking about?”

“How you’ve rubbed off on Henry.”

“Never,” Dr. Okonjo, says brightly, “but I do try to be a good influence and please, Alexander, if we’re going to be friends we’ll need to drop the formalities. Call me Percy, darling, or better yet, Pez.”

“Then call me, Alex, please. Alexander is reserved for my mother.”

“And how is your mother?” Pez asks. “Your lovely sister mentioned that all your parents were in town for the holiday.”

“They were alive last I knew. Slight chance my sister has killed them by now. Maybe she let my step dad survive or maybe she thought it would be better to leave no witnesses. She and Nora might be on the run.”

“How exciting,” Pez says without missing a beat and Alex laughs. “I assume you came here to have plausible deniability of any wrongdoing.”

“Yeah, that sounds a lot better than just running away.”

“At least you only crossed town to get away from your family and not the Atlantic,” he says with a significant look toward Henry who rolls his eyes.

“As I was telling Alex, sometimes the mature thing to do is leave.”

“Indeed,” Pez agrees. “It’s important to take care of yourself. No guilt, love.”

“Just the dread of having to face them again.”

“That can be difficult,” Pez says, suddenly serious. “And you can’t hide from it forever. If you ever need to talk, my door is always open.”

“Thanks,” Alex tells him, feeling overwhelmed by the support. “That means a lot.”

“Anytime,” Pez answers easily while Henry presses his knee against Alex’s beneath the table.

Tagging: @lightningboltreader @liminalmemories21 @porcelainmortal @fullsunsets @sunshinestrand @maxbegone @oxfordslutphase @inexplicablymine @anincompletelist @accol-fics @youcancallmekathyp @bitbybitwrites @cricketnationrise

#wip wednesday #Dr. AU #firstprince #firstprince fic #rwrb #rwrb fic

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bones4thecats · 10 months

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2023 Thanksgiving Special; RoR

A/N: Second part of my 2023 Thanksgiving Special, this one features Record of Ragnarok characters. There are no humans here, it's only Gods in this edition. Anyways, look out for my Creepypasta and Slashers pieces coming out here soon!

Spending Thanksgiving With Them

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

💪 Heracles preferred to not spend Thanksgiving with his family most of time

💪 As his adoptive father would get into arguments with either the servants or with Hera about who knows what

💪 But this year, you really wanted to meet the rest of the family, you had only met Ares and Hades so far

💪 Heracles held your hand as the festivity rang through the ears of every other god present

💪 He was thankful that his family seemed to welcome you and tried keeping the bickering down because they didn’t want to ruin his happiness

💪 But be warned, next year, expect more and more yelling

💪 You’re family now, get used to it

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

⚔️ Nope on the nope rope, he did not want you coming over that day

⚔️ The amount of yelling that Zeus and Hera do is quite impressive, many wonder how their voices have lasted every year

⚔️ Ares was stubborn, and I mean that

⚔️ So it took both you, Hermes, and Heracles’ opposing opinions to get him to allow you to join the Greek God family

⚔️ When you arrived, Zeus and Hera greeted you, you had met Zeus previously, but you didn’t know him to well

⚔️ Expect slight bickering from the husband and wife

⚔️ But, as long as your Ares was there, you two could power through

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🌩️ Thor was quite enthusiastic about having you over for Thanksgiving

🌩️ It wasn’t every century that he had an S/O, so this was a big deal to him!

🌩️ You had met Odin’s birds and Loki beforehand, due to their nature of spooking you no matter the place

🌩️ Thor stood by your side everywhere you went, and whenever he was needed somewhere, he dragged you along

🌩️ You weren’t exactly used to the layout of Asgard all that well

🌩️ When you guys sat down to eat, he made sure Loki didn’t lace it like he had done years ago

🌩️ This god also had to slap Loki’s hands away from stealing food off of both of your plates

🌩️ Sneaky little rat god

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

👻 This poor little thing

👻 You were the closest thing to family he had, well, you and Buddha, but you mainly

👻 So, when he had heard about Thanksgiving from Buddha, he had asked you if you guys could make the traditional meals and spend the day together

👻 You complied and spent the day making turkey, cranberry sauce, everything

👻 Zerofuku loved making desserts with you, decorating was his favorite thing to do

👻 Placing the whip cream on top of the pumpkin pie was fun, especially when he drew a little face into the sweet dish

👻 You invited Buddha over, as Zerofuku wanted his favorite god, besides you, to spend time with

👻 Let’s just say, after eating and everything, the three of you passed out together on the pillow fort and blankets you had made together

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apixieindreamland · 21 days

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This is such a beautiful story from "How to Win Friends And Influence People." The nurse described here really exhibits the kind of angelic energy I want to embody; uplifting people with kindness and love, and thereby making this experience of Life more bearable. Many people use loa to fall into states of more beauty or wealth, and all of that is lovely. The state I want to fall into is essentially being an angel in disguise.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“It was Thanksgiving Day and I was ten years old. I was in a welfare ward of a city hospital and was scheduled to undergo major orthopedic surgery the next day. I knew that I could only look forward to months of confinement, convalescence and pain. My father was dead; my mother and I lived alone in a small apartment and we were on welfare. My mother was unable to visit me that day.

“As the day went on, I became overwhelmed with the feeling of loneliness, despair and fear. I knew my mother was home alone worrying about me, not having anyone to be with, not having anyone to eat with and not even having enough money to afford a Thanksgiving Day dinner.

The tears welled up in my eyes, and I stuck my head under the pillow and pulled the covers over it. I cried silently, but oh so bitterly, so much that my body racked with pain.

A young student nurse heard my sobbing and came over to me. She took the covers off my face and started wiping my tears. She told me how lonely she was, having to work that day and not being able to be with her family. She asked me whether I would have dinner with her. She brought two trays of food: sliced turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and ice cream for dessert. She talked to me and tried to calm my fears. Even though she was scheduled to go off duty at 4 P.M., she stayed on her own time until almost 11 P.M. She played games with me, talked to me and stayed with me until I finally fell asleep.

Many Thanksgivings have come and gone since I was ten, but one never passes without me remembering that particular one and my feelings of frustration, fear, loneliness and the warmth and tenderness of the stranger that somehow made it all bearable.”

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