#the omelette he is cooking looks nasty though

[worthlessprotoplasam]

My guy just woke up

[curlynerd]

Dean Winchester hates mornings.

It might have something to do with the four hours of sleep that precede them. Or perhaps the lingering memories of dragging a grumpy, petulant 12-year-old Sam out of bed for school when he was still an equally grumpy, petulant kid himself. Or maybe he just isn't wired to handle the early hours.

Whatever it is, Dean Winchester hates mornings.

And yet, he still wakes up early every day.

Drags his ass out of bed with a grumble and a sigh. Keeps his curses as quiet as possible so he doesn't wake Cas beside him. Scrubs at the sleep making his eyes gritty. Shuffles into a pair of pajama bottoms and his slippers with a disgruntled huff, like having to deal with the early morning chill is one of life's greatest inconveniences.

At the doorway, Dean pauses and looks back. Cas is still blissfully unconscious, his breathing slow and heavy and relaxed. The second Dean got out of bed he snagged all the blankets and cocooned himself in them, but by now his hand is out, searching for Dean so he can wrap his arm around him again. When it fails to find him, it curls around Dean's pillow. Cas buries his nose in it and lets out a tiny coo of contentment.

Dean smiles, his heart so full it aches. For just a second, he considers crawling back into bed with Cas. Succumbing to his hatred of mornings and going back to sleep with Cas nuzzled up against him like Dean is his personal teddy bear.

But he doesn't. He shuts the door behind him as quietly as possible and shambles down the hallway.

Dean's not quite firing on all cylinders without coffee in his system, so he bangs his shoulder on the doorway as he rounds the corner into the kitchen, and he swears a blue streak on his way to the sink. He's still grumbling under his breath as he grabs the lid of Sam's shaker bottle from the side of the sink and washes it with as much malcontent as he can muster. Sam always forgets to wash it when he rinses out his bottle, and Dean always has to clean it the next morning so Sam doesn't get yesterday's nasty protein shake crap mixed in with today's. He sets it beside the clean bottle and makes himself some coffee.

It's not long after the smell of fresh coffee fills the kitchen when Sam walks in, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and wearing running clothes like the health freak he is. "Hey."

Dean grunts in acknowledgement. Words are for after coffee. Sam starts making himself a protein shake without so much as a 'thank you' for cleaning his lid. Hell, he's probably not even aware Dean does it for him.

"Oh, can you do extra spinach in my omelette? Gotta use it up; it's getting kinda wilted," Sam asks on his way out the door, like it's a given Dean will make him an omelette. Because it is a given. Five people in the bunker and someone needs to make breakfast for them all. Might as well be Dean. "And tomatoes?"

"Yeah yeah, have it your way, Burger King," Dean grouses as he pours himself a mug of coffee. He dumps what's left and fills the carafe with more water.

"Awesome, thanks." And then Sam's gone off to do horrifying morning activities like jogging.

Dean, however, is doing something even more horrifying. He fills the coffee maker with pumpkin spice flavored coffee and grimaces. But God help him, Cas loves the stuff. And Dean loves Cas, so he'll make him some freakin' pumpkin spice coffee. Though this is the only point in the entire day when he questions his love for Cas. Just a little bit.

As nutmeg and cinnamon fill the air, Dean chugs his respectable cup of plain ol' dark roast and browses the contents of the refrigerator.

Blueberries. He should use those up too. Dean plucks them, some eggs, some butter, some milk, and all of the stuff for Sam’s atrocious vegetable omelette from the fridge.

Jack comes shuffling in while Dean is mixing up blueberry pancake batter, looking sleepy but chipper. He looks even happier when he sees what Dean’s cooking. “Excellent timing! Chop Sam’s tomatoes for me,” Dean commands before Jack even has a chance to say a ‘good morning!’ or grab some juice. The coffee is finally kicking in and dragging him into full wakefulness, but the patient parts of Dean’s brain don’t come online until at least 9am.

Eileen isn’t far behind Jack, but she takes one look at Dean with his spatula and Jack at the cutting board and immediately backs out of the kitchen. “Sorry! Dunno what you’re saying!” she shouts as she retreats, as if she expected Dean to try calling out orders after her. “I’m gonna shower!” Dean sighs and shakes his head. Probably for the best. She handles produce and a chef's knife the same way she does with vampires and a machete.

“Hello, Dean. Jack.” Cas drags himself into the kitchen with half-open eyes. His sleep-rough voice is adorable. The wild shock of hair standing up on one side, even moreso.

“Mornin’ Sunshine!” Dean croons at full volume, like he does every morning, because he’s kind of an asshole and secretly likes the way Cas scowls at Dean’s energy as he makes a cup of his terrible pumpkin spice coffee.

Cas comes up behind Dean and rests his chin over his shoulder to watch him cook, like he’s too tired to even bother holding up his own head. Dean has to be careful how he moves his arm so he doesn’t burn himself on Cas’ hot mug, but he’d be lying if he said this wasn’t one of his favorite parts of the day. Cas tucked up against his back, sleep hazy and warm from their shared bed, those beautiful blues blinking owlishly as Dean makes food for their family.

“Sure you don’t want any?” he asks, pointing down at the griddle even though he knows the answer already.

“No, too early to eat,” Cas grunts by his ear. “Coffee is enough. It smells delicious though.” He tilts his head down to press a gentle kiss to Dean’s shoulder before he pulls away to slouch down in a chair and finish waking up.

By the time Dean finishes breakfast, Sam and Eileen have filtered in too, completing their packed table. For a brief moment it’s utter chaos as everyone grabs plates of food and cutlery and coffee and juice, but before Dean can blink everyone is settled, chowing down on their breakfast or quietly drinking their awful flavored coffee. Dean lets out a weary sigh and sinks down into a chair next to Cas with his own stack of pancakes. It’s way too early to feel this tired.

Almost immediately Cas tilts sideways until he’s using Dean as a headrest again. "I don't see how you can stand getting up so early," Cas says around a slow sip of his coffee. He closes his eyes in appreciation and hums softly.

Dean glances around the table. At Sam, his overly long hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, scrolling through his phone as he shovels egg white omelette into his mouth like he's starving for it. At Eileen, a pleased grin on her face as her closed fist moves in a circle in front of her, her thumb pointed down over her stack of pancakes. At Jack, watching her intently as she teaches him a new sign, his fork suspended halfway to his mouth until a bite of pancake falls off it and smacks onto the table, making Eileen laugh.

At his family, fed and caffeinated and content, ready to start their days because Dean took the extra time to get things off on the right foot.

"I dunno," Dean says with a shrug as he passes Jack the bottle of syrup. He grins. "I kinda like mornings."

[redbirdbella]

@clintasha-week advent calendar day 21 - free 

This goes against all my headcanons so it wont go any further but this idea wouldn’t stop bugging me so here we go!

"Hello? Yes. I'd like to request medical assistance to safehouse 3485 please, suspected poisoning" Clint begins unable to take his eyes off his partner and the way she's bearhugging the toilet bowl. 

"Ok honey, we can definitely get that sorted for you. Can you just let me know which agent you are requesting this for?"

"Natasha Romanoff"

"Uh-huh," she taps away furiously at a keypad. He wonders if he can see the notes, the ones that say she's only just had the KGBs bounty removed from her head. "So is this Clint I'm speaking to?"

"Yeah"

"Ok Clint, Agents Stanton and Welford will be over to support they are from Natasha's approved file and I believe you've met before?"

"Many times"

"Excellent they are 20 minutes away from your location and are on their way as soon as they can. Do you mind giving me a brief description of the issue?"

"She's been generally unwell for the past 4 days with sickness and nausea - unable to keep food down and now seems weak and tired. It started after Starks party"

"Ok, I've got that noted down. Is she currently conscious and breathing?"

"yeah she's now being sick, bits of blood too"

"Alright Clint, keep her calm, it's perfectly normal for that to happen if someone's being sick as much as she is. No more food and fluids until help arrives though ok?"

Clint nods not that she can see but he doesn't want Natasha to realize he's asking for medical support but if her glare is anything to go by she's noticed. 

"And you say it started after Starks party?"

"Yeah the morning after" 

"Ok, and can you tell me who was in attendance?

"No, it's a bit of a blur" 

"That's ok. We can look into that more if and when we need too. How's Natasha doing now?" 

"Still the same"

"Ok, Stanton and Welford are only 5 minutes out now-"

The operator is 48 seconds too early. Stanton and Welford arrive relatively uneventfully as far as Natasha's concerned. She grumbles but still gives Stanton, an ex-army medic now a lovable grump, a tight hug and a soft "hello" leaving Welford to fuss over Lucky and the inevitable paperwork that comes with interacting with Strike Team Delta.

 They get Natasha settled on the bed leaving the cool bathroom floor behind. 

"Right, let's start by running a few basic tests and then we will either take you to the treatment center or give Clint the number of a good therapist for the hypochondria"

The quick laugh it draws from Natasha disappears as soon as the medical equipment appears. 

"First question" Stanton asks sternly but the glint in her eyes says otherwise, "Did you eat Clint's cooking?"

"Nothing I haven't supervised"

"Well that pretty much rules out food poisoning"  

"I'm sure it can be arranged if you like Stanton, I can make you my special scrambled eggs recipe the special ingredient is E.coli" Clint mutters entwining his fingers with Natasha's.

The tests are over quickly, with Natasha too drained to put up much of a fight this time. One by one the results all come up negative, negative, negative. But the sickness hasn't stopped. Clint holds her through the next bout until she's left empty dry-heaving and coughing.

"Ok me and Welford both want to give you a little trip up to the treatment centre cause chances are you might have a nasty case of stomach flu or a stomach migraine but we can run some more tests up there just to be sure it's nothing major. But first, let's get you feeling a little more human and a little less walking dead. Wash or a shower?"

"Can't she get clean once we are there?" Clint's asks straining to keep the fear from his voice. 

Stanton nods towards the door leaving Natasha to Welford capable hands and Lucky's wagging tail.

"No, it's nicer to do it at home where we can get her dressed. I understand your concerns but between the three of us, we have got her covered. do you want to pack you both an overnight bag? She's going to need IV fluids overnight if nothing else, get someone in to check on the dog"

Clint nods "But it's not life-threatening?"

"No she's still very much alive so don't start spending the life insurance money just yet. Now Natasha wash or shower?"

They let him travel in the ambulance, sitting him close enough so he can kiss her hands and whisper to her when the movement of the ambulance and her nausea collide.

She chooses shower cause of course she does anything to delay a visit to the treatment centre. It works though, she does look more human dressed in leggings and one of Clint's old jumpers. Smaller but still more human.

She even manages a smile when they call ahead and guarantee Natasha her favourite Doctor the quirky young woman with the red converses. 

Welford does the handover, patiently repeating himself when the Doctor interrupts to ask questions before he's finished. They stay there goodbyes to Stanton and Wellford and the next few hours pass by with endless tests and observations. By Strike Team Deltas standards Natasha is a model patient even when they place her onto an IV of fluids and an anti-sickness medication with a name with more syllables then ingredients, probably. 

Eventually, Clint crawls into bed with her, once the medication has kicked in enough that she can actually relax as the fear of being sick subsides. 

"I'm sorry" he whispers "I was being paranoid"

Natasha smiles pushing her forehead against his, "Avoiding blame more like, bet it was that omelette the one you absolutely checked the eggs were good for" 

"I'll make it up to you. promise"

Natasha smiles, she relaxes into him and Clint is almost certain she's asleep when the Dr walks in. 

"Mystery solved love-birds. The good news is Natasha hasn't been poisoned. The bad news is she's been taken out by friendly fire. The friendliest fire" 

Natasha glances over giving Clint her best 'i-told-you-so' smile. 

"Congratulations. Your pregnant!"

[vorstigon]

A small fic inspired by @donitkitt ​‘s incredible Aftermath AU (thank yaa), because omg am I speechless. I adore it so much, a true treasure for both angst and fluff, ahhh.

TW: a bit of graphic imagery, a bit of swearing, torture flashback and a depressed turtle boi. Also, sorry for any stupid mistakes. Alas, English isn't my first language, and tenses can be pain in the ass. 

First Struggles.

Flash.

A horrific view in front of him.

Flash.

Someone is screaming.

Flash.

Is it Donnie?

Flash.

Watch. Watch. See them!

Flash.

He saw a figure he loathed. He gave it a sharp, penetrating stare of pure hate.

Flash.

His surroundings were becoming a blur.

Flash.

He couldn't see them. Everything was dark.

Flash.

Leonardo woke up hyperventilating, his body was shaking uncontrollably. If he could, he would have hissed, forced himself to take control over his own body. He knew he couldn't.

Once the first flash had been subsumed by his eyes, he wasn't in control.

He wondered if he ever would.

Saying stop to the ifs might be a good start. There's no need for those ifs any longer.

The trembling dark green shape – his right hand, he presumed – managed to detach itself from the thigh, slowly shaking its way towards the scratched plastron, aiming to land on his aching heart. Just breath.

But was there really a reason to breath? He managed to hit the rock bottom. He failed the team as a leader, but most notably, he failed his own little brothers. That what irony is, right? Years of balancing being both: a good leader and older brother and failing both simultaneously. 

His brothers.

Leo's right palm squeezed the left side of his chest, slightly brushing the heartache away. A deep breath was taken, he took control over his body.

Standing up was another challenge – his body felt sore. Shouldn't come as an eye-opener, he remarked to himself darkly, pun intended; there was a lot of throwing up yesterday. The image of Donatello's right arm – the lack of it, rather – has nearly caused him to stumble. That cracked bone, mess of muscle tissue, vigorously bleeding arteries… Blood. So much blood.

He shook his head.

Huh, as if shaking would help his mind stop projecting the disturbing imagery. The anguished sounds Donnie made once pain became unbearable; they fulfilled the silence after solid "No" had been spilled to Bishop's face. Raph's angry voice, swearing and trying to protect the younger brother, despite the cuts all over his body and a bleeding eye. Mikey's impulsive shaking and shrieks of terror and cries, as Donnie's blood touched his face. Mikey's eyes couldn't move away from the horror unfolding in front of him, no matter how hard Leo tried to make the youngest look at him – anywhere, really. And Leo failed even at this seemingly doable task. He failed all of them.

He blamed himself for finding his brother's injuries "disturbing", too. That's a way too simple word for it. Those so-called injuries will stay with them forever. And it was all his fault. The least he can do is to help them.

He has to breathe.

With a muffled grunt, Leonardo shook his head again and headed towards the door. The blue mask was hanging loosely on his neck, his body was gearless. The door slowly opened, revealing a small crack of the completely dark room. A cat-like, focused and sharp blue eye showed itself. Leo cursed, as the lair's main light appeared to be way too bright for his peculiar eye. Besides, everything has become a blur to him anyway. He closed both of his eyes, trying to focus on other senses. He found out that his senses were no good either, but he will work on it, sharpen them like the only intact blade he had been left with. Surprisingly, this blade has managed to survive through everything.

At first, he directed his senses on the nearest open space – their living room. Gladly, his memory was more precise than his eyesight. Leo erased the image, focusing only on his hearing. He could hear the static emitting from TV, also managing to pick up the sound of plates slightly drifting like layers as they contacted with each other. Someone was in the kitchen, cooking as it sounded. This calmed Leo down to a certain point, creating a familiar, soothing and cosy feeling of the past… Yes, their rather peaceful past before… Before. And Leo would be damned if he would have allowed himself to forget any little detail of what had happened to them. He would not fall for this illusion. Though curiosity was still a strong feeling, Leo wanted to check who was in the kitchen.

And since he was definitely safe for now, he could try to figure this out on his own.

The first one to check was Mikey. Leo silently opened the door, warm relief spread over his body as he felt the youngest laying on the bed. Sadly, there's also been a feeling of anxiety radiating from Mikey's sleeping, slightly trembling form. Leo would have woken him up, but as long as his brother wasn't haunted by the intolerable nightmares and actually gets some sleep… He would leave him be and be ready in case his assistance would be needed. Besides, Klunk has always been the best emotional support for Mikey, and now she sensed the itching feeling of being needed more than ever. The orange cat stretched and squished itself over Mikey's plastron, purring loudly, calming him down. 

Leo mimicked his earlier movements, silently exciting the room.

He then directed his attention on the med-bay nearby Don's room, as Donatello for sure would have been there. Out of commission, growled Leo darkly in his head. Once they had managed to break free, meeting with the rescue team, Donnie couldn't handle the pain any longer and passed out. He hasn't woken up ever since. Leo suspected that to happen since they were rescued about three days ago? Was it three already? Or more? It felt like yesterday, everything was way too vivid. 

Leonardo could barely see the shape of his pale brother lying on the medical bed. His legs and left hand had been strapped to it, Leo could barely remember holding unconscious Donnie down, as April and Splinter were trying to fix… What still could be fixed. They were trying to ease the pain and stop any chance of potentially lethal infection which might come with such a major injury.

Leo signed with relief, sensing steadiness in Donnie's breathing. He shut the door behind himself, slightly smiling and feeling less nauseous.

Moving his snoot slightly, he sniffed intensely, slowly making his way towards the kitchen. A very familiar smell enwrapped him with its strong concentration, though he could only pick up eggs and ham mostly, knowing Raph, cheese would be present as well. Being in such vulnerable state Leo wanted to smell everything. Every single ingredient, the amount of pepper and salt added, and be able to predict location of his brother by the sound he makes. Before walking in, Leo would say that Raph was standing nearby the coffee machine, it was next to the oven so that he could see everything that's going on with the omelette. Raph really didn't like being teased by Mikey if the omelette was even a bit over-fried. His own fault; shouldn't have taunted Mike all the time about getting slightly burned up food.

Memories. Leo wanted to fuse with them, instead of picturing them as an image of what he and his dear brothers used to be. He was starting to hate those goddamn overwhelming memories. If they were to recover, he should not allow himself to melt within their melancholic peacefulness. There was nothing peaceful about what had happened to them.

Once he stepped into the kitchen, he loudly tsk'ed, annoyed with himself as his damn senses were apparently non-existent. Raph wasn't standing near the coffee machine. Not a big deal, he would have normally said, but now, with this disability – a reminder of his failure – this mistake made him as angry as he was at Bishop. Twisted fucker. Leonardo cannot afford to stay as weak as he had been, in his memory. Such a failure deserves to go blind, and this will be and stay as a reminder. From now on, he must train harder, way harder than he ever did.

"N' good mornin' to ya as well, brother," said Raph, his words were soft. Leo could have sworn that his usually smug brother has smiled as wide as ever once he saw him. Leo waved in return. "Wanna have breakfast now?" continued Raph, noticing tension radiating from his older brother, but didn't react on it.

"Let's wait for Mikey." quietly replied Leo, placing a comforting hand on Raph's shoulder, receiving a nod from the latter. 

In all honesty, he wasn't up to another session of puking today. Yesterday has gotten that nasty privilege already. But he was certainly up for some training. Of course, if "some" meant 'the state of mere consciousness'. With that, he left Raph alone, Leo's eyes flashed with confidence and determination, as he tightly clenched his fists, heading towards the dojo.

[hakuchigun]

Fix and taste!

[ fix ] for your muse to treat mine’s injury 

He must have fucked up, somewhere. 

They’d both been involved in a bit of a mess earlier, ruined their good, quiet night– actually, who was he kidding? They were moments off from starting a bar fight anyway – and he was absolutely certain that they’d both gotten out of it with nothing but superficial injuries compared to their opponents…

Yet, here he was, hissing through clenched teeth. More out of annoyance than pain, but still.

“Stay still, idiot. Geez, you’re like a baby.”

Harsh words softened by the amused grin on Nicolette’s voice, she kicks at him, causing him to twist and turn from his position cross legged on the ground, ready to quip back with some timely curses, but Nicolette pours the rest of their remaining alcohol on his injured arm. 

“Fuck–! Tha’s a waste of perfectly fine drink, Nico!”

“I said, stay still!”– She presses her fingers tightly against his arm, stopping the blood flow to the injured area, before biting down on a piece of cloth she’d picked up somewhere and pulls it tightly around him. –”There. Suck it up, Chuuya. I’m not gonna be the one telling Hawks that the reason you’ve got a nasty infection is ‘cuz you wanted to drink more!”

She sniffs indignantly, eyes sharp, but whether it’s the alcohol from earlier in their night speaking or if it’s the adrenaline finally settling, she finishes up with a sigh, shooting her gaze to the side away from her companion.

“…Next time, don’t go jumping in the way. You’re the one who said he hated self sacrificial idiots! I can handle myself…” She mumbles. She’s not used to that, not used to people putting themselves in danger for her. She was so accustomed to being used, to being a pawn. Between Chuuya and Hawks… Nicolette wrinkles her nose, shrugs her shoulders. “But, thanks, I guess…”

Chuuya blinks, looks at her and–

Devolves into laughter, chest heaving, breath short. 

She’s thanking him? He wasn’t going to die from an injury like this, and after all, they’d attacked them because of him. She wouldn’t have been in the situation at all if they weren’t hanging out… He could have handled it himself and he wouldn’t have faulted her, but instead of just leaving him, she’d laughed and went along with it. 

Nicolette looks straight up offended, at first, but it seems he’s rather contagious as she ends up joining in, their drunken laughter echoing in the night as they decompress from their escapades.

[ taste ] for your muse to cook for mine

“You, cook? I’d rather eat my own damn fist.”

Harsh words. Chuuya lifts his chin, shoots a glare to Nicolette, and for good measure crosses his arms as well. Out of him, Hawks and her, none of them were particularly good chefs… He’d tried Hawks cooking before, and he was going to be damned if he was ever going through something like that again.

(He says, knowing full well he’s too idiotically soft to actually refuse either of them if they offered.)

“Fuck you, Chuuya, you’re blessed to eat my cooking! What’s the alternative, huh? You shove some more minute noodles in the microwave?” Nicolette rolls her eyes, though she keeps a grin on her face. Most of the time, Chuuya eats out instead, because fuck the minute noodle diet, but what’s friendship without throwing barbs at each other?

“Those are perfectly fine fucking noodles, Nico! They have plenty of flavours!” He raises his voice, playing along perfectly.

“Whatever. Shut up and let me make you these omelettes. You’re welcome, by the way, for me going out of my illustrious way to bless you with my amazing handiwork.”

She makes sure to put emphasis on each and every word, somehow still keeping a straight face even though she’s completely losing it on the inside at her own words. Before he can argue anymore, she throws a pillow at his face and turns on her heels to head into the kitchen. 

@violetueur

[peterparkers7evilexes]

Shipping Game

Thank you to the lovely @sbiderslut and @thebadthingshappen for tagging me!!! 💕

Pick your top 10 ships without reading the questions. [or if you’re a one ship dedicated blog, feel free to answer all of them for just that one, or do all the ships from one fandom, this is just for fun]

1. Winterspider 2. Starker 3. Winteriron 4. Parksborn 5. Spideychelle 6. Spideypool 7. Spiderio 8. Spideydevil 9. Spidershield 10. Winterironspider

Do you remember the episode/chapter/scene where you first started shipping 6? (Spideypool) My first MCU ship :') I saw the one Spideypool drawing Hannah Blumenreich ever drew for them and the size difference had me wrecked. I started looking up fics, and I remember having so much fun with their dynamic.

What’s your favourite fanfiction for 4? (Parksborn) Ahh off the dome there used to be one up called "Asunder" by Pansley that wasn't Parksborn-centric, but it got me hooked on the darker themes of this ship.

What’s your favourite fan art/picture for 2? (Starker) this masterpiece by reincao -- IT'S SO SEXY!!! What's the story?!? Who's shooting at them?!? Why is Tony smirking?!? Why is it so sexy?!??

What’s your favourite headcanon for 1? (Winterspider) I'm deeply in love with a scene where Bucky's riding his bike with Peter behind him, winding down a lonely road and into the setting sun. Peter's arms tight around Bucky's waist, his face pillowed on Bucky's shoulders and almost nodding off, the rumble of the bike keeping him alert enough to hold on, his fingers curled sleepily in the folds of Bucky's leather jacket that smells so much like home. Just. Lots of bike rides 🤗

What do you like most about the dynamic between the people of 7? (Spiderio) LOL IDK YET but probably the blind trust and manipulation I hope we're gonna get?? 😱

When 9 have sex is it more giggly or more serious? (Spidershield) Oooh prooobably more giggly? I think they wouldn't take each other too seriously and they'd both quickly realize they're just two naked dorks having fun.

Out of all the ships who do you think have the best chemistry? Spideypooooool they literally have children together, I just can't handle Peter's straight man attitude towards Pool sometimes when we KNOW how good they can be together

Which ship has the strongest bond? Parksborn - Peter and Harry have so much history, I can't disengage the two in my mind. I think even if they ended up with different people, they would always still hold some deep, irreplaceable love for one another their entire lives.

Which ship to you spend the most time reading fanfiction for/talking/writing about? Tied between Starker and Winterspider - Starker has a much larger community and as much as I adore Winterspider, Peter and Bucky have interacted for like 0.4 seconds 😂 (even if they held hands during that time)

Which one was your first ship? Parksborn - I watched a bunch of the various Spider-Man cartoons and every one was ripe for Parksborn shipping.

If 6 were to break up, how would it happen? (Spideypool) Oof, Wade devaluing himself and pushing Peter away - oooor Peter just dies one day and Wade... can't.

Between 3 and 8, who would last the longest if they were in a zombie apocalypse? (Winteriron vs Spideydevil) Winteriron no contest. Like it'd be laughable how easily Tony could manage some survival/defense gear, while Bucky with his super assassin skills would keep them safe. Peter and Matt would fucking get into a dumb argument about whether canned beans are safe to eat and attract the zombies to their location. It doesn’t help that both Matt and Peter’s fighting tactics are to literally yeet themselves at the enemy

Does 7 hide their relationship, and if so, why? (Spiderio) Yes I THINK, because Peter's teammates wouldn't trust Mysterio at all and he'd keep it on the downlow to avoid their disapproval.

What is 9′s favourite date to go on? (Spidershield) drive in movie theaters! They like sitting on the hood of an old car and leaning into one another, and as evening grows cold they cuddle and get distracted with soft kisses.

What’s your favourite canon moment between 1? (Winterspider) I love arm

What do 5 argue most about? (Spideychelle) Dumb shit. Why the Sorting Hat is a whack method of division, or how come no one remembers R2-D2 in New Hope. Anything important, they agree in or can at least come to a mutual respect and understanding.

If you had to pick an OTP which would you chose? Winterspider babey

What’s the biggest kink that 1 shares? (Winterspider) Power and aggression. Bucky spends so much of his conscious energy holding himself back, terrified of himself, it feels good to let go and be a little violent and rough. Peter adores getting fucked within an inch of his life, loves that someone can give it as good as he gets.

Do 8 want children? (Spideydevil) I don't think so - they would probably end up with a few accidentally adopted wards along the way though

Between 10 and 4, which would you rather became canon? (Parksborn, Winterironspider) Parksborn just because IRL I wouldn't want Peter to end up in a relationship with Tony, I'm exhausted enough by antis on this hellsite I couldn't take it in the meat world as well.

Does 2 do much PDA? And does it annoy their friends? (Starker) Not actual PDA like hand holding, but they'll do like kissing and grinding to be nasty when being watched is part of the thrill. In their day-to-day, they’ll do little things like brush fingers over the back of the neck, exchange looks, little things that aren’t technically PDA, but to them, their own unspoken language.

Which of the ships would you say is the most romantic with each other? Spideychelle, you can't tell me Michelle isn't the smoothest motherfucker this side of the equator

How would the proposal between 5 go? (Spideychelle) MJ always jokes about doing something super low-key and awkward just because she knows how much of a sap Peter really is - she has Peter truly convinced she's gonna use a ring pop and do it while they're like grocery shopping. Instead, she waits for the perfect moment where they're watching fireworks on the harbor and gets down on one knee. Peter immediately bursts into tears.

Who cooks more often in 3? (Winteriron) Bucky I think, I imagine he gets antsy and throws himself into random hobbies - he picks up knitting and gardening and cooking, and since Tony’s dogshit in the kitchen (see: 3 hrs for burnt omelette), he usually ends up kicking Tony out whenever he tries to make anything. Plus, he likes the way Tony’s face gets all dopey when he makes him a homecooked meal, and it’s one of the only ways anyone can get Tony to take a break from the lab to eat something solid.

This was so much fun!!! Do it if you wanna and tag me :) 💕

[mercutioswriting]

WIP1; Pt. 6

They were in a car. Andy driving, Bee sitting shotgun, Jazz, Peyton and Charlie in the back as usual. It wasn’t the van Andy drove— it was a sleek silver BMW. Andy’s hair was a thick dark brown, his soft smile wiped from his face and replaced with an annoyed frown. Peyton and Charlie were silent— they weren’t girls at all, but ghosts. Two young men wearing blue and white jerseys sat in their places, more brawn than brains. Someone held onto Jazz, who had one hand wrapped around the unknown person's and a bottle of beer in the other. The windshield was missing, but the car wasn’t moving, because they were in a gymnasium, the crowd roaring. There was no crowd. There was no car. There was no gym. There was no one.

              Brown eyes opened to see nothing— nothing but black.

              Andy woke up to a heart attack. Not a literal one, though it certainly felt like it. His phone was ringing loudly, and he scrambled to find it, knocking away Bee’s sleeping limbs and pulling off the blanket they shared. The phone had been on the arm of the couch, but Andy’s groggy flailing knocked it to the floor.

            “Hello?” he said.

            “Andy?”

            “Peyton? Why are you calling me so early? Is everything okay?”

           He turned to look at Bee, who was still firmly asleep. He slept like the dead, always had. Andy had a split second of fear that Bee was dead, that he’d somehow died in the night. Don’t be irrational, he told himself. Everything’s fine.

            But everything was not fine. “Charlie’s missing,” Peyton said. “I mean, I don’t know if she’s missing-missing, like officially, but she’s not responding to texts or calls and I can’t get in contact with her parents and I'm freaking out because she doesn’t do this, you know? She doesn’t just ignore people, even if she’s mad at me. Do you think she’s that mad at me?”

               “Take a deep breath,” Andy said calmly. No, if Charlie wasn't one to give the silent treatment, then worry was justifiable. But— “She probably just ran out of power, or her line is down.” He yawned despite trying to suppress it. “Sorry. Who else have you reached out to?”

                Peyton took a shaky breath and let it out. “You were the first one I thought of. You always seem to know everything in these situations, you know? She has a brother, I think I can find his number. Should I call him?”

                “Yeah, do that— it’s probably nothing,” Andy assured her. He took a deep breath of his own, trying to slow his racing heart, ignoring the part of him screaming that Charlie was dead in a ditch somewhere. The deep breath turned into another yawn. “She’ll call you back once her phone is working.”

                “Thanks, Andy. You’re a sweetheart.” She hung up.

                Charlie, shifting so Peyton could buckle her seatbelt. Charlie, kidnapped. Charlie, eating her lunch at school. Charlie, bloody and bruised. Andy pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to rid his dream-ridden mind of the graphic possibilities. He stood up. Thinking about it more won’t accomplish anything. Andy shook Bee awake, but Bee opened his eyes for the sole purpose of locating Andy and scowling at him, not moving a millimeter. Andy rolled his eyes as he went to make breakfast.

                 Andy’s mother came barreling into the kitchen, scarf flying and keys missing. Her hair was less vibrant than it once had been, but it remained a confusingly dark red-brown, a shade strangers admired and her son inherited. He had inherited few of her personality traits, one being her ease with a packed schedule. “Andy, I have a meeting— Is that Bee? Hello, Bee— so you’ll be on your own again tonight, okay? Love you lots,” she said, waving to him as she made her way out the door. The keys turned out to be in her bag, where she had put them. Just seeing her breeze through made Andy more stressed. The knuckles of his hand, clutching the refrigerator door, turned white.

                “I’ll make omelettes,” said the raspy voice of a young man behind him. Bee stood where the kitchen and living room met, wrapped in a blanket. His bedhead was a lion’s mane, his borrowed pajama pants slightly too long. He seemed somewhere between a child, seeking comfort from his parents after a nightmare, and a king. King of dreams. King of nightmares. King of being two completely opposite things together.

                “Sure,” Andy said, moving to the side. Why was Bee so, so, so striking recently? Andy was more used to him than his own family. Right?

                 The smell of cooking soon filled the kitchen, adding warmth to the crisp morning air.  Annie was lured downstairs, sleepily rubbing her eyes, only to squeak with embarrassment when she saw who was at the stove. “Morning,” he said to her, as if he was often found making eggs in her house. “Omelette?”

                 Andy muffled a snicker. Annie loved omelettes— it was the only thing she would make other than brownies, and that was with a packaged mix. She’d be embarrassed to be seen in her flannel pajamas, but she would stay. Sure enough, she said yes, getting a plate and a glass of tea and waiting at the counter with Andy. He raised and eyebrow at her drinking hot tea from a glass. She raised her eyebrows at his doctor-and-parent-prohibited coffee, and he conceded.

                 “Annie, do you want spinach or broccoli in yours?” Bee said.

                  “Oh, um, spinach, please,” she said shyly.

                 “Spinach is gross,” Andy said. “You’re weird.”

                  Annie stuck out her tongue. “You’re weird.”

                  “I’m team spinach,” Bee called out without turning around.

                  Andy stuck out his tongue at Bee’s back. What a traitor. A phone rang— not his, Bee’s. Bee sighed, serving the omelettes onto plates and bringing them over to the counter.  “Andelo, go find my phone. I’m not in the mood for talking out loud.”

                   “Andelo?” Annie repeated, taking a bite of her omelette.  

                    Bee winked at her. So he wasn’t in the mood for talking out loud, but could carry on a conversation with a middle schooler. Fine. “No one goes by their legal name these days, kid. What’s yours?”

                    “What’s yours?” she countered.

                    “Classified. Top secret. Not even I know.”  

                    “Come on, what do you put on— what’s on your driver’s license?”

                    “I said it’s classified, Anastasia. Eat your eggs.” He smiled— just a little tiny one— to soften the rebuttal.

                      “Bee, do you have Peyton’s number?”

                      Andy had returned to the counter, staring at the phone in his hand. Missed Call From Charlie. He’d tried calling back, but the call went straight to voicemail. Who knew Bee even had Charlie’s number? He only had about three people in his phone.

                       “No. Use your own phone,” Bee said. “Why?”

                    “She, uh, I have to call her back,” Andy said. But he couldn’t reach her by phone call, so he sent a text. Andy hoped that Peyton would see the message soon. He hoped that Charlie would be found soon. Why had she called Bee, of all people? Not one of her other friends, not Peyton, not Andy— uncooperative, apathetic Bee.

                   No, that wasn’t fair. They wouldn’t be friends if he was so awful. And Andy knew he wasn't being fair, but he also wanted, just for once, to be the judgmental one. He was tired, and stressed, and a million things would go wrong by the end of the day, he just knew it.

                   Andy told that part of himself to shut the hell up.  

       ———————————————————

                   “You can’t stay over two nights in a row. Your mom will think you’re running away.”

                   “What makes you think I’m not?”

                    “Damnit, Bee—”

                    “Can I step up for night number two?”

                   They burst into laughter at Jazz’s comment, which hadn’t been intentionally suggestive, but they played it off like it had been. They posed and blew a kiss at Andy. The dark polish on their nails was mostly chipped away, and they wore no makeup today.

                    “Slumber party!” They said. “C’mon, Andy, please?”

                    “Will your parents be okay with it?”

                     “Will yours?”

                     Bee wrapped an arm around Andy’s shoulder. “Of course— this guy gets away with murder. Because no one thinks he murders anyone.”

                   “Are you implying I’ve committed murder?”

                   “Are you implying I’m implying you’ve committed murder?”

                   “Uh… yes?”

                   Bee ruffled Andy’s hair, and while Andy swatted his arm away, Jazz stole a fry off of Bee’s plate. “So, can I?”

                   Bee pouted. “What, they can stay and I can’t?”

                   Andy’s thoughts were tangled. Bee’s mother really would think he was running away if he stayed away too long. But Andy knew he had to help him. And Jazz— Jazz had once vowed never to stay the night with anyone they didn’t know well and trust completely, and to be asked meant something was up. More ‘up’ than usual, that is. Their parents? Harassment? Andy’s nuclear family rarely interfered with his life, so his often-empty house had become home base for his friends. Especially because he had been the first one to get his license. He sighed. Some of the tension left his shoulders, more a sign of defeat than relaxation. “Fine.”  

                  Bee and Jazz cheered and toasted with fries from Andy’s plate. Damn, he knew he should’ve gotten the salad, even if it tasted gross. Randy’s Burgers was known for good burgers and fries— not anything else. Why did his friends even bother ordering their own meals?  

                  “Well, if it isn't my favorite people in the whole wide world!”

                   Jazz cringed, looking for the source of the voice. Andy groaned. Bee scowled from behind a curtain of hair. Albright. He approached with three of his similarly muscular and nasty friends. The vaguely attractive blond one was Connor Delaney, the shortest of the group Greg Neduva. The third was only vaguely familiar, but he shared a resemblance to Albright. Brothers? It wasn’t that much of a resemblance. Maybe guys who played sports and acted like dicks tended to share looks as well as personalities. Or lack of them, as it were.

                   Would ignoring them make them go away? No. Albright dragged a chair from another table and sat down between Jazz and Andy. He wasn’t even an unusually large person, but it felt like he invaded everyone’s space simply by being next to them. His sneering cohorts remained standing. Andy scooted away from them.

                  “What, MacDonald? Do you not like me?” Albright placed a hand on his chest, pretending to be hurt. “Greg, get a load of this guy! Think you’re too good for us, don’tcha, Andy-man?” Andy flinched at the nickname as Neduva obligingly snickered. “Oh, I’m sorry—” Albright roughly pulled Andy to him, trapping him in a headlock. It was useless to fight back— Andy had half the muscle and none of the cruelty Albright possessed. “Only your cripple boyfriend here can call you that, can’t he?”

                     “Shut up,” Bee snapped.

                     “Ooh, touchy-touchy,” sang the one who looked like Albright.

                      “Trouble in paradise?” Connor Delaney cooed. “Hey, Albright, why don’t we, uh, give the lovebirds a little time to cool off. Alone.”

                      “Get your hands off of them,” Bee said calmly. His hand lay on the round black table, fingers relaxed. It was all Andy could see from the headlock, his fringe falling into his eyes.

                       “Oh, I’m sorry—” Albright squeezed a little tighter, only releasing Andy when he choked. “Is that better?”

                       Bee’s eyes remained on Albright, his face a mask of calm. The hand not on the table held Andy’s, resting on his knee, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “Blondie, that means you too.”

                      Delaney raised his hands from Jazz’s shoulders in an I surrender gesture. “Hey, you’re the one complaining, not—”

                      “Shut up and get out of my way,” Jazz snapped, visibly shaking. The only thing they wanted to do was escape, which was the only thing they couldn’t. Delaney, right behind them, leaned over and whispered in their ear. “Nah.”

                        He was probably not expecting to have Jazz’s head slammed sideways into his skull. Knocking into the table and chairs, he tumbled to the sidewalk.

                       “Fuck you, you little bitch,” he said, rubbing his cheekbone.

                        Everyone was on their feet. “Fuck you,” Jazz spat at him. “Fuck all of you.” They stormed off, disappearing behind a corner.

                       “Bitch,” Albright muttered. Looking at Delaney’s red face, he added another word, one Andy couldn’t hear. In fact, he wasn’t sure he could hear anything. His ears were ringing.

                        Bee got in Albright’s face. People tended to forget, but Bee was actually quite tall. “Say that one more time and I will ensure your death is slow and painful.”

                        “I said—”

                        “Dude, we have to go, Sarah will be pissed,” the unknown one said. His gaze flickered to Bee.

                        “I don’t care about your fucking girlfriend, Chris,” Albright said. He was slightly deflated. There was a bruise on his jaw, Andy noticed. Peyton had left her mark.

                        “Well, I do. And we’re late. Let’s go,” Chris said, already walking away. Delaney and Neduva hovered awkwardly before following him.

                         It had turned from three against four to two against one. Albright was a dick, but he was also some part of a coward. Bee waited for his next move, an eyebrow arched.

                         Albright spat on the ground and walked away.

                         Watching him go, Andy thanked God that Albright and his friends walked the opposite direction of where Jazz had gone. Where had Jazz gone? The remnants of the food on the table had gone cold. As Bee stood glaring into the distance, Andy tidied away their things, then grabbed Bee’s hand and led him to find their friend.

                         “Are you okay?” Bee said. His tone was sour, but Andy knew he meant it with concern.

                       “I’m fine,” he said. The urge to touch his throat was squashed down.

                        “Found them.” Andy looked where Bee indicated to see Jazz leaning against a blank beige wall, their model’s pose guarded. Their arms were crossed and their eyes scanned for threats. Shadows from clouds and sun drifted across the sky, casting strange light across the courtyard of small restaurants and shops. Jazz’s purple hair, which Andy had assumed was intentionally messy, was the kind of unkempt one gets from stress, not style.            

                       “They left?” Jazz said when Andy and Bee approached.

                        Andy nodded. Jazz stood up straight, coming away from the wall, sweeping their messy hair back unnecessarily. “I know He was just being a bag of dicks, but are you two actually like, together?”

                        Bee dropped Andy’s hand like it was acid. “No.”

                      Andy put his hands in his pockets. He knew his face was turning red. Why? “Nah, Jazz, you know I don’t, uh, I mean—” He found himself stumbling over his words. Why? Why? Why?

                     Waving it off, Jazz said, “No, it’s okay, I get it.” Andy wondered what exactly “it” was that Jazz understood as they walked to his car. Bee was already there, leaning against the side much like Jazz had awaited them by the ice cream parlor. A model; long limbs, defined features. He wasn't supposed to stand on one foot like that. Andy didn’t chide him as they piled into the van. I’m not his mother.

                      I’m not his boyfriend.

                      “Where to?” Andy said as they pulled out of the parking lot.

                      “Home,” Bee said. His grip on his seatbelt, over his heart, looked as if he was saying the Pledge of Allegiance to the window.

                      Who’s home? Andy wanted to say. His, of course. Bee’s father would be at his house, and Jazz… Andy had never meet Jazz’s parents. It was one of those things you never really want to bring up, one of many elephants in the room. Or in this case, the car.

                      Bee wasn't saying the Pledge of Allegiance. He was praying.  

                      If you had asked him what he was praying about, he wouldn’t have given— wouldn’t have been able to give— an answer.

[sincerelybluevase]

This unbearable heat

For an anonymous Tumblr user, who asked me whether I could write a fic with sexual tension between a married Shelagh and Patrick. This left me with a lot of freedom, so I hope it lives up to your expectations, anon ;).

 The heat is unbearable. The grass lays yellow and limp, scorched and thirsting for rain that doesn’t fall, despite the clouds dark as bruises that dot the sky.

“A storm is brewing,” Shelagh tells Angela as she rocks the infant on her hip.

Just like my headache, she can’t help but think. The pressure behind her eyes is horrible. If she could she would put herself to bed and sleep for ages. As it is, she hasn’t had time to rest; Angela is teething and has been out of sorts all day. The little girl clung to Shelagh as she tried to do her housework. Shelagh still has to do the dishes and she hasn’t even started on dinner. She guesses that she should be glad that Timothy is eating at Collin’s place tonight. However, she has a hard time being happy with her stepson at the moment, since she snagged her stockings whilst tripping over his cricket bat (it’s a complete mystery to her how the thing came to be in the middle of the living room in the first place).

Then, when she finally got Angela settled, she walked into the table, causing her favourite tea cup to hurl to its death on the floor whilst staining the carpet in the process. Her seconds of clumsiness resulted in a nasty stain and a crying infant. Still worse is that said crying infant then proceeded to vomit all over her dress. Shelagh had no other choice but to grab another dress, because walking around in a slip simply won’t do. The one she picked is hardly more appropriate, though; she bought it because Trixie assured her she would look ‘positively radiant’ in it, but all Shelagh feels when she wears it is exposed: it ends well above her knees and the neckline shows off her collar bones. The only good thing she can think of it is that it keeps her somewhat cool in this tropical heatwave.

“Mummy can’t go out looking like this, now can she?” she coos, wiping some of Angela’s tears away with her fingertips. Angela sniffs in response. Shelagh sighs and massages the bridge of her nose with her free hand. Her glasses pinch.  Angela whimpers and presses a tear-streaked cheek against the green fabric of her mother’s dress. She squeezes the ear of her stuffed bunny with a chubby fist. Shelagh can see how heavy her eyelids are, though. Just a little while longer, and her girl will be asleep. Shelagh can start dicing the potatoes, then, and maybe change her stockings before she starts to prepare the lamb, and…

“Anybody home?” Patrick’s voice rings throughout the house. Angela’s eyes flit open and she starts crying again in great, heaving sobs. Shelagh curls her toes and forces herself to inhale deeply. She supresses the urge to cry herself.  

Don’t get angry, your husband doesn’t deserve that, don’t get…

“Shelagh? Why is there a stain in the carpet?” Shelagh can’t help herself; she is able to prevent herself from crying, but only by allowing her anger to surge. She storms out of their daughter’s bedroom and makes her way to the kitchen, Angela still clasped in her arms. She can feel every heartbeat throbbing behind her eyes.

“Patrick Turner, if all you can do is make rude comments when you come home I think it is best if you leave again,” she snaps, her voice laced with vexation. Patrick blinks in surprise.

“Now, hold your daughter whilst I make her dinner. I had hoped she would sleep a little, but there’s no chance of that now, so I’ll just give her her bottle,” she growls, pushing Angela in her husband’s arms. Angela fusses, throws her stuffed bunny through the room, and then starts screaming because she wants it.

“For God’s sake!’ Shelagh mutters. She has to get on her knees to extract the toy from underneath the coffee table. When she gets up and straightens her dress her husband’s face has become still, his eyes still focussed on her legs. An emotion she can’t place flits over his features.

If he’s going to get cross with me I’ll crumple and cry, she can’t help but think. She wordlessly hands him the rabbit, avoiding his eyes.

Patrick places his fingertips on her wrist but she brushes his hand away.

“Shelagh, I’m sorry,” he begins. She interrupts him.

“No!” Tears blur her vision as she realises that the only tin of formula they have is empty. She digs around the cupboard, looking for another tin. She was sure she’d bought another one, but if she has it is nowhere in sight.

“Shelagh, darling…” Patrick begins. Shelagh drags a hand through her hair, causing several hairpins to spring away and locks of hair to tumble down.

“Don’t talk to me!” Her voice is laced with something close to despair.

“I have to go to the store to get some milk for Angela. Please watch her,” she murmurs. She grabs her purse and her coat and leaves.

 X

Shelagh Turner, you’ve been behaving like a beast, she tells herself on her way home, a tin of formula clutched firmly under her arm. She cringes as she thinks back on the harsh words that shot out of her mouth like arrows aimed at her husband. Guilt knits lines between her brows. She pushes a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m going to make it up to him,” she says out loud. She ignores the strange look a passer-by casts her; she knows she must look like a fright, with her hair dishevelled and a coat that doesn’t match her dress. Shelagh inhales deeply and walks faster. She needs to get home. Angela is probably screaming the house down by now, and Patrick will be getting grumpy without his dinner, too.

A thick raindrop lands square on her forehead, exploding into smaller droplets that splatter on her glasses. A second one follows, hitting the frown between her eyebrows and washing it away. Shelagh tilts her face to the sky as the clouds overhead spill their cargo onto her. People shriek and run to find shelter, but she keeps standing still, cradling the tin of formula. Within half a minute she is drenched. The scorching heat flees for this onslaught of rain, making the air deliciously cool. Shelagh breathes in the scent of rain and offers up a tiny prayer as her headache and her anger and tiredness are washed away.

She’ll go home, give her beautiful daughter her bottle, make a delicious meal, and ask her darling husband about his day. And she will apologise for her appalling behaviour. She smiles, and makes for her home with a spring in her step.

 X

 “Patrick?” she calls softly, pushing the front door closed with her foot. Her coat drips patterns in the carpet of the hallway. Her hair lays plastered against her face and neck. She shivers as a raindrop travels down along her vertebrae. She hangs her coat on the rack and walks into the living room. Patrick sits waiting for her, a plate of omelettes and bacon and a pot of tea ready. Shelagh stops in the doorway and blinks owlishly. “Patrick, what’s this?” “I’ve made us dinner. I didn’t trust myself to cook potatoes, mind, so it will just be bread and eggs.” He smirks and places his arms on the table. He’s rolled his sleeves up, exposing his forearms. Shelagh tears her gaze from the dark hair that dusts his skin. “But where’s Angela?” “Sleeping. I’ve given her a bottle. She was exhausted; she drifted off before I could put her down in her cot.” “But there was no milk…” “There was a can of formula in the back of the kitchen cupboard. You must have missed it.” Shelagh sighs and places her new-bought tin on the table. Patrick just sits there, looking very smug. There’s a devilish twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve been behaving like an absolute fool,” Shelagh starts. She takes off her glasses and tries to dry them with the hem of her dress, but the fabric is too wet and only smears out the droplets. She sighs and places them back on her face. “Patrick, I think I owe you an apology,” she continues. Patrick stands up and grabs her hand. His fingertips brush her knuckles. “I think you do,” he agrees. She smiles. “It’s just that nothing went the way it should have, today,” she says, “Angela was so fussy, poor dear, and I didn’t get much of the housework done. I also got a rip in a good pair of stockings, and Angela vomited over my dress, so I had to wear this very inappropriate one. I look like a fright. I wanted to cook you a nice dinner, and talk to you about your day, but I was cross with you and snapped instead.” Patrick pulls her close. “Darling, I like to see you in this dress. It shows off all your good points,” he breathes as he brushes her collar bone with his fingertip. “You do?” “Yes. Though I have to warn you that I’m a man, Mrs. Turner. When push comes to shove I prefer to see my wife without a dress,” he murmurs as his other hand slips around her waist, drawing her into his embrace. That strange emotion ghosts over his face. With a jolt of electricity Shelagh realises what it is. And you, a married woman, she softly scolds herself, unbelievable that you didn’t see it before. She suddenly understands that the look her husband gave her as she tried to extract Angela’s toy rabbit was one of appreciation; her dress must have ridden up, allowing a good portion of thigh to become visible. “I’d say this dress is hardly appropriate outside of the house,” Shelagh breathes as Patrick places a sloppy kiss in the corner of her mouth. She tangles her hand in his jumper and threads the other through his hair. He pushes a wet strand that lays plastered in the hollow of her throat away and kisses the dip between her collar bones. A soft sound forms in her lungs and leaves her mouth hardly louder than a sigh. “I agree. I wouldn’t want anyone else to see you like this,” he growls. “Like what?” “Fully debauched.” His teeth softly drag along her throat, making her moan. “You’re so possessive,” she chides him, pressing her mouth to his before he can reply. She takes his bottom lip between hers and bites. In response Patrick crushes her against him and devours her mouth, only letting go when she sees stars and needs to breathe. “Patrick, dinner will get cold,” she tells him, fingertips ghosting over his ear. He shivers in response. “Don’t care,” he says. “Aren’t you hungry?” Her breathing is rapid, coming in short, shallow gasps. “Famished, Mrs. Turner. But I don’t think eggs will still my appetite.” “And you’ve done so well, making dinner all by yourself. Don’t you want to taste the fruit of your labour?” she teases him. In response Patrick lifts her from the ground and throws her over his shoulder. He places one hand on her lower back and leaves the other in the hollow of her knees to keep her from tumbling. She squeals. “I’m going to taste the fruit of my labour, don’t you worry about that,” he tells her as he carries her up to their bedroom. The heat is unbearable, Shelagh thinks. This time, though, it will not be the grass that gets scorched.

 Well guys hope you liked that! Also, I’m the worst with titles, so let me know if you guys find a better one

[seksipomminpurkaja]

1-15 for junkie uncles and 16-30 for joe/mae?

Apologizing about the lack of read more ahead ;; wrote this on my ohone bc laptop is messing around once again sp there might be a bunch of typos

First the junkies

Who is the most affectionate? What i’ve gathered, Mirad would be one most often kissing and holding hands just casually touching, Jack wouldn’t be too far apart either though

Big spoon/Little spoon?Given Mirad’s size, he would be the big spoon, and Jack would like being held like that (dick hard on the butt, tity in his hand, kiss his neck. Hell. Yeah)

Most common argument?Jack leaving something unsaniticed on the bar counter or having that few glasses too much vodka. Idk what Mirad would do to tick Jack off, he’s already seen pretty much everything

Favorite non-sexual activity?Just hanging out in the bar or at Jack’s shop, exchanging how their day have been and share lunch. Occasionally take a stride in the city or to the beach

Who is most likely to carry the other?Mirad, Jack doesn’t have the manpower in his upper body to do that, and Mirad would scoop him up and gently lay him to bed when he’s too tired

What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?Jack loves Mirad’s smile, good thing he sees that pretty often, and his empathy and experience, he is so kind and good for him it overwhelms him sometimes. Idk about Mirad to Jack thoug ;;

What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?Again, i can’t really speak for Mirad, but Jack blurts out every stupid thing that crosses his mind and finds himself pretty hopeless for acceptance. But then he also cheers up a bit and is pretty fun guy to be around with when he likes you

Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?Jack wouldn’t go for anything too wild m'rad is pretty common bc Mirad is rad af. Jack doesn’t mind being called jack daniels by Mirad

Who worries the most?Both in their own way, Mirad being worried about Jack’s wellbeing and Jack worrying about not only his wellbeing for Mirad’s sake, but also if he’s good enough for him

Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?Idk if Mirad likes to try out new stuff, but Jack sure doesn’t, so what he might order might be little easier tp even guess

Who tops?Mirad, pin the mechanic against the bedframe and shower him with complimets is a foolproof way to melt that heart. Also Jack is bit more submissive by nature so he’s more comfortable with that

Who initiates kisses?They’d both do, small peck here and there won’t be too uncommon. And if it seems the other is need of some smooches, either one is about to fix that

Who reaches for the other’s hand first?Jack, he craves that simple touch, and i bet Mirads hands are bit bigger than his own so it would feel extra nice

Who kisses the hardest?Depends on who’s needier

Who wakes up first?Mirad,he has his alarm set early enough for him to through his morning routine before Jack wakes up. Jack prefers a sleep a little longer but is quite fast up from bed once he awakens.

Cheeto puff and big buff

Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?Depends on who came to bed later, usually Joe holds that title, but Mae won’t get up too soon she wants those morning cuddles bc yaas finally sleeping in the same bed after a month

Who says I love you first?Mae, on oh-god-who-knows how much after a bunch of pining and dates. It wasn’t ablantant statement though, more like ‘i think i love you :o’

Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)Both leave lil doodles, one time Mae drew Joe posing with his gun as his dick and gave no context, nor explenation

Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?With Mae being a big distant to her family, she would only vagualy hint something in the lines of dating to her friends. Idk if Joe would just outright burst out either, he would tell his sisters though?

What do their family/friends think of their relationship?Mom and pops Fujioka were bit on guard refarding this huge australian dude, but after getting to know him they like him a lot. Mae’s friends would tease her a bit about this quite catch of man but staying in line

Who is more likely to start dancing with the other?Mae would just wrap herself around Joe and start leaning from side to side, in the kitchen, when the freezer pizza is in the oven. Does that count as dancing? In her books, yes

Who cooks more/who is better at cooking?Neither are any culinary masterminds but Mae can make some excellent teriyaki chicken and some basic stuff like omelettes and different types of pots

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?Joe would come up with the best and worst punny pickup lines ever heard in the face of earth

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?She started it all by going 'yeah i love it when you’re rough’ when Joe was carrying her out of the bar. After that, she has kept that up and maybe gotten Joe to play along

Who needs more assurance?Mae, she is terribly confus, especially at the start of the relationship

What would be their theme song?You know, i’ve been listening to Handclap by Fitz and the tantrums and associating them with it (somebody save your soul cause you’ve been sinning in the city i know etc etc)

Who would sing to their child back to sleep?Joe would have a deeper and more calming voice, but Mae has a calming voice as well when she needs it, whoever’s turn it is to check up the kid in the middle of the night will do it

What do they do when they’re away from each other?They’re away from each other a lot, work keeping their minds quite busy but the other will cross their mind every now and then, looking for some little trinkets for the other before heading back home

one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heartThe distance, and the fact that hey both have had some nasty break ups before because pf it and being unsure about their future together at first

one headcanon about this OTP that mends itThey make a family together, raising at least two wonderful kids together and just have the family they never thaught they’d have, Mae would stop travelling so much and they both have a place to call home

[ablogofourown-blog]

A Perfectly Ordinary Day

1

A Perfectly Ordinary Day

It was a perfectly ordinary, normal, mid-autumn day in the little village of Chawton. But then, you know what they say about extraordinary days – they have to have a good foundation of ‘ordinary’ to get going. That’s what’s so special about them. It’s very hard to predict when you’re about to wake up and have an extraordinary day. And it’s certainly true that Sara Body hardly expected fireworks over her cornflakes.

  To give the day its credit, it did dawn quite prettily, light shining through brown and golden leaves, gently teasing at the slumbering teenager attempting to awake her gracefully from a night’s rest. And what made it even better was that it was a Saturday: no school, and while the dawn was pretty, the day was just as nice at ten thirty, when the light and noises of the day finally woke her. She squirmed under the sheets, pulling in her air-chilled arms and squinting into the light as she tried to get herself used to the whole being awake thing. It didn’t take too long, though, and a mere seven minutes later she was poking her toes out of the warm cocoon she had made for herself.

  A grand total of fifteen minutes later she was downstairs, clad in a t-shirt and battered jeans, pushing herself up on to one of the kitchen stools. ‘Mum?’ she called, reaching for the waffles. No answer, but that wasn’t surprising – it was a nice day in autumn: she would be out back tidying up the garden. Personally, Sara didn’t see the point at all – nothing was going to stop those leaves claiming their brief empire over the neighbourhood. Whatever kept her happy, though. It just meant that there was no one there to tut as she pulled down the maple syrup for her waffles.

  ‘Hey poophead,’ a young boy’s voice broke the peace. In response Sara exaggerated an eye roll for the benefit of the toaster, which she was anticipating releasing her breakfast any second now.

  ‘Ahh,’ she grumbled, having completely ignored her little brother – it was good for his ego, after all, ensured he’d never been spoilt – as she pulled her waffles out of the machine and on to her plate. She licked her lips as she doused the whole plate in maple syrup, her stomach growling hungrily.

  ‘Haha, mine!’ the voice came again, much closer this time. The bright blonde-haired eight-year-old had clambered up on to the stool next to her and before she knew it, his gross, sticky hands were making off with the waffles she had so lovingly made.

  ‘Hey!’ she exclaimed, outraged. Honestly, the child looked like a goddamn cherub angel type, what with the golden locks and big blue eyes. But she knew the truth. He was the devil. Or at the very least a major demon, sent to her family to be a pain in her neck. ‘Get off those – they’re mine!’

  ‘Nuhuh,’ Toby managed to get out, his mouth crammed full of waffles, syrup leaking out the corners of his mouth.

  ‘Ugh, gross,’ she protested, recoiling, her good mood from the lovely wake-up evaporating with alarming speed, which only increased as the boy started cackling in amusement. He loved his big sister, to be sure, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like pushing her buttons. Especially if he got sugar-encrusted baked goods out of it.

  She made to get up to chase him out of the door, but gave up almost before she started. She wasn’t lazy, per se, it was just that the waffle packet was way closer than her brat brother was. Plus she’d had eight years of his company - she knew the game. If she went and chased off after him their mum would be sure to come in just as she was teaching Toby a good lesson about the evils of stealing and somehow she would be the one to get into trouble.

  Pulling the last waffle from the packet, she sighed. Her stomach was grumbling, sounding as grouchy as she was beginning to, clearly needing more than one to keep her going. What was worse was that the old toaster needed rest breaks between each round and she just wanted it to cook now.

  ‘Sara, did you just give your brother half a litre of maple syrup?’ came a voice from the doorway. ‘You know what he’s like when he’s had too much sugar - and it’s lunch time in an hour. Don’t start cooking anything else or you’ll spoil it.’ The middle-aged woman walked into the kitchen and placed a couple of gardening gloves into a waiting plastic bag to keep the mess off the surfaces.

  ‘I wouldn’t exactly call it “giving”, but I guess if that’s what he told you ...’ she murmured, crossing her arms over her chest and reluctantly returning the breakfast treat to the cupboard. She was still starving, but it didn’t seem worth it to argue the point. Now she was too busy sulking over the unfairness of it all.

  And so she sat back, and watched quietly as her mousy-haired mother washed her hands and moved seamlessly into preparing the family’s lunch. Since her and Toby’s father’s death two years ago, Matilda had become an automaton of a woman, taking care of home, family and finances. It meant Sara had a lot of babysitting duty while her mum worked in the evenings and at weekends, but although she did sometimes get tired of doing it, she could appreciate the effort her mum was going to in order to keep the family together. In fact, she knew she ought to offer to help now, to take some pressure off, but lack-of-food-fuelled fatigue had set in. Stupid brother stealing her stupid food.

  ‘Mum,’ Toby called, coming in from the living room, extending the word out into a whine. ‘I don’t feel so good.’

  Sara watched her mother’s shoulders rise, stay there a moment then uncoil as she breathed out. Ah, maybe it hadn’t been such a restful Saturday for her mum as it had been for her. Matilda turned round, giving her eldest a ‘significant look’, then surveyed Toby. ‘What did I tell you? Go sit down and be still,’ she insisted. ‘It’ll pass - you’ve just eaten too many sweets.’

  That was her opportunity. Sara jumped down from her seat and put on a smile. ‘Don’t worry about lunch, mum - I can make it. How do omelettes sound?’

  Matilda turned to her daughter and smiled. ‘You’re a star,’ she said gratefully, though her moment’s rest that Sara had hoped to give her didn’t last long, as the doorbell rang almost immediately.

  ‘I’ll get it!’ the young boy’s voice rang out, and Matilda immediately jogged after her son.

   ‘No, you stay sat down before you make yourself sick. What have I told you about answering the door to strangers?’ It seemed that she spent half her life telling her children things for their own good that they promptly either forgot or straight up ignored. Most of the time they were good, though, and neither had shown any nastiness so that was something.

  Ten minutes later, Matilda returned to the kitchen, just as Sara was pouring the egg mixture into the pan. ‘What was that?’ she asked, stepping back as the hot pan spat some of the mixture back at her. She picked up a spatula and poked at it a bit.

  ‘Nothing much, just someone dropping something off,’ she said, a little vaguely. There was something odd in Matilda’s expression, but Sara was distracted by cooking eggs and didn’t push it. Instead, she flipped the mixture and pulled a plate closer. Soon enough she had lunch for three on the table and at last her rumbling stomach could be sated.

The rest of the day was fairly quiet for the teenager. Sara had gone back up to her room, as small and uninteresting as it was, and decided to have a sort out. Toby had been taken out to his friend’s birthday party, having recovered completely from the sugar overdose he had suffered, and Matilda was taking the chance to buy some more groceries while her son was otherwise occupied.

  Midway through sorting out her desk, Sara sat on the chair in front of it and looked up at the noticeboard stuck there. Its contents she hadn’t touched for years. Two years and three months, to be precise - the very day that the policeman had come to the door to tell her and her family about her father’s death. She remembered the policeman had been a little odd and she found herself getting distracted constantly trying to figure out what it was about him that she didn’t like. But then she reasoned she was probably just trying to avoid what horrible news he had come around to deliver. There hadn’t been anything ‘special’ about her father’s death - there hadn’t even been anyone to blame. She had never really appreciated how hopeless the term ‘tragic accident’ was until that day. But what else could be said about an incident involving one man, his car and a tree? It hadn’t even been foggy or raining.

  Still, that night she had done her noticeboard as it looks now. The entire thing had a scrapbook-like feel and depicted her family through the years: her parents on their wedding day (her mum with an adorable dimpled smile much like her own), her as a baby with her dad laughing, their first holiday all together (the picture was a little blurry but the waitress had done her best with it), Toby as a baby … She liked to think of it as a roadmap of her family’s life together. Although if you looked at it, you’d be forgiven for thinking she was still fourteen years old and that nothing bad had ever happened. She’d never consciously intended to stop working on it after that, but every time she had a picture in hand to pin up there something had stopped her.

  ‘Sara,’ came a soft call from her mother, who had opened the door slightly to check in on her daughter. That normally irritated Sara beyond belief, but she was feeling a bit reminiscent and sentimental just then, so she let it go.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Toby’s just dropped off - I wondered if you could come downstairs so we could have a chat?’ Without waiting for an answer, the woman turned and padded down the stairs.

  Immediately Sara mentally replayed the day, then the week, trying to figure out what the hell she had done wrong that her mum could want to have a private chat with her about. Normally there was some little thing. She suffered from an affliction of forthrightness combined with enough confidence to speak her mind; that usually was met with a certain amount of resistance from her classmates and teachers. But the last week had been pretty quiet. Plus it was Saturday, who would be tattling on her on a Saturday?

  Slowly she got to her feet, pulling on her dressing gown and tying it up on her way out the door. Quite often she had the desire to run when a row was on the horizon, but over the years she had learned that it was wiser to face it head on. Plus at this point she was sort of curious to know what she had been accused of now.

  ‘Whatever it is, mum,’ she began, on the defensive as she entered the living room. ‘I actually really don’t know anything about it.’

  To her surprise, her mother laughed quietly under her breath, shook her head and gestured to the sofa for her to sit down instead. Okay, so this wasn’t what she was expecting. Clearly she wasn’t in trouble, but why was this making her more nervous?

  ‘Sara, I hadn’t meant to do this like this but the visitor I had earlier ...’ Her mother trailed off and took a breath to compose herself. ‘He was a representative of your father’s estate. Not that he had an estate really, but … well apparently there was more to his … his effects than we knew.’

  Sara twisted her fingers in her lap, trying to hide how uncomfortable she felt at this sudden turn of conversation. She had dealt with her father’s death two years ago - had adjusted well, so the raft of school counsellors had reassured her mother - but she hadn’t had to think about it so directly for a long time. It still packed a punch that threatened to stop her breath from flowing normally.

  ‘I swear I had no idea that there was anything like this left to come - he never told me about this legacy ...’ the woman trailed off and looked down. She added in a quieter voice, ‘I didn’t think he kept anything from me.’ Clearing her throat, she placed a carefully constructed smile on her face and looked back up at her daughter. ‘But you’re seventeen in a few days so it’s nice that you’ll have something from your father.’

  Sara nodded, staying uncharacteristically quiet as she was passed a brown paper bag, marked for delivery on this day. She couldn’t help but think how weird it was that he’d scheduled to get this delivered to her today, of all days. Maybe if it had been on her birthday - and wasn’t seventeen a weird one to focus on anyway?

  ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ her mother prompted.

  She looked down at the package in her lap, sort of unaware that she’d just been twisting it around, flipping it over. Sliding her eyes back to her mother, she continued to stall, though she had no idea why. ‘You don’t know what it’ll be?’ she asked.

  ‘No, like I said, I had no idea about this family legacy. It’s not even from the solicitor we used, and you know he never spoke much about his own background.’

  Sara nodded, took a breath into her lungs and slid her forefinger beneath the seal.

  ‘It’s a bracelet,’ she said, her voice wavering peculiarly. She laughed at her own ridiculousness and slipped the trinket out of the packaging completely, allowing it to fall into her waiting palm. The coolness of the silver metal - slightly tarnished - surprised her a little, but it soon warmed to her touch. ‘It’s really pretty,’ she commented, warming up to the situation. ‘I always loved rubies - dad must have known before he-’ She trailed off, distracting herself by letting the deep red gems and smoky coloured stones reflect the light.

  ‘It’s beautiful, honey,’ her mum said, leaning over to have a look with a smile on her face. She hadn’t known what her daughter had been left - she hadn’t even seen the bracelet before - but this was nice. The uneasy feeling that had been assaulting her gut dissipated and she took the discarded packaging from her daughter’s lap. ‘We never knew much of them, but your father’s lot were always funny. Still, it’s nice for you to get an heirloom from their side.’

  Sara looked up at her mother, who had just got to her feet, and smiled. ‘Heirloom? Wow. I figured the solicitors had just found this hanging round their office and made up the story so they didn’t look like idiots.’

  ‘It’s in your father’s writing - you know what he was like: he had his own funny ideas.’ Matilda leaned over her daughter, turning off the lamp behind her and placing a kiss on her head as she stood back up. ‘Now don’t stay up too late. I know it’s Saturday, but you don’t want to mess up your sleep schedule for Monday.’

  ‘Ugh, school.’ Sara wrinkled her nose for a moment then wiped the disgruntled expression from her face. ‘I mean, I won’t, mum!’

  With that, Matilda retired to bed, for which Sara was grateful. She leaned back to turn the lamp back on,not intending to stay up for much longer, but wanting to have a good long look at the intricate little bracelet.

  It was lovely - it really was. Three thin strips of the tarnished silver crisscrossed over each other, just that beat off perfect that meant this was probably hand made rather than mass-produced like every single other bit of jewellery she had. In every second gap between the twining, a gem was nestled, alternating ruby and the smoky stone. It was honestly not like anything Sara had seen before in her life, though there was something tugging at her in the back of her mind. No matter how much she tried to pull the memory to the fore, though, it just wasn’t forthcoming. In fact, the more she tried to think about it, the more it seemed to retreat, so she figured she would let it alone. With any luck, she would suddenly have an epiphany while she was brushing her teeth.

  After about half an hour of peering at her new possession, she did decide it was time to retire. It had just gone midnight and if she wasn’t careful she’d while away the rest of the night down there. So she pulled herself up, placed the bracelet around her wrist, figuring she’d ‘trial run’ it before bed and then wear it properly tomorrow. Then it was just a matter of brushing her teeth in their little family bathroom and retiring to where the day had begun: her bedroom. She pushed her pale blue bed covers back and climbed in, yawning quietly to herself. Despite the quiet day, she was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow, the bracelet still sitting snugly around her wrist.

 And there it was. That was the end of the extraordinary day. Of course, no one could tell exactly how special it had been just yet. Sara went to bed with a vague sadness that the next day was Sunday, which meant school was getting ever closer, but how could she possibly know the significance of what she had done? Of the importance of what now lay around her wrist, beating with the rhythm of her own heart, subtly and impossible for anyone to notice? Not even they could discern the difference that had fallen over the girl. And they had been watching her from the beginning - from the start of it all.

[underimagines]

Let's talk about headcanons about Food

Now, Mod Sync here is a decent enough cook. Put a recipe in front of me and I’ll be able to cook almost anything, and I can cook some things from just memory. I was making omelettes and looking up recipes and I wondered “What about the Undertale cast? What do they eat outside the game?” So, here are some things I’ve thought up about the main four!

If anyone remembers the Anniversary Q&A that happened (oh, who am I kidding, of course you guys do), then we know some things about that already. HOWEVER, I’m only going to partially use this info here. These are headcanons after all, so I don’t have to quite follow canon. 

Now, if you wish to continue, I shall leave these under a Read more, because this is gonna get wordy and also for you guys who are avoiding food for whatever reason. Also will include some other AUs.

Undertale Cast

Sans, without a doubt, loves anything greasy and fried. Pub food in partcular; burgers and fries are his go-to faves obviously, but also cheese sticks, stuffed potato skins, fried pickled, and so on. Hot pockets and mini pizza bites become a staple in his diet once on the surface. Anything he can pop in the microwave real quick. Also, mac and cheese with all the ketchup.

On the healthier side of things; He’s also very fond of anything with a large amount of tomatoes. Tomato soup with grilled cheese, sun dried Tomato slices, and many, many Italian dishes, though Papyrus has to sort of make him eat it. Except V8 juice. That shit is nasty.

Cooking-wise, he’s decent. He can make a number of different quiche by heart, and anything simple. He’ll need a recipe for anything else, and if it get’s too complicated, he’ll opt-out. Too lazy for anything fancy, leave that to his bro.

Papyrus is head of the kitchen in the Bros’ house. Strangely (or not so much) though, he’s the opposite of Sans; Paps is perfectly capable of making beautiful, complex dishes you’d see at a five-star restaurant. He likes the challenge. He could easily make Boeuf Bourguignon, Coq Au Vin, Backed Alaska, Curry from scratch, etc. But, when it comes to simpler things like Spaghetti, he’s thrown off. In his head, it’s too simple, so he adds things that the recipe doesn’t call for, thinking it will be better like his more complex ones. But…. yeah, the things he adds aren’t always even edible in general.

At the same time, he’s very fond of simple dishes. His favorite food is Oatmeal, an extremely simple dish to make for most. He has a cheese sandwich and an apple for lunch. Maybe he likes these because they’re so hard for him to make, like complex dishes are to normal people. I’d garner that the quiche Sans makes was another thing Paps favored but couldn’t make, so Sans made it for him sometimes. 

Aside from Italian, Paps would like fruit salad or salads in general, yogurt parfaits, cheese omelettes; simple, healthy things. He hates greasy foods, but he’s not above taking candy from the Inn lady, so he’s definitely got at least an ‘All things in moderation’ mentality.

Undyne is an odd ball here. We know that, similar to Sans, she’s fond of greasy foods, a call noting that she likes Grillby’s cheese fries. She also has soda and hot chocolate as choices when you hang out with her. It’s not a far stretch to say Undyne likes junk food. However, as an apparent fitness nut -stemming from needing to stay strong as Captain of the Guard- I’m sure Undyne knows that too much junk food is bad for her. However, there is one thing I can garner off her personality and one particular physical trait of hers that can tell me about what she might eat: her teeth. 

Undyne’s teeth are pointed. Meaning her teeth are sharp. I would go as far as saying that if Undyne is any particular kind of fish, it’s a Piranha. And what do Piranha like? Meat. Undyne, without a doubt, would love meat and grilling. Anything at all. Fish, Chicken, Hotdogs, Veggies, Kabobs, anything she can stick on a grill. 

Seafood is another thing entirely. I’d think seafood is more on the side of comfort food for her. Clam chowder in particular. It stems from a headcanon of mine about Undyne’s family, I’ll talk about it later if you guys want. Sushi is definitely a thing she can get behind, though may take a bit for her to build up to Sashimi.

Tea was another thing in the choices at your hang out. It stemmed from her time while training with Asgore, and she keeps some around. I think she drinks it when she’s stressed. It helps her relax and think.

Alphys is another junk food lover, but only because she’s busy with other things and doesn’t have the time to cook. Cup Ramen is her go-to, but she’s got some other stuff stored away. Finger things she can eat with one hand and type with the other. On the surface, Undyne gets her to start eating grapes or trail mix instead. 

On actual cooked foods, she’s fond of anything hearty; stews and thick soups, stir-fry, and anything served in a skillet. Also, of course she’s into oriental food. The first time she tries REAL ramen, she’s in heaven. She loves noodle dishes and once again, soups. Oddly, she has an extremely high spice tolerance, easily popping whole habaneros an a snack. Undyne refuses to kiss her after she has been.

Alphys herself is fairly decent at cooking. She learns to make a number of Japanese dishes once on the surface; onigiri, bento boxes, and her own sushi and ramen.

(I haven’t come up with any more than the skelebros of other AUs at the moment. Might do another post at a later date about with other characters if it is wanted.)

Underfell Skelebros

Sans, again, loves greasy pub food. He loves anything with a kick too. Jalapeño bites and pepper jack cheese are a constant. He also loves foods with layers or can have lots of toppings; pizzas with everything on them, subs and hotdogs piled high, and obviously his bro’s lasagna. (Don’t let him near a Cincinnati three-way, you will never hear the end of all the perverse jokes if you do.) He’s also fond of Cajun and Creole cooking.

On actual food, one of the few leafy greens Papyrus can get Sans to eat that he likes are Mustard greens, so more often than not, Paps will sauté some up as a side to whatever he’s cooked to get Sans to eat something relatively healthy. Otherwise, it’s limited to whatever Paps can sneak into a dish. Strangely, Sans is also fond of Southern style Sweet tea, even though he doesn’t care for sweet things otherwise.

Sans is an ok cook, but prefers not to if he doesn’t have to. If it isn’t microwaveable, it better be simple, or he’s gonna need a lot of motivation to make anything with more than 4 steps.

Papyrus is a literal Master Chef. He’d put Gorden Ramsey to shame. Paps can take almost anything and make it taste good. It’s the reason Sans eats anything healthy at all. Unlike UT!Paps, he can actually cook simple things too. It’s something besides his strength that he prides himself in.

On his own diet, he does love his lasagna, but also anything you can make in a casserole dish. He’s not overly picky, aside from keeping his own food to a tolerable spice level unlike his brother, but he does favor things that can last for a while and be reheated. In a world like Underfell, sometimes there are days were it’s just not safe to go out, so having a lot of leftovers can be helpful when stuck inside. So casseroles, stews, anything that can sit in the fridge and not taste bad after a day or two.

On another note, he’s fond of breads and baked goods. He makes some hella good garlic bread, and always has dinner rolls or biscuits or whatever ready as a side. Just don’t tell Sans how much he loves Monkey Bread, it’s one of the extreme few things he indulges in.

Underswap Skelebros

Sans our little taco man. Yes, he loves Mexican food. No, it’s not the only thing he cooks. No, his food isn’t that bad. He has a tendency of burning things because he gets distracted, but he knows better than to put inedible things in his food. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t get a little… creative with his cooking, but at least they’re all things that are supposed to be edible.

Through his love of Mexican food, he has a decent spice tolerance, and, though Tacos are his fave, he’s very fond of rice dishes as well. And black bean soup. He makes some fine salsa and guacamole from scratch too.

On the other hand, he’s not really picky. He’ll try anything once. He’s pretty fond of most any beef and chicken dishes. Though Paps has forbidden him from straight sugar and coffee, Sans can wip up some damn good sweets, like Mexican brownies and chocolate filled Churros. At least that way, Paps won’t drink straight honey while still getting his sugar fix.

Papyrus, on the other hand, is practically a sugar addict. He loooooves everything sweet. Candy, pastries, ice cream, anything with sugar. He’s Muffet’s taste tester if she’s making something new. Aside from honey, he’s particularly fond of chocolate in general and fruit fillings.

On the normal food side, he’s not as fond of spicy things as Sans, so Sans usually holds back on Pap’s food when it comes to spice. He also isn’t fond of complicated dishes unless it’s sweets. He likes simple things; sandwiches, salads, rice, anything you can throw together real quick or pop in the microwave. It’s not that he won’t eat healthy, it’s just it tends to be disproportionate to the amount of sweets he eats.

This also shows in his cooking. If it isn’t simple, he’s gonna have trouble. He’s not bad, he just gets a little nervous and that can lead to being a little clumsy. He’d rather Sans do the cooking, or at least keep an eye on things if it’s something he needs a recipe for.

[fitnesswomenshealth-blog]

The diabetes diet revolution: super soups, shakes and delicious dishes to help you lose weight

New Post has been published on https://cialiscom.org/the-diabetes-diet-revolution-super-soups-shakes-and-delicious-dishes-to-help-you-lose-weight.html

The diabetes diet revolution: super soups, shakes and delicious dishes to help you lose weight

As the Mail revealed yesterday, the NHS will be offering people with type 2 diabetes a liquid diet of just 800 calories a day as part of radical plans to turn the tide on the disease.

There is another way: Dr Michael Mosley’s ground-breaking 8-Week Blood Sugar Diet from his book. 

Here, in the first part of a two-part series, we publish his simple yet healthy and tasty plan for sticking to 800 calories a day — while still feeling full. 

Don’t miss part two in tomorrow’s Daily Mail.

Six years ago I discovered, after a routine blood test, that I was a type 2 diabetic. This was a particularly nasty shock because my father had died, aged 74, from complications of diabetes.

But rather than start on medication, which is what my doctor advised, I decided to find something I could do to overcome diabetes without drugs.

I’m not alone in trying to find a solution to this cruel disease, which is at epidemic proportions: one in three Britons now has pre-diabetes (blood sugar levels that are abnormally high but not yet in the diabetic range), while about four million have the condition itself.

And if you do have pre-diabetes (and unless you’ve been tested you won’t know), there’s a 30 per cent chance that within five years you will go on to develop type 2 diabetes — the kind linked to unhealthy diet and lifestyle.

This can lead to a range of serious complications including an increased risk of going blind, needing an amputation or suffering a heart attack, kidney failure or dementia.

Luckily, I believe I did discover an answer to type 2 — my best-selling Blood Sugar Diet book, which shows you how to eat to beat diabetes.

I believe I did discover an answer to type 2 — my best-selling Blood Sugar Diet book, which shows you how to eat to beat diabetes

Since I wrote it just over two years ago, tens of thousands of men and women have used it to lose weight, cut their risk of type 2 diabetes and even reduce their reliance on medication.

People like Cassie, a nurse, who within weeks of starting was able to come off insulin injections. In a couple of months she lost more than 20kg (44lb) and then managed to get pregnant. ‘You have helped make a little miracle possible,’ she wrote, ‘for which I can’t thank you enough.’

But it’s not just weight loss and diabetes — the diet has led to dramatic improvement in people with a range of other ailments, from eczema to polycystic ovary syndrome, a condition that hinders fertility and affects nearly one in five women.

The key, based on extensive research, lies in switching to a Mediterranean-style diet rich in healthy fats and vegetables, but low in sugar and starch.

And, if you have a lot of weight to lose, sticking to 800 calories per day for eight weeks, you could lose up to an astonishing 33lb and completely reverse your diabetes.

Studies by one of Europe’s leading diabetes experts, Professor Roy Taylor of Newcastle University, have shown that a rapid weight-loss diet is just what you need to reduce the belly fat that’s so bad for us. My own plan is backed by studies which show that if it is done properly, a rapid weight-loss diet can be a safe and effective way to cut fat and achieve your goals.

It’s this kind of research that’s the basis of the new liquid diet taken up by the NHS.

I’m thrilled to see the health service is taking the research seriously and I look forward to lots more people reversing their type 2 diabetes.

Not everyone can manage a low-calorie diet like this. But you can still gain many of the benefits (though you may lose weight more slowly) by easing yourself in gently and picking one, two, or three 800-calorie days a week and eating according to sensible, low-carbohydrate diet principles the rest of the time.

In scientific studies, liquid diets are mainly done for convenience — it’s an easy way to keep tabs on what people are consuming. But others have done it just as successfully on solid food.

To make it easy for you, here in a sample week of my 8-week plan, the Mail is focusing on soups and shakes that can go towards making up your 800 calories a day.

Tomorrow we will look at delicious proper dinners and lunches that can make slimming so easy.

Since I wrote it just over two years ago, tens of thousands of men and women have used it to lose weight, cut their risk of type 2 diabetes and even reduce their reliance on medication (file photo)

HOW IT WORKS

The principles of the Blood Sugar Diet are that it is low in starchy carbs, but packed full of disease-fighting vitamins and rich in olive oil, fish, nuts, fruit and vegetables, as well as full-fat yoghurt and eggs.

That’s because large studies have found that not only do people gain multiple health benefits from a Mediterranean -style diet but they find it easier to stick to — unlike a low-fat diet — as it’s simple and enjoyable.

Alongside the diet, I recommend a really simple fitness plan.

Here are some pointers to give you an idea of what is meant by Mediterranean-style eating:

Cut right down on sugar, sugary treats, drinks and desserts.

Minimise or avoid the starchy ‘white stuff’. That means bread, pasta, potatoes, rice.

Switch your starches. Instead of pasta and rice, try quinoa, bulgur (cracked wheat), whole rye, wholegrain barley, wild rice and buckwheat. Legumes, such as lentils and kidney beans, are healthy and filling too.

Avoid most breakfast cereals as these are usually full of sugar.

Full-fat yoghurt is also good. For flavour, add blackberries, strawberries, blueberries, or a sprinkling of nuts. 

Start the day with eggs. They can be boiled, poached, scrambled or made into an omelette, and will keep you fuller for longer than cereal or toast. Delicious with smoked salmon and chilli.

Snack on nuts. They are a great source of protein and fibre. Try to avoid salted or sweetened nuts, which can be moreish.

Eat more healthy fats and oils. Along with oily fish (salmon, tuna, mackerel), consume more olive oil. A splash on vegetables improves the absorption of vitamins. Use olive, rapeseed or coconut oil for cooking.

Avoid margarine and use butter instead. Cheese in moderation is fine.

Pick high-quality proteins — oily fish, prawns, chicken, turkey, pork, beef and eggs. Other protein-rich foods include soya, edamame beans, Quorn and hummus. Processed meats, such as bacon and salami should be eaten only a few times a week.

Eat plenty of different-coloured veg. Choose a range from dark, leafy greens to bright-red and yellow peppers. Add sauces and flavouring, such as lemon, butter or olive oil, salt, pepper, garlic, chilli, gravy.

Avoid too many sweet fruits. Berries, apples or pears are fine, but tropical fruits such as mango, pineapple, melon and bananas are full of sugar.

The idea is that — whether by following the recipes shown here or creating your own — you follow these principles, restricting your daily calories to 800.

For some people this will mean having just two meals a day, for others it will be three smaller ones. And while alcohol isn’t banned for life, it’s worth avoiding owing to its high calorie content.

If after eight weeks you still have more weight to lose, or need to bring your blood sugar levels down further, move to the more relaxed 5:2 approach. 

To make it easy for you, here in a sample week of my 8-week plan, the Mail is focusing on soups and shakes that can go towards making up your 800 calories a day

It’s vital to take these precautions 

If you are on medication, talk to your GP. This is particularly important because he or she should be involved in monitoring and tapering off your medicines. It’s also essential that you discuss the diet with your doctor if any of the following apply:

You are on insulin or any diabetic medication other than metformin. You may need a suitable reduction in dosage to avoid too fast a drop in blood sugar.

You are on blood pressure tablets — you may have to reduce the dosage or come off them. The same applies to glucose-lowering drugs, ones that begin with the letter G, like glibenclamide and gliclazide, which may have to be stopped because they can push your blood glucose abnormally low.

You have moderate or severe retinopathy. You should have extra screenings within six months of reducing diabetes.

You are pregnant or breastfeeding.

You have a psychiatric or eating disorder.

You are taking warfarin.

You have epilepsy.

You have a significant medical condition.

You are unwell or have a fever.

Don’t follow the diet if you are under 18, your BMI is below 21, or you are recovering from surgery or are generally frail.

You should also confirm with your doctor that you really are a type 2 diabetic. There are other, rarer forms that will not respond in the same way to weight loss.

If you are in any doubt, please click here for a website where you can find useful information.

The 8-Week Blood Sugar Diet by Dr Michael Mosley (Short Books, £8.99). © Michael Mosley 2015.

To order a copy for £7.19 (20 per cent discount) go to mailshop.co.uk/books or call 0844 571 0640. Offer valid until 30/9/18. P&P free on orders over £15.

The 8-Week Blood Sugar Diet Recipe Book by Dr Claire Bailey (Short Books, £14.99). © Claire Bailey 2016. Order for £11.99 before 30/9/18, details as before.

Monday 

BREAKFAST

BLUEBERRY AND GREEN TEA SHAKE

100 cals / Serves 1

● 1 green teabag

● 50g blueberries

● 1 tbsp almonds

● 200ml water

● 2 tbsp Greek yoghurt

● 1 tbsp flaxseeds, steeped for 4 mins

Add the teabag to 200ml boiling water. Remove the bag and chill tea in fridge. Put in a blender with other ingredients. Whizz together.

LUNCH

CHICKEN, BUTTER BEAN WALNUT SALAD

270 cals / Serves 2

● 200g diced chicken breast

● 2 sprigs of rosemary

● 1 clove garlic, finely chopped

● Drizzle olive oil

● 50g green beans, trimmed

● 100g tin butter beans, drained

● 1 red onion, very thinly sliced

● 1 tbsp walnut pieces

For the dressing

● 1 tbsp olive oil

● 1 tbsp wholegrain mustard

● 1 tbsp white wine vinegar

Place chicken, rosemary and garlic in a large bowl with olive oil and toss together. Fry chicken pieces for about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, bring a large pan of water to the boil and add the green beans. Boil for 2 minutes, then add the butter beans and cook for 2 minutes more then drain.

In a large serving bowl, mix together the warm chicken, beans, red onion and walnuts.

To make the dressing, whisk together the oil, mustard and vinegar in a small bowl. Pour over the salad and toss gently to combine.

DINNER

CRABCAKES

440 cals / Serves 1

● 100g crab meat

● Pinch paprika

● 1tsp mayonnaise

● Handful parsley, roughly chopped

● Drizzle olive oil

● 3 broccoli florets

● 1 tbsp tinned sweetcorn

● Worcestershire sauce

● 1 spring onion, chopped

● Juice half a lemon

● Flour for dusting

● Freshly ground black pepper

In a bowl, mix the crab meat, sweetcorn, paprika, a splash of Worcestershire sauce, mayonnaise, spring onion and parsley. Season and stir in lemon juice.

Place the bowl in the fridge for a few hours. Sprinkle some flour, seasoned with black pepper, on a clean surface and on your hands and shape the crab mixture into two patties. Heat a little oil in a non-stick frying pan. When hot, fry the crabcakes for 3 minutes on each side. Serve with steamed broccoli. 

Tuesday 

BREAKFAST

SCRAMBLED EGG WITH TOMATO AND CHIVE

200 cals / Serves 1

● 2 small eggs

● Salt and black pepper

● Knob butter

● Sprinkle chives, snipped

● 2 thick slices beef tomato

Crack eggs into bowl and whisk with salt and pepper. Heat butter in a pan and add the eggs. Push them around for 30 seconds to 1 minute. Stir in chives and serve on tomato.

LUNCH

SPANISH CHICKPEA AND SPINACH SOUP

210 cals / Makes 2 portions

● 50g Spanish chorizo, diced

● 1 tbsp olive oil

● 1 large leek, rinsed and thinly sliced

● 1 red pepper, diced

● 2 chopped medium cloves garlic

● Pinch chilli flakes

● 1 tsp paprika

● 1 tbsp tomato puree

● 1 litre chicken stock

● 200g tinned chickpeas, drained and rinsed

● 150g baby spinach leaves

Cook chorizo over medium heat, stirring a bit, for 5 minutes. Drain on paper towels and discard fat. Add the oil to a pan on a medium heat. Add leek and cook, stirring, for 5 minutes. Add the pepper, garlic, chilli and paprika and cook for 1 minute. Add the puree and cook, stirring often, for 2 minutes. Add stock and chickpeas and boil. Simmer, partially cover and cook for 20 minutes. Add spinach and chorizo and heat for 2 minutes.

DINNER

STIR-FRY CHICKEN WITH LIME AND COCONUT MILK

340 cals / Serves 2

● 2 tsp rapeseed oil

● 2 skinless chicken pieces

● 1 deseeded green chilli, chopped

● 150ml coconut milk

● 1 tbsp Thai fish sauce

● Large handful coriander, chopped

● 4 spring onions, chopped

● Juice of 1 lime

● 2 tbsp brown rice (adds 70 cals)

Heat oil in wok over a high heat, add chicken and stir-fry for 5 minutes, until golden brown. Add chilli, stir-fry for 1 minute then add coconut milk, fish sauce, coriander and spring onions. Cook for 3 minutes, drizzle with lime juice and serve, with cooked rice if you wish.

Pictured: Stir-fry chicken with lime and coconut milk

Wednesday 

BREAKFAST

MELON, SPINACH AND BLUEBERRY SHAKE

130 cals / Serves 1

● ¼ Galia melon, chopped

● 50g blueberries

● 200ml unsweetened almond milk

● 2 handfuls spinach leaves

● Sprinkle sunflower seeds

Put melon, berries, milk and spinach into a blender. Whizz smooth. Stir in seeds, pour into a container and chill in fridge for at least an hour.

LUNCH

COURGETTE AND FETA SALAD

270 cals / Serves 1

● 1 courgette

● 2 large handfuls rocket

● 50g raspberries

● 1 tbsp each balsamic vinegar and olive oil

● 1 tbsp pumpkin seeds

● 40g feta

● Handful mint leaves, torn

Peel courgette into ribbons. Mix with rocket and raspberries. Drizzle with vinegar and olive oil and top with seeds, feta and mint.

DINNER 

FRENCH FISH STEW

390 cals / Serves 2

● Drizzle olive oil

● 1 shallot, finely chopped

● 1 bulb fennel, finely chopped

● 1 clove garlic, finely chopped

● Splash of vermouth or dry white wine

● 300ml chicken stock

● 200g (½ tin) chopped tomatoes

● 250g fresh seafood (prawns, crab, white fish)

● 2-3 handfuls spinach leaves

Heat oil in a large pan, add the shallot, fennel and garlic and cook for 5 minutes until softened. Add wine and let bubble for a minute. Pour in the chicken stock and tomatoes and bring to the boil. Simmer for 15 minutes, then stir in the seafood and spinach to heat through.

Pictured: French fish stew

Pictured: Smoked mackerel and orange salad

Thursday

BREAKFAST

NO-CARB BIRCHER

180 cals / Serves 1

● 1 tbsp raisins

● 50ml apple juice

● 2 tbsp ground flaxseed

● 2 tbsp plain yoghurt

● Pinch of ground cinnamon

● 1 tbsp walnut pieces

Place the raisins in a bowl and pour over the apple juice. Leave to chill in the fridge for at least 1 hour or overnight. When ready to eat, mix with the flaxseed and yoghurt and sprinkle over the cinnamon and walnut pieces.

LUNCH

PRAWN PHO

170 cals / Makes 2 portions

● 1 litre vegetable stock

● 50g baby sweetcorn

● Handful beansprouts

● 50g mangetout

● 50g sugarsnap peas

● Knob ginger, peeled and grated

● 1 tbsp fish sauce

● Juice from half a lime

● 12 large prawns, shelled and deveined

● Handful each of basil leaves, mint, coriander

● ½ red chilli, finely sliced

Pour the stock into a large saucepan and bring to the boil, add the sweetcorn, beansprouts, mangetout, peas and ginger and cook for 3-4 minutes. Add the fish sauce and lime juice, and season. Cook prawns in the broth until pink, it should take 2-3 minutes. Serve topped with the herbs and red chilli.

DINNER

SMOKED MACKEREL AND ORANGE SALAD

460 cals / Serves 2

● 200g small uncooked beetroot

● 2 tbsp red wine vinegar

● 1 tbsp olive oil

● 1 head chicory

● Zest and juice of ½ orange

● 2 oranges

● Pinch salt and freshly ground black pepper

● 2 spring onions, sliced diagonally

● 2 small smoked mackerel fillets

● 20g walnut halves

Heat the oven to 200c. Put the beetroot in a roasting tin with a couple of centimetres of water in the bottom. Cover with foil and roast in the oven for 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, put the vinegar, juice, zest and oil into a screw-top jar, season with salt and pepper and shake until well combined. When they are done, remove the beetroot from the oven — they should be tender when pierced with a knife.

When they are cool enough to handle, peel off the skins, top and tail them and slice into rounds. Toss them in a little of the dressing from the jar. Peel the oranges, following the contour of the fruit, then cut each one into thin slices. Trim the head of the chicory and separate the leaves, discarding the outer ones. Arrange the leaves in a salad bowl and then add the cooked, sliced beetroot, orange rounds and chopped spring onion.

Flake the smoked mackerel fillets on top, add the walnut halves and drizzle with the remaining dressing. 

Friday 

BREAKFAST

POACHED EGG AND SALMON STACK 

320 cals / Serves 2

● 4 portobello mushrooms

● 2 slices smoked salmon

● 1 tbsp half-fat creme fraiche

● 1 tsp wholegrain mustard

● Lemon juice

● 2 handfuls watercress

● 2 poached eggs

● 1 tbsp pine nuts

Grill the seasoned mushrooms, drizzled with oil, on a baking tray, for three minutes then add smoked salmon to each. Mix the creme fraiche, mustard and lemon juice and spread over the salmon. Top each with watercress, a poached egg and a scattering of pine nuts.

LUNCH

BEETROOT, APPLE AND CANNELLINI SOUP

200 cals / Serves 3

● 1 tbsp olive oil

● 1 tsp cumin seeds

● 2 medium onions, chopped

● 500g raw beetroot, grated

● 2 Bramley apples, peeled and quartered

● 1 litre chicken or vegetable stock

● 2 star anise

● Salt and ground black pepper

● 1 × 400g tin cannellini beans, drained and rinsed

● Greek yoghurt, to serve

● Handful of chives, chopped

Heat the oil in a pan, add the cumin and onions, and cook for 10 minutes, lid on. Add the beetroot and apple, stir and cook for 10 minutes more. Add the stock, turn up the heat, add the star anise and season. Bring to the boil and simmer for 5 minutes. Take off the heat, remove the star anise and blitz. Return to the pan, add the beans, simmer for 20 minutes then serve with yoghurt and chives.

DINNER

ROAST CHICKEN WITH GARLIC AND THYME 

260 cals / Serves 6

● 3-4 garlic cloves

● Large knob of butter

● 2 tsp thyme or tarragon

● 1 large free-range chicken

● 1 lemon, rind and juice

● 1 onion, halved

● 400g carrot batons

● 1 large cauliflower, in florets

● 1 tbsp olive oil

● 400g green veg to serve

For the gravy

● 1 tbsp cornflour

● 1 chicken stock cube

● ½ tbsp soy sauce

Preheat the oven to 200c. Mash the garlic, butter and herbs together. Put chicken on a roasting tray and cut holes in the skin over breasts and thighs. Push blobs of garlic butter under the skin, and over it. Season. Squeeze lemon juice over the chicken and put the rind inside the cavity. Add the onion to the tray, cut-side down. Roast the chicken, allowing 20 minutes per pound plus 20 minutes extra, basting every 20 minutes. Add the carrots 40 minutes before the end of cooking time.

Place the cauliflower florets on another tray. Season, drizzle with oil and bake for 25 minutes. Cook the green veg as you make gravy. When chicken is cooked, remove it to rest. Discard onion. Stir cornflour, oil and juices in roasting tray, then add 300ml water, stock cube and soy sauce, and stir until gravy has thickened. Carve and serve with the vegetables. 

Saturday 

BRUNCH

CHEESY BAKED BEANS  

260 cals / Serves 1

● 2 Portobello mushrooms

● ½ tin baked beans

● Worcestershire sauce

● Mozzarella, grated

Season the mushrooms and grill for 2 minutes. Place the beans, sauce and mozzarella in a pan and heat. Combine and serve.

LUNCH

MISO WITH BABY VEG  

70 calories / Serves 1

● Packet miso soup

● 2 handfuls baby veg, e.g. sweetcorn or mangetout

Make up the miso soup and add the veg.

DINNER

STEAK WITH PEPPERCORNS

510 cals / Serves 2

● 200ml beef stock

● 100ml red wine

● 2 sirloin steaks (approximately 225g each)

● Pinch steak seasoning

● 1 tsp butter

● 1 tsp olive oil

● 2 tbsp creme fraiche

● 2 tsp mixed peppercorns, crushed

● Green salad leaves

Put stock and wine in a pan, boil for 10 minutes to reduce. Rub steaks with seasoning. Place a frying pan over a high heat with butter and oil and fry steaks for 3 minutes on one side for medium or 2 minutes for rare. Turn and cook for 2 minutes for medium, 1 minute for rare. Pour in the reduced stock, creme fraiche and peppercorns. Stir, and cook for a minute more. Serve with salad.

Pictured: steak with peppercorns

      Pictured: roast chicken with garlic and thyme 

                                                            Sunday 

BREAKFAST

ALMOND BUTTER WITH GOJI BERRIES 

110 cals / Makes 4 portions of almond butter

● 300 skin-on almonds

● 2 tsp mixed seeds and goji berries

● 1 apple, cored and sliced

Preheat oven to 190c. Bake almonds for 10 minutes. Cool, then blend. Serve 2 tbsp of butter with seeds, berries and apple.

SNACK

CONSOMME WITH CELERIAC

40 cals / 1 portion

Make up a consomme base and add two chopped spring onions and 80g of grated celeriac.

LUNCH

TROUT ON LIME AND CORIANDER PEAS

480 cals / Serves 2

● 2 × 120g trout fillets

● 2 limes, 1 sliced, the other juiced

● ½ tsp cumin powder

● 200g frozen peas

● 1 tbsp Greek yoghurt

● Large handful chopped coriander

Preheat oven to 180c. Drizzle trout with olive oil, place lime slices on top, sprinkle with cumin, season and bake for 8 minutes. Cook peas in boiling water for 3 minutes. Drain and place in bowl. Add yoghurt and lime juice and mash. Stir in coriander and season. Serve trout on top of peas.

Pictured: kedgeree

DINNER

KEDGEREE  

390 cals / Serves 2

● 2 eggs

● 180g smoked white fish

● 150ml semi-skimmed milk

● 2 bay leaves

● ½ large cauliflower, grated

● 2 onions, one diced, one sliced

● 2 tbsp coconut oil

● 2 tsp medium curry powder

● 40g cooked peas (optional)

● Squeeze of lemon (to taste)

● Handful of parsley, chopped

Boil eggs for 6-7 minutes, then cool, peel and cut in half. Meanwhile, simmer the fish in milk with bay leaves for 10 minutes. Remove fish to a plate to cool, then remove skin and flake the flesh. Add grated cauliflower to the milk and simmer for 5-7 minutes. Drain the milk into a bowl and put cauliflower aside.

In a frying pan, sweat diced onion in 1 tbsp coconut oil for 5 minutes. Stir in curry powder and cook for another 2-3 minutes, then fold in cauliflower, flaked fish and peas, with infused milk to loosen. Simmer. In a pan, fry sliced onion in the rest of oil until crisp. Add a squeeze of lemon to kedgeree and serve. 

Healthy snacks that are just so scrummy

I lost more than 6st – it’s the best diet of all

Val Cornall, 52, lost more than 6st in eight months on the 8-Week Blood Sugar Diet.

The school lunchtime supervisor is married to David, 63, a farmer, and the couple have three grown-up children.

She says: ‘At my largest, I weighed 17st 4lb, despite being just 5ft 5in. Nothing could shift the weight for good.

‘Then a routine blood test five years ago showed me to be pre-diabetic. This came as a terrible shock.

Val Cornall, 52, lost more than 6st in eight months on the 8-Week Blood Sugar Diet. She said: ‘It’s the best diet for me and the only way I’ve ever lost weight.’ Right: before, left: after

‘Despite trying other diets that my friends had followed, such as Slimming World, the temptation of carbohydrates was always too much. I realised that I needed to cut them out because if I don’t I get hungry and just eat more.

‘Thanks to the 8-Week Blood Sugar Diet, I lost 6st 5lb. It cuts out carbs, which is why it’s so good for me.’

Val who now weighs 14st 11lb says: ‘Recently, I’ve regained a couple of stone due to a bereavement. But I decided today that I’m going to go back on it — it’s the best diet for me and the only way I’ve ever lost weight. I really want to be there for my lovely grandchildren. While on the diet I had so much more energy to play with them.’

THIN SEEDED CRACKERS 

50 cals per cracker / Makes 24 small crackers

● 60g spelt flour (or any wholegrain flour)

● 300ml water

● 1 heaped tsp Marmite

● Black pepper, chilli, rosemary or thyme

● 120g seeds: equal amounts golden linseeds (or flax seeds), chia seeds, sunflower seeds and sesame seeds

● ¼ tsp Maldon salt, plus an extra sprinkle

● Olive oil

Preheat the oven to 170c. Mix the flour and 250ml cold water in one bowl and in another, dissolve the Marmite in 50ml hot water and pour it into the flour. Add extra flavouring or herbs, if using.

Now stir in the seeds and the Maldon salt. Leave the dough to bind for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Line a large baking tray with baking paper and brush liberally with oil.

Tip the mixture onto the tray and spread it very thinly with the back of a fork, to about 3mm thick.

Pictured: thin seed crackers with dip. Crackers can be stored in an airtight container for up to a week

Sprinkle over a little extra Maldon salt and bake for 25 minutes. While still warm, slice the biscuit into crackers.

Remove them from the baking paper and turn them over. Return them to the oven for another 25 minutes, until they start to turn golden.

Turn the oven off but leave them inside for a further 15-30 minutes to dry out.

Crackers can be stored in an airtight container for up to a week.

HEALTH MINI PLOUGHMANS 

For a super-simple lunch snack, take a matchbox-sized piece of hard cheese, an apple or pear, or a handful of berries, along with a stick of celery and a couple of seeded crackers.

PERFECT HUMMUS 

210 cals per portion / Makes 4 portions

● 400g tin chickpeas, drained and rinsed

● 3 tbsp lemon juice

● 6 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil, plus drizzle

● 4 tsp tahini

● 2 garlic cloves, crushed

● 1 tsp ground cumin

● Pinch salt

● 3 tbsp water, as required

● 1 tsp paprika

Blend the chickpeas, lemon juice, olive oil, tahini, garlic, cumin, salt and water in a food processor until you have a creamy puree. Serve with a drizzle of oil and a sprinkling of paprika.

BRAZIL NUT BUTTER 

110 cals / Makes 4 portions

● 2–3 garlic cloves

● 180g Brazil nuts, soaked in water for 24 hours, drained and rinsed

● 3 tbsp lemon juice

● 4 tbsp rapeseed oil

● 2 tbsp tahini

● Pinch cayenne pepper

Blend all the ingredients in a food processor until you have a paste. Loosen with water if needed and season. Cover and store in the fridge.  

Pictured: Brazil nut butter

RAITA 

270 cals per portion / Makes 4 portions

● ½ cucumber

● 250ml full-fat Greek yoghurt

● ¼ tsp cumin seeds

● 2-3 mint leaves, finely chopped

● Pinch salt

Peel and deseed the cucumber, then grate or finely dice it. Combine it in a bowl with the yoghurt and all the other ingredients and a large pinch of salt.

SMOKED FISH PATE 

270 cals / Makes 2 portions

● 1 fillet smoked mackerel/trout

● 3 tbsp full-fat soft cheese

● Squeeze lemon juice

● 1-2 tsp hot horseradish sauce

● ½ cucumber, thickly sliced

Remove the skin and mash the fish in a bowl with cheese and lemon juice. Season with black pepper, and add the horseradish. Serve on slices of cucumber.  

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Meal planning

So this isn’t my first time attempting to lose weight. When you grow up in a family of skinny minnies (and one aunt who’s sorta skinny but with a big ass) you tend to stick out as the fat one. I’ve always worn around a size 16 whether i was a child, teen, or adult and honestly the amount of soda i have drank in my life is absolutely horrifying, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear it’s been burning a hole in my stomach.  It never came easily for me. I had a lot of attempts at failures even as a little eight year old trying to exercise to my mom’s workout vhs tapes (Richard Simmons, some kinda country dance video...). I say trying because my older brother, who’s five years older than me, always seemed to find a way to discourage me from working out despite being my biggest critic or just flat out making fun of me since sometimes you look a little ridiculous working out when you cant keep up with everyone else.  I tried DDR when that was a craze. I tried getting into zumba when I worked at the YMCA (seriously the most wasted opportunity since the gym is very supportive of staff using lunch breaks or taking slightly longer breaks to fit in workouts. I was a custodian though and had no energy so I only got in workouts on very few occasions when I had days off). Ultimately it always ended in a failure with me crying into a pint of ice cream and punching my stomach in frustration (Not hard or anything).

So what changed? Well, I got engaged to an amazing guy. He’s supportive (if a little overly worried about my focus on my weight sometimes since he doesn’t like to see me discouraged), fairly active, and makes me feel beautiful even though I feel like an elephant sitting in too tiny of chairs and such.

We moved to Colorado from our home state and after a year of living here and meeting many active people around my community it just clicked one day that i need to change. Now. So that’s where today’s entry comes in. Now, mind you I’ve been on a successful diet for about a week and a half right now. But Sunday is what changed history for me. I discovered meal planning back in January on youtube and after a lot of looking around on pinterest i got hooked n the idea. So Saturday I went out, did all the grocery shopping, cleaned our kitchen that was long overdue a cleaning (Depression is a nasty bitch), and bought a bunch of pyrex containers so I could do meal planning. So what is meal planning? It’s when you cook all of your meals on one day, portion them out, and then you don’t have to worry about cooking all week. It’s also been amazing at keeping me and my husband (who has a huge fondness for junkfood like chips, always chips, and fast food) from binging on junk or ordering out.  Now it took me a bout 12 hours (breaks included since i sat on my ass stoned for a few hours at one point after we ate dinner) to do this but i’m sure I could shave it down a lot for next week. I made stuff for every meal. Breakfasts: I made little omelette bites, some blueberry muffins made from oats and greek yogurt with low sugar, and some fruit and yogurt parfaits Lunches: I made up four salad jars (You put the soggy stuff on the bottom with the dressing, crunchy stuff on top. Shake it and serve when you’re ready to eat it!) and have mostly been drinking protein shakes for this meal. My favourite is one I make with some chai tea.  Dinner: Monday: Meatballs with zuchinni spaghetti (Surprisingly refreshing but not quite the same. I can definitely stand eating them more than half the time we have spaghetti though. Carbs are my biggest problem along with sugar)

             Tuesday: Tofu stir fry (Made it by baking the tofu first so i just had to stir everything up basically) with cauliflower rice (I’m allergic to real rice. It makes it a little hard to swallow and sometimes I get violently ill. I’ll sneak bites once in awhile. I’m a sucker for sushi though) 

              Wednesday: Tonight is baked chicken, sweet potatoes, and quinoa. So easy.              Thursday: Mini meatloaves (cook em in a muffin tin and they cook faster than making a full sized meatloaf) with cauliflower mash (Nothing will ever be as good as mashed potatoes but this is a close second)

             Friday: Burrito bowls with quinoa (because I ran out of cauliflower) instead of rice, with chicken, corn salsa, lettuce, and we have dairy free (did I mention i’m also lactose intolerant?) sour cream and a cheese made from nuts for it as well, plus i’ll probably add avocado or make a quickie quac the day of. Saturday is going to just be eating any leftovers that we didn’t finish in the week (My hubby has been especially surprised by how satisfied all these meals have been so far) or perhaps using it as a “cheat” day and having a dairy free pizza for dinner or what i like to call “fend for yourself, husbando”

So yeah! So far it’s been helping me a lot. I don’t have a lot of cravings so far, i’ve been feeling pretty full (I actually wasn’t eating enough one day but the meal was so filling I didn’t even realize it), I’ve been happier, i’ve felt...clearer? It’s been nice. Plus my husbando, who has some pre-existing gastro-intestinal problems from birth, hasn’t had any stomach problems either which makes me happy. I did notice I need to balance out my meals a little better. What I mean is take today for instance. Even after eating breakfast, lunch and dinner, I still had 600 calories, needing at least 300 more before MFP (my fitness pal) would let me end the entry, all because dinner was surprisingly low in sugar and calories (The tofu!). So next week I’ll have to plan a heavier lunch than a salad for stir fry night but that’s been my only problem so far!  I’m going to make one more entry to talk a little about workout woes then i’m gonna go make my breakfast (a protein shake and maybe some yogurt) and probably go to bed.