#soup of any origin is perfect just throw whatever into a pot

[hobbitsnapes]

the elf in the café chapter 3

A corpse husband story

(I do not own this photo, nor do I know where it originated from. All credit goes to the artist.)

Summary: Never in his life, did he think going to a cafe and meeting a Harry Potter nerd could change his life. (I’m shit at summaries)

A/N: H/N means his name, being that we don’t know what his actual name is currently.

Each day passes by, and neither couldn’t stop texting one another. They’d text at least once a day, whether it be how their day had been, or trying to plan a day to see one another again. Their sleeping schedule was quite similar, but with her waking up early each morning for class. But he’d still get texts from her in the middle of the night, how she managed to do her schoolwork on such little sleep was beyond him.

She chalked it up to having done this for so many years, that she grew used to staying up late at night only to wake early in the morning.

They had finally set a day for the date, the coming Saturday. Nerves wracked him each day it grew closer, but excitement filled him further. He hadn’t felt this excited to have someone over, honestly since David had come by. Since then, he’s had little to nobody come over. Let alone having a date come. Each day that grew closer, the happier he became to seeing her again.

Panic filled him as he scrambled to get the rest of the ingredients ready to throw in the pot. He had decided on trying to make menestra de verduras, a soup he remembered having as a child. He however completely forgot how difficult the dish was to make, when you had never made it and have little to no culinary skills.

A knock was heard at the door, causing him to drop the spoon he had in his hand, splattering sauce all over the floor. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, grabbing his apron and hastily taking it off, wiping away the mess. He ran over to the door, stopping and checking in the mirror to make sure he hadn’t got any on himself. Once he saw there was none, he ran to open the door.

She waited at the door of the apartment, slightly fidgeting with her jacket. She heard a muffled yell,her heart rate increasing.

She waited for about a minute,growing concerned she had red the text wrong and got the wrong apartment.

That was until the door was hastily opened, spotting him in the doorway. He had a smile on his face, his hair slightly pushed back out of his face. Her breath hitched when she saw him, taking notice of his attire. Black pants that were pulled over a dark grey dress shirt, with the sleeves cuffed to about his mid arm. It was a slightly fitted top, showing his toned torso and arms nicely. “Hi.” He chuckled out, sounding slightly out of breath.

He pulled her into a hug,inhaling his smell almost instantly. The smell of pine hitting her nose, making her smile. His warm arms envelope her so comfortably, masking the chill of the night air from her.

They pulled away slightly, arms still around one another. Their faces were close, berry feeling each other’s breathing fan across their faces. They both smiled, growing warmth in the face from the close proximity.

He let her inside, telling her to have a seat on his couch.

He ran back over to the kitchen, ready to chop up a few more of the vegetables. He kept stealing glances at her, his breath catching each time.

He knew from the second he saw her she was beautiful, but tonight, she was breathtaking.

A soft tan floral top was tucked into a black pleated skirt, that hit right above her knee. It sit right at her waist, giving her a very romantic vintage feel. Her legs were covered by flesh colored nylons, black ballet flats covered her feet. Her hair was slightly curled, framing her face perfectly. Her face looked almost bare, but her eyes sparkled as if she had gems in them. Her cheeks were dusted with a soft flush, with the rest of her skin glowing, as if she was being lit with candle light. The only truly noticeable makeup was her lips, painted in a soft, rose red color. Making them look like a freshly budded flower.

Panic sets in him as he rushes to cut the rest of the remaining vegetables, anxiety growing with the sound of the soup boiling. “Fuuckk.” He whispers to himself, seeing the soup burning. He scrambled to shut the burner off, trying his hardest to try and figure out how to salvage the dinner. He should’ve chose something easier, something that he wouldn’t fuck up and ruin the entire night. God why did he even bother trying to-“Hey what’s going on? Everything alright?” She asks, making his heart plummet into his chest. He feels her hand on his shoulder, knowing she can feel him shaking. “Uh-m. Yeah yeah it’s fine, I just kinda burnt the entire thing.” He stammers, giving up on trying to steady his voice. His hands tangle into his hair, pulling the long strands. He wishes he could just disappear, get away from the sheer embarrassment of the situation. “Here let me see.” She says, slightly moving beside him to look at the now ruined soup. Her face slightly falling, dread filling him. She looks up at him, no trace of anger or annoyance in her face. “Here, why don’t I make something tonight? Is that okay?” She asks, her voice smooth and calming. “Uh, sure. I’m so sorry.” “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, now, I have an idea of something I can whip up.” His heart slightly calms down at her words, no longer worrying about ruining the entire night. “Alright, I’m gonna need milk, flour, pees and some kind of fish. Salmon is best for this.” She says, walking over and opening some of the food cupboards. He runs to grab the supplies, knowing he has all of those.

In less than 30 minutes, dinner was plated and ready. He watched her in amazement as she whizzed around the room, effortlessly making the entire dinner like it was second nature. Not once did he see any panic, or rush in her. It’s like she had done this for forever, knowing exactly what to do so easily.

They both sat on the couch, pulling the table closer for them. He let out a small moan at the taste, a smile on his face as he ate. It was shockingly amazing, way better than the disaster he was gonna make for them both. “This is amazing.” He says, causing a smile on her face. “Thanks, it’s an old recipe that I’ve made countless times over the years.” She chuckled, watching as he eats smiling. “Where'd you learn it?” He asks. “It’s a really common recipe in New England, that’s actually where I’m from. I grew up primarily in both New Hampshire and Vermont.” “Wow, so then what made you come to San Diego?” He asks,watching as she let out a small sigh. “School mostly, and to get away from, some people.” He can hear the sadness in her voice, his heart panging slightly.

“That was so amazing, thank you.” He says, watching as she chuckles as she dried the bowls. “You’ve said that like 4 times tonight.” “And I’m gonna keep saying it cause it was amazing.” He laughs, causing her to throw her head back in laughter.

They both settle in on the couch, sitting beside one another. “Uh, I don’t really watch TV, so we’ve really only got my laptop to watch stuff. Is that okay?” He asks, looking over at her. “That’s perfectly fine cause I don’t watch TV either.” She laughs.

“Alright so I’ve got Netflix, Hulu, and prime. What’s something you’d like?” He asks, setting his laptop up in front of them. “Uh, are you into horror movies?” She asks. “I like them.” He chuckles. “Okay so do you wanna watch a classic, hack and slash, paranormal, or psychological?” Age asks, a smile on her face. “Whatever you like, I’m fine with anything you’d want.” He asks, a smirk on his face. He watched as she flushed, smiling at her. “Psychological it is then.”

“That was, what?” He asks, watching as the credits roll. They had gotten closer throughout the movie, no longer with a small bit of space between them like they started. Their legs and sides touched, facing the laptop. His arm later behind her, after a while of toying with the idea and barely moving his arm, he finally built up the courage and placed his hand over her shoulder, letting out a breath when she smiled and scooted closer to him. Letting him put his arm over her. Both of their faces flushed.

“Did you not like it?” She asks, looking up at him. “No i did, it just was kinda weird. What was the name of it again?” “The school. It’s one of my favorites because of how different it is. And you gotta remember, I’m in school to become a Behavioral psychologist. It’s in my nature to like these kinda movies.” “Hm, at least there’s one smart one here.” He chuckles, pulling her in closer. “You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for.” She chuckles. “Oh yeah, how can you tell?” He asks, looking down at her. She looks at him with her eyebrows raised, a small smirk on her face. “Oh yeah.” He laughs, realization setting in. Causing both of them to laugh.

“So now, do you need a PHD to become a psychologist?” “In the state of California, yes. You also need 3,000 hours of supervised experience, 1,500 which can be pre-doctoral. I started college when I was 17, completing my bachelors when I was 20. Now I’ve only got about 5 more years until I’m finished with my PhD which is another word for a Doctorate.” “Well damn, miss smarty pants. Got everything don’t ya.” He says, making her look at him in question. “Got not only brains but beauty.” He says, making her flush and shove her head into his chest, causing him to laugh as he pulls her in further.

They both sat on the couch with another movie playing, neither one paying any attention to it. They both had opened a bottle of wine he had for some time, deciding to have a glass. He had it for years, always saying he’ll leave it for a special occasion. Well tonight seemed like the perfect night for it.

Neither were drunk or even tipsy, maybe a slight buzz. But it did help to wash away any small ounce of awkwardness between them. He slightly opened up more, cracking jokes with ease and making her laugh so hard she had to use the bathroom 3 times.

“And the movies over. I can’t even remember what it was.” He laughs, watching as the credits finish. “I honestly don’t even think we picked anything. I think we just clicked on it and used it for background noise.” She laughed. “Well then, what do you wanna do?” He asks, arms folded comfortably over himself, the same smirk planted on his face. “Well, there is something I love doing.” She says, a smile on her face.

Both laughed out loudly as they moved around the room, arms around one another as they tried keeping up with the song. They tried keeping in beat with the song playing in the beginning, but giving up halfway through.

He has been leading it for the most part, having loved dancing for years. But not doing it in years, and having a good buzz on him, made his moves a little worse than he remembered. But neither cared as they moved around the room, laughing as they sang along to the song. The song came to an end, both stoping with their movements momentarily. “Wait, I know the perfect one.” He says, running over to the laptop. He types in something, then runs down the hall out of the living room. She wondered if he’s lost his mind and ran off. That is until she hears the beginning of the song, letting out a laugh. “Just take those old records off the shelf!” He sings, sliding across the floor in his socks, making her clutch her stomach in laughter as he recreates the scene perfectly. Using a hairbrush as the makeshift microphone. He breaks after a few lines, falling over laughing. She runs over to him, bending down to see if he’s okay. She can’t help but fall over laughing with him, him pulling her in closer as they both wheeze out laughing on the floor.

“That was, oh my god.” He laughs, barely able to catch his breath from his laughter as they sit down. They danced for another hour, barely able to contain their laughter as tears fell down their faces. “God I haven’t had that much fun in, I can’t even remember.” She laughs, her head resting on his shoulder.

She lets out a small yawn, trying to cover it with her hand. “It’s getting pretty late.” He says, his voice hoarse due to laughter. “Yeah it is, but, there’s something I’ve been waiting for all week.” She says, making him look at her in question. Until he remembers, a smile breaking on his face. “Oh yeah I forgot, you still want me to say batman or snape lines.” He chuckles. She sits up, her eyes wide as she smiles. He can’t help but smile at the excitement on her face. “Alright fine. But you better feel lucky, I’ve had so many people ask me this and I’ve refused for forever.” “Well that’s not the only reason why I’m lucky.” She says, making him flush. “Alright, I’m guessing you want me to say the obvious one.” He says, making her nod her head in excitement. He lets out a small cough, taking in a breath. “I’m Batman.” He says in his most serious voice. Making both throw their heads back in laughter. “That was, that was perfect hun.” She laughs, her face falling in realization when she realized what she said. Her heart plummets to the bottom of her stomach. “Hey it’s okay, I kinda like it.” He chuckles.

“Okay what’s another one you want?” “Hm, how about your best snape you can.” She asks. He coughs again, reading his voice. “Mister Potter.” He says, trying his best to try and emulate the potion Professor. Making her laugh at his struggle to match the accent. “That one was really bad.” He chuckles. “No it wasn’t, tire doing such a good job.” She laughs. “You’ve got the perfect voice for both, although I do prefer your own voice over each of them.” She says, a flush to her face. “Oh yeah?” He asks, changing his voice slightly to have a more flirty tone. He watched as she flushed harder, trying to cover her face in her hands. “So you like when I talk like this?” He asks, the same tone but with a smirk on his face. He chuckles as she completely covers her face in her palms, shaking her head yes. “Then I’ve got one that you’ll really like. Come here.” He says, pulling her into his side. He looks down at her, watching as she removes her face from her hands. He has a smile on his face as he looks at her. “What up baby?” He says, making her slightly squeal out and bury her face in his chest. Making him laugh as she burrows her head into him. Wrapping his arms around her as he shakes from laughter.

“Tonight was amazing, thank you so much.” She says. Both of their arms around one another as they stand at the door.

It was extremely late at night, neither realizing how late it was until they checked the time. Neither wanted to leave, wishing they could stay in the small bubble they created that night. “Are you sure you can drive home? I can call a cab or an Uber-“ “I’m fine hun, it’s been hours and I only had a glass and a half of wine. I’ll make it home safely. Trust me, I’m really careful.” She says, a hand resting on his cheek. He can’t help but smile at her, wishing so bad to pull her back inside and having her stay. “Alright, text me or even call me when you can.” “I’ll call you when I get home okay? Now get some sleep, I can tell this past week it’s a habit of yours not to get much.” “How did you, oh wait I forgot again. Damnit.” He laughs, making her chuckle. “Yeah, can’t fool someone like me.” She teases. “Alright fine, but I’ll be waiting for that call before I even lay down.” He says, making her smile. He pulls her in for another hug, his heart beating out of his chest when he feels her soft lips press a kiss into the side of his jaw.

She pulls away with a smile, watching as his face flushes a deep red with a dumbfounded smile on his face. “Bye hun.” She says, walking away from the door, his eyes watching her until she’s out of sight. His fingers lightly touching the spot from her lips, pulling them back and seeing the small bit of red on his fingers. He runs over to his bathroom, looking in the mirror and seeing the mark of her lips on his jaw, a smile grows on his face.

He sits in his bed with his phone in his hands, checking the time every few seconds. Anxiety builds in him the longer the time goes by, only growing stronger the longer he waits. What if she didn’t make it back? Is she okay? Oh god he should’ve just asked her to stay, what if something hap-his thoughts were interrupted when his phone rings, her contact shining on the screen. Relief fills him as he answers the phone, a large breath leaving him. “Hey I’m sorry it took so long. It usually doesn’t take more than 20 minutes but there was a good amount of traffic in my way.” She says, he can hear her as she exits her car and walk up to her door. He can hear as she unlocks her door, hearing as she walks in. Her flats tap lightly against her hard floor, the sound comforting him. “Hey it’s alright, I’m just glad you made it home safely.” “You don’t have to worry about that, I’m a really, careful driver.” He lays his head down on his pillows, his eyes growing heavy. “Good, thank you for calling me. You really didn’t have to.” “But I wanted to, I knew that you’d be worrying if I made it back home safely.” He chuckles at this. “God you can really read me.” “Well I mean you do let me.” She chuckles, making him smile. “I guess I do.” He says, his voice lowering in volume due to his tiredness. “Why don’t you sleep? I can hear how tired you are.” She says, her voice calming hun further. “Alright, I’ll get some sleep. Thank you again.” “It’s no problem hun, why don’t you call me when you’re up okay? I don’t have classes tomorrow.” “Alright, I’ll call you in the morning, I hope you had a good night tonight.” He says, hearing her chuckle. “I did, have a good night hun, sweet dreams.”

[quidfree]

prompt: tdbk in a post-apocalyptic setting (HEHEH)

self-servicing AND a helping hand to a friend in need, we love a good strat

this got incredibly out of hand but i hope you enjoy!!

--

it’s been two months and five days since he last saw someone that katsuki lays eyes on him. two months and five days, and yes, he is fucking keeping score, why wouldn’t he be?

two months and five days is long. two months and five days is long enough that he’s taken up the habit of muttering to himself to fill the air, because dead silence makes him paranoid, always expecting sudden interruption, and he chooses to ignore the fact that muttering to himself is a quirk he might have picked up elsewhere. jesus. if deku, scrawny and asthmatic and perennially, psychotically self-sacrificing, is somehow still alive, he thinks he might be glad to see him again, just out of sheer disbelief.

there’s other people he’d be glad to see. perfect timing, for the zombie apocalypse to erupt right when he’d been on a summer internship in tokyo. to think the old crone had been bitching about it before he’d left- don’t get mugged on the underground, all that shit. like he was some hare-brained tourist. like people didn’t expect him to mug them. whatever. he thinks his parents are safer, out in a smaller city, than anyone has been in tokyo, tells himself it’s not blind hope that makes him explain the radio silence away. it’s statistics, and the geography of the outbreak, and the memory of his mother beating a would-be pickpocket over the head with her shoe until he passed out.

six months ago he’d first walked into his cramped rental flat in tokyo, barely the space to unroll his mat. six days later the pandemic had begun. slowly, first, confusingly, two weeks of shadowing jeanist to court and back while the news got increasingly weirder, and then by the third things took a turn for the fucked, and his parents were calling frantically telling him to come home stat, but by then it was too late. tokyo’s the new york of japan- in sci-fi movies it’s always struck first. the city was on lockdown before he could so much as book a flight out.

that was five months ago. by four and a half his phone carrier service had gone dead.

he doesn’t like to linger on anything, but he especially doesn’t like to linger on what happened between the start and the middle of it, the slow descent from incomprehending disbelief into hell on earth. he doesn’t throw the term around- not one for flowery prose. for the first while there’d been something almost rewarding to it, the whole survival strategy, him and the interns and lawyers at jeanist’s office taking scope of their resources and planning their ways out. now it’s been two months and five days since he’s run into anyone alive, he fails to see the bright side.

the media called them the infected, or the walkers, or some other dumb shit, but everyone knows they’re zombies. it’s some kind of chemical weapon- americans, if you ask him- that’s mutated them, but they’re zombies by anyone’s definition. lumbering, decaying, dead, very keen on extending the invitation. the first time he’d seen one up close- whatever. he’d killed it. he’s killed so many by now he’s lost count, and that’s not an exaggeration. these days he’s not so big on those.

the office had been overrun, in the end. some of the other interns, panicking. bitten. dead. jeanist had held them off while katsuki dragged hysterical staffers out of the window, and the last he’s seen of the man he was catching his unflappable gaze as the doors burst open and jeanist slammed the window shut.

they’d scattered. maybe he would have stayed on, tried the group thing out of a sense of responsibility alone, but there were too many subgroups for him to rotate around. he’d split off, eventually, cut his losses. sometimes he catches someone he recognises walking the streets, wonders when and how and what. he’s still never seen jeanist. he thinks probably he offed himself.

if it ever comes to it that’s what he’s doing. he has a gun ready for it. one bullet. in the apartment he’d stayed in for a while, some forensic doctor’s place, he’d studied the angle that worked best. straight through the temples, angled down.

then there had been that thing with the league. he doesn’t want to think about that, but he does, constantly, because that’s how he knows. two months and five days. the last person he spoke to was that fucking girl.

like zombies weren’t enough- criminals who fancy themselves cultists roam the streets in packs. it’s like every shitty blockbuster movie he’s never bothered to see packed into one.

two months. five days. there’s no way of communicating with the outside world. after he’d shaken off the league he’d had jack shit on him- lost his bag in the initial fight, and his apartment was a lost cause. in the end he’d made his way back to the firm, but that had been a literal dead end too. he’d managed to retrieve, of all things, his phone, skirting the streets around the firm, probably dropped in their original escape. it’s functionally useless but he’s managed to charge it once or twice, stare at old photos and texts that fail to send. he has nothing else of his own except the clothes he’d worn that last day with jeanist.

he’s remade his belongings, obviously. he’s competent, as it turns out, in apocalypses. somehow it doesn’t surprise him. he works out a routine. when he’d first found a hole to burrow himself in post-league he’d spent days just picking up patterns- when, who, from where, how. once he was entirely sure he’d gotten it down to a science he’d risked it back out, mapping the area out incrementally, one rotation at a time. two months and five days in he has it down to an art instead.

he moved regularly for the first month post-league, avoiding anywhere that seemed inhabited by zombies and people alike. can’t trust anyone, and besides it’s way too much of a liability having other people around to get themselves bitten. he can look after himself, but he’s not signing up for charity work. by the second month he’d found his current address, the top floor of a mid-rise apartment complex in meguro city. apartment complexes are risky, but this one’s door locks are still functional, and once he’d cleared out the ground floor and made the rounds to check for stragglers he’d wagered it about as secure as it could get. the stairs are a bitch, but the zombies don’t like them either, preferring to straggle in lobbies, and for another thing the height is convenient. the roof’s close by for a way out, and it gives him a good view of the surroundings.

the apartment itself is nothing special. residential. he picked the cleanest one, which also meant the one half-moved out in a hurry. he pretends like he thinks the owners got out but he spotted a suitcase with their name abandoned in the elevator. the guy was a teacher at the university. the woman was in sales. it’s decent for a tokyo flat, two bedrooms, a bathroom, good kitchen, nice living area. the fridge had been full of expired goods, but the shelves had some cans in them- soup, rice, beans. pots and pans. he’s been working through the floors of the place one room at a time taking inventory, lugging the useful shit back up. nothing beyond the strictly practical- he takes food, medecine, clothes, someone’s watch once, binoculars. he’s not making a home for himself, just stocking up. he sleeps with his bag on his back, the essentials locked and loaded. the gun was an apartment find too.

his biggest problem is transport. he recognised this early on, because so could anyone with half a brain. tokyo’s teeming with public transports overrun by the undead, cars abandoned on the streets, but the actual streets are packed day in and day out. whatever movie said zombies hate the sun was full of shit, because as far as he can tell the only time they actually react to the weather is when it rains. all night and day they’re shuffling in tireless motions around the city, gaining numbers. there’s a rhythm to it, sure- they’re more sluggish at night- but it’s an incessant flow. he can’t drive a car, has found no convenient manual stored nearby, and google went and croaked on him when the electricity did, so there’s no way he can just take advantage of a lull and jump in. by the time he’s figured out how to get any given vehicle to start he’ll be surrounded. even if he could find a way in, there’s no way out- driving through streets packed with zombies is a doomed exercise, especially given that half of the cars in the city are busted or low on fuel.

his current plan involves boats. he’s not sure if zombies can swim yet, but they don’t like the rain so he’s betting no, and even if they do they’d fare no better than a human at climbing a boat from the waters below it. if he can make it to tokyo bay somehow- at least off the coast there’ll be room to manoeuvre. but he needs to figure out the basics of ship-operating first, and also to relocate his supplies nearer to the bay somehow. if he ends up on the open seas he’ll need the food to last him the journey.

so he’s been doing this. rounds, collecting shit. taking inventory. scoping the streets out. he spends the nights planning, the early mornings reading. there’s no power in the building. it’s freezing. six months since his internship, winter rolling in. if he gets to tokyo bay the waters will be frigid, but the sea doesn’t freeze over.

his biggest concern at the moment is hypothermia, if he’s being honest. he’s collected every fucking duvet in the building, it feels like, but there’s only so much he can bury himself under. he’d be warmer if he didn’t insist on bathing in melted snow, but he went so long without washing in autumn that he fucking refuses to waste the opportunity. he smells like some ridiculous apple berry blast bullshit because he’s cycling through shampoos, but sometimes he thinks he’s only sane when he’s brushing his teeth in the mornings so he’s not about to let up on the hygiene.

three and a half months ago he was meant to be back at school. he has no idea what’s happened to his classmates. most of them were home for the summer. he thinks yaoyorozu was abroad. lucky her. kirishima was the last he heard from, all suppressed terror, and even now it makes him feel sick to think about it, because he knows full well the asshole was scared for him. sometimes he thinks about what it would have been like facing this shit as a group, but he never dwells on it. he’s better off alone.

he’s cold. he’s tired. he needs to get to the nearest library, because no one in the building has shit about boats. he doesn’t want to leave the building yet, but he needs a book. can’t go into this shit blind, not without knowing what he’ll need once he gets there. and besides he needs to stay sharp on the streets- get back into the swing of it, literally. one month since he moved in and he’s barely seen a zombie in the rotting flesh. the doors have been holding up, and he’s far up enough that none of the regulars outside can smell him, decide to unionize and break the door down.

he’s had an assortment of weapons, since the start of this. most effective was the gun, also a heavy chair once. his trusty hockey stick had snapped on his way into the building, a month ago, leaving him to fend the last three tenants off with goldfish bowls and doors to the neck. he’s found a sturdy baseball bat since that he’s claimed as new weapon of choice, though never used. he takes this, when he goes. the bat, the backpack that never leaves his back, the longest coat he can find in his collection. not the heaviest, despite the biting cold, because that restrains movement, but the longest, to minimize contact. hat and gloves for the same reason. balaklava just for the cold.

the apartment is empty as he winds his way down, footsteps loud, and it’s dusk- just late enough that the zombies are slower, though not late enough that it really makes a difference. it’s be too dark if it were; he’s trying to save flashlights for real emergencies.

the setagaya library is the only actual library near him, as the maps inform him, but too far to risk. in the address book he finds a local bookshop three blocks away, and it’s there that he heads, already cold to the bone as he grits his teeth and locks the complex door assiduously behind him. there are zombies just across the street beginning to moan in his direction. he ignores them, breaking into a jog.

maybe because their blood doesn’t flow to their brains, maybe because their muscles are deteriorating: zombies aren’t incredibly fast or incredibly intelligent. what they are is resilient, and single-minded. but outrun them and outsmart them he can, and so he does- runs the paths he’s memorized, sticks to corners and shadows and scales ladders and crosses rooftops and just about manages to get to the street in question without even having to swing his bat.

once he gets there, though, he gets swinging. the bookshop is in an unfortunate position, and there’s an entire group parked in front of it. he lets them spot him first, so they break off in his direction, then climbs onto the overturned truck they’ve shifted to and springs back down into the doorframe of the bookshop, kicking the door in before they can register his itinerary. he slams it shut just before a greying hand scratches at it in outrage, heart pounding a steady tattoo, then glances around rapidly. no sign of life, but that means nothing.

there is, then, an unmistakable jingling sound from the very back corner of the room, behind rows and rows of antique-looking books. keys, or metal on metal. movement.

company, katsuki thinks, between anticipation and trepidation. his bat sits comfortably in his hands as he raises it.

jingling, closer, and he moves in on instinct, breathing feeling loud as he brushes past the anthropology section. he can just about see around the corner when a sudden sixth sense makes him whip around, bat swinging down heavily, and just in the nick of time- wood connects with metal, hard, knocking him back a pace as his teeth snap together from the impact, but he’s swinging again in self-defense just as there’s a sharp intake of breath and his brain catches up- red, white, painfully familiar. the bat makes an aborted spasm.

“bakugou,” shouto todoroki says, in disbelieving tones, crowbar lowered but not dropped. katsuki gapes.

“am i fucking hallucinating?”

the crowbar lowers further.

it is him, unmistakably. maybe with someone else he would have hesitated longer, but todoroki's hard not to single out. his red-white hair is tousled, long behind his ears like he's absently tucked it and forgotten about it, and he's grimy, smells sour and dusty, but it's him. katsuki's own hands stay gripped around the bat, their gazes playing some odd symmetrical game as they catalogue each other for the same exact thing- looking for bite-marks. todoroki's less covered than katsuki is, but there's blood on him, old, dried. too old for recent bites, anyways. inconclusive.

"what are you doing in-" todoroki starts, maybe having concluded that there's no way to assess his status with the layers he has on, but then his frown twists. "oh. your internship?"

which answers katsuki's own question, sort of, because now that he thinks of it enji was on that high-profile murder case in the high court. still- still, his brain is stuck on the incongruity of it, shouto todoroki in the apparently living flesh, and it's been two months and five days. he just keeps staring.

"i came for a book," is what leaves his lips, eventually, rough, and his voice sounds hoarse with disuse. it jars him into action, moving past todoroki on auto-pilot, because somehow he can't quite register his presence, doesn't know where to begin. he wasn't factoring this into his day.

it's dark inside, books hard to discern, so he gets his flashlight out, hits it against a shelf so it alights. there's a section on travel near the back. nautical travels of the eastern seas. useless. a map book of the japanese seas- maybe. he mechanically slides it into his bag. his fingers feel rigid. he's still cold. what the fuck is shouto todoroki doing holed up in a bookstore? where is his father? how long has he been here? what is he doing, alive, talking, walking, in the apocalypse, ambling into katsuki's routine with a crowbar in hand?

he can't see or hear him at all. now he's back here he can tell the ringing was rigged up- tiny trap-wires set around the store, what looks like fishing wire with bells attached. smart. of course it is. he's losing his mind. where has the bastard gone? is he even here? it's fucking freezing in the bookstore. where does he sleep? he hadn't looked starving. actually he hadn't looked anything- just blank as usual, barring the surprise. fuck! he's been staring at the same book for a good thirty seconds without registering the title.

beginner's guide to boating. miraculous. he nearly breaks todoroki's kneecaps when he sees his legs appear silently next to him.

"fuck! don't sneak up on me, you asshole!"

"boats," todoroki says. "that's your plan?"

it makes him flare hot with something like rage, because he doesn't fucking want input on it, doesn't want to be told odds, and it has him on his feet, slamming todoroki back into the opposite bookshelf within seconds.

"mind your own damn business!"

todoroki seems mildly startled at best, shifting a little so a book isn't digging into his neck, and for a moment katsuki is distracted by the scalding warmth of him under his arm. he doesn't know when he last came into contact with a living body. it's disorienting. he thinks probably it was the senior partner who fell down the stairs, minutes before the zombies swarmed the lobby, pulse skittering frantically with fear.

he drops todoroki, steps back. two months five days. maybe he's gone a little crazy.

whatever! whatever. he's fully functioning, he has his book, he's leaving. he's going to be off-schedule at this rate, times gone muddy with distraction. even without touching him he feels like there's residue warmth on his palm, making the rest of him shiver by contrast. if the zombies could have just gotten properly active in summer...

he's halfway to the door when he remembers- again- todoroki is actually there, watching him inscrutably from the bookshelf, swaying a little on his feet. despite himself he turns to stare back. he doesn't know what to- this wasn't in the plan, he doesn't know. he's going anyways.

it's because he's staring-cum-glaring at todoroki that he sees his eyes widen, and then he's leaping forwards on instinct as the window in the door shatters, decaying arm bursting through as loud moaning suddenly fills the dead silence.

"shit!"

"it's because there's two of us," todoroki reasons, in a tone like he's annoyed with himself for not realising this, which would make katsuki feel marginally better about his own stupid lack of thought if he wasn't so pissed. he'd counted on the zombies losing interest on his presence once he was out of sight, but the smell of two live humans in close proximity would obviously keep some of them near.

"is there another way out of this place?"

"back entrance, but it leads into a dead-end alley," todoroki retorts, suddenly functioning, eyeing the creaking door as thumping intensifies from the other side. "there's a way to scale onto the drain-pipe above but it wasn't made to take two people's weight."

"shit," katsuki curses, feelingly. "where's the drain-pipe lead?"

"roof. i don't know if either of us could scale it fast enough for the other to follow before they get there."

katsuki looks at him, crouched calmly stacking something or other into a loose duffel bag, rusty crowbar by his feet, then looks back to the groaning door. his gut tightens with a sort of pissed off fatalism.

"how long 'd it take you to get to the roof? five minutes?"

"i could do it in three, maybe less," todoroki estimates. "it's slower with the frost."

three minutes. katsuki hoists the bat higher, takes a step then two back from the door.

"fine. go. i'll follow."

"bakugou-"

"it's the most logical fucking plan of action," katsuki snaps, eyes still on the door, adrenaline spiking. "if you get up there before i get outside i can make it to the drainpipe before anyone nabs me. i can hold them off for three fucking minutes. and you're the one who knows the way up. you go."

"i know," todoroki says, which makes katsuki glance back at him, finds his face set with nothing but fixed determination. "i was going to say to give me your bag. it'll make it easier to climb."

there's something about this that makes katsuki's head briefly thud with something like a pounding headache, lungs gone tight, but he refocuses, blinks away the dizzy spell. the last fucking thing he wants is to give the bag away, but unless the plan goes as hoped he's dead anyways, so there's no point in arguing.

he shrugs his backpack off, slides the gun out, shoves it into his back pocket. todoroki fastens the straps around his shoulders without comment, then turns and runs, not wasting any time. it makes something in him-

the door breaks in.

there's five of them at least, the ones from before. the first one goes down with a direct hit to the head, skull caving in with a crunching sound, but he has to retreat immediately, make them spread out of their pack formation as he zig-zags back through the rows of books. they're slower than humans but not slow, breaking into a fast paced shuffle after him; he turns a sharp corner, doubles back as fast as he can to catch a second one from behind. crack, snap. the one in front lunges back before he can swing again, sending him running back; he jumps onto the seller's counter, dodging an arm, then brings the bat down full-force onto the zombie's neck. three. there's another one nearing the broken door, the other two circling back to the front at the commotion. he jumps over the counter, ducking under an arm, knocks into the nearest bookshelf with all of his weight, sending it sprawling towards the door, books flying and frame landing awkwardly across the doorframe. it doesn't block entry, but it befuddles the would-be incomers.

there's an arm grabbing his shoulder; he dodges a gaping mouth, bat spinning to hit at the rotting jaw, once, twice, bones splintering decisively on the second hit, but the last straggler is on him and the others are crawling in through the door. he runs, down to the back of the store, nearly trips over todoroki's traps himself as he goes, miraculously jumps clean of them as his pursuers stumble. it gives him the seconds to jump up to the back portion of the shop, grab a nearby chair and throw it at the advancing huddle, knocking them back a step, then turn sharply into a row, sprinting down to the back of the room where the emergency exit sign hangs half-broken. it's closed, likely behind todoroki, but he slams through it before any of the zombies near, staggers at the sharp gust of cold air that hits once he's out. the sun is nearly set, casting a red haze over the alley, and there's a pack of six zombies right beneath the glinting drainpipe, still trailing after todoroki's scent, moaning around the corner signalling backup. fuck.

there's a loud scraping from above, then todoroki's head appears over the edge of the roof, something grey and unwieldy in his hands; a satellite dish comes falling down, catching speed as it goes. it hits the pack dead-centre, crushing two of the zombies into pieces on impact, others reeling backwards in confusion, and he doesn't have the time to question his odds four-on-one. he runs in while they're still dazed, beats one into the wall, head splattering, turns and swings into the second as it zeroes in on him, head collapsing inward and drenching him in blood. the other two are too close to hit; he twists, jumps back, curses, eyes the alley entry where others have scented blood. fucking- no, two on one, god, he's not dying two on one, not after the bullshit he's been through. he kicks heavily into the one's chest, just missing the hand trying to nab his ankle, which sends it knocking into the other, and like that they're just aligned enough that he yells and slams the bat through the first one's head, in three rapid blows, hitting the one behind it on the third as bits of skull go flying. it's not enough to take it out; he hits again, manic, and it gets him on the second go. then he's scrambling to the drain pipe, mindful of the others closing in, shoves his bat down the back of his shirt and under his waistband before he throws himself at the drainpipe.

"brace against the wall," todoroki calls, almost in the moment he does so, hands slip-sliding on the damp pipe as his boots hit concrete; there are arms nearing, outstretched, but he bunches his stomach and drags himself up, feet first then arms, side of his arm scraping heavily against the wall as he moves almost horizontally upwards, fingers clenched around metal. the fucking gloves are no help; he pauses, braced and shaking with tension, to rip his gloves off with his teeth, one hand then the next, dropping to the floor below as his bare palms hit the freezing metal.

he's so cold it hurts, but he's halfway up the wall. methodically he moves. one foot. other foot. one hand. other hand. stomach muscles, straining, arms pulling. up a fraction. then another. then another.

"wait," todoroki says, closer than he feels, and he glances up for the first time, finds him an arm and a half's length away. "you'll slide at the top."

"then what the fuck do you suggest i do?" katsuki bites, half a yell, too strained to scream. todoroki leans, heavy, arms outstretched.

"do one more. then take my hand."

katsuki wishes he could spit on him. todoroki's expression has gone tight like he knows what he's thinking, like he's not sure katsuki won't let himself fall all the way down rather than put himself into the uncalloused hands of shouto todoroki.

the pipe creaks. katsuki moves up, ignores the way his blood boils, eyes the outstretched hands. he can hear todoroki breathing, hot against the cold air.

"drop me and i'll turn you."

he braces. one hand leaves the pipe, and for a godawful moment he's grasping at nothing. their hands connect, rearrange themselves; todoroki has a death-like grip on his wrist. his foot slides. the second hand is thrown rather than extended, and todoroki's eyes flash alarmingly as their fingers brush and miss, but he doesn't fall, hangs there by an arm for a heartbeat, jolt like he's dislocated his shoulder before his boot catches something and he shoves upwards, todoroki grabbing hold of his hand and yanking full-body at him.

katsuki falls over the top of the roof in disjointed movements, the both of them half-hitting each other as momentum carries them down, lands with an elbow in todoroki's stomach and a hit of tile to the jaw.

his head spins; he shoves up immediately, falls back down when his arms protest, adrenaline pounding hysterically. his limbs are shaking with belated exertion. todoroki is still holding his wrists, punishingly tight, his breaths heavy nearby. his body is still hot beneath him.

he scrabbles backwards, onto his knees, todoroki dropping his hands and dragging himself up to his elbows. for a moment they stare at each other, panting loudly.

he wants to yell at him but the words don't come. two months, five days. it's not even todoroki's fault, really. he was living there unperturbed. there's a flush of exertion over his cheeks now, and maybe he's just gone crazy what with the constant thinking about unbeating hearts but he feels a little obsessively interested in the visible flow of blood beneath his skin, wants him pink all over if that'll prove him living a minute longer.

he shakes himself, exhales in a burst.

"are you all right?" todoroki asks, and up close katsuki realises his voice is hoarser too. in the shop he'd been too dumbstruck to register it, but it's there beneath his normal cadence, a scratchy undertone. he hasn't spoken in a while either. something about it-

all right, he'd asked. unbitten, he means. katsuki shakes his head.

"we need to get going."

he hadn't meant the 'we', but he thinks at some point when todoroki's fingers dug into his arm hard enough to pierce flesh the message had gotten under his skin too. they're not fucking splitting up now. of course they're not. this isn't model un or a baseball match; it doesn't matter that the guy drives him insane. and this is todoroki, too- excruciatingly hyper-competent at every challenge life throws at him. if there's anyone less likely to rely on katsuki for the next however-long until one of them is forced to shoot the other, he hasn't met them.

"where?"

"my place. 's not far. how d'you get down from here?"

"the next building over has a fire-escape."

"fine. let's go then."

todoroki hands him back his backpack. he hits his bat against the wall to shake some bits of bone and flesh off, eyes unfocused on the task. he thinks desensitisation is the word. it's maybe the third or fourth time he's fought them off without registering anything about them once. usually he gets stuck on some detail or other, schoolgirl shirt or smile wrinkles. freckles. proof of life. there's that movie he watched once with kirishima and the rest of them, some kind of sci-fic thing, and at the end when the monsters come the dad shoots his whole family dead to spare them. turns out it's the military instead, come to rescue them. kirishima had cried.

questions pile up in his throat. he forces them down.

they jump from the rooftop to the next with relative ease, the gap narrow, his foot just catching on the edge before he rights himself. the fire escape is solid where the drain pipe wasn't. he wonders how in the fuck todoroki ended up here, in some old bookstore.

he's gotten good at scaling shit. he thinks in another life he'd have made a top-grade gymnast, or a superhero. when he'd broken out of the league's hold he'd made a spiderman worthy leap onto a clothes-line.

they make it back to the apartment as the sun vanishes, late, and because they're late his perfect scheduling is off, leaves them facing a pack of easily a dozen zombies swarming around the doors. there's another way in through the side, but it requires forcing a door open that he doesn't have keys for, and that means an entry-risk.

"i'll clear a way to the door," he says, hoisting his bat higher. "you keep them off my back."

todoroki follows his gaze, nods.

they advance in the dark, close together, and it's bizarre having someone breathing down his neck after so long, makes him on edge, expecting a bite that never comes. when the first zombie starts turning their way he breaks into a run, brings the bat down fast and heavy so it connects with a sick thud, flashlight clicking to life where he holds it between his teeth. it blinds one zombie long enough that he gets it too, and then it's chaos, flashlight swinging drunkenly as he batters this way and that, fighting off the clawing arms with irate kicks and loud swearing. if there's one thing he fucking loathes about the apocalypse it's how touchy-feely everyone is, all endlessly grasping hands and drooling maws straining for a piece of him. it makes his skin crawl, which makes him see red, which makes him go through fights like this, all furious movement, too keyed up to feel afraid. he never goes into a fight expecting to lose.

behind him, around him, wet crunching and moans track todoroki closing the pack; in off-beat synchronisation they move their way through the group, dropping bodies as they go. he's by the door before he knows it, light catching the heavy glass, switches the bat to one hand as he drags out the keys. the first time he'd gotten in the door had been open; his luckiest find since was the functioning key, sealing him out of harm's way. he's efficient with it, no fumbling, has it in and open in the time todoroki exhales sort of shortly as their backs connect. bakugou yanks the key out in the same movement he grabs blindly at todoroki's collar with his bat-holding hand, hooking a finger to swing him through the door and diving after him to slam the door shut on a wrist, bone snapping and the hand falling limply to the floor as they put their weight on the door for as long as it takes him to lock it again.

todoroki's crowbar is sopping red, guts in his hair; he casts a look around, doesn't even ask if katsuki thinks the door will hold, if katsuki has thought of their scent luring zombies in. most people would have.

he has, obviously. thought of it. that's why he lives on the top floor. the scent doesn't linger. doesn't matter if there's two of them up there. the door holds for as long as the stragglers press up against it, but as soon as they're out of sight the zombies will drift again.

they make their way up the stairs. he's warmer now, purely from the exercise. heat rises. another reason he lives at the top. doesn't feel like it when he's freezing his ass off at night, but he knows his science.

they make it to the top floor in silence, and he pushes his door open (unlocked, this one, because by the point anyone reaches him up here he'll be long gone), goes for the camping lamp on the floor, trudges along with it in hand. remembers his houseguest.

"kitchen's there. there's a bathroom. two rooms. living room. no power or running water but i have some water in the bathtub if you want to wash."

"it's nice," todoroki says, and the worst thing is he sounds like he means it, almost politely. it makes katsuki stop dead to look at him, struck again by how unreal it all feels, but it almost feels reassuringly normal, staring at todoroki in disbelief. in the bad lighting he looks otherworldly, even despite the filth and zombie gunk he's covered in, all half-lit and angelic like something out of a hazy dream.

"i can't fucking believe it's actually you, half 'n half."

it escapes him unthinkingly, but it's true, and besides that it has the unforeseen consequence of making todoroki's composure fracture, shoulders rising and falling on a mute laugh, exhausted wryness in the tilt of his head. for a split second his gaze is dizzyingly and uncharacteristically frank, almost intimate.

"the feeling is mutual."

if the moment stretches he might do something wholly deranged; he rolls his aching shoulder, gestures to the bathroom.

"you go first. you reek."

todoroki says his thanks to his back as he retreats.

he returns to routine. strips, despite how fucking cold he is, wraps his shoulder tight enough that it hurts, rubs alcohol onto the more worrying cuts and scrapes. drags some bedding to the second room, then drags himself to the kitchen, shivering, mentally redoing his maths, then pulling out his notebook to jot down the edited stock. pauses, hesitates. in the margin under the date he writes: found half 'n half. it's not a diary, but he feels like he should make note.

todoroki appears silently in the doorframe, wrapped in a towel and scrubbed red, and there's something reassuring about how clean he looks, balanced out by how disturbing it is to see him so casually bare. he's barely glanced up at him that he drops the towel.

"the fuck-"

todoroki just turns in a neat 360, then wraps himself back up. katsuki snaps his jaw shut, ears burning but head clear. no bites. right. the previous times- whatever. reluctantly he stands and turns. when todoroki eyes his boxers he glares.

"you don't think you would have noticed if i got bitten on the dick today?"

he's not entirely sure todoroki won't fight him on it, but he concedes after a moment's assessing stare, shifts from foot to foot.

"you can have some of my shit to wear," katsuki says, pointing to the wardrobe he's requisitioned. "some of it's too big. should fit."

todoroki just nods, follows suit.

he wonders, as he scrubs himself down with a bucketful of water, teeth chattering and bath-tub still half full, if todoroki was always so goddamn quiet or if he's traumatised or some shit. the guy was always the annoying silent type, but he doesn't remember him this monosyllabic. habit, probably. what does he know.

he dresses, layers up, shoves his dirty clothes with todoroki's in the basket. when it fills he'll dunk the whole lot into a tub of his used water, but until there's that many dirty clothes he leaves them out.

todoroki is sat on the couch wrapped in blankets and wearing someone's dad's heavy knitwear, illuminated by (of all things) a gas lamp that katsuki had found but never managed to light. so the asshole has matches.

"you hungry?" katsuki asks, really only to make him speak. todoroki nods, counter-productively, but he's talking next.

"don't waste your food on me."

"shut up, asshole," katsuki mutters, on instinct, fatigue setting into him. jesus. the martyrs he's surrounded with. "you can make the next grocery run."

todoroki only looks at him longly, but he follows him into the kitchen, eats the cold soup without complaint. he likes cold food, katsuki thinks, then stops at the thought. he has no idea how he knows it. it feels like a memory from a different life. he likes cold food. like that matters.

it's not very late, though it's pitch black out. he goes to bed early these days to make the most of the sunlight. he's not sure what to do with todoroki, though rationally that's not his concern.

he can't find it in himself to ask the obvious questions. it's partly because he doesn't want to hear the answers and partly because he doesn't want to have to give his own. it's not like they were fucking bosom buddies before this all went down- he's past hating the guy, despite how unbearable he finds him, would call them something adjacent to friends under duress, but it's not like they make a point of hanging out outside of class. and todoroki's a terrible conversationalist, always.

even so. two months, five days. he wants to talk, if only for the pleasure of getting to call him a superior bastard, if only to know that he's still the same confounding weirdo whose face he wears. it's not even the words, really- he wants to hear a pulse beat near him, to catch alert eyes on his, to watch his chest rise and fall. alive.

he can't believe the asshole stripped naked like that. pale flesh all over, but not that diseased grey tint, just regular winter cold, like the inside of a peach. bruises and scratches littering his limbs. nasty half-healed scar like someone had tried to gut him with a knife.

his lips are peeling when he licks them. he found vaseline in someone's drawer but he uses it sparingly. whenever he goes outside his lips crack to the point of blood. against the glow of the stove he can see only half of his new flatmate where he sits surveying his newly clean crowbar.

"what's in the duffel?"

he'd have bristled more at the invasion, pragmatic though it is, but todoroki only shifts obligingly to raise it to his lap.

"medical kit- bandages, aspirin, tweezers, needle and thread. three water bottles. instant noodles. biscuits. matchbox. a city map. a change of shoes. a space blanket. my wallet. wire. rope. an alarm clock. a mechanic's manual." he pauses, feels around, drags out a glass bottle. "this."

it's vodka, of all the things. katsuki half wants to laugh.

"you drink now?"

"kept me warm," todoroki shrugs. which is, maybe, all there is to it. maybe not.

"i'll run you through inventory in the morning," katsuki says, if reluctantly. best todoroki knows what they have on hand, despite how little he feels like letting him into his notebook. it's not like he's deku, writing down his little feelings all over it, but it feels revealing anyways, for todoroki to know what he's been tracking.

there's nothing else for them to talk about without heading into dangerous territory. todoroki packs his things back into the bag, careful, and katsuki is sick of his own weird emotional breakdown, doesn't know where this sudden needy cloying bullshit is even coming from.

two months five days, his brain says, chipper, and then offers to rewind the days preceding that. he hisses through his teeth before he remembers he has company.

"i'm going to bed. 's fuck all to do without wasting light. stay high up if you want to go exploring."

todoroki has gone back to muteness, because he only nods as katsuki glowers at nothing in particular and makes his way back to his room, unhappy at the sight of his diminished bedding. it's not like he's actually able to use the whole apartment's bedding anyways- too unwieldy, too heavy, whatever- but the three duvets and two quilts had been working well enough to insulate him against the chill, and with two sacrificed he's resigned to a night of tossing and turning.

fuck his life. he thinks maybe the reason he's been having these fits of weirdness across the days is just fatigue. between the nightmares and the cold and the actual zombie break-ins over the past six months he doesn't think he's managed a single night's good sleep beyond the times he's blacked out. he feels untethered, at times both more and less emotional than he's used to being.

no surprise that having a real life human being around- and one that he knows at that- is making him almost ill with conflicting urges. part of him wants to lock todoroki out in a cold sweat and never lay eyes on him again. part of him wants to cut him open and grab at his beating heart just to confirm he's not alone. the rest of him lies there wondering what the fuck is wrong with his brain.

he lies there for maybe an hour trying to get to sleep, but his mind has kicked into overdrive in the way that it does every goddamn night nowadays, replaying scenes he didn't even notice in the moment. one of the zombies by the bookstore had barely reached his shoulder. when he'd washed his bat there had been bits of an eye clinging to the base.

he's too busy being cold and annoyed and possibly hysterical to notice the soft footfall until it's close, jerking up on instinct to brandish his bat, but he can tell by the moonlight filtering in slivers through his blinds that it's todoroki, if the lack of shuffling hadn't given it away.

"what the hell is wrong with you?"

"i didn't mean to startle you," todoroki says. monotone, but in an off way, almost dreamy, like he's asleep. it makes katsuki's skin prickle with foreboding; he stares at the little he can see of his face, alert now.

"then what do you want?"

"you sound cold," todoroki says. still in the doorframe, unmoving. he wishes there was more light.

"it's the middle of winter, jackass, of course i'm cold. can you fuck off?"

"my father is dead," todoroki says, completely unprompted, voice not changing in timbre in the slightest, and it makes katsuki's heart jump before he sits fully upright, trying harder to make his face out.

enji todoroki, gone. he guesses he'd known that on some level, for todoroki to be roaming around like a ghost, but it doesn't compute. jesus. maybe todoroki's actually fucking lost it since. he imagines two months and five days tracking back to losing his father, feels that gut-punch of paralysis in his stomach.

he's so caught on processing it that he doesn't even register todoroki is climbing into the bed before he's halfway under the sheets.

"what the fuck are you doing?" his voice half-breaks on it, rising in sheer disbelief as he jerks violently back, because seriously- there's insane and there's insane, and he's starting to suspect todoroki is so out of it he'd snap his neck in his sleep.

todoroki has the audacity to shush him, distracted, and it takes katsuki actually grabbing him hard by the shoulder, braced to hit at the slightest flicker of intent, to stop him in his tracks.

"hey, asshole, i'm talking to you! are you out of your goddamn mind?"

where he's stopped now todoroki's one eye catches the moonlight, big and dark and eerie. he blinks slowly like he's coming out of a trance.

"oh, i-" he pauses. his pulse is sluggish under katsuki's hands, skin fire-hot. feverish, maybe. shit. feverish, very possibly. he'd had no layers in that shitty bookshop. "sorry."

he says it like he's not sure he means it. katsuki doesn't let up with his grip.

"how long you been sick, icyhot?"

"sick," todoroki repeats, processing it. his gaze sharpens. "days. i think maybe- what day is it?"

"wednesday. thirteenth."

"six days, then," todoroki says, quiet. their gazes catch, more consciously now. "i'm fine. the adrenaline helped."

"sit still," katsuki warns, and then pulls up quickly, shrugs his backpack off, digs out the medical kit. he has a decent stock of medicine in the apartment, enough that he only hesitates a beat before pulling out the advil bottle, unscrewing the cap to fill it. he knows the dosage by heart. "drink."

he nearly drops the whole bottle when todoroki just obediently sticks his mouth to the rim of the cap instead of taking it himself, hot breath fanning over his fingers as he drinks. it makes his own pulse go skittering with discomfort when he fills it a second time, brandishes it back. the cap is sticky and wet when he screws it back on; todoroki is still half-sitting where he told him to when he's done his bag up and slid it back onto his back.

"why'd you tell me about your dad just then?" katsuki asks, despite himself, if only to fill the silence.

"did i?" todoroki asks, on an exhale, visible eye swivelling to him. "i don't know. i was thinking about the cold, i think. he wasn't cold in the end."

he resists the urge to check his temperature. probably it got worse once he tried to go to sleep, all the residue adrenaline gone. it can't have been peaking all day, or they'd have never made it out in the first place. and it's not from a bite. just a fever. he's medicated. he'll sleep it off.

"i'm not crazy," todoroki informs him, suddenly cool, not so hazy. "just sick. i could hear you tossing and turning. that's why i came."

"why're you in my bed?" katsuki shoots back, on the edge of combative, not really. maybe he's a little relieved. he's a lot pissed off, even though he knows todoroki probably genuinely didn't realise what a state he was in the last week, might have actually been trying to make sense of his fluctuating mood himself. no shit he'd been so weird when they first ran into each other.

"i'm not sure," todoroki admits. "it seemed important at the time."

this makes him want to laugh, though he doesn't. the cracked-open raw part of him that still smarts loudly whenever he thinks of jeanist thinks he missed him somehow.

"glad we solved that mystery. get out now."

todoroki makes to move, stops when they're facing each other, blue eye white-pale on his. "actually i remember now, i think."

"i swear to god, half 'n half..."

"you're cold," todoroki repeats, factual, then back to floaty. "and i couldn't hear..."

he doesn't expect him to do what he does, which is why he doesn't stop him when he puts a too-hot palm directly over his heart, doesn't even pull back when he pushes, knocking him onto the bed.

"todoroki-"

"it's fine," todoroki says, scratchy, sweat-warm. he slides onto his own side in a heavy, graceless motion. face to face, half an arm between them, palm stuck to his chest. "it's fine."

it's the scratchiness that wins him over, or maybe the fever flush of him. todoroki may be fucked in the head but he's not, which is why he knows full well he's being insane by not shoving him out. it's just that on some extremely uncomfortable and deranged level he gets it, because he's been tracking his pulse like a shark since they first ran into each other. there's something less insane beneath it too, pragmatic acknowledgment that it is actually a great deal warmer when there's body heat to share, but he knows full well he'd have toughed it out, six months ago, sent him back to bed and spent the night half-awake in spiteful resignation.

it's six months later, though, and somewhere along the line he's been rewired wrong. he thinks it's not unlikely that he's just this desperate for a full night's sleep.

it doesn't really matter why, though. he lets him stay. in the morning if todoroki is back to himself he'll see right through whatever he says, and on balance he doesn't fucking care.

he's so fucking tired. two months and five days, six months and three. the last time someone touched him for more than a second without trying to kill him it was a crying intern, this bespectacled guy whose name he'd never bothered to learn choking on his own blood as he clutched katsuki's wrist for comfort. before that he thinks it was his mother, exchanging their usual routine of brusque ruffling before he got on the train. he hasn't cried since the start of this, but he feels like crying now, hot throbbing behind his eyes. he sucks in a breath, forces it down. time and place. he's said it like a mantra since the start, like there's ever going to be one.

todoroki is fast asleep, but his hand's still there. his fingers have curled into the wool.

two months and five days, he thinks again, remembering other hands, clutching his face, pinning his arms. that's changed now, he realises. still marks the date, but not the last time he's spoken to someone.

ten minutes, thirty seconds. he reaches to pull the covers higher over todoroki's shoulders, feels his stomach constrict when his hand brushes medicine-sticky lips in passing.

maybe todoroki can sail. that's a rich kid thing to do. he'll have to ask in the morning.

he falls asleep within fifteen minutes, forty seconds of todoroki, and doesn't wake until the sun rises.

[morgandria]

Them November Witches are coming down tonight - we had sideways rain and wild wind all day, and when the wind direction changes overnight into the morning, it’ll turn to snow. I am so ready for that change of wind. I have been patiently waiting (I mean, WTF was that week where it was bloody 70°?), but I honestly like changing my shrines up for the season. The Cailleach is always eagerly awaited, and welcomed heartily when she arrives.

I feel like we spent today eating. Food is usually so bloody awful to deal with that I haven’t really enjoyed eating in a while. On bad days I’m not eating much, and it’s whatever I can quickly prepared and easily digest, rather than something more healthy. My meds are part of that, but I need to get my iron tested because I suspect it is low again. I am practically transparent, often short of breath, very low physical stamina, my hair’s coming out again, I’m frequently blue in my nailbeds and lips, etc. I am hoping it’s not bad enough to need IV infusions again, but might be something I can catch if I up my intake of fish, or get some B12 injections.

But back to food. I decided this weekend I was making one of my favorite soups - mushroom goulash. I have been meaning to make this for a while, but it’s a soup that needs the right kind of weather. Knowing this storm was blowing in, it was perfect. Usually it has pork or beef in it, but this time I wanted to make a vegetarian version. I just doubled the amount of mushrooms - like, I used two entire packages from Costco - and cooked some sausage on the side for J to throw into his.

Friends, this was DELICIOUS. I like it better without the meat. SO happy. The website I got the recipe from is long gone, so I’m gonna share it here. The way I make it isn’t the original anyway. It makes a sizeable amount of soup - for two of us it’s easily a hearty supper with a couple days’ worth of leftovers. And it is absolutely better the next day.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mushroom Goulash Soup

1 lb (500 g) lean ground pork or beef (or replace with 24. oz of mushrooms chopped into a rough dice - it makes the texture feel more meaty. I like brown mushrooms, but anything works.)

2 tbsp. vegetable oil, (or butter, or both) 1 onion, diced (Size is your call. I like it fairly finely diced.) 24 oz. of mushrooms (If you are replacing meat with mushrooms, you absolutely need all 48 oz. These don’t have to be diced - I just quarter mine. Having a mix of sizes makes a good texture.)

Garlic, minced. (Like the onion, it’s up to your taste. I usually add at least a tablespoon, and probably closer to two.) 4 tsp. caraway seeds 2 tbsp.sweet paprika (I use a smoked sweet paprika.) 1 tbsp. dried marjoram or oregano 1 tsp.freshly ground pepper

1 can (19 oz./540 ml) tomatoes (Go for diced - if you use whole, you’ll have to smash them with a potato masher to break them up.) 8 cups broth (This is roughly 2 cartons. It’s beef if you’re using meat, and veg if you’re going meatless. Go for reduced salt if you can.) 2 large potatoes, peeled and diced 2-3 medium carrots, peeled and diced (I swapped out one carrot for a parsnip, which was very tasty.)

1 can (5.5 oz./156 ml. size) of tomato paste Lemon juice (To taste. I usually add around 3 tbsp.)

Sour cream (for garnish) One sweet-ish/hot-ish pepper. (For garnish. I usually get Cubanelle, since that’s what we have in our grocery stores. Honestly, it’s optional, so don’t feel like you have to have it. It just adds a little heat and a crunchy contrast.)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I try to do all the chopping first, before I really start cooking.  Mise en place is your friend.

In large Dutch oven or stockpot, sauté pork over medium-high heat until no longer pink. Skim off any fat. (If you are using mushrooms in place of meat, skip to the next step.)

Add oil or butter to pot and let it heat on medium-low before you toss your onions in. Once the onions are softened and translucent, throw in the mushrooms and garlic. You want to get the moisture out, to the point where the bottom of the pot is mostly dry. (Don’t worry if you let it get brown and stuck to the bottom, as long as it’s not scorched.)

While the onion and mushroom mix is cooking, put your caraway seeds in a sandwich bag and use something heavy to crush them a bit. (You don’t want dust - you’re just looking to crack them a bit so they release their oil into the soup.) When the mushrooms and onions are cooked down, stir in the caraway, paprika, marjoram/oregano, and pepper. Cook it for a couple minutes, and then add your tomatoes, potatoes and carrots. Mix it around a couple times before throwing in all your broth.

Cover your pot and bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for about an hour. Use the time while it’s cooking to de-seed and chop your pepper, if you want it. When the soup is close to done, stir in the tomato paste. I let it cook into the broth for a few minutes before I add the lemon juice and turn the heat off completely. (It might not need lemon juice, so taste it and decide if you need/want something to cut the sweetness from the carrots and/or the richness of the broth.)

That’s it. Ladle yourself up a bowl, throw in some sour cream, chuck in some pepper sticks. It’s awesome served up with rye bread or rye toast, but we also like it with Ryvita crispbread.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s not as complicated as it looks all written out, honest! Give it a try if you’re in the mood for a warm bowl of something yummy. I’m hoping my next bowl will see the Witches and their snow in.

[lunaraindrop]

I'll Eat You Up, I Love You So

Who ever heard of grad students playing middle school games like 7 Minutes In Heaven at a party?

Oh, that's right. The Physical Kids, of course. Any type of game that involved random people making out was a welcome addition to any party. You know, when there was magic and people were drunk and high enough.

Eliot and Margo were throwing the most epic of Halloween parties.

The decorations were enhanced with magic. Glistening cobwebs stretched from ceiling corners. Vanilla scented fog gave rooms an eerie ambiance. Orange and purple spiders(fake) were enchanted to carry drinks and hors d'oeuvres to partygoers. Everything had the illusion of a medieval castle. There was even a spectacular garden maze out on the lawn.

Quentin usually hated parties...but even he was left in wonder at everything going on around him.

He originally did not plan to come that night. When Margo and Eliot tried to get him to agree to come, he was adamant on skipping out. Eliot had pouted and Margo had called him a sad sack, but they ultimately let him go.

His plan was to go off campus, pick up some egg drop soup, sneak back in, and read The World in the Walls again.

But then he saw the preparations.

...

Okay, what really did it was accidentally getting a peak at Eliot trying on his costume.

He was going as Dracula. No, not the cliche Dracula. The fucking hot Gary Oldman version, with the gray suit and the top hat.

Quentin nearly fainted.

Eliot Waugh was always sexy...but in that suit? He was a wet dream.

He had to go.

When he told Margo he changed his mind, she said it was too late. Since he had so voraciously insisted that he wasn't going to go, his invite had been rescinded.

Margo: You shit on our hospitality, Q. Now you have to hang in your room like a loser. It was your choice. Toodles.

But he just *had* to go! Everything looked amazing!

...

Jesus, okay! *Eliot* was going to look amazing!

He knew he was never going to have a chance with his best friend. Quentin knew very well that Eliot was waaay out of his league and would never see him that way. He was happy to be in the friend zone as long as that zone was in Eliot's orbit.

So, he got sneaky. Julia gave him a Where the Wild Thing Are onesie for his birthday. It had a hood. Going as Max would hide his hair and face. Perfect.

It was even better that it seemed a least half a dozen people had similar ideas. As long has he stayed close to a crowd, he could blend in and secretly ogle Eliot from afar.

Well, until he found some lucky bastard to take to his room.

...

That had brought down his mood. Well, until he ran into Penny (dressed as John Mcclane) and he told him he'd rat him out.

So, Quentin hid in a closet. He *thought* it was the kitchen entrance, but apparently the castle illusion created a bunch of hallways off of the living room.

Why would you need a bunch of closets?

He got his answer.

There was a huge game of 7 Minutes in Heaven going on, and the closets were going to be used.

Except it wasn't just 7 minutes. It was 30.

And he couldn't leave or they would see him.

Quentin: Shit!

He heard Margo introduce the game.

Margo: Alright! This is a mass round. Everyone gets to have fun! Now, if you have a glowing green ring, put on a blindfold. Everyone with a pink ring pick a closet. When everyone is settled, greenies will draw a number. Go to the matching closet. Profit!

Quentin heard Eliot and some other people (he thinks one was actually Alice, wtf) handing out the blindfolds.

He held his breath. Someone was going to be opening the door any second.

Only...no.

Someone had stepped in front of the door, but then walked away.

He sighed with relief only to almost have an anxiety attack.

Someone *else* was going to come in, and expect to make out with him.

Oh God, what if it was Margo?!

Not that he would mind making out with Margo. She was gorgeous. Unfortunately she would also eviscerate him if she found him hiding at the party.

Eliot: Okay, blindfolds off! Disperse to a closet. Condoms are in the bowl over there.

Quentin: Oh God

He tried to quiet his breathing, but he couldn't stop the hyperventilating as footsteps grew closer.

The doorknob turned.

Someone swiftly slipped in. He didn't have a chance to see their silhouette, but he believed they were taller than him.

So...not Margo, at least.

Whoever was his unwitting partner grew close. Too close.

Should he just...go with it? To try and throw off suspicion?

As he was deciding, his partner gently backed him up against a wall.

Person: Well well. What do we have here? A little wolf hiding in the closet?

Quentin froze.

It was Eliot.

Quentin: Uh...

Eliot: *quiet chuckle* There are many wolves at this party. I'm wondering which one you are.

Quentin: *gulps*

Eliot: *smoothing the hood down* running fingers through Q's hair*

Quentin: *locking his muscles* *barely breathing*

Eliot *humming lightly* *massaging his muscles gently in his arms and shoulders*

Quentin: *breathing slower* *relaxing at the touch* *hesitantly wrapping an arm around El's waist*

Eliot:*tracing the tip of his nose from Q's temple, cheek, neck and back again* *smelling him*

Quentin: *trembling* *feeling heady* *nuzzles Eliot's face*

Eliot: *groans* *presses Q against the wall more* *slips a leg between Q's* *mouthing at his ear* My my, little wolf. What big ears you have.

That cleared Quentin's head a little bit.

Quentin: Really, El? Did you just-

His eyes widened and his mouth slammed shut.

There went the mystery. My my, what a fucking big mouth he had, right?

Would Eliot be disgusted?

Eliot pulled back just enough to cup his cheek and look...fondly at him?

Eliot: Ah ah ah. We're in costume, you're a wolf, and I'm seducing you.

Quentin: I'm Max from Where the Wild Things Are!...Wait. Y-you are?!

Eliot: *raised an eyebrow* *smirking* My my, little whatever the fuck you are, what dark eyes you have.

Quentin: *in shock*

Eliot: *clears throat*

Quentin: Oh! Uh-umm...the better to...look at you with?

Eliot: That depends. Do you like what you see?

Quentin: We're in the dark.

Eliot: I mean earlier, when you were adorably trying to hide from Margo and I behind that potted plant.

Quentin: Y-you know-

Eliot: Who you are? Of course. Why do you think I picked this closet?

Quentin: *leans close* *touching noses* *breathing the same air*

Eliot: *deeper voice* *squeezes Q's outer thighs*

Quentin: Jesus!

Eliot: No, Dracula tonight, and what strong thighs you have.

Quentin gathered his courage and decided to play along. If Eliot knew it was him, and chose to be in here with him, then that meant things might be more mutual than he thought.

Quentin: The- ah, the better to wrap around you.

Eliot sounded like someone punched him, before he moaned and hoisted him up. He started mouthing at his jaw and the corner of his mouth almost frantically. Quentin realized that while he knew Eliot was strong, he was stronger than he realized. He nearly swooned with lust thinking about Eliot fucking him against the wall.

Eliot: *against his mouth* What big teeth you have, little wild thing.

This is where Quentin tripped up. He knew he should have said something sexy about biting Eliot, or since Eliot was the vampire he could bite him anywhere he wanted.

But he didn't.

The quote slipped out.

Quentin: *chaste kisses Eliot's lips* *bright eyed* *feverish* I'll eat you up, I love you so.

Eliot froze.

Eliot: ...what?

Shit.

Quentin: It-it's a quote from the book. "I'll eat you up, I love you so"

Fuck, why was he making this worse?!

What he didn't expect was Eliot sounding awed and...holy shit, vulnerable?!

Eliot: ...is it just a quote?

Quentin framed the taller, beautiful man's face.

Quentin: I'm sorry, El. I kind of meant that.

Eliot: How can you kind of mean it? Do you love me or not, Coldwater?

Quentin: Oh my God, you're such an ass! I'm in love with an ass, Jesus Chri-

That was when Eliot possessively yet tenderly gripped the back of his neck and passionately started the make out to end all make outs.

This was the best kiss of his *life* and he felt like he couldn't get close enough to Eliot. Eliot solved that by slowly grinding them against each other and squeezing his ass. When they broke for air, Eliot was true to his costume as he bit and sucked at Quentin's neck.

Eliot was definitely leaving marks. He felt like he was being claimed.

Quentin was not going to survive this. He was going to spontaneously combust.

Just as he was going to beg Eliot to either fuck him then and there, or let him please get his cock in his mouth, Eliot carefully pulled away and put his feet back on the floor. He gave him a couple more soft kisses before pulling away. He placed his nimble hands on Q's shoulders. Quentin whimpered at the loss of him.

Eliot shushed and pet him.

Eliot: I have wanted you since the first moment I saw you, Q. And I'll be damned if we fuck or fall in love in a fucking closet.

Quentin: *blinked*

Well, when he put it that way

He pushed Eliot against the door and kissed him hard.

Quentin: Then let's get out of here, and you take me to your bed. Let everyone see I'm the lucky bastard that you chose.

And that's what Eliot did. He took Quentin's hand and led them both to the stairs.

If Quentin wasn't so absorbed with latching onto Eliot's mouth like he held all the air in the world, he might have seen Margo wink at Eliot as they passed.

[everything-ft]

Grayza Week Day 2: Cooking Adentures

Gray looked out at the rainy sky, trying to think of the perfect way to celebrate his and Erza’s fifth anniversary.

Their first anniversary they didn’t really celebrate, since they were out on a mission that lasted longer than either of them expected. Their second year he took her golfing, which she excelled at. Their third year, they had been invited to a ball (much to Gray’s disappointment. He had hated dancing, especially after his battle with Cancer all those years ago. He was still thankful no one else saw or ever found out about that.)

Last year, they had a sword duel. Erza won, of course, but Gray liked to believe he put up a good fight.

He was struggling to figure out a good way to top all of that. He was just about to give up on coming up with something when he saw the bakery out of the corner of his eye.

He quickly started up, accidentally knocking over the chair he was sitting in and waking Erza. She had an angry look on her face that, before they were married, would have made him run for the trees. But now, he knew the perfect thing to do to help her.

“Sorry,” he whispered, placing one of his cool hands on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to wake you this early. You can go back to sleep.”

Gray could never understand why his cooling touch helped her relax, but somehow, it did, and he enjoyed it. It was much better than seeing that scowl on her face.

While she was still sleeping, Gray decided to go shopping. With the two of them constantly being on missions, they didn’t keep much food around in the house. Besides, Mira always provided food in the guild hall, so there was no point in having food around. At least, not until now.

***

It took him about two hours to find all of the supplies he needed. He also made a different stop on the way home, just in case his original plan didn’t work.

Luckily for him, the fairy queen still was not awake when he returned. He quietly put everything away, and then tiptoed to his room. He kneeled by the edge of the bed and watched her breathing for a few moments before leaning in and kissing her softly on the lips.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he whispered. “Time to get up.”

Erza slowly blinked her eyes open and looked around for a few minutes.

“No presents?” she inquired. Good, she did remember. He was a little worried she might have forgotten.

“No, there are presents. They’re just not in here,” he said. “Come on. I’ll lead you to them.”

Erza followed her husband out of the room and back into the kitchen, and her eyes widened as she saw all of the food that they had.

“W-What’s all this?” she asked.

“I wanted to try something fun for once, so I decided to have a cooking competition,” Gray explained.

“A competition, huh?” she asked. “What is the reward?”

“The reward,” Gray began, “is that the winner gets to do whatever they want with the other for the entire rest of the day.”

“Doesn’t sounds like much of a reward, but I won’t complain. Especially since I will totally win,” she said with a smug look on her face.

“Okay then. With that, let the cooking competition begin,” Gray exclaimed. He pulled out the first ingredients - chicken broth, cut carrots, peas, and chicken - and set them on the counter. They both took a decent amount of all of the ingredients and poured it into their pots, cooking it for about ten minutes before setting it to the side.

This cycle continued as they made bread, their choice of a meat entree, and some mashed potatoes.

Once all of the food was made, they dished it up onto plates and into bowls, only making it for the other to try their food, so that they weren’t being biased.

They are their food mostly in peace, trying all of the different foods, figuring out which ones were good, and which ones weren’t.

“You’re not bad,” Erza said as she took another bite of the chicken breast. “The meat is a bit undercooked, though. And the potatoes could have used a little more.” She didn’t finish her sentence, instead choosing to place a glob of it on Gray’s cheek.

“Well, I could say the same about your soup,” Gray said, splashing a spoonful on her chest. She hissed a little as the burning liquid traveled down her shirt, but she kept somewhat calm.

“I think you need to have a taste of your own medicine,” Erza said, dumping the soup over his head. Gray instinctively cooled the liquid so that it didn’t hurt as much, but he was far from being cool in the fight. He grabbed a handful of the mashed potatoes on his plate, walked up to Erza, and made sure to tangle it all in her hair.

Soon enough, they were throwing every food nearby at each other, not caring about the mess they were making, and caring even less about the competition.

By the end, Gray was drenched with all sorts of liquids. His clothes would probably be stained, too, if he was wearing any. His stripping habit had kicked in almost as soon as the fight started, and he had been in just his black boxers the entire time.

Erza, on the other hand, had food smeared everywhere. In her hair, on her face. Even on her pants (though Gray wasn’t entirely sure how that happened, considering most of his attacks were aimed higher.)

“Well, now that the food is everywhere except in our bellies, what do we do?” Erza asked.

“I say that you won that one,” Gray said. “So you can choose to do whatever you want, but not until after we have dessert.”

He opened the fridge and pulled out the slice of strawberry cake he had bought on his way home. He knew how much Erza loved it, and he knew she couldn’t say no to it.

“Gray, you really shouldn’t have,” Erza said.

“I know,” he said. “But I wanted to. Happy anniversary, Erza.”

“Happy anniversary,” she repeated, as she took the first bite of the second-most delicious thing in the world.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed it. This is the first time I wrote a Fairy Tail fanfic, and I’m writing this really late at night, so I hope it’s okay. Thanks for reading.

[stories-tales-myths]

Fairytale: König Drosselbart / King Thrushbeard

A German fairytale that I grew up with. It's supposed to teach a lesson, but it's actually really fucked up.

.characters: Princess [vain], King [her father], suitors [various], King Thrushbeard, Beggar

---

1. Enter beautiful young Princess. [Let's face it, she is a teenager. There are different versions with her age 14-18] King wants to marry her off.

2. King invites suitors [really just an assortment of inbred creepy old guys with titles and money] and because he is soo kind and progressive and loves his daughter soo much, he wants to let her choose who to marry

3. Suitors line up, Princess judges. [It's supposed to feel like that scene from "The Emporers new groove", but Princess actually has some good points] 'You are like four times my age' 'You smell as if you have never taken a bath in your life and I'm supposed to touch you?' 'I think you killed your last wife because she only had daughters. Did I hear that rumor right?' 'You look like a pig.' 'You're drunk.' 'Your parents were siblings and you only want to marry me because you don't have any sisters.' 'You live several weeks away and I don't want to leave my family and home like this:' [Add to your heart's content. Some good points, some shallow points. Seriously. The tale always gets told with shallow and reasonable criticisms, but the audience is always supposed to feel as if all points are shallow. I told you it's creepy. I have never heard a version without at least the age-thing and some reference to alcohol. But SURE, Princess just needs to suck it up. ] and finally: 'You have a funny beard. You look like a thrush. I shall call you King Thrushbeard.'

[This is a thrush. What a cute little birdie.]:

4. Somehow, this pisses the King of. [Maybe he used to sport this style in his youth]

The King throws a tantrum:

'You, my beloved daughter, are an ungrateful brat. You refuse to marry any of these wonderful suitors, these noble noblemen that would actually be perfect for you. And now you make fun of this handsome fella.

Obviously, I [mis]understand you perfectly: You don't want to marry a nobleman, so I guess you don't want to be a princess anymore. And you embarrass me in front of my old friends and drinking buddies, so I guess you don't want to be my daughter either.

You shall get your wish: The next beggar I see shall be your husband. You won't ever see this castle or me ever again.

Now go to your room, I will have a drink or two with these WONDERFUL men.'

5. Princess does not believe her father. Nevertheless, the next morning comes. There is a beggar. The beggar asks for a few coins. Instead, he gets a 14-year-old [or whatever age you picked] child bride [Child, yes. Even if she's 18, he's like twice her age at least] They have a very small wedding and then leave the castle. Princess cries the entire time. [reminder. The story usually gets told with the emphasis that Princess deserves this and is just being an ungrateful brat right now]

6. Beggar and Princess on their journey. Because she is now severely dehydrated, she stops crying. And she fucking scared. [Because her father just GIFTED her to a strange man without her consent and even went so far as to tell her, that whatever happens, she CANNOT come back and ask for his help. And she has no idea where the strange man lives or what he will do to her.

To clarify: The 'noble' suitors would have been pretty bad too. But she would still be a princess and have at least some protection. There would be a court and she would never be completely isolated. There would never be even a risk of her being forced into prostitution or sacrificed to some heathen god or many being eaten alive.

Most of that does not happen, but she can't know that for sure. Just imagine how you would feel in her situation. ]

To distract herself she starts to make light conversation:

"Who does that pretty meadow belong to?"

> "Oh that. It belongs to King Thrushbeard."

"Who does this lush forest belong to?"

> "Oh that. It belongs to King Thrushbeard."

...

[She always asks about something rich or pretty and it always belongs to King Thrushbeard. It's a day-long journey, so just do as many repetitions as you'd like. ]

7. They arrive at a really small, sad little hut.

Princess: "Who does that shabby hut belong to?"

Beggar: "That belongs to me. And because you are my wife now, it's your home as well. I expect you to cook and clean for me and tend to the garden, and I expect you to do well because I don't have time for a lazy wife.

[EWW]

[8. She probably gets raped. This part is never explicit because today's versions of any fairytale for children are rather tame. And the older versions don't NEED to say anything, because they originate in a time when OF COURSE you just casually raped your wife, especially on your wedding night.]

9. Princess has to deal with chores and fails, because of course she does. And Beggar is pissed and yells at her a lot. [He might also hit her.] But at least he is only at home at night, although she has no idea where he goes every day.

Options include

-basket weaving (She has bloody hands after this)

-pottery

-cooking (she doesn't actually fail at this, the soup is just a little bland. Beggar yells at her anyway.)

-cleaning

-laundry (almost drowns in a river)

-selling things at the market (she fails by being run over by a horse in this one.)

10. Beggar is fed up with his permanently 'mopey' [traumatized] and useless 'wife' [underaged slave]. So he sends her away to work at the castle as a kitchen girl.

Nobody recognizes her. [There are several possible reasons as to Why That Is. One worse than the next:

a) King may have ordered everybody to pretend to not know her. Just to make her feel miserable.

b) Princess is now malnourished and possibly sleep-deprived. Possibly her trauma manifests in severe nightmares. She isn't clean, her hair is different, she may have lost weight. Possibly her demeanor has changed too. Gone is the confident and playful girl. This girl speaks quietly, walks quietly and hunched over, and flinches at sudden movements.

c) Princess might be older now. We have no idea how long she lived in the hut with Beggar. A week? A year? Five Years? Who knows?]

11. She is actually relatively happy. She makes friends, learns skills from the other servants (who are actually patient and don't just yell at her). Maybe she gets to say hello to her horse again.

And Princess gets to steal small pieces of the exquisite food her father eats. [don't worry everybody does it] She picks these pieces up and puts them in a small pot under her skirt to eat them later. [Don't ask me about the logistics here. This is one of the big mysteries of my childhood. Why a pot? That must be uncomfortable. How inconspicuous can it be to do this? What if the King eats soup? ]

12. One day, there's a big banquette. King Thrushbeard is there, spots Princess, and says something like 'What a pretty girl. I don't care that she's working right now. My dick says I wanna dance with her, so I'm gonna.'

[In other versions he only notices her because the weird pot shatters and THEN decides to dance with her.]

13. Up-close, Princess realizes something:

King Thrushbeard IS the Beggar

14. King Thrushbeard officially introduces his wife to the world, Princess reconciles with her father. There is a second wedding, big this time.

[In some versions the King knew all along, in other versions he doesn't and just finds this hilarious.

In all versions this counts as a happy ending btw.]

---

Now the lesson here is that girls should always be kind and just do what their dads say. I guess. It's a terrible lesson.

[vincentpennington]

Garbage Stir-Fry with Curried Cabbage

Wondering what to cook when you only have some ground meat, a head of cabbage, and some curry spice blend? Make my Garbage Stir-Fry with Curried Cabbage! You can magically transform all the odds and ends in your fridge and pantry into a simple and delicious one-pan supper!

I rarely have time to make a big production out of weeknight meals. Between work and parenting, my cup runneth over and I’m not about to make a special weeknight trip to the market to hunt down some exotic ingredients for a complicated new recipe.

Instead, when pressed for time (which is just about always), I rummage through my pantry and fridge and MacGyver something together. With a fridge and pantry stocked with paleo staples, you can make a clean-out-your fridge dinner (a.k.a. garbage stir-fry) in a jiffy.

Keep a defrost bowl in the fridge

Over the years, I’ve gotten lots of questions about my Defrost Bowl, but there’s really nothing all that magical about it. It’s just a big bowl in my fridge that I use to thaw a bunch of frozen meat. (Note: It’s a bowl – not a colander. I certainly don’t want to clean up the bloody goo that inevitably oozes out of my packages of meat.) Ever since I was a nightshift hospital pharmacist, I would routinely transfer some frozen protein from my freezer to my trusty Defrost Bowl; then, when it was time to get cooking, I’d grab whatever protein’s no longer icy, and then decide on a cooking method.

My Defrost Bowl serves another purpose, too: It forces me to cook my meat before it spoils, and keeps me from stuffing my face with take-out. Win-win!

Curry Powder + Ground Meat + Cabbage = Magic!

This fragrant and zesty Garbage Stir-Fry—made with ground meat, curry powder, and cabbage—is one of my go-to one-pan recipes when I’m craving Indian food. Don’t worry about the name, by the way; I call it Garbage Stir-Fry, but once you taste it, you won’t want to throw any of it away!

I always keep ground meat in my freezer. It’s budget-friendly, versatile, and perfect for stir-frying. Combine it in a hot, greased skillet with alliums, spices from the pantry, and whatever vegetables you have lingering in your refrigerator, and you’ll soon have a big batch of food that you can shovel into your mouth whenever necessary.

Other Garbage Stir-Fry Variations

The whole point of a garbage stir-fry or clean-your-fridge-out meals are to use what you have on hand. Any ground meat (e.g. beef, pork, chicken, turkey, bison, etc.) will work and you can substitute any green leafy vegetable (fresh or frozen) for the cabbage. Although I prefer Madras Curry Powder for the seasoning, it also tastes fantastic seasoned with Magic Mushroom Powder or my All-Purpose Stir-Fry Sauce. If you’re using a spice blend, don’t forget to add a splash of acid at the end, either with citrus or vinegar, to add some extra zing.

What side dishes can you serve with it?

This one-pan dish is already filled with meat and veggies, so you can eat it as is! If you insist on making another dish, you can serve it with these vegetable side dishes:

Baked Sweet Potatoes

Instant Pot Crispy Potatoes

Instant Pot Vegetable Soup

Simple Cauliflower Fried Rice

Whole Roasted Cauliflower

Time to make Garbage Stir-Fry with Curried Cabbage!

Serves 4

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon ghee or cooking fat of choice

1 small onion, diced

Diamond Crystal kosher salt

1 pound ground beef pork, lamb, bison, or turkey

1 tablespoon Indian curry powder (salt-free)

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 pound green cabbage, thinly sliced

2 tablespoons lime juice

¼ cup minced cilantro

2 scallions, thinly sliced

Method:

Heat a large cast iron skillet over medium heat. Swirl in the ghee when the pan is hot.

Add the onions and a sprinkle of salt. Cook the onions, stirring frequently until they’re soft and translucent.

Plop in the ground meat and break it up with a spatula or wooden spoon.

Cook the ground meat, stirring frequently, until it is no longer pink.

Sprinkle the curry powder on the beef and onions…

…and season with salt and pepper to taste. Stir well to incorporate the seasoning.

Toss in the cabbage, and cover and cook for 2 to 5 minutes or until the cabbage softens to your desired consistency.

Add a spritz of lime juice, and taste and adjust the seasonings as desired.

Top with the minced cilantro and scallions.

Leftovers can be stored in a sealed container in the fridge for up to four days or up to four months in the freezer!

[Originally posted on January 29, 2013. Updated on March 23, 2020.]

Looking for more recipe ideas? Head on over to my Recipe Index. You’ll also find exclusive recipes on my iPhone and iPad app, and in my cookbooks, Nom Nom Paleo: Food for Humans (Andrews McMeel Publishing 2013) and Ready or Not! (Andrews McMeel Publishing 2017)!

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Garbage Stir-Fry With Curried Cabbage

One of my favorite weeknight, budget-friendly, and versatile dishes is a fragrant and zesty Garbage Stir-Fry with ground meat, curry, and cabbage! 

Course Dinner

Cuisine Indian

Keyword gluten-free, ground beef, keto, low carb, nomnompaleo, paleo, stir-fry, Whole30

Prep Time 10 minutes

Cook Time 15 minutes

Total Time 25 minutes

Servings 4 servings

Calories 358kcal

Author Michelle Tam

Ingredients

1 tablespoon  ghee or fat of choice

1 small onion diced

Diamond Crystal kosher salt 

1 pound ground beef pork, lamb, bison, turkey, or whatever meat suits your fancy

1 tablespoon Madras curry powder

¼ teaspoon Freshly ground black pepper

1 pound green cabbage thinly sliced

2 tablespoons lime juice

¼ cup minced cilantro

2 scallions thinly sliced

Instructions

Heat a large cast iron skillet over medium heat. Swirl in the ghee when the pan is hot.

Add the onions and a sprinkle of salt. Cook the onions, stirring frequently until they’re soft and translucent.

Plop in the ground meat and break it up with a spatula or wooden spoon.

Cook the ground meat, stirring frequently, until it is no longer pink.

Sprinkle the curry powder on the beef and onions and season with salt and pepper to taste. Stir well to incorporate the seasoning.

Toss in the cabbage, and cover and cook for 2 to 5 minutes or until the cabbage softens to your desired consistency.

Add a spritz of lime juice, and taste and adjust the seasonings as desired. Top with the minced cilantro and scallions.

Notes

Remember: this is just one example of how you can throw together a Garbage Stir-Fry. You could easily substitute your favorite seasoning blend for the curry, or a couple of cups of fresh or frozen vegetables for the cabbage. Don’t be afraid to improvise. Just sample the food as you cook, and stop seasoning when it tastes right.

Leftovers can be stored in a sealed container in the fridge for up to four days or up to four months in the freezer!

Nutrition

Calories: 358kcal | Carbohydrates: 9g | Protein: 21g | Fat: 27g | Fiber: 3g

The post Garbage Stir-Fry with Curried Cabbage appeared first on Nom Nom Paleo®.

[spicysoupparadise-blog]

recipe // home style vegetarian chili

“Sometimes simple really is best. We couldn’t be happier to have perfected this chili.”

I am a huge proponent of a meat-conscious lifestyle. So at home, I usually cook pescatarian or vegetarian. The problem is making chili vegetarian – especially for people who are used to eating meat chili – is two fold. (1) It’s gotta be flavorful. Meaty chili gets a whole bunch of flavor from the stewed beef. (2) It’s gotta be “meaty” – not necessarily with the taste or texture of meat – but the “bite” of it. You want to eat chili not minestrone.

I’ve been perfecting my Veggie Chili for years and I think I’ve just now gotten it right. We make veggie chili about once a month – if not more in the colder seasons (Fall, Winter, Spring.) In fact, we keep most of the ingredients in our pantry just in case we want to make it on the whim.

One of the last times I made it – about two months ago – it was a cold January day. We had no food in the house and we decided to make some Chili. I found that I was missing a lot of the ingredients I normally put in, but I made it anyways. Foots and I both agreed – it was the best I had ever made. Sometimes simple is really best.

So now I make it that way – the minimalist way. But I won’t call it that. I’ll just say “Home Style” because it’s our way – and because we always have the ingredients in the house, just in case.

Recipe // Gubs’ Home Style Vegetarian Chili

Makes: About 6 portions of soup – depending on how much you like chili Time: 15 min Prep Time, 40 min Cook Time Survives: days 2 – 4 in the fridge are best, day 5… you’re playing chili roulette. Day 6, absolutely no.

// Ingredients

– 2 yellow onions – 5 cloves of garlic // Do all 5. Don’t give me that look. You need them. – 4 medium carrots // Not baby carrots. Real carrots. Come on, Clarke. – 2 15oz cans of dark red kidney beans – 1 15 oz can of black beans // You can use water beans you like in whatever portions you want – as long as you have 45 oz of beans. I prefer dark red kidney (DRK) beans and the black because they are very earthy – yet sweet, which will blend well with the spiciness later. – 1 28oz can of crushed tomatoes – 4 cups of veggie broth – 1 packet of your favorite Chili spice. // We use McCormick Chili Original because we find it has all the bases – and then we season on top of it. But you can use a hotter one or a less hot one, depending on what you like. –  a dollop of olive oil – red pepper flake – oregano – bay leaves – everyday seasoning – salt

// Prep

– Cut the onions into thin french strips (like you would for French Onion soup), and then give them a very rough over chop. // I like the strips of onion, but it does make them more present in the Chili. If you prefer to not have chunks of onion, you can dice or mince. – Mince the garlic pretty fine – Mince the carrots – Drain the kidney beans and the black beans (you can do this together or separate). Wash them well. And then drain them again.

// Cook

– Put a large pot over a medium heat. Dollop in enough olive oil to coat the bottom of the pan and heat til shimmering – Pour in the onions and the garlic and cook together until sweaty and golden – about 5 to 7 – Add in the carrots, stir well to integrate and cook until carrots are slightly tender – about 2 – 3 minutes – Rip open that Chili packet and put it in. Also add in 4 dashes of red pepper flake and 8 dashes of oregano. Integrate well and cook until fragrant (about 1 minute) to let the spices to activate. At this point, it should be sticky and think, and feel like you’re “kneading” the soup. – With everything integrated, add the tomatoes. Stir well and cook for 2 minutes – just to get the party started. – Throw in all your beans – Throw in however much broth you want – between 2 and 6 cups. // I usually do around 4, it just depends on what consistency you want it. More soupy? More broth. More chunky? Less. You are the captain now. –  Make sure to reserve any leftover broth, just in case too much boils off during cooking. – Add 2 bay leaves, 4 dashes of everyday seasoning, and 3 pinches of salt. – Now the good part. Cook for 25 minutes at a gentle simmer. – At 25 minutes, taste your chili. If it’s got too much of a tomato taste, add some more oregano. If it doesn’t “pop” in you mouth, add a pinch or two more of salt. If it isn’t spicy enough, throw some more red pepper flake. – Cook 5 more minutes. – Now let the chili cool on the stove – about an hour. “Why can’t I eat it?” You ask. What, are you silly? Eating chili on the first day. No. Put that chili in a pyrex and shove it in the oven. You can eat it tomorrow for lunch of dinner. It will taste SO much better on day two. You won’t regret it.

Eating Now // Please don’t. Seriously. Did you read the last instruction?

Eating Later // Heat in a microwave safe bowl for about 2 minutes on high. Stir at 1 minute and at the end. Serve with tortilla chips – fresh*** or from a bag. Enjoy that spicy, comfort food goodness.

***Gubs’ Fresh Tortilla Slices: not really chips, but we enjoy taking some taco tortillas and brushing them with either butter (for a softer, but more flavorful) or canola oil (crunchier, but not as rich), putting them in a medium-high heat saute pan for about 1:30 minutes each side. Great for holding this soup!

Have a recipe you think could beat it? Drop me a message! I’ll try it out!

[gravelgirty]

There is No Quiet Night in the Rainy Season: A Hogan’s Heroes fanfic

Part 1 of Tape and Needle and Scissors and String And...

Part 2: Irish Rejected Potatoes...

Part 3: Above My Pay Grade...

Part 4:

Deep in the Germans’ mess hall—a place LeBeau was grudgingly willing to consign as one of the less-well-thought-out circles of hell—there was a lot of noise. You could almost hear it over the artillery-grade raindrops smashing into the galvanized tin roof.

Banging. Rattling. Thumping. Muffled cursing.

“Every time we let those prisoners into the kitchen, this happens. Every time!”

The grumbler was the cook—He was from a very poor part of Germany. So poor, in fact, that he owned the dubious ability of being able to identify every form of edible vegetation in the forest. He’d grown up next to one of the more pretentious parks under the Kaiser, and the Kaiser had a habit of throwing entire families in prison if a single member trespassed on his territory.

(And as Hans knew, urinating across the fenceline into the hunting preserve counted as an encroachment. He still missed the Donners…even if they had been an indispensable part of WWI’s civil engineering projects…)

Hans was treasured and feared in equal measure. There was always a ratio of soldiers that didn’t know which part of the potato plant to peel. But Hans’ skills with meat were between ‘doesn’t bear thinking about’ and ‘unmitigated disaster’.

He grumbled in his drafty old kitchen. He puffed and muttered and banged things back and forth. That little Frenchman and his foreign ways! How dare he touch his tools of trade? Was there no respect in the profession between equals? For Hans considered LeBeau his counterpart to the prisoners—forced to make do with the miserable ingredients, and serve them up to a sourly ungrateful populace.

“Unbelievable!” He swore as he found another exhibit for offense—the Frenchman had sharpened all of his knives! They hung gleaming on their bar—and sorted according to size! How hard could it be to put things back exactly as they had been?

There was nothing for it. Hans wearily sat down and started on the largest cleaver—it was an excellent beast for skinning vegetable marrows or taking the rinds of very tough turnips. But too sharp by half. With his lips set, he started a long, boring campaign of running the bladed edge across the cutting board.

 - - -

The remainder of the day—if “day” meant weather that the Black Forest would call unfit for mushrooms—was spent with the Stalag in a consensual state of misery.

Hogan split his men and put them in short teams—half to transfer the latrine to a spot that was far too close to Barracks noses for comfort—and the other half underground hastily shoring up, blocking up, and doing whatever they could to fill up what had once been a comfortable and useful section of tunnel. When it looked like it was time for a break, he made them switch.

It was back-breaking, grueling work but no-one complained. They all sensed urgency if not impending disaster.

Anyway, some idiot pointed out, it was at least quieter outside than it was inside. The newer prisoners were starting to show signs of psychological breakdown--weeks of heavy cold raindrops on the roof could do that to anybody, but especially to men who had been three feet from the front lines less than two months ago.

The only exceptions to the workplan besides Hogan:

Baker, who had shaken off Klink’s hooch in record time and was now sleeping it off to a three-octave, one-man chorus with his uvula and soft palate. Wilson had the throat-drops waiting for when he woke up.

LeBeau, a man under fire, working frantically to produce enough hot caffeine to get the men through this dire period.

And Newkirk. The Brit hunkered dangerously close to LeBeau’s stirring-elbow, whip-stitching up a contraption at record speed. His earlier depression was gone as if it never existed; he was on a man with a mission, and he was cheerful. This would worry Schultz to see it, even if he wanted Newkirk to snap out of his mood as much as anyone else.

A happy, cheerful Newkirk was a Newkirk presented with a solvable challenge that would discomfit Germans. Even Cpl Fritz, the only man in the Stalag dumber than Klink, knew this.

Ill-feelings were running amuck and morale was AWOL for guards and prisoners alike.

The guards were sopping wet  because ‘sideways’ was a perfectly normal direction for winter rains. They thought longingly of LeBeau’s patented, secret, imitation coffee and wondered if their lot would improve if they just took off their uniforms the second they returned to their own dank barracks and stood naked by the stove. They envied the wretched POWs, who hadn’t any reason to be outside other than roll call and latrine-digging, and they knew from long, long experience that the mud cladding the POWs was a wonderful insulation.

“Lucky swine.” Wolfe shouted over the rain.

“What??” Langenscheidt yelled.

“I said, Lucky swine!”

“I know you’re Langenscheidt!”

“That is not what I said!”

“What??”

“The swine! The swine!” Wolfe had no choice but to carry on--he was committed. “They’re no wetter than we are, and they don’t have rain falling on metal hats!”

“Eh?” Langensheidt looked over the edge to the prisoners below. “Hah! You know, they look like swine! At least they don’t have a tin roof on their head!” He laughed and rapped his sodden knuckles on his own helmet.

Wolfe gave up. he just wanted to live. He wasn’t sure what he had to live for, but anything was worth avoiding Hell, which might be what he was seeing in the mud right now.

---

The POWs were achy, sniffly, and sweating under their layer of this mud because this natural insulation wasn’t letting an atom of respiration out of their pores. They collectively wondered if a few well-placed holes drilled into their shoes would let the sop out from between their toes. They envied the bloody Germans, who could at least breathe inside their wool uniforms.

---

In the Kommandant’s office, Klink was writing a very stern note to his cigar-supplier. Contrary to all claims and the expensive installment, the humidor was worthless. He now needed a dehumidifier. This was the third in a series of such letters, which boiled down to the company thinking Klink was insane because everybody knew, Germany didn’t get that wet—where did he think he was, Podgorica? But Klink’s clerical talents had risen to the challenge--he couldn’t do anything about Hogan stealing his Cubans, but the complete lack of any decent tobacco could get him sent to the Russian Front if the wrong official came by.

Or Hochstetter. He didn’t need cigars--real or withheld--to send him to the Russian Front.

- - - 

Hogan was in his office and trying to think of the fastest journey to Stage II of his plans. If he could get the latrine moved, it would be an effective if smelly temporary blind for their attempts to build a new tunnel. The guards had their own latrine—and loathed theirs.

And with good reason, he thought glumly. Rats loved the POW latrines—it was a straight shot between the back of the soldiers’ mess, and on the other side, a thick bramble thicket. The brush was only waist-high and not worth the effort of trying to escape through the cover—there was no human-worthy cover with that vegetable barbed wire.

That was alright for the non-human--or should we say, inhuman, infernal things that did use the brambles for camouflage and hideaways.

Like the creepy, pallid, humpbacked crickets that lurked in the dark and crawled at you with terrifying purpose when you weren’t looking.  Or the toads, which looked like clods of earth with eyeballs. Nobody knew what those things were, but the guards and guard-dogs were terrified of them.  Carter said they looked like the ‘lil’ hoppers’ back in Bullfrog, and if you ate one you’d be talking to gigantic furry lemon-yellow polka dots that whistled show tunes. Hogan had made it very clear that he was not allowed to test for comparison, and no, Newkirk, we aren’t putting it in the guards’ soup-pot. Yes, I am a spoil-sport. Part of the privilege of command.

The rats reigned over all these beasts, and ate them with relish. Perhaps a daily diet of poisonous toads explained their behavior--they didn’t act like the rattus of Hogan’s tough childhood. They didn’t act like any rats he’d ever heard of.

The latrines were horrible but they were the perfect place to hide and chew on one’s ill-gotten contraband or secret stash of chocolate, gum, and the home-made raisin moonshine that nobody would ever admit to making but somehow, the stuff just kept…happening. And since the brambles still had tons of weathered fruit still hanging on to the vine from summer, the damned vermin had the best living arrangements of every living thing in the Stalag—possible exception being Oscar and Heidi’s dogs, who had the closest thing to red carpet treatment.

It was very ironic that the superior supply lines of Stalag XIII was nurturing these foul creatures. Klink had his excellent black market-skimming campaign going on that shorted everybody but himself (and Hogan would give one of Klink’s stolen cigars to learn his secret), but Hogan also had his Top-Notch smuggling and supply lines over and under the Stalag thanks to willing POWs and good old Oscar and Heidi. Between all these avenues sang opportunity for the bold rodent that saw anything unguarded and un-poisoned. There was also the third underground grocery store on part of the guards--willing to sell out either Klink or Hogan’s pass of chocolate or cheese if they got their own cut.

The guards’ latrines weren’t all that charming, but they were well-built and clean and built over one of the original concrete foundations. The POWs had a packed-earth foundation topped with old pallets. It was leaky and drafty and cold even in the dead of summer. In the drought season they had to hose it down in case it would burst into flames. It was the best place to go for contraband deals because the roof was airtight. The rats found easier pickings with the POWs than the guards. At least, Newkirk said snidely, the rats the POWs caught had more meat on their bones.

Hogan sipped his coffee and continued to think. Outside LeBeau was struggling to wring another miracle out of rations, potable water, and if you believed his rants, cinnamon-sprinkled sawdust. For some reason he was angry that he couldn’t get all of Carter’s hot peppers.

Hogan was also getting down because the men were supplying him with increasingly dismaying reports on the soil. Who would have thought any amount of rainfall would get through that brick-hard dirt? They needed dry earth to dig if they all didn’t want to die, and dry earth was so far as concept as realistic as glass slippers and talking wolves.

And…Germany was the country for both…

He glared at the tiny bookshelf nailed to the wall. GRIMM’S FAIRY TALES sat next to his mothy reading collection—a surprise birthday present from Schultz. The sergeant had made a comment about idle time was better spent reading than ‘naughty doings’. Hogan still didn’t know what to give him back for thoughtful revenge.

BANG-BANG.

Hogan jumped slightly and beat Carter to the door before the young man could filthy up his doorknob. The pyrotech was a walking lump of mud but at least one could see his eyes and mouth.

“What is it, Carter?”

“Aw, how’d you know it was me?” Carter pouted. Behind him Newkirk and LeBeau were snickering in that fond, cruel way good mates had, even as they hovered protectively over the stove and stitching.

“You left your hat on, Carter.” Hogan pointed out the obvious. “That makes the shape of your head a little distinctive.”

“Oh. Aw, shoot. Well, at least it kept me from hearin’ the rain. Honestly, its a lot quieter outside--”

“What is it?”

“Oh. The boys wanted you to know we’ve got as far as we can for the day. The walls of the pit are startin’ to, uh…jellify.”

“’Jellify?’” Hogan repeated. Behind Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau imitated this, and both looked as confused as Hogan felt.

“Yeah, they jiggle when you slap ‘em.” Carter nodded, which sent a good chunk of the Stalag’s terra firma hit the ground with a splat-splat. “Like pipeclay.”

“Pipeclay?”

Newkirk sucked in his breath with the force of his mother’s Electrolux vacuum. “Gov! Get ‘em out if that’s the case! Pipeclay’s not stable! The walls’ll be falling in and they’ll be in the bottom--!”

“You heard him, move!” Hogan barked.

Shaken, Newkirk watched them vanish into thin air. Only Hogan’s missing jacket and a trail of mud proved they ever existed. He risked looking at LeBeau. He was willing to bet they were both the same shade of pale. Over their heads, the relentless rain hammered and hammered and hammered...

“Mon d--.” LeBeau murmured. “Now what will we do? The Colonel needs this dug out.”

“Oh, uh…he’ll think of summat.” Newkirk rucked in as much optimism as he could manage, consider the circumstances. “The lads’ll need a lot of something hot to drink. Do you think you have enough?”

LeBeau grimaced. “Perhaps. I could do miracles with another pot, but I don’t think that old mushroom in the mess hall will let me borrow one for a while.”

“Did you sharpen his knives again? Shame on you.”

“The greater shame is to Krupp Steel!”

“Well, don’t worry. I’ll get you one. I’ll just pop--“ Newkirk realized what he was saying and closed his eyes. “Bloody ‘ell. We’re all gunna go stir-crazy, aren’t we? What’s that word Carter uses…cabin fever?”

“Yes.” LeBeau assured him with deadly calm. “And this fever, I do not have soup for.”

[koreanpike3-blog]

Real Women Approved: 30 Tried and Tested Fall Recipes You’ll Love

Velvet leggings: Spanx–one of my favorite pairs of pants in the winter! I never take them off! They run true to size–such a fun alternative to regular leggings, and so warm! Turtleneck: J.Crew’s tissue turtleneck…duh..when am I not wearing one? I own one in every color (and pattern!) They run true to size! (I always get asked what size I wear–the one I’m wearing here is size small, but I also have them in XS…it just depends on how you want them to fit!) Cardigan: this one is old from last year, but similar here, here and here! 

What are you cooking this fall?

Happy Friday, guys!

I can’t believe it’s already been a YEAR since I originally published this post! With so many amazing recipes, I decided I had to refresh it for 2018 again! So–that means, even MORE recipes to make this year!

I asked for your submissions on Instagram and got sooo many incredible recommendations! I tried my best to include as many as I could! This post (originally published last fall) was actually my second installment of my “Real Women Approved” series (where I round up YOUR recommendations on varying topics) and it was really fun to see how many more posts we’ve published since then! (Find them all right here!) These are some of my favorite posts to create because I think the best ideas come from you guys, and I have so much fun collaborating all together!

A change in seasons always re-ignites my excitement to get back into the kitchen (I’m always partial to warm winter recipes! I think everything tastes better roasted, braised, or cooked in a dutch oven!) I’m always on the hunt for new recipe ideas (aren’t we all?) so I figured this would be an awesome topic for my next reader favorites roundup!

I might be a little biased, but I think you guys have the best recommendations around! 😉(Like your book recco’s for example? LIGHTS OUT! Or your most praised all-purpose totes for work and travel? AMAZING.)

Personally, one of my favorite things to make in the fall and winter is lentil soup–it’s so simple, rustic, and delicious.

The best part about lentil soup is that you can really go any way you’d like with it–I always start with this classic base recipe and then riff off of it based on what I’m feelin’ that day. (I love to finish it with a squeeze of lemon and freshly grated parmesan cheese!) Lentils are so good for you, so I love this soup when I want a detox but want something heartier than a salad. Despite the fact that it doesn’t have meat in it, it’s one of Neal’s favorite soups! (Sometimes I add kale as well!)

If you’re feeling a little indulgent, add bacon when you’re sautéing the veggies, and a bit of wine while the soup is cooking. You could also give it an Eastern twist adding spices like tumeric or curry powder, and a splash of coconut milk. It’s so easy to make your own and is perfect for a cozy night in!

Now, even more fun–below are LOT’s more fall recipes recommended by my favorite gals–you guys! Get ready for pumpkin and butternut EVERYTHANG. (And make sure to follow along on Insta stories so you can weigh in on our next reader roundup topic! I always love to hear all your opinions!)

Fall Recipes

TJ’s Cauliflower Gnocchi Hack:

Melissa says, “I’m obsessed with this TJ’s Cauliflower gnocchi hack from Kai and the Kitchen! It’s a bag of frozen gnocchi, rotisserie chicken, mushrooms (I buy them pre-sliced, obvi), butter and sage. Best weeknight hack that is good enough for the weekend!” 

Fall Chicken Skillet

Jean says, “You have to try the Fall Chicken skillet from Well Plated! SO good with apples, sweet potatoes, Brussels sprouts yummm!” 

Veggie Fall Casserole

Reader Molly loves this broccoli cauliflower brown rice casserole for fall! She says,“it’s great for when you need to use up extra veggies or want something meatless!

“Pumpkin Stuffed with Everything Good!”

Suddin says, “We make ‘pumpkin stuffed with everything good‘ every fall. It’s bread, cheeses, herbs, etc stuffed into a pumpkin and baked. I look forward to it every year. I usually grab a small pumpkin from Trader Joe’s and it’s the perfect size for two!” 

Roasted Tomato Soup with Everything Grilled Cheese

Tina, who also has a great food blog, Shredded Sprout–says soup is her fall go-to, especially roasted tomato soup with everything grilled cheese. YUM!

Oven Roasted Chicken Shawarma

R says, “Just made this oven roasted chicken shawarma last night and it was super simple, but so easy and so tasty! The notes at the bottom give good tips on what to include so I added bell pepper along with the chicken as well as homemade pita and rice pilaf! 

Autumn Glow Salad

Kimberlyn says, “This is a delish salad perfect for fall. It has sweet potatoes and apples (AKA the Fall faves!) and keeps well for 3-4 days in the fridge so it’s perfect for meal prep. I usually make one big batch on Sunday and eat all week!”

Chipotle Pumpkin Soup with Chorizo

Laura is hooked on Halfbaked Harvest’s has chipotle pumpkin soup with chorizo! She says, “It has all the warming fall flavors you need and you can use soy-rizo/cut back on the cheese to make it healthier! I am obsessed with it 🔥”

30 Minute Thai Peanut Chicken Ramen

Carly says, “I made 30 Minute Thai Peanut Chicken from @halfbakedharvest via Cooking w/ Liz (@lizadams) last week and it was delicious! Plus, it was also quick, easy, and such a cozy meal.” Side note, if you don’t follow Liz, you definitely need to! I know you will love her–she does an Instagram live series called “Cooking with Liz” and it’s always so much fun!

Creamy Squash Rigatoni

Hannah says, “This pasta recipe has been my go-to fall recipe for YEARS! It’s basically like an inside out butternut squash ravioli! I’ve started using canned pumpkin (not the pie filling–the plain, unsweetened kind) instead of roasting the squash when I don’t have time!” 

Chicken Chorizo Chili

Karen describes this yummy Chili as “Spicy, easy, and a different take on chili. Such a cozy dish for a cold weeknight. And anything topped with cheese and sour cream is a MAJ victory IMO.” 

Salted Caramel Apple Pie

Cat says, “Okay, so this recipe takes some work, but I kid you not, everyone in my family is now OBSESSED with this pie an dI HAVE to make it every Thanksgiving! All of Sally’s recipes are so great because they give you small tips that you wouldn’t otherwise realize so just be sure to read the entire thing before baking!” 

Spiced Pork Tenderloin

Kathleen says, “For the past couple years when the weather gets juuust crips enough, my husband and I have a lightbulb moment: ‘IS IT SPICED PORK TIME?!’ We use this recipe just as a guide and basically dump tons of the spices onto the tenderloins for maximum fall flavor. It’s very quick easy, and low cal for a busy weekenight, and it’s absolutely delicious!” 

The Best Creamy Chicken Soup:

Helen says, “For this recipe, I use leftover rotisserie chicken and substitute half and half for heavy cream but it smells amazing (thank you, celery!) and it freezes wonderfully so you can eat it later in the season. My boyfriend and I love to eat it with crusty bread or homemade grilled cheese!” 

Panko Crusted Chicken Thighs:

Emma says,  “Right now, my favorite is this Bon Appetit Panko Crusted Chicken with carrots. It’s UNREAL. So fast, so easy, so cozy on a cold night. It’s comfort food for me, plain and simple. And pretty inexpensive. Usually I use chicken breast instead since that’s my go-to. Whatever floats your boat!” 

One Pan Autumn Chicken Dinner

Bethany says, “I love the One Pan Autumn Chicken Dinner by @cookingclassy ! It’s easy, makes the whole house smell amazing, and goes perfectly with a glass of 🍷!” 

Instant Pot Short Ribs

Clementine loves Tyler Florence’s ultimate short ribs with parsnip purée. “Omg so good “ she says, and shared her time-saving hack: “I did it in the InstantPot in under an hour last week if you aren’t into using a Dutch oven!” 

Thai Butternut Soup

Charmain says, “this is my favorite go-to recipe for those comfort food days and it’s really so simple to make. Everyone I’ve made it for always raves about how tasty it is and then is shocked at just swapping out milk for coconu tmilk and adding a few unexpected spices turns ordinary butternut soup into something amazing!” You can see the recipe posted on her instagram right here! (Plus, her feed is so pretty, too!)

Crock Pot Zucchini Lasagna

Do you follow my friend Lauren from Lakeshore Lady? She shares TONS of amazing recipes–but her crock pot zucchini lasagna is one of her go’to’s for Fall! “Super cozy, and once everything goes into the crock pot, you can forget about it until it’s time to eat! Stress free!”

Quick Apple Turnovers

Whitney says, “These apple turnovers are SO simple and made with ingredients that most people have on hand during the holidays. They taste best when hot from the oven and served with vanilla ice cream!” 

Winter Vegetable Chowder

Katie loves Rachael Ray’s Winter Veggie Chowder–she says, “I made it in a Crock-Pot on high for four hours. It’s easy but there’s a lot of chopping–just throw veggies in the crock and heavily salt. HEAVILY. )You think it’s too much but it’s not–because it will draw the liquid from the veggies, which is where your borth comes from!) I just let the veggies sweat it out in there, and then add the remaining ingredients!” 

Skinnytaste Pumpkin Chili

Lee recommends this pumpkin veggie chili from Skinnytaste–“My husband who is a total meat-a-tarian (you know what I mean?) even says this is his favorite chili. Seasonal, delicious, lower guilt, even more delicious as leftovers with some shredded cheese and tortilla chips.”

Pumpkin Spice Latte Protein Smoothie

Do you guys follow Morgan on Instagram? She’s a Chicago fitness and health blogger and she’s my go-to for EVERYTHING healthy and workout related! I might be her most annoying follower with how many questions I ask her on a weekly basis. Example: she actually didn’t SUBMIT this Pumpkin Spice Latte Protein Smoothie recipe for this post roundup, I saw her post it on Instastories and pestered her for the link so I could include it 😂 I’m really lazy so let’s be honest I probably won’t ever have Medjooll dates or multiple kinds of nut butter on-hand so my version will likely never be quite as healthy or as delicious as Morgan’s, but hey, include what you have and I’m pretty sure it will be fantastic.

Trader Joe’s Pumpkin Muffins

Haley says, “I LOVE pumpkin muffins, we use the yellow Trader Joe’s pumpkin dry mix and add in chocolate chips. Voila! Muffins!” 

Winter Corn and Squash Veggie Chili

“This is my favorite plant based chili,” Allison says! “It’s healthy (from my favorite magazine, Cooking Light) easy (either slow cooker or on the stove), flexible (you can throw in whatever you have around.) I always add in some cinnamon, because I don’t think you can have chili without it! It’s also freezable (because making soup for one person is difficult!) I swear by the recipe and make it several times each fall. It pairs amazingly with homemade corn bread!” 

Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Cinnamon, Butternut Squash, Cranberries and Pecans

Jessie calls this roasted brussels sprouts recipe “the most delicious fall dish EVER!” If you’re in charge of bringing a side dish for Thanksgiving, I think this one would be such a great one to try out! Different than every other Brussels sprout recipe I’ve ever seen, but still with traditional fall flavors. Yum!

“Too easy” Pumpkin Waffles

Nina shared the most genius hack EVER. “My newest fall thing is pumpkin waffles. I make them the easy way. I follow the directions on a regular box of waffle mix and then add in pumpkin puree! It’s so easy it feels like cheating!” HAHA I like Nina’s style!!

Spiced Pumpkin Coffee Cake

Lindsey raves about this recipe for pumpkin spiced coffee cake (UM. YUMMM?) because it’s 1. Idiot Proof. and 2. Uses a boxed cake mix, but tastes completely homemade! Sign me up!

She says “I took it to a weekly group meeting and received so many compliments! Also, I live on a TINY island in Washington state and none of our grocery stores had the pumpkin spice pudding mix, so I used regular vanilla pudding and added a tablespoon of pumpkin pie spice! Delish!” 

Butternut Squash and Bacon Soup

Carley says, “this soup is so flavorful and delicious! It’s my husband’s favorite dish and I took it to Thanksgiving last year and it was a hit! If you enjoy this, her blog has a ton of great recipes as well!” (Jess’ note: I agree–Damn Delicious is one of my favorite food blogs!)

Pumpkin Alfredo

Rachel recommends Pinch of Yum’s Pumpkin Alfredo! “It’s definitely indulgent (not healthy at all) but it is so so yummy. It’s rich with lot’s of flavor. Also, surprisingly, it only has 5 ingredients and is ready in 20 minutes! It’s the perfect weeknight meal when you’re craving pasta!)” 

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies

Laura’s go-to recipe for fall is this one for pumpkin chocolate chip cookies! “They are super easy and always fly off the plate,” she says. “My friends and family love them!” 

Pumpkin Maple Pecan Granola

Kaylee says “this pumpkin maple pecan granola tastes like fall and is super easy to make! I love eating it on Greek yogurt with a little bit of honey or even just a snack on its own! It’s delightful!” 

  Bon Appetit! What have you been cooking lately? I would love to hear your reccos! Tell me about your favorite Fall recipes below (links are even better!)

Shop my outfit: 

Source: https://thegoldengirlblog.com/what-are-you-cooking-this-fall-13-reader-approved-fall-recipes-to-try-this-season/

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30 Weight Watchers Recipes for Dinner

Ranked as the Best Weight Loss Diet by WebMD, Weight Watchers has been a popular commercial diet for years, and for good reason. People see results when they follow a Weight Watchers recipe! Their system gives you plan that’s relatively simple and easy to follow. By tracking food as “points,” you’re (generally) allowed to eat whatever you want as long as you stay within your allotted points. Simple enough, right? The major problem is all those leftovers. We solve that by collecting Weight Watchers recipes for dinner for two.

When you want to make healthy food choices, stay within your points goal, and eat something that tastes good, look to this list of amazing dinner recipes. These 30 Weight Watchers recipes make a perfect dinner for two, so grab a friend and head to the kitchen to get cooking!

1. Pesto Flatbread Pizza with Fried Egg and Arugula (6 Freestyle SmartPoints)

We’re all about diets that let you eat pizza. This flatbread is great for two, and it’s full of flavor with pesto, egg, carrots, and even mozzarella! One of our favorite Weight Watchers recipes for dinner for two (especially quick weeknight meals).

2. Slow Cooker Turkey Stew (4 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Being able to throw everything into a Crock-Pot and let it do its thing is ideal for anyone who’s busy. This stew is a great Weight Watchers recipe, and it’s perfectly cozy when the colder weather sets in. Pro-tip: This is a great way to use any Thanksgiving leftovers you might have!

3. Coconut Curry Chicken with Broccoli and Brown Rice (7 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Curry is always packed full of flavor, and this lightened-up version is no exception. This chicken curry is crammed full of spices and tastes deliciously creamy. It will also keep you full, thanks to the combination of lean protein and whole grains. A big batch of this Weight Watchers recipe means plenty to share!

4. Skinny Chicken Tacos with Guacamole (5 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Who doesn’t love a good taco? This Weight Watchers recipe updates a comfort food staple to make it healthier than ever. Plenty of chicken and veggies round out this dish, making it a well-balanced meal. Try it on your next Taco Tuesday!

5. Instant Pot Chicken and Rice (12 Freestyle SmartPoints)

If you’ve invested in the life-changing Instant Pot, this recipe should definitely be in your repertoire. Chicken, rice, and vegetables are staples in any healthy diet, but this recipe adds plenty of spices so you’re not sacrificing on flavor. Eating healthy can always taste delicious!

6. Slow Cooker Vegan Gumbo (2 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Integrating some vegan recipes into your diet can be a nice change of pace. This flavorful gumbo is the perfect introduction to eating vegan! Perfect for a chilly day, this gumbo has loads of vegetables and classic Cajun seasoning. You won’t even know it’s meatless once you try it!

7. Baked Tilapia with Quinoa and Garlicky Green Beans (6 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Get your dose of omega-3 fatty acids with this tilapia recipe. Paired with a healthy whole grain like quinoa and some delicious green beans, this is the perfect meal for two. This Weight Watchers recipe tastes amazing, and you’ll be sure to impress whoever you’re cooking for with this meal!

8. Balsamic Glazed Pork with Apples, Green Beans, and Carrots (10 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Another great slow cooker recipe, this dish gets all its delicious flavor from being cooked low and slow. Pork chops are a great source of lean protein, and this recipe easily fits in our list of Weight Watchers recipes for dinner for two. The balsamic turns into a sticky, sweet glaze as it cooks, marrying with the apples and vegetables as well. This dish has “autumn” written all over it, so be sure to try it soon!

9. Quick and Easy Slow Cooker Black Bean Soup for Two (2 Freestyle SmartPoints)

This is one of those soups that completely blows me away, every time. It’s super simple to make but it’s packed full of southwestern flavors, giving it a complexity that keeps me coming back bite after bite. This soup has the perfect combination of flavors, between the protein- and fiber-rich black beans, savory fire roasted tomatoes, spicy peppers, sweet potatoes, and herbaceous cilantro. It has definitely become one of my favorite Weight Watchers recipes for dinner for two!

10. Skinny Chicken Nuggets (6 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Let’s face it: Sometimes we crave food that isn’t exactly healthy, and sometimes that food is found on the kid’s menu. Upgrade your nugget game with this updated, kid- and adult-friendly recipe! By baking them in the oven, chicken nuggets can be a quick and healthy weeknight meal.

11. Weight Watchers Lasagna (7 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Casseroles are oh-so cozy, but they’re usually not very healthy. This version of the Italian classic, however, can fit into any Weight Watchers program easily. Full of meat, cheese, and vegetables, you’d never guess this is a lightened-up recipe! Pair it with salad and crostini to create the perfect dinner for two.

12. One-Pot Black Pepper Chicken (4 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Spicy, savory, and just a little bit sweet, this one-pot recipe makes a great quick dinner for two. You’d never believe this is a Weight Watchers recipe, either! Serve it alongside brown rice or quinoa for a meal full of nutrition and flavor. As a bonus, you’ll only have one pan to clean up afterwards!

13. Healthier Potato Spinach Cheesy Frittata (3 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Breakfast for dinner is always a good idea. When you’re craving a delicious frittata, this lightened-up dish will satisfy your morning meal cravings. Using spinach and potatoes and blended with two different cheeses combines nutrition and flavor. Plus, this recipe is done in a flash, making it perfect for a weeknight in!

14. Slow Cooker Stuffed Cabbage Rolls (5 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Replacing the beef with turkey in this traditional recipe is a great idea! The stuffing will keep you full (thanks to a blend of whole grains and lean protein), and the sauce adds plenty of flavor. Throw everything in the Crock-Pot and you’re good to go!

15. Zesty Chicken with Shallots, Capers, and Olives (4 Freestyle SmartPoints)

 This is another awesome Weight Watchers recipe. It only takes 30 minutes to make, start to finish. The chicken is seasoned with plenty of traditional Italian spices, so you’d never guess it was a recipe designed for people on a diet! Pair it with the pasta of your choice for a delicious dinner for two.

16. Tuna Casserole (13 Freestyle SmartPoints)

This version of tuna casserole keeps the deliciously creamy flavor of the original without all of the fat and calories. The low-fat cheese make it ooey and gooey, and you’ll get a hearty dose of omega-3s while satisfying your comfort food craving. It’s rich and indulgent, but super healthy!

17. Pumpkin Chicken Chili (2 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Pumpkin seems to be everywhere these days, so try something totally new by putting it in chili! Spicy and hearty, this chili is loaded up with fall flavors. It’s also packed with protein from the black beans and lean chicken. This Weight Watchers recipe will quickly become a new favorite!

18. Moroccan Chicken Salad with Chimichurri Dressing (6 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Try experimenting with Moroccan flavors by making this salad as a quick dinner for two. Garlic, cilantro, and parsley make up the bulk of the dressing, while the salad is peppered with feta cheese, almonds, and pomegranate. This is one of those dishes full of complex and unique flavors that’s sure to impress!

19. Low Carb Crock Pot Balsamic Chicken Thighs (3 Freestyle SmartPoints)

This Keto-friendly, slow cooker dish is a great way to dress up chicken when you’re feeling bored with your usual flavors. And we love that this Weight Watchers recipe is even low-carb! Serve it with any side you like, but to keep it low-carb we recommend using cauliflower “rice” and vegetables.

20. Clean Eating Loaded Grilled Chicken Nachos (12 Freestyle SmartPoints)

With football season here, everyone is going to be craving tailgate food. These nachos will satisfy that craving without being ridiculously unhealthy. The melted cheese on top makes it feel super indulgent, but it’s also filled with plenty of veggies and healthy, grilled chicken. This recipe makes a perfect portion, making it one of our go-to Weight Watchers recipes for dinner for two.

21. Moo Shu Beef Lettuce Cups (5 Freestyle SmartPoints)

When you’re trying to eat low-carb, lettuce cups make a great bread substitute for a variety of fillings. We love these Moo Shu Beef Lettuce Cups because they use lean ground beef, Asian-inspired spices and seasonings, and loads of vegetables. Done in around 30 minutes, this recipe makes two perfect servings!

22. Orange Glazed Chicken and Sweet Potato Kebabs (9 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Grilled food doesn’t have to be just for the summer! Make these kebabs when you’re craving a brightly flavored, warm weather-inspired dish. These kebabs can be baked in the oven if the weather outside isn’t ideal for grilling. Chicken plus healthy carbs equals a seriously awesome meal.

23. One Pan Crispy Parmesan Chicken (5 Freestyle SmartPoints)

One pan dishes are perfect when you’re feeling lazy because you’ll spend less time in the kitchen cleaning up. Pile all the ingredients on a baking sheet, throw it in the oven, and you’re good to go. The garlic and parmesan coating becomes ultra-crispy in the oven, so make this Weight Watchers recipe ASAP!

24. Healthy Chicken Burrito Wraps (11 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Who doesn’t love a good burrito? Unfortunately, chain restaurant burritos are usually loaded with unnecessary calories, but that’s exactly why this lighter recipe makes the perfect meal for when you’re eating clean. Chicken, rice, cheese, and veggies make up this burrito—you’ll never eat those fast-food burritos again!

25. Sweet and Sour Shrimp Stir-Fry (8 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Star-fry is healthy all on its own, but sometimes it’s hard to know what flavors and ingredients to pair with each other. That’s why this recipe is perfect when you’re craving that delicious sweet-and-sour tang. It’s loaded with shrimp, pineapple, water chestnuts, and even peanuts. Serve this dish over rice and forget the takeout altogether!

26. Jerked Chicken and Plantain Skewers (4 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Plantains are a great healthy carb, so don’t be afraid to use them in more dishes. Bursting with flavor, this Weight Watchers recipe proves that eating clean can be delicious. Between the Jerk spices, lime, and pineapples, this dish really feels like summer. Grilling can be done inside on the stove, so don’t be afraid to make this dish all year long.

27. Honey Lime Salmon (2 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Don’t be intimidated by cooking fish with this easy salmon recipe. This entire dish is done in 15 minutes, so this is great when you’re looking for a fast dinner for two. The seasoning turns into a glaze when it’s baked, so the flavors really coat the fish. Serve it over rice for a quick weeknight meal!

28. Veggie Shepherd’s Pie (5 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Although it’s usually not seen as a healthy recipe, Shepherd’s Pie can actually fit into a Weight Watchers diet! Replacing the meat with plenty of veggies gives you that traditional flavor without all the calories. It’s even healthier because we used mashed cauliflowers for the topping!

29. Beef Teriyaki and Vegetables (12 Freestyle SmartPoints)

The combination of protein, carb, and vegetable can get pretty boring when you’re eating healthy, but this version is super delicious and flavorful. Teriyaki beef is a classic dish, but paired with brown rice and stir-fry veggies, it becomes a perfect version for weeknight cooking.

30. One-Pot Chicken and Veggie Ramen Stir-Fry (7 Freestyle SmartPoints)

Ramen is super trendy right now, so try the sensational flavors by pairing it with another Asian classic: stir-fry! Reminiscent of takeout, this dish is perfect when you’re craving a delivery meal. Done in one pot and even using packaged ramen noodles, you’d never believe this is a Weight Watchers recipe. Pretend you’re in college again when you make this dish!

Weight Watchers recipes for dinner for two don’t have to be boring—eating healthy can be delicious, and it can even feel indulgent! Try these recipes to mix things up and make the perfect dinner for two. This is only a fraction of the amazing recipes out there, so don’t be afraid to keep trying new flavors to find something that is just as unique as you are!

It’s time to get cooking! For more Weight Watchers recipe from SkinnyMs., be sure to check out our Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest pages for inspiration!

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