#pork drizzle

[icleanedthisplate]

Pork Drizzle w/Yucca Fries. Gonzo’s Sandwich Shop. Tampa, Florida. 5.10.2023.

NOTE TO SELF: I can't find the menu description, but this was a pulled pork sandwich with "mojo mayo" on it. Not terrible, but not worth coming back for, despite the likeable dude who gave me a play by play of the menu.

Currently ranked 12th of 18 May meals.

[neandernandor]

Main Dishes - Crispy Pork Carnitas This carnitas recipe is Chef John's method for slow-roasting pork in lard, citrus, garlic, and fragrant spices until tender inside and crisp outside.

[buffetlicious]

Back to Spicy Red Snapper Fish cooked in our very own blend of chilli and other spices mix. Braised Pork Belly is left over from last night to which mum added hard-boiled eggs and bean curds. Drizzle some of the braising gravy to the rice and I am ready to tuck in.

[tetedurfarm]

i promised y'all recipes but i forgor

it's ok im fixing it now tho

anyway. hi. hello. i eat a lot of rabbit. i am also blessed by god to be one of the few, the chosen, the descended from the acadians who were blessed with the ability to cook food that doesn't suck. you can trust me. màmaw cécil's ici.

just a fair warning though these recipes kinda assume you have basic cooking skills, and things are measured with the heart as my ancestors intended.

onward to the recipes

the tried. the true. the rabbit gumbo

one whole rabbit

half an onion

one package of andouille sausage (or other spicy pork sausage)

a bell pepper if you like

some okra if you like

some garlic

a jar of dark roux (savoie's is my go-to)

tony chacherie's

tabasco

filé

a good long-grain rice

debone the rabbit and cut into chunks, or pressure cook until it falls off the bones. you can also cook the rabbit IN the gumbo but this method takes a long time and is a PITA, but you do get all the good rabbit grease in the gumbo.

fill a large stock pot about 3/4 the way up with water and set to boil. add salt until it's salty to the taste. add about five to seven heaping spoonfuls of roux and let it dissolve while the pot comes to a boil.

while you wait, chop the onion and bell pepper into a rough dice and add it to the pot. i'm sure someone's màmaw will tell you what to do with okra, but i don't like it so idk. i just know some people put it in their gumbo. not me tho. tbh i don't even like bell peppers but it's traditional. anyway you can put some garlic in too. and tony's. lots of tony's.

cut the sausage into about quarter inch rounds and throw 'em in too. if you did not precook your rabbit, add it now. if you did precook, you can add it once the vegetables and sausage are cooked. around this time is also when i put the rice on.

once all the meat is done cooking, taste for seasoning and adjust as desired. it should be salty and a little spicy (or a lot, if you aren't a coward.) now all you have to do is wait for the rice to finish.

when everything is done, scoop some rice into a deep bowl (a soup crock is ideal) and pour gumbo over, making sure you get a bit of everything. top with tabasco to taste, and a healthy dash of filé.

some variety of sausage

1 - 2lbs of ground rabbit

soy sauce

garlic rice wine vinegar (if you can't find it, normal RWV works just add more garlic)

rubbed sage

garlic powder

minced garlic (if not using garlic RWV) (or if you just want it)

brown sugar

drizzle a little oil (i like using sesame oil) in a saucepan and put in ground rabbit. as it cooks, cut it up into small chunks with your utensil. once it's cooked, throw in all the rest of the everything and season with salt and pepper and a little msg if you got it. measure with your heart and taste as you go. you are shooting for a sort of savoury-sweet thing going on. it should be closer to a breakfast sausage in taste.

this goes really good in a dumpling, fried into a patty, or turn it into a white gravy with some milk and flour and put it over rice with creamed corn for a nontraditional but still delicious rice and gravy.

german rabbit stew

this one is just a link because someone else made it up but it's real good: https://honest-food.net/german-rabbit-stew/

alfredo mushroom rabbit pasta

roughly one cup per person's worth of cooked, shredded rabbit

as many portobello mushrooms as your heart desires

minced garlic

a jar of alfredo (or make your own i ain't your mom)

your pasta of choice

pretty straightforward. put your pasta on to boil (we like penne.) chop up your mushrooms and sweat them out in a saucepan. when they're cooked enough, toss in the alfredo, the minced garlic, and your rabbit. season with salt/pepper/whatever else you like to taste. when the pasta is done, combine pasta and rabbit mixture and enjoy

just the filling part of pei wei's lettice wraps but on rice instead

1lb ground rabbit

half an onion

garlic

hoisin sauce

teriyaki sauce

hot chili oil

green onion (grunion)

sesame seeds

short-grain rice

set your rice to cook. when it's almost done, roughly dice onion and set it to cook in a little oil (i like seasme for this.) when it turns translucent, add ground rabbit and garlic. once the rabbit is cooked, throw all the other sauces in to taste. it should be hoisin-forward, a little sweet and savoury. add some cayenne and more chili oil, maybe some gochujang, whatever, if you want more spice. eat it with rice and top with sesame seeds and grunions, i like some shichimi togarashi too sometimes. maybe a lil fried egg if you're feeling sassy.

i made this up from a dupe recipe for a lettuce wrap i liked at a restaurant so you could put it in lettuce too if you wanted. i just don't ever buy a whole head of lettuce.

weird midwestern chili

1-2lbs of ground rabbit

half an onion

garlic

one large can or two small cans of petite diced tomatoes

1-2 habañero peppers (or none if you're yankee)

some sort of stock or broth, or water and a bouillon cube

chili powder

sometimes corn is nice in this if you have it

pasta of your choice

i use my instant pot for this, but you can do it without one in a normal stockpot, it'll just take longer.

brown the rabbit in a little bit of oil with the pot on sauté. while you wait, chop up the onion, garlic, and pepper. when the rabbit is browned, throw everything else in the pot besides the pasta. pressure cook for about 15-20 minutes.

in the meantime, set a pot of pasta to boil. we like farfalle.

when the chili is done cooking, season further to taste with more chili powder, cayenne, tony's, whatever you like. serve on the pasta. i know, i know, it ain't chili to me either, but that's what my friend's minnesotan family calls it and whatever it is, it's damn good so i forgive them.

rice that is dirty AND ugly

1-2lbs ground rabbit

half an onion

garlic i guess

about four or five rabbit or chicken livers

long-grain rice

tony's

set the rice to cook. brown the livers in some oil until they are just barely not-raw. then blitz 'em up in a food processer until they are mush. while you do this, brown some ground rabbit and onion and garlic if you want it in a saucepan. when it's browned, add the livers and just. stir it all together. if it's too dry you can add stock or some water. does it look horrible? you're doing it right. season to taste once it's cooked through. add in rice and mix. i promise to god it tastes better than it looks.

for bonus points, mush dirty rice into balls and dredge in egg and seasoned cornmeal and deep fry or air fry until golden brown. ta da, your very own boudin balls.

i guess you can also run the mixture into a sausage casing for 'normal' boudin too.

('but what about the gizzards cécil' i have tried for years and i can't make gizzards palatable. they just end up weird and tough and i don't like the texture in the dirty rice. you know how to make 'em work, you go for it.)

mexican meatloaf that is neither mexican nor meatloaf

1lb ground rabbit

half an onion

garlic

one can of petite diced tomatoes

one can of whole corn

one can of pork n beans

(optional can of kidney beans or other bean you like)

taco seasoning

shredded yellow cheese

sour creme

tabasco

fritos

chop onion into a rough dice and put in a saucepan with a little oil. when onion is translucent, throw in rabbit to brown. when meat is cooked, thrown in everything that comes in a can, and the taco seasoning. i use about half a packet, but you can do to taste. once it's cooked, spoon over fritos and top with shredded cheese and sour creme. i like a dash of tabasco too.

absoutely a 'hear me out recipe' but if you like frito pie you will probably like this. most importantly, though, it makes a TON of food and for very cheap. excellent end of the month meal. also idk why it's called mexican meatloaf that's just what my mom called it and i'm pretty sure she made it up herself lol

rabbit jambalaya that makes my ancestors cry

approximately one half a rabbit's worth of shredded rabbit

one can of petite diced tomatoes

andouille or other spicy pork sausage

half an onion

bell pepper if ya like it

celery if ya like it

rabbit or chicken stock/broth

tony's

long-grain rice

if you are starting with a whole rabbit, either debone, chop into chunks, and cook, or pressure cook the rabbit until it falls off of the bone. set your rice to cook.

chop veggies and toss em in a saucepan with a little bit of oil or butter. sauté until soft, then add your tomatoes, broth, andouille, and rabbit. when it's all warmed through, add the rice in and mix. season with tony's, crab boil, cayenne, whatever, to taste. put some tabasco on that bitch before you eat, and enjoy.

(my ancestors cry because i'm cajun and traditionally we don't put tomatoes in our jambalaya. mais c'est bon, escuse-moi les anciens.)

creme cheese rabbit joes or whatever

one whole rabbit

one block of creme cheese

one packet of ranch seasoning

jar of pickled jalapeños

shredded cheddar cheese

your favourite burger bun

we use an instant pot, i guess you could probably do it on a stove if you had to but keep an eye on the liquid levels. pressure cook rabbit with half of the ranch seasoning packet and as much jalapeño juice as you want (it should have a kick.) when meat is tender, remove bones and drain liquid into another container (it makes a great stock if you want something with a little pizzaz.)

turn the instant pot on saute, and then put meat, creme cheese, cheddar cheese, jalapeños to taste, the rest of the ranch powder if you want, and as much jalapeño juice or the stock you just made until it's the consistency you want. it should be pretty creamy and a little gloopy. toast your buns, slop the goop on, and enjoy.

well these are the ones i can remember off top my head/that i actually eat regularly. we also make burgers and stir fry and curry rice and shit too, but those are like...y'know. don't really need a recipe for burgers and stir fry.

go forth and eat your fuckin animals

[error-notifs]

LIST OF TERRIBLE EUPHEMISMS I HAVE BEEN BLASTED WITH

Penis

dingaling

peepee

dingus

dongus

shaft

weewee

a 'third leg'

meat stick

squirming meat

'his leaping salmon'

'the crown to his jewels'

Fleshy cigar

Pork Whistle

an utterly destroyed tube of flesh

purple pneumatic drill

an interesting specimen

beige sledgehammer

meaty windmill

shrinky dink

HIS MISTER CUDDLES.

Anal Artillery

Vagina miner.

shlong

cum sword

taco warmer.

vomit rod.

mutton dagger

a squirming shaft

womb broom

taco tickling toy

fully erect rod

clam hammer

Gash. Mallet.

Did you know that world-renowned writer Stephen King once got hit by a car? Just something to consider

deformed tube that was left of his manhood

His big, thick sludge pump

Ravine wrecker

Thrill drill

all that was left was a bit of raw soaked meat

His Old Man Drizzle

Ooze injector

Her slime filled lollipop

Musky man candy

His piss pump

his cure for her pestulince

"Their joy knob"

His slit slamming freight train

Blood sausage.

Gut stick.

Bone horn.

the pulsating slug salter

his jumping jingler

his shiny gold coin

Her squinty blow-pop.

his nope rope

magical girl wand

Vagina

throbbing jazz café

gaping cavern

her wishing well

her animal trap

Unsure

Crotch cannon

Look at my fucking art or so help me god @magical-art-blog

[zepskies]

Get Stuffed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Summary: Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @iprobablyshipit91: Sam making the usual digs at Dean about his diet, and how much he eats, and the reader pulling him aside and telling him to back off as he doesn’t realize how much Dean went hungry as a kid to make sure Sam was fed.

Word Count: 1,800 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, innuendo, tinge of angst

**This story can be read as stand-alone, but you can also check out the full masterlist of one-shots below. ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

“Aw, hell yeah,” Dean mutters. He rubs his hands together and surveys the immovable feast that’s about to get shoveled into his mouth.

This Christmas marks roughly your first year living with the brothers Winchester in the bunker, and a few months after your first anniversary with Dean.

He’s made it very clear that he enjoys your cooking, especially of Cuban food. So you’ve gone all out for Christmas: white rice and your grandmother’s recipe for black beans, boiled yuca with plenty of garlic, bread drizzled with more garlic and olive oil, and Dean’s favorite…

“What’s this part of the pig called again?” he asks. And he uses a large fork to spear into the mountain of roasted meat that you’ve already cut and piled onto a platter.

You come in from the kitchen with the bread in hand, placing it on the dinner table. You sidle up behind him, where he's seated.

“The shoulder,” you say, squeezing both of Dean’s. He hums in interest as you press a kiss to the side of his head. “It’s called pernil. Marinated with garlic, mojo, bunch of good stuff.”

He predictably steals a juicy piece of meat, plopping it into his mouth. He grins while he chews and makes a happy sound.

“Ohoho, yeah.”

You share an amused look with Sam, who sits beside his brother. By the time you’ve found your seat on Dean’s other side, he’s already serving you and Sam the same hefty portions he serves himself.

You know for a fact you’re only going to eat about half of your plate. Sam manages to polish his off. Dean does as well…and serves himself twice more before you break out the dessert.

“Please tell me that’s a flan,” Dean says, drumming his fingers on the table.

“How the hell are you still hungry?” Sam asks.

The look on his face says he’s half entertained, half disgusted. Dean is still sucking on the crispy skin on a piece of pork. He licks the juices off his fingers.

“Have I taught you nothing?” he says. “There’s always room for dessert.”

He tosses you a wink, followed closely by a suggestive smirk. You glance at him with a smile as you set down the metal pan.

“It is a flan,” you affirm. “I tried my hand at coconut this time.”

“Ooh, tropical,” Dean says, waggling greasy fingers. He wipes them on a napkin before he reaches for the pie cutter, which is usually reserved for his favorite dessert. Although, flan is rapidly becoming his second go-to. The rich custardy goodness is calling to him like a siren song.

“How can I get you to make this more often?” Dean mutters while carving out a generous slice.

Your lips curve. You rest your chin on your hand and lean towards him, earning his gaze. “If I made it all the time, you wouldn’t savor it, now would you?”

Dean smirks. His gaze lowers to your lips, like he’s contemplating some persuasive maneuvers.

“You’d also be 300 pounds,” Sam remarks, taking a sip of his beer.

You eye Sam with a frown. But Dean just laughs it off and cuts his little brother a slice.

By the end of the meal, all three of you are stuffed. Dean groans and leans back in his seat. A gurgle mounts audibly from his stomach.

“Jesus. Are you erupting?” Sam says.

Dean holds up a finger. “Wait for it.”

You give your boyfriend a bemused look. You know exactly what’s about to happen. As does Sam, who’s grimacing.

A few seconds later, Dean does erupt, with a truly legendary belch.

“Nice,” you say wryly. Dean squeezes your soft, thick thigh and backs his chair away from the table.

“Well, since I roasted the pig and you did the rest, I’d say it’s Sammy’s turn on cleaning duty,” he says.

“Thanks,” Sam says, with a wan smile. Yours is more jovial, even as Dean’s hand toys with a curl of your hair after he stands.

“I’m gonna shower off the meat sweats,” he says.

You giggle, but you nod. “You do that. I’ll help Sam a bit, put away the food at least.”

Your smile becomes more genuine when Dean drops a kiss on your forehead from above.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. His voice is a quiet, deep rumble washing over you. You know what he’s thanking you for: good food, and a small, but warm Christmas.

You reach up and give his cheek a tender touch, before he withdraws and makes his way to the bedroom he shares with you. It leaves you and Sam to collect what’s on the table and bring it all into the kitchen. While Sam does the dishes, you start to put away the leftovers.

Something has been nagging at you all night, though you’ve tried to stamp it down time and time again. You don’t know if it's your place to say something. Especially if Dean doesn’t seem bothered…but it bothers you. And you’ve never been one to hold your tongue.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you begin, even as a small bit of trepidation niggles inside you.

Sam looks over at you. He’s quick to catch the serious note in your demeanor.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he replies. You okay? his eyes also ask.

“Why do you get on Dean so much for enjoying his food?” you ask.

Sam blinks. Then he scoffs a little. “There’s enjoying, and then there’s gluttony.”

“He’s not that bad,” you argue.

“He ate half his weight in pig,” Sam says. You can’t exactly deny that, but you cross your arms and turn to him, leaning your hip against the counter.

“So? It’s Christmas. Let him be happy,” you retort.

Sam levels you with pinched brows. “He’s not in his 20s anymore. All that crap he eats is going to catch up to him someday.”

“What, you expect him to down some kale smoothies?” you reply, giving a pointed brow raise and a teasing smile. “Get up at the crack of dawn for a bare-chested run?”

Sam shoots you a dry look.  

“My point is, I’m not gonna survive hundreds of monster attacks just to get taken down by cholesterol,” he says.

You sigh a raise a placating hand. “All right. I get what you’re saying. I’m just saying…have you ever thought about why he loves food so much? Why he overindulges sometimes?”

Sam's brow quirks. It’s a question you know you need to tread lightly in order to answer. You uncross your arms to lay a hand on Sam’s wrist. He stops washing dishes and turns off the sink to give you his full attention, sensing your shift.

You look up at him, and you steel yourself.

“He might’ve mentioned once…that you two sometimes had a hard time growing up. With John taking you guys from motel to motel while he was working a job, and every now and then, leaving you guys alone longer than he meant to.”

Dean had been more than a bit drunk when you’d gotten this out of him. Hearing about that aspect of his upbringing had upset you, not just as someone who cared about him, but the caretaker in you smarted.

“Even though you guys didn’t have enough money at times, your brother always made sure you were fed,” you explain. You meet Sam’s gaze, squeezing his arm. “Sometimes he went without.”

Sam’s expression slowly slackens, contemplative and dismayed at what you’re implying. He dries his hands on a kitchen towel and rubs at his mouth, like he’s reeling back the years of evidence in his mind and trying to confirm if you were right.

“You don’t remember?” you gently ask.

Sam shakes his head. “I mean, I knew things were tight. I remember him taking care of me, obviously. But…”

He doesn’t remember his brother going hungry.

It carves a hole of remorse in his chest.

This isn’t the first time he’s had to reexamine Dean’s role in his life, and not the first time he’s felt this flavor of guilt. But he sighs and really doesn’t know what to say.

You seem to realize that, and you squeeze his arm one last time.

“Just keep that in mind,” you implore.

You soon leave him to venture upstairs, but there in the kitchen, Sam makes a resolution before the new year. One that includes having a conversation with his brother.

You find Dean in your bedroom. Now in his most threadbare sweatpants and an old black shirt, he lays over the covers on the bed. His eyes are closed and his arms are folded behind his head, but he hears you when you come in.

You slide into bed next to him and lay your head on his chest. He groans deep and slowly lowers his arms. One of them wraps around your frame.

“Think I overdid it a bit,” he admits, cracking his eyes open. You smile and gently pat his stomach. 

“Wanna go for a walk tomorrow?” you ask. “We can go down to the park.”

Dean raises a brow at you. “You hate walking.”

“Not true,” you shake your head, before you rest more comfortably against him. He tucks you in beside him and begins to run his fingers down your arm. It’s a bit distracting.

“Could be nice, with the right view,” you add, though you shiver a little at his touch.

Dean makes a sound of mild interest in the idea. “I guess, if you like stringy trees and frozen lakes.”

It’s winter in Lebanon. Not much to look at.

You smirk and press a kiss to his chest. “I mean, that, and you in some little Richard Simmons shorts.”

Dean gives you a look, and you giggle so hard it shakes your whole body against him.

“Honestly, I think that’ll really do it for me,” you tease. You walk two fingers across his thigh, where a cute pair of ‘80s-style exercise shorts would cut off.

Dean grabs your hand and rolls you over, pinning you underneath him on the bed. His thigh slips between both of yours, causing friction against your jeans. And he smirks down at you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t do shorts.”

AN: 😂 A little callback to S1 at the end there. I hope you guys liked this! Just in time to prepare for my Christmas cooking! ❤️��

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "A Wish to Build a Dream On":

Summary: Dean has been harboring the archangel Michael in his mind for weeks now, putting a strain on your relationship as you struggle to help him. When Dean makes a wish that accidentally brings his father back from the dead, you get to meet the (in)famous John Winchester. But as always with magic, your boyfriend’s wish has unintended consequences.

▶️ Next Story: A Wish to Build a Dream On

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictear @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[giuseppe-yuki]

cowboy danny

you sure looked like a one-woman circus as you flitted down the hill in your skirts, one hand balancing one of your mother’s nice china plates, laden with food, and the other, a tiny tin ice box, along with a big jug of milk wedged under your left arm. if your father had seen you right there and then in the pitch-dark night, skirting around like a shadow, he probably would have shot you dead.

it was a good thing then, that they were probably still in the big ol’ ranch house up the hill, talkin’ bout all the boring bits about running a ranch-farm. or maybe, even better yet, they were asleep already, which would make it so much easier to sneak back into the house after.

after…

you blush instinctively, before shooing sinful thoughts away from your brain. he was just an acquaintance. a friend, even, that you were just merely helping get back onto his feet before he went on his merry way.

nearing the red barn door on the outskirts of the property, you slow down your pace and turn your thumping steps into a soft tiptoe. you certainly didn’t want to scare him.

once in front, you gently swing the ice chest against the barn door, letting it knock four times - once long and twice short - in a secret code.

within moments, the door slides open.

danny.

his face lights up like it always does when he sees you, and he smiles one of his big loopy smiles.

“hiya, darlin’,” he drawls, leaning against the red sliding door, his cowboy hat sitting low on his head. “a pretty lady like you shouldn’t be out here in the dark all by herself!”

once again, you feel your face heat up for a second time in the past five minutes.

“hiya danny,“ you chirp back.

you shyly waltz into the dimly-lit barn with the food in your hand, and gently set it down on the hay-strewn floor, right next to the flickering kerosene lamp that you stole from your father’s supply cabinet and the warm knitted blanket that you nicked from your mother’s extra storage.

brandy, your favorite horse, along with a few of the other horses, eyes you up from their stables farther down in the barn, as if you were the stranger living there for a few days.

you turn back to daniel, pointedly ignoring the animals glaring at you. good thing they couldn’t snitch.

bending down, you whip off the cloth covering the plate and lift the cover of the ice box revealing its contents. fat slabs of pork, mashed potatoes, your mother’s fresh butter rolls, cornbread, and a healthy drizzle of gravy glisten underneath the flame of the lamp. the ice box’s cold walls insulate a big chunk of the cherry pie that you had made hours before.

danny’s eyes grow wide, and only then do you realize how starved the poor man was.

“shucks- i could right about kiss you now!” he remarks.

you think he’s joking, but instead of diving for the food, he launches you straight into a haystack, eliciting a sharp shriek from you. his face is inches away from yours. he doesn’t ask explicitly, but his whiskey-brown eyes asks for him.

can i?

you give him a short nod.

he pushes his lips against yours, and you swear he’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.

later, when you lay curled up beside him on the same haystack, plate empty and pie half-eaten, lips swollen from what danny said was your “reward” after the meal, he turns to you.

”ya know, we could make a nice pair huh?” danny states, studying your face. “run away with me, and we could have a good life out there. you, me, and the wild, wild, west.”

for a second, you think about your parents- they would be devastated. their only daughter, heir to the family ranch, running away with a cowboy who was basically a nobody. but at the same time, you look at danny. his brown curls, his amber eyes, soft lips.

one smile from him, and you know you’re a goner.

[copperbadge]

Cooking has begun for the Feast of Fieri! I'm making a multi-course meal inspired by the recipes of Guy Fieri. The rest of the prep will be done a little later today, and some dishes aren't photo ready yet, but here are some process photos from the initial prep yesterday and today.

I'm making a pork belly and watermelon salad, a savory tortilla "cake" made of layers of tortilla and a garlic-onion mixture topped with cheese sauce, chicken-avocado egg rolls with bourbon bbq sauce, possibly some latkes but I'm still deciding if I want to make those, and a basque cheesecake for dessert. There's also a cocktail I'm callin the Chicago Apple Pie, but that's still in the testing stages.

[ID: Five photographs; the top left photo is the brine for the diced pork belly, which in the top middle image is in the sous-vide bin, being sous-vided (I just took it out from its 24 hour cook cycle). Top right is the dressing for the pork belly and watermelon salad, a sweet date-syrup vinaigrette. Lower left is the onion-garlic mixture for the tortilla "cake" (layered tortillas with a savory mixture) and lower right is the super melty cheese sauce that would normally go on nachos but in this case is going to be drizzled over the tortilla cake.]

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: None literally just filler lmao

A/N: YOU GUYS I AM SO SORRY IT IS TAKING ME SO LONG TO PUT STUFF OUT LIFE IS JUST... IT'S BEEN INSANE THE PAST FEW MONTHS

Taglist: @bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @marsmallow433 @crazyunsexycool @oscarissac2099 @littlenosoul @animechick555 @capsiclesworldsblog @cloudroomblog @lov3vivian @princessakirika @fog-sama @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @badbishsblog @lillycore555 @stardream14 @kittenlover614 @patchesofwork @enheduannasposts

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Chapter 11:

Good Food And Cat Fuzz

Jake grinned at you as you shuffled about your kitchen, chittering about some interesting things you’d read about the other day on some ancient ruin that was found in Greece because of a construction site. It was difficult to summon the interest in the subject, the overwhelming love of history and ancient cultures that Steven had, but he let you talk nonetheless.

His eyes softened as you carefully sliced the pork tenderloin and drizzled the sauce over it. Even uncooked, the thing smelt heavenly. Maybe letting you volunteer him for this little dinner wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

Steven was an amazing cook, yes, but not being able to really indulge in animal products left Jake’s cooking skills a little stagnant; because Jake refrained from buying groceries that might upset him.

Steven assured him that, yes, he understands that they all have different dietary preferences, that it was no reason to “neglect himself”. But, his concerns were never really on himself. The focus was on Marc, Steven, other people… you.

His thought bubble was popped when Puck mewed and just casually hopped up into his lap with a purr.

He grinned down at the black feline and began stroking her fur, “Hey, chiquita. Cozy, I see?”

Puck purred louder in response, leaning into his touch; her little body relaxed and oh-so-casual. She was possibly one of the friendliest little cats he’d ever encountered.

He didn’t notice when you had ceased your adorable rambling, leaning with your arms on the countertop, the pork forgotten for the moment as you slowly smiled at Jake; his arms curving gently to let Puck crawl into his embrace, rubbing her cheek on his shirt, her purr so loud you could hear it from where you were standing.

He murmured a conversation with Puck for a good minute or two, Puck giving little “mrrp’s” or “muh’s” in reply, as if she was genuinely speaking with him back.

“Mhmm,” You could hear him softly mutter. “Yes, oh, yes. I know. Life is so very tough for someone who doesn’t have to pay taxes.” Puck mewed a bit louder.

“Si, si, carino.” He grinned, his bushy mustache quirking up. You had to admit, he was… handsome. Sweet. The beard he was growing suited him nicely, as well. Puck put her front paws on his chest and sniffed his chin.

“What? No, I know you don’t pay taxes, you little felon…”

Puck smashed her head into his mouth with an affectionate purr, making him laugh and tip his head to avoid getting a mouth full of cat fur. And, doing so, he realized that you were watching him.

Watching him with that beautiful, sweet smile of yours.

“Oh, don’t mind me!” You giggled as his tanned skin flushed with embarrassment and you make a shoo’ing gesture. “You two sound like you were having a riveting conversation!”

Jake looked off to the side and coughed into his hand. “Well, animals benefit from, uh, conversation. I read online that, uh… it’s good for… stimu… lation..." He struggled.

You laugh once again and turn to place the tenderloin into your oven to cook. “Oh, yes, Puck over there is quite the conversationalist.”

As if to agree with you, Puck meowed loudly, making you both chuckle.

The abashed glow on Jake’s cheeks dulls a bit as he shakes his head. “She… is.”

“She seems taken with you.” You smile, walking over to the duo and stroking behind one of Puck’s ears.

Standing so close, Jake could smell your perfume–a sweet, sugary smell that blended with the spices of your cooking. God, it was intoxicating. He wished he could pull you against him and kiss you–

“Wanna sit on the couch while dinner cooks? I’d sit with you at the table but the chairs are sooooo uncomfy.” You say, knocking his thoughts back to reality.

Jake coughs, almost concerned for a moment that maybe you might pick his train of thought out of thin air and call him out on it. He reaches up and scratches his hairy upper lip with one finger, “Oh. Sure.”

Puck mewed and squeaked when Jake cradled her in one arm and let you lead the way to your couch (as if he couldn’t see it from where he had been sitting previously).

You chuckled at how attached to Jake Puck seemed to be, and literally hopped onto your couch cushions, Puck expertly clambering out of Jake’s arms to walk along the back of the couch, staring up at him expectantly, as if to say, “Come on! Sit!”

He shook his head with a chuckle and walked around the opposite side as you popped on some random documentary about Pompeii. “Someone’s a history nerd like Steven, I see.” He teased.

You grinned at him as Puck wasted no time in claiming his lap as her special spot to snuggle, purring loudly as he began to stroke her silky fur, “Eh, what can I say? I’ve always been fascinated by ancient cultures.”

“So has Steven.” Jake murmured, feeling a pit of guilt gnaw at the lining of his stomach. He cleared his throat and looked back at you, a dark brow rising on his forehead inquisitively. “How long have you been obsessed with this stuff, Rosa?”

“Oh, geez…” You prop your head back, your throat exposed as you stare at the ceiling deep in thought. Jake swore he could see your pulse thump in your neck, and the thought made a nervous bead of cold sweat dribble down his spine, making him squirm uncomfortably.

“I think it has something to do with my old man,” You finally say. “He was always reading those kinds of books to me, ancient Egypt, Greece, Rome, China… stuff like that. He was a professor who spoke at seminars and local libraries.”

Jake blinked at you, “A professor?”

“Yeah! An archaeologist.” You grin nostalgically. “It’s where he met my mom, actually. Some people couldn’t tell by meeting her, but I am pretty sure she was from somewhere in Egypt. Not Cairo or Luxor, but… somewhere. My dad liked to brag that he “brought his work home with him.””

Jake gives a short, dry laugh as he turns to look at the screen. Wow. You really were perfect for them. Right down to having ties to the very place Steven often obsessed over; the place where Khonshu first found them…

“How’d they meet, exactly?”

“Well, Dad said something along the lines of meeting at some local bar after they found some small, obscure little tomb in Saqqara. He and his buddies apparently got drunk, almost got into a fight with some locals, and my mom “swooped in” to save them by punching one of them and cursing some absolutely foul things at them.���

You giggle, "But, that might just be my dad’s way of embellishing the tale. Mom once said she met my dad doing something dumb and hurling in a trash can.”

“Ah, love at first sight.” Jake joked with a laugh, imagining the scene himself.

“Not entirely.” You point out, smiling at him, mirth in your eyes.

His eyebrows shoot up once again, “Qué?”

“My mom hated my dad at first. She was one of those “I don’t wanna be shackled to some rando my entire life” kinda people… She had just earned a degree in… well, everything a doctor normally does. She practically ran the local hospital in the town where I grew up.”

“Oh, damn… no kidding?” Jake huffed. “So, what changed?”

“She agreed to meet with my dad, one last time before he came back to the states.” You sigh, smiling bittersweetly. It was good to talk about them, but it still made your heart cinch in your chest when you remembered that you didn’t have them around to talk to anymore…

“He began rambling, about the tomb, mostly. The mummified cats, a mummified baby crocodile, and of course, some tablets and scrolls, as well as y'know, the well-preserved murals.” You giggle. “It was some kinda temple, or holy place or…”

“Or something." Jake finishes with a charming grin, making you nod with another sweet chuckle.

“Yeah. She told me, halfway through his mile-a-second rambling, that something just clicked in her brain. Something in her head told her, “No, I can’t live without this nerd.” And she went with him.”

“Heh… that’s…”

“About as storybook as how I inherited my shop?” You snark.

“Well, I mean, I didn’t wanna offend you or anything…” He mused, his furry lip quirking up in a smirk.

“Nah, I’m used to it.” You reply, waving your hand dismissively. “She traveled with him, her knowledge of the local areas and languages as well as a medical background made her a no-brainer in terms of needing an interpreter and medic at a digsite. But, after my mom found out I was coming along, they settled in my dad’s hometown and stayed there.”

“Wow, when did they find out you were making your grand entrance?” He asked curiously.

“Well…” You smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of your neck. “...Let’s just say there’s a reason I had a onesie with the words “made in Egypt” on it…”

Jake gasped, trying to reign in his laughter. “No.”

“Yep. Apparently they didn’t care that the only thing separating them and the entire team was a slip of canvas, and… oh this is so gross.” You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes and give a short bark of laughter. “I’m not gonna go on.”

“Oh, no, I get it.” Jake began snickering. “No child wants to imagine their parents during–ahem-- “the making of” portion of your life, so to speak.”

You curl in on yourself in laughter at his rather blunt and astute summarization of your thoughts. Puck meowed at you, standing on Jake’s thigh with the tip of her tail curved as her big green eyes blinked at you slowly.

You finally remember your feline companion’s presence, realizing now that she was probably getting jealous that you two were paying more attention to each other than her... So, you leaned over (rather close to Jake; not even realizing how he stiffened up at the gesture) and gave your little black cat a kiss on her cute little forehead, loving the little “prrbt” she made as she mashed her head into your lips.

You look up at Jake, “So… how’d you and your “separated at birth” brothers meet?”

Jake immediately coughed, tugging the collar of his shirt a bit nervously, “Well…”

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Layla sat on the edge of the building, looking down into your flat through your open window from above, kicking her feet and grinning as she held her cheeks in her palms, her elbows on her knees.

“Don’t you think it’s a little creepy to be spying on them, Layla?” Taweret asked, a chubby little brow curving in soft reprimand.

“Oh, c’mon, Taweret.” Layla said, looking up at her. “Jake is getting close to her… maybe he’ll open up, about himself or the other two, or…”

“...Or you were just being nosey.” She said, putting her hand on her hips and wagging a finger at the woman.

“Can't it be both?”

“Oh, you're just terrible!” The goddess sighed.

“Hey… she's perfect for them, Taweret… I jus’ wanna see how this starts out. And… I hope Jake will tell the boys about her. I worry about them, y'know.”

The hippo-woman sighed once again, a small frown on her muzzle, “As do I, m’love. We can only pray for the best.”

She looked around warily.

“...And hope Khonshu doesn't have something up his sleeve.”

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Chapter 12: Link

[foodshowxyz]

Spicy Chashu Ramen with Soft Boiled Egg (Serves 2)

Ingredients:

Ramen Broth (store-bought or homemade - chicken or pork recommended)

For the Chashu Pork:

1 lb boneless pork belly

4 cloves garlic, smashed

1 inch ginger, peeled and sliced

½ cup soy sauce

¼ cup mirin

2 tablespoons sake

2 tablespoons brown sugar

4 cups water

Ramen noodles (fresh or dried according to package instructions)

2 large eggs

1 can (14 oz) bamboo shoots, sliced

4 scallions, thinly sliced (separate white and green parts)

2 sheets nori, cut into thin strips

Chili oil (to taste)

Instructions:

Marinate the Chashu Pork: In a large pot, combine garlic, ginger, soy sauce, mirin, sake, brown sugar, and water. Bring to a simmer, then reduce heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Add pork belly and ensure it's submerged in the marinade. Cover and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, or ideally overnight.

Cook the Chashu Pork: Bring the marinade in the pot to a simmer. Cover and simmer for 1.5-2 hours, or until pork is very tender. Remove pork and let cool slightly in the marinade. Once cool enough to handle, thinly slice the pork belly against the grain. Reserve the remaining marinade for later.

Soft Boil the Eggs: Place eggs in a pot and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil, then immediately remove from heat and cover for 7 minutes for a runny yolk, or 9 minutes for a slightly firmer yolk. Drain hot water and run cold water over the eggs to stop the cooking process. Peel and set aside.

Prepare the Ramen: Cook ramen noodles according to package instructions. While noodles are cooking, heat reserved marinade in a saucepan.

Assemble the Ramen: Divide broth between two serving bowls. Add cooked ramen noodles, then top with sliced chashu pork, bamboo shoots, white parts of scallions, and a soft-boiled egg (cut in half if desired). Drizzle with chili oil to taste.

Garnish and Serve: Top each bowl with green parts of scallions and nori strips. Enjoy immediately!

Tips:

Leftover chashu pork can be stored in the marinade in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

For a richer broth, you can add a tablespoon of butter or sesame oil to each bowl before serving.

Want to make your own chili oil? Simply infuse neutral oil with crushed red pepper flakes for a few days.

Experiment with other toppings! Popular options include corn, bean sprouts, wood ear mushrooms, and seaweed salad.

[buffetlicious]

The Reunion Dinner (团圆饭) at Lai Huat Signatures (来發) was actually eaten a week and a half before Chinese New Year Eve. This dinner I am showing you now is on the actual eve day. As you can see, it is just some simple home-cooked dishes as mum is getting on in age and we ask her not to tire herself out over the cooking. So no braised bamboo shoots this year since this takes about three weeks to prep and cook.

Let’s start with some appetizers. A bowl of diced Pickled Daikon & Japanese Cucumber and some Ngo Hiang (五香). It is essentially a composition of various meats and vegetables and other ingredients, such as a sausage-like roll consisting of minced pork and prawn (or fish) seasoned with five-spice powder (五香粉) after which it is named, rolled inside a tofu skin and deep-fried.

The Roasted Chicken (烧鸡) is part of the offerings from this morning prayer. The chicken had just been cooked when sis brought it home from Chong Pang. Mum added this plate of Stir-Fried Pea Shoots (豆苗) with prawns, minced pork and tomato wedges.

The second last dish is this Fish Maw & Pork Ribs Soup with fish balls added. Fish maw is the air/swim bladder of the fish and we Chinese called it 魚鰾 or 花膠. The soup is sweetened with dried scallops and corns so minimum seasonings is required.

Lastly, mum’s Braised Five Spice Pork (五香卤肉) with shiitake mushrooms and braised eggs. For the meat, mum used pork belly, lean pork and pig’s trotters which is braised with five spice powder, dark soya sauce and garlic cloves.

For My Plate of dinner, I got a little of everything except for the roasted chicken. The white rice is drizzled with a little of the braising gravy of the pork. Nothing beats the wholesomeness of home-cooked food.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Fideus de vermar. Photos from Gastronòmicament and D.O. Binissalem.

Fideus de vermar ("grape harvest noodles") is a traditional dish from Mallorca (Balearic Islands) eaten around the month of September.

This dish is a spicy noodle soup in sheep broth with sheep meat, onion, garlic, tomato, thyme, marjoram, clove, a little bit of cinnamon, olive oil, salt, false pepper or allspice, a drizzle of wine, and Capsicum frutescens chilli pepper, and can also have pork sausage (botifarró and llonganissa).

It's very typical from the town of Binissalem. Every year on the last Sunday of September, Binissalem celebrates a communal meal with thousands of people to eat this dish. Last year, the meal gathered 22,000 people.

Making and eating the noodle soup in Binissalem, Mallorca. Photos from Última Hora.

[whorinsmokenshield]

Soup

Augusnippets Day 1

Summary: Bilbo didn’t move much. Too much effort. Too much pain. It was much easier to sit on his knees and wait to be noticed.

Rating: Mature

Warning: Violence

(Written for @augusnippets. Day 1, Path of Hurt: Brainwashing. Ao3 upload here.)

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Bilbo didn’t move much. Too much effort. Too much pain. It was much easier to sit on his knees and wait to be noticed.

He didn’t know where he was. He barely knew who he was. He floated in a soup-thick fog that filled his head and blurred his vision, making it hard to think. Bilbo couldn’t even feel the rough pinch of the gravel that bit into his skin as he knelt. He felt it once, though. That’s how he knew it was there.

Sounds swirled around him- grunts, growls, wet coughs and sneers -but nothing really penetrated the fog. He only knew that whenever he was spoken to, it led with a raspy snarl: “Halfling.”

Bilbo tilted his head. Before him was a greenish gray mass of flesh, lumpy and covered in pustules and rusty iron bits. He had no idea what it was, but it spoke to him.

“Fetch my dinner. Get some good fat pieces.”

As Bilbo reckoned with that instruction, trying to remember what the words ‘fetch’ and ‘dinner’ and ‘fat’ all meant, he blinked and was suddenly standing twelve paces from where he once sat. With bleary eyes and furrowed brows he looked about himself, fighting to recognize anything. Dirt, perhaps, and some stones. Those thoughts stumbled off the planes of his mind as they came, leaving him with nothing. 

He came back to himself, finding in his hands a grimy, chipped bowl, filled to the brim with an oily broth and teeming with greyish pork. On his skin was the heat of a barely-controlled fire. Bilbo raised his head, and looked about himself once more. 

“Get moving, rat!”

Bilbo flinched, and broiling hot broth splashed over his hand. He felt it, but the pain didn’t stay. He looked down at his rugged, reddened hand, and found a number of blisters, splinters, cuts and scrapes that his mind refused to catalogue.

“Who are you?” Bilbo slurred out, looking up at a hulkish blue smear that was lit from the back by the fire.

“It needs another dose. Prog!”

Bilbo jumped and flinched again. More hot soup splashed onto his fingers. Sudden and swift movements erupted around him and his head was forced back, the bowl ripped from his hands. The mouth of a glass vial was shoved into his mouth, knocking into his bruised-feeling teeth, and a foul, thick syrup was poured down his throat. He didn’t have the wherewithal or control to choke or sputter, and was instead made to feel it as it slid from his tongue. Drool drizzled off his chin and down his neck, his hands scrabbled at the boarhide skin of the hand that gripped him, and he convulsed with lurching gags.

His knees buckled when they released him and shoved him forward, and he dropped into the dirt. The fire blasted heat across his tender, stinging back.

The ground soon fell out from under him, his skin lost all sensation, and his head floated away into the ether, uncertain whether it would come back down again.

-----

Bilbo swirled into awareness later on. No telling how much later. His head and body pulsed with numbness, his chin lax and eyes limp. 

The world, if that were truly what it was, was blurry again. Everything smudged like wet paint. His knees pressed into the gravel once more. Couldn’t feel it, still.

He felt as though he were alone. Not existentially (though that was also true) but physically. His head lolled in either direction, and no movement caught his attention.

The day was dark and cooling, the air bereft of sound. 

Bilbo's eyelids dropped and he scanned the ground in front of him. Seeking recognition. Leaving empty-handed.

He drifted off again.

“Psst. Bilbo!”

Bilbo jerked awake and opened his eyes, and time had passed. So he thought. It was darker now, and the air was frigid cold. There was a cacophony of noise going off right out of his range of comprehension. Murmured clangs, muted scuffles, quiet roars.

“Over here!”

Someone was speaking. To him? They weren’t calling him ‘Halfling’. Bilbo rolled his head to the side. 

“Oh Mahal.”

A blur emerged from the darkness and captured Bilbo's whole attention.

“Who are you?” Bilbo garbled. His eyes strained to keep focus.

“It's me.”

And then the blur was knelt in front of him, and Bilbo could almost see its face clearly. Young and handsome, with coarse scruff and a steely look in his eyes.

“It’s Kíli,” the blur said. 

Bilbo stared blankly, mind wrenching every drop of recognition it could muster. The face was familiar. The name hurt to think about.

“Bilbo.” Something touched Bilbo’s shoulders, then took his face, and Bilbo could just about feel the seams of a glove pressing into his skin. “Bilbo, it’s Kíli. Kee. How badly are you hurt?”

“K...Kee?” That name, Bilbo knew that name. He knew that name. His brain was sluggish as jam.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s Kee.” He brushed the hair off Bilbo’s forehead. “Come on, stand up. We’ve got to be fast. Fee’s on lookout.”

Bilbo’s body moved with the command.

The blur named Kee pulled him to his feet. “They didn’t tie you up,” he noted.

Bilbo was standing now, ready and waiting for a new instruction. They were so much easier to follow than to think of.

“Are you hurt? Can you walk?” Kee’s hands hovered around him.

He’d said another name, too, and Bilbo struggled to recall it.

“Ffff…F-Fee?” Garbled Bilbo, eyes listlessly scanning the area around him.

“Like I said, he’s on…lookout.” Kee seemed to falter. He continued. “I’m going to carry you. Okay?”

Bilbo looked down at his hands. He saw the scars and burns and streaks that covered them as if they were anew.

“Okay. Right. Here we go!”

Bilbo’s world tumbled sideways and his mind couldn’t keep up with the movement. Bright, white light stabbed him in the eyes and forced them to close as his body was jarred and jostled.

He faded away again, but not before a pale face with blonde hair came into his line of sight and something warm took hold of his numb fingers.

-----

“Open your eyes, lad. ”

Before Bilbo properly woke, his body responded to the call. A smear of piercing firelight and moving colors swayed before his eyes and made him instantly nauseous. 

He toppled to the side and vomited.

Hands snatched at him and propped him up, keeping his face from landing in the puddle he’d made.

“Hold him up! Turn his head. Move! Move!”

Gnarled hands pushed against his throat and Bilbo began to panic. He thrashed away from the body in front of him but only landed against another one. Big, warm, a throbbing heart within it. The arms of the body lashed around his middle and held him still, but Bilbo felt no fear.

His breath was quickened and uneven, but as he dragged in air through his nose he smelled pine sap and pipe smoke.

From Bilbo’s lips he gasped wetly and pushed against the wall of flesh at his back, his eyes unseeing and his skin alight with nerves. He felt every scrape of cloth against his sternum and the dig of the seams under his arms. His feet were poor and hurting and his head pounded and pounded and screamed with deep-seeded pain.

Noise, all the noise around him and emitting from him, it was overwhelming to Bilbo. He shuddered and wordlessly groaned and grunted and pleaded.

A heavy hand came over his eyes, blocking the light. 

A thick arm wrapped around him, holding him still and steady and anchoring his head to his neck.

Bilbo whimpered, grasping at the strange arm but helpless to move it.

“They will not touch you again,” was whispered into his ear. “No one will touch you unless I permit it.”

And Bilbo knew this voice too. Knew it. Knew it.

“Thorin,” Bilbo warbled. “Thorin?”

“I’m here.”

A soft, whiskery kiss was pressed to his ear. Thorin’s head nuzzled into the top of his, his lips dragging gently in Bilbo’s hair.

"I have you. You're in my arms," he said in his lowest, softest voice.

“Thorin…” Bilbo hiccuped. “Oh-”

Thorin’s arm- Thorin’s arm, and no one else’s -tightened over his chest. His breath was deep and steady in Bilbo’s ear. His hand was the one that covered Bilbo’s eyes, but as Bilbo began to calm he brought it away.

Bilbo’s vision focused. At last, at last, he could see again.

The whole of the Company was there, gathered around a hastily-set fire and looking with varied levels of anxiety at Bilbo. He could make out the expressions on each of their faces. Some of them, such as Óin and the princes, were close-by, within arm’s reach.

“Oh…” Without warning, Bilbo’s face screwed up with emotion and he began to sob.

Thorin was then wrapped around him in every possible way, cradling Bilbo's body in his lap and tugging him close to his broad chest. He shushed him, whispering soothing inanities over him interspersed with calming kisses to his cheeks. As far as Bilbo knew, the rest of the Company turned away politely.

"Shh, shhshhshh," Thorin whispered.

“Wh-what-” Bilbo sobbed out as he clung for his life onto Thorin’s arm. “What h-happened?”

No one spoke for a while. Bilbo himself nearly forgot he asked the question. Then Kíli’s voice growled out from the side and drew all the attention to himself.

“Orcs,” Kíli grunted. “We got our arses handed to us and they took you to keep. Gave you a poison that messed with your mind. You couldn’t tell your own arse from a hole in the ground when Fee and I found you.”

“Kíli,” Thorin cautioned.

“What?” Kíli shot right back. There was a shadow over his face that concerned Bilbo. “It’s true! I mean, we-we found him and…” Kíli dragged his hand through his hair and got a wild look in his eye as he recalled. “And we thought he was dead! If you weren’t kneeling like that I would’ve thought we were too late.”

His voice broke on ‘late’. He wiped the back of his mouth with his hand and looked away.

Bilbo’s lower lip quivered in sympathy. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Thorin growled behind him, and Kíli’s head whipped back around, looking every bit like a regretful and scolded puppy.

“No, no, I wasn’t-” he sighed, lips pinching. “It’s not your fault. It was the bloody fucking orcs .”

Bilbo huffed a little laugh that felt foreign in his chest. “I don’t even remember there being any orcs,” he said. 

Óin’s brow came down, and his eyes became a little more sharp. “How much do ye remember?”

“Nothing,” Bilbo said at once, and meant it. “Really, I hardly recall a thing. It was all…blurry, and frightening. But I don’t remember anything specific.”

“Not even the whipping?” Ori’s terse voice arose from around the fire. He was shushed immediately by his brothers.

“Whipping?” Bilbo parroted. “No, I…was I whipped?” He turned and craned to look at Thorin, but couldn’t meet his eyes from that angle.

Thorin sighed, heavily. “Among other things.”

“Other things,” Bilbo repeated, quietly, once more. His eyes unfocused as he tried to recall his lost time.

“Stop trying to remember,” Óin scolded. “Give yer mind a rest. It’s been through enough. If you remember on yer own, that’s fine. But don’t force it. Wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you never end up remembering it at all.”

“Never remember!?” Bilbo startled and tried to sit up, but Thorin’s hold prohibited him. It also allowed him to finally feel the deep strain and sting in his back, and the rubbed-raw feeling of the skin of his palms. He looked down at them, then Óin’s old hand took him by the chin and snatched his head up.

“Never mind that, now,” he said in as gentle a tone as Bilbo knew him to be capable of. “I rather think you’d be better off without the knowledge. After all, what’s a week in the scheme of life anyway?”

Bilbo’s eyes bugged. “What?”

It was Óin’s turn to look sheepish as Thorin growled, and no one refuted or corrected him.

A week. Lost. Bilbo was beginning to feel dizzy again.

Suddenly he was lifted off his feet and plopped into a bridal carry, and he was looking up the nose of one ruggedly handsome king.

“I’ll take first watch,” Thorin gruffed as he stepped around the fire.

“Thorin-” Bilbo ventured.

“Hush.”

Bilbo hushed. He was laid in a plush bedroll, padded with furs and lush with knitted blankets. Far better fare than they had on the road to Erebor. Around them they could hear the company murmuring amongst themselves

“Thorin?” he asked again.

“You have had a very, very long day, ghivashel.” Thorin’s voice rumbled over him like thunder, and it sapped the tension from Bilbo’s limbs and made him feel boneless and heavy as he was tucked securely in. “It would heal my heart to see you rest.”

Bilbo’s eyelashes fluttered involuntarily. “Don’t think you’ll need to worry ‘bout that,” He muttered around a yawn.

As Bilbo’s mouth closed, Thorin captured his lips in a chaste, butter-warm kiss that melted Bilbo down to his bones.

“Sleep, my love. I’ll be here when you wake.”

Bilbo didn’t quite make that part out, but his body responded to the call regardless. And he slept.

~~~~~~~~

This fic was: -Unedited -Written in forty minutes -More than 1.5k words over the challenge limit (was supposed to be under 500)

Hope you enjoyed it anyway!! Lmk what you think. Ao3 Username is Sullen_in_love

[novelnibbles]

How the Avengers (and Their Villains) Prefer Their Tacos

The Avengers might be Earth’s mightiest heroes, but even they need to eat—and what better comfort food than tacos? From high-tech toppings to questionable villainous choices, here’s how I think each Avenger (and some major Marvel villains) would order their tacos.

The Avengers' Taco Orders

Iron Man (Tony Stark): Wagyu Steak Tacos with Truffle Aioli

Tony Stark doesn’t do anything low-budget. His tacos are premium Wagyu beef, seared to perfection, topped with microgreens, truffle aioli, and a drizzle of gold leaf—because why not? He probably eats them in a custom taco holder designed by J.A.R.V.I.S.

Captain America (Steve Rogers): Classic American Hard-Shell Tacos

Steve keeps it simple—ground beef, lettuce, shredded cheese, and a dollop of sour cream in a hard shell. It reminds him of old-school diners and Fourth of July cookouts. He might hesitate to add salsa at first, but Sam convinces him to live a little.

Thor: Giant Viking-Style Meat Tacos with Extra Sauce

Thor wants quantity and power in his tacos. Think slow-roasted pork or lamb, dripping with mead-infused sauce, served in thick, handmade tortillas that can withstand his godly grip. He’ll eat at least a dozen and loudly demand more.

Hulk (Bruce Banner): Spicy Avocado and Black Bean Tacos

Bruce goes for something plant-based and high in protein—black beans, grilled peppers, and fresh avocado on a soft corn tortilla. He avoids anything too greasy (because, well, Hulk Smash). But if he *does* Hulk out, give him extra-large tacos with triple meat.

Black Widow (Natasha Romanoff): Spicy Shrimp Tacos with Cilantro-Lime Crema

Natasha has a refined palate and enjoys a bit of spice. Her tacos are loaded with grilled shrimp, mango salsa, and a drizzle of cilantro-lime crema. They’re delicious but deceptively lethal—kind of like her.

Hawkeye (Clint Barton): Gas Station Tacos with Questionable Hot Sauce

Let’s be real: Clint eats tacos from a gas station at 2 a.m. He loads them with every hot sauce available and regrets nothing. The tortillas might be falling apart, but he eats them anyway—sometimes while perched on a rooftop mid-mission.

Scarlet Witch (Wanda Maximoff): Eastern European-Inspired Tacos

Wanda gets creative with flavors from her childhood. Expect tacos filled with spiced lamb, pickled red onions, and a dollop of paprika-infused sour cream. A little unconventional, but they *will* put a spell on your taste buds.

Doctor Strange: Mystical Multiverse Tacos

Stephen Strange orders fusion tacos—maybe Korean bulgogi with kimchi slaw, or Indian-inspired tikka tacos. Every bite takes him on a journey through different dimensions of flavor. He eats them with surgical precision, never spilling a drop.

Spider-Man (Peter Parker): Classic NYC Street Tacos

Peter’s tacos are simple, affordable, and delicious—grilled chicken, diced onions, fresh cilantro, and a squeeze of lime. He grabs them from a street vendor between patrols, stuffing them into his mask at super-speed.

Black Panther (T’Challa): Wakandan-Spiced Beef Tacos

T’Challa’s tacos are seasoned with African spices—grilled beef or goat, topped with tangy slaw and a drizzle of piri-piri sauce. Vibranium-infused tortillas? Probably not, but you *know* Shuri has tried to make them.

Ant-Man (Scott Lang): Mini Tacos with Extra Cheese

Scott loves tiny tacos because *of course* he does. Think bite-sized tacos with extra cheese, crispy shells, and a lot of toppings. He probably steals extra from whatever fast food joint he gets them from.

Captain Marvel (Carol Danvers): Tex-Mex Tacos with a Side of Fries

Carol is all about no-fuss comfort food. She goes for cheesy Tex-Mex tacos with ground beef, queso, and a side of fries. If it’s messy and delicious, she’s happy. Also, she’s totally eating them in space.

Winter Soldier/White Wolf (Bucky Barnes): Barbacoa Tacos with Extra Heat

Bucky likes his tacos simple but intense—slow-cooked barbacoa, extra hot sauce, no fuss. He’s not big on fancy toppings, but if Sam sneaks pineapple into his taco, he’ll pretend not to like it (but secretly does).

Falcon (Sam Wilson): Southern-Style Fish Tacos

Sam loves Southern comfort food, so his tacos are crispy catfish with slaw, remoulade, and a little bit of heat. He probably argues with Bucky about whether tacos should have cheese (Sam says no).

Villains and Their Bizarre Taco Choices

Loki: Trickster Tacos That Change Flavors Mid-Bite

Loki’s tacos are unpredictable. One moment it’s steak and salsa, the next it’s peanut butter and jelly. He enchants them so you never know what you’re eating, just to mess with you.

Thanos: Perfectly Balanced Tacos (As All Things Should Be)

Thanos’s tacos are split perfectly down the middle—half steak, half chicken, equal parts salsa and guacamole. He eats them in total silence, contemplating the universe.

Ultron: Prefers Synthetic Food, Thinks Tacos Are Inefficient

Ultron doesn’t eat, but if he did, he’d judge tacos as inefficient food delivery systems. He’d probably vaporize a taco stand just for making a mess.

Red Skull: The Saddest, Most Flavorless Tacos

Red Skull’s tacos are plain boiled chicken on a tortilla. No seasoning. No sauce. Just pure suffering. Even Hydra agents pretend to enjoy them out of fear.

Hela: Bone-In Tacos (Yes, It’s Disturbing)

Hela likes her tacos “with bones,” which is a nightmare concept. Probably slow-cooked ribs without removing the bones, just to make things extra chaotic.

Green Goblin: Pumpkin Spice Tacos (Because He’s a Menace)

Norman Osborn would put pumpkin spice in his tacos and laugh maniacally about it. They’re probably served in neon green tortillas. Absolutely nobody asks for seconds.

Final Thoughts

No matter how you like your tacos, there’s an Avenger (or villain) out there who would probably eat them with you—unless you’re sharing with Loki, in which case good luck.

Who do you think has the best (or worst) taste in tacos? Let me know in the comments!

[pumpkinsy0]

The Shepards opened the first "americanized" Hatian restaurant. Curly does all "the bitch work" like, mop the floors, kick out JDs (he'll do deals with them still but in the back alley) dish washing, stocking (NOT inventory--that's Tim's job. Curly sucks at basic math) and most of all take out the fucking trash. He HATES that so much! and he always works the night shift cause his ass won't be awake before 11 am on a good day.

The Curtis run their mother's Bakery across the street. Ponyboy is a decorator just like their mama was and also works the register. Darry gets annoyed when Curly comes over to flirt and Tim gets in a fit or rage knowing Curly does it on the clock.

They have dinner together, cause that's when Ponyboy gets off work and Curly is on his "lunch" break. Ponyboy brings reject baked goods or extras. Curly likes the Kolashes and Ponyboy always brings him a snickerdoodle or something chocolate and peanut butter. Curly about died when Ponyboy "invented the chocolate peanut butter cupcake with caramel drizzle. Curly will bring fried pork and rice or Fried Turkey with Plantains.

They leave Tulsa and open their own restaurant with baked goods. Have a couple of rugrats, a dog and a few cats and despite all the hardships of owning a business, getting married & raising a family Curly is still the one who has to take out the fucking trash.

HAITIAN SHEPARDS AND PAPERCUT IN MY INBOX YAYAYAYAYAYAY YAHOOOOOO YIPPIEEEE

SOTE POU KÈ KONTAN YAHOOOOOO

tim and angela are taking care of making the foods/desserts since lord knows curly cant be trusted near making food so he HAS to pull his weight and do the other domestic work

sometimes he’d just catch pony staring at him from his shop window while he does and curly would wink and smirk and that absolutely snowballed

they had their first date at each others place they just brought food and just ate it together u cant take this from me

when they opened their restaurant they just made it their own, made their own dishes from dishes theyve known their whole lives and its successful and their known as ‘THAT’ couple in their neighborhood, sometimes curly comes home smelling like ass bc he was dealing w the garbage but as long as curlys still alive n kicking everything will run just fine

and back home the old restaurants r still doin peachy

[strid3rofthen0rth]

The weather turns from 95 and go fuck your hat humidity to 75 and gentle rain, and the brain turns to thoughts of fall food.

Today's pornographic wet dream centers around butternut squash risotto. All creamy and substantial. Standing there stirring for an eternity in anticipation.

Make a brown butter sage sauce to drizzle on there, sexy little minx. Huck some grated pecorino on top, too, maybe a braised country style pork rib if you're feeling extra kinky.

Fuck me.

I try to enjoy the current season as much as possible, whatever it is. No wishing for Halloween or Christmas or ice fishing. That's short changing yourself. Live the whole year.

But food daydreams? Those can't be helped.