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#15 freezer meals
katierosefun · 6 months
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i was so brave today (cooked dinner instead of ordering takeout)
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themanwhowouldbefruit · 8 months
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2 hours of intensive chicken thigh dissecting and mincing down. only 3 more hours of dumpling wrapper rolling tomorrow before i have 10 pounds of frozen dumplings in my freezer.
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lakemichigans · 2 years
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putting calorie counts on food packages in huge fonts did nothing to encourage me to eat healthier but it did everything to exacerbate my eating disorder
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orphicdreamers-wp · 3 months
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Still Falling For You — Nico Hischier
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Summary: Nico finds out your learning how to make his favorite Swiss foods and it adds another reason to why he’s still falling for you
Content Warnings; Subtle angst at first, med student reader, poorly translated German (blame google translate)
Pairing; Nico Hischier x Fem Reader
A deep sigh left your lips, “I understand that you miss Switzerland but I can’t just drop everything and run to Switzerland for a month Nico!” Nico scoffed as he slammed his dresser drawer shut, “I can’t do this anymore. I’m gonna go stay with Jack for a while. I’m sorry.” You let out a defeated sigh, “Ich lebe dich, fahre vorsichtig. Schreib mir eine SMS, wenn du dort ankommst?” Nico hummed, “Wie auch immer, ich gehe jetzt.” You watched in silence as your fiancé left your shared apartment without so much as a kiss goodbye. That was over two weeks ago.
You’d gone to all of Nico’s games in the meantime and crammed for your MCATS all while taking cooking classes in the meantime. You were taking something out of the oven when the door opened, “Y/N?” Jack’s voice pulled you from the kitchen, “Kitchen!” Jack walked into the kitchen to find you in a hot pink apron adorning bright yellow oven mitts and a orange chef’s hat. Jack burst out laughing, “What the hell are you wearing dude?” You glared at him as you set the pan of Rösti on the stove, “Can it squeaks. Is Nico coming home anytime soon?” Jack shrugged, “Dude I have no clue. Get him off my couch, Maisie won’t even sleep in the same bed as me while he’s on our couch.”
You sighed, “I’m trying Hughes. Have I ever screamed chef to you?” Jack paused for a minute to think, “Not particularly, speaking of what is this stuff?” You sighed as you put the pan of cake batter in the oven for the Zuger Kirschtorte. You turned to Jack, “I called his mom, I had to bribe her with my peanut butter fudge the next five times she visits to spill his favorite Swiss meals. He keeps talking about how much he misses Switzerland. I can’t go to Switzerland with my MCATS coming up, that’s why we’re fighting. So I wanted to make it up to him. I need you to get him here tonight at 6. Please Hughie?” Jack smiled at your romantic spiel, “I can try my hardest Y/N. This is really cute by the way.” You smiled, “Thanks Jack. Now go I still have to finish making the food and shower and look cute for my guy.” Jack grinned as he excused himself and left the apartment.
You checked the cake and it wasn’t anywhere near done so you placed the bottle of Oeil-de-Perdrix, Nico’s favorite Swiss wine according to his mom, in the freezer to chill while you hurried into the bathroom and turned the shower on and quickly showered before changing into a simple pair of jeans and one of Nico’s favorite shirts of yours. You made it back to the kitchen and got the cake out and iced it and it was only 5 now. You smiled to yourself as you moved all the food out of the kitchen and onto the table. You tied the apron back around you as you started the rinsing dishes and put them in the dish washer. You took the wine out of the freezer and placed it in the fridge to stay cold.
By the time you finished it was still 5:15, you brought the food back into the kitchen and cleared a space in the living room, overlooking the beautiful city view that drew you into the apartment to begin with. You moved the table out onto the balcony and placed a tablecloth on the table to give it a restaurant quality look. You began to plate up food for both you and Nico. Once you were done with that you found an old record that neither you nor Nico had played since you got engaged over a year ago. You dusted it off and put it on the record player and allowed it to start as you found the perfect dimness of the lights.
You had 15 minutes to spare so you used that small window of time to style your hair into a cute simple half up half down hairstyle you wore on you and Nico’s first date. You put on a small amount of makeup, majority being your winged eyeliner and the lip liner and lipgloss on your lips. You felt awkward not having shoes on so you slipped on a pair of sandals and poured you both a glass of wine as you waited for Nico to come through the door.
You pick up yo ur phone read the time, 6:17. For a brief moment you believe he isn’t coming and you feel your heart drop. Maybe Jack had forgotten to tell him, maybe Nico just decided he wasn’t coming, maybe he’d decided he was done and didn’t have the heart to tell you. Until your phone buzzed with a text.
J. Hughes: He took more convincing than expected. Told him he need to get a clean suit for tomorrow’s game. He’s on his way up now.
You smiled as you heard the door open. Nico froze in the doorway of his home. Granted he hadn’t been home in a few weeks but he was almost certain that his kitchen table was missing. And his house smelled like Mahogany and Teakwood, his favorite candle. That he happened to know that his fiancée hated the smell of. Love Me Like There’s No Tomorrow by Freddie Mercury faintly played through the apartment as he walked further inside, “Honey?” He hadn’t spotted you on the couch where you usually sat and studied around this time of night. The dimness of the home coupled with the silence hanging heavy in the air worried Nico slightly.
You had heard his footsteps just inside the balcony. He opened the curtain and spoke softly, “Hi pretty lady. What are you doing out here all alone?” You smiled up at him, “I’m not alone anymore. Sit before the food gets any more cold.” Nico looked at the food on the table, “Where did you learn to cook these?” You smiled at your fiancé, “The internet is a helpful place sometimes.” Nico sat down as he looked at the foods he’d loved most during his childhood in front of him and the woman he loves most in the world having made them, “Danke meine liebe.”
You smiled at him, “Es war mir ein Vergnügen, Hübscher.” Nico spoke almost sadly, “I’m sorry for how I acted angel. I really appreciate this.” You smiled, “What can I say, I love doing things for my people.” Nico smiled, “I know. It’s one of the things I find myself still falling for you because of.”
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breelandwalker · 4 months
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Witchy Fundraiser - We Need A New Fridge
Here's the situation.
Our refrigerator stopped working last week. We thought it was just the freezer at first but it turned out to be the whole unit. The repair guy said it was useless to try and fix it since they've stopped making the replacement part for this particular model.
The good news is, our home warranty will give us the money for a new fridge. The bad news is, for some INCREDIBLY stupid reason, they don't do direct deposit, so we have to wait about two weeks for the check to come by mail. And in the meantime, we have no cold food storage, so it's going to be takeaway or hitting up the market every day. And to make matters worse, the day before the damned infernal machine stopped working, I'd just done our monthly food shopping and two weeks of meal prep. We used what we could, but nearly all of it had to be thrown away.
If you're wondering whether I've invented any new swears lately, the answer is a resounding yes.
SO.
The replacement will hopefully be installed by the end of month, but we've still got to eat until then. To that end, I'm offering the following:
Simple Dream Interpretations (posted or private) for $5.00
3-card Tarot Reading (from The Golden Tarot) for $7.00
15% off your order from the Willow Wings Witch Shop with code FREEZE
All of this will be active until the replacement fridge is installed or the end of the month of November, whichever comes first. I may not get to all requests quickly, but I WILL respond to all paid requests.
For readings, please send payment via Paypal or Ko-Fi. Then message me by email or here on tumblr with your request! (Either of these is fine if you'd like to tip me for any previous work as well.)
When placing your order in the shop, be sure to include the coupon code FREEZE in the box with your items to get the discount.
Any and all help is deeply appreciated, including simple signal boosts. I'll be working a market in the meantime and hopefully that will help as well.
Thank you as always for your support!
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haruharuz · 1 year
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Dump & Go meals are probably going to be some of the easiest meals for people who struggle with depression, anxiety, or other types of disabilities.
If you're preparing for surgery, giving birth, or just feel exhausted all the time please look into them.
There's a few different types of dump and go meals.
Instant pot : VERY fast and efficient, you typically throw shit in there with MINIMAL work and press a few buttons and wait.
Crock pot: SLOW. Very slow. Your food will take hours to be ready so if you're going to be at home all day, throw it in there in the morning and it'll be done for dinner. For breakfast and lunch you can have easy meals like premade lunchables or sandwiches.
Pan: You throw everything on a big sheet pan and into the oven! Less dishes, simple and easy to do.
Stove: This one requires the most ACTIVE cooking. You'll need to stir/add/etc occasionally to check on it. Unlike the others where you practically add a couple things and walk away.
This also promotes eating at home and EATING in general. I'm no stranger to forgetting to eat for an entire day and then not eating only because I didn't have enough spoons to cook.
"Okay but how do I find them?" Go online, whether tiktok, youtube, or google and look up instant pot recipes, crock pot recipes, dump & go recipes, and freezer meal recipes.
MAKE SURE you thaw these out in the fridge! Every night before bed just pull one out and put it in the fridge :)
Edit: I will also make note! You can often find freezer meals that work WONDERFULLY ! An example is pre seasoning + cutting some chicken, potatoes, and broccoli. Label it CLEARLY with directions !
That means you can freeze a batch of 15+ dinners/lunches AT ONCE and then not have to panic about cooking. If you’re a rice lover like myself you can buy a small rice cooker and turn it on while the other pot goes and that’s IT that’s all it takes for healthy yummy dinner
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angelmush · 3 months
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it's been a while because our oven was out of commission (mice in it) and i was sick w some catastrophic mystery illness and then i was back home in colorado for a few days for the holidays but i'm back now so here's another little post about meals i'm wanting to make soon!!
i want to oven roast wedges of cabbage and mushrooms and maybe some chicken w lots of spices and olives and garlic and oil and maybe char some lemons until all is golden and crispy and then whip up some fresh creamy feta (i splurged on it lol it's a treat) w lemon and yogurt to lay down as a base for the roasted stuff and top w olive oil and dill and fresh lemon and maybe some kind of tahini drizzle if i'm feeling ambitious. this idea has had me daydreaming for dayssss
i have japanese curry cubes that have been waiting for their moment resting in my pantry, an abundance of potatoes (15 lbs LOL), fragrant jasmine rice, some wild carrot, and some very pretty marble-y slabs of pork i could make tonkatsu with, a meal that reminds me of my friends in colorado who made this once for us to eat for a DND session :'')
my gf has been asking me to make alpermagronen, a swiss childhood staple of mine, since we ate it on the side of a mountain when we went back to switzerland to visit my childhood friends. it's a hearty alpine meal that's sort of mac and cheese-y with tubes of pasta and soft cubes of potato in a luscious creamy gruyere sauce topped with thick batons of bacon, a heap of caramelized onions and homemade applesauce. very swiss, very comforting, very filling and something that makes me deeply nostalgic
and a surprise to no one, another chicken soup!!! it's one of my fave foods but i want to do a different kind with a dash of cream and some kale and lots of lemon this time as opposed to the traditional carrot and celery one i've been making every few weeks. i have homemade chicken stock still in the freezer and a butchered chicken as well, all ready to go
i want to bake the nyt gingerbread blondies !! they sound up my ally :)
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to ashes, moral compass
Clint Barton x F!Reader
To Ashes, Chapter Thirty
Chapter Summary: clint's back, but can you forgive him for taking off in the first place?
Warnings: angst.
Word Count: 2,446
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prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30
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Days Since the Decimation: Two Years, Two Hundred and Fifty-One Days
“‘Happy birthday’?” you repeated incredulously, ignoring the pain throbbing in your knuckles. “Are you ser—give me back my gun!”
“Okay,” Clint nodded, his free hand pressed to his jaw. A sense of grim, childish satisfaction rose in your chest as you noticed the red welt rising on his cheek between his fingers. “I deserved that.”
“Give me back my gun, Barton.”
His expression shifted, a familiar twist of exasperation at your words marred by an ever so slight wariness at your tone. He held up his hands in surrender, the gun hanging loosely against his palm, the trigger guard hooked on his thumb. “Y/N, I’m so—”
“Oh, I really don’t want to hear it,” you said bluntly, waving a dismissive hand as you turned on your heel and headed back towards the front door. You heard him say your name again, heard the gentle creak of the floorboards as he made move to follow you. You threw up a hand irritably and a shield expanded in the bedroom’s doorway, trapping him in there.
You were tempted to just leave, to walk right out of the apartment. The shield would last at least halfway down the stairs… But you heard him say your name again, and you couldn’t bring yourself to cross the threshold. Instead, you rolled your eyes to the ceiling and collected the bag you’d left at the door and moved to the kitchen.
Clint watched you impotently, your gun now tucked into his belt. You forced yourself to ignore the weight of him, the feel of his eyes on you. It was like you could almost feel the heat of his body against your back as you tugged an icepack out from under the haphazardly stacked microwave meals in the freezer. Taking a seat carefully at the kitchen table, you couldn’t help but wince as the ribs you’d bruised the night before complained at the movement.
Still, you refused to press the ice to your side in front of him, and you tucked the icepack over your burning knuckles instead.
After a few tense moments you sighed, releasing the shield with another wave of your uninjured hand.
Clint hesitated, not moving from the other room. His gaze swept over you in what ironically could have been considered concern, the shadows under his eyes even more prominent than the last time you’d seen him. Despite your anger, you found yourself wondering if he’d been sleeping. He’d lost weight again, just enough to add to the hollowness around his eyes. The bruise on his jaw only added to the picture his face painted.
“You’re hurt.”
His tone was soft, genuine, and you swallowed.
“I’m fine,” you insisted, even as your breath hitched with pain as you straightened in your seat. “And I’m pretty sure you didn’t come all this way just to check in on me.”
He ducked his head.
“Why are you here, Barton?”
Clint approached the table slowly. “Y/N, I know you’re angry, but I—”
“‘Angry’?” you scoffed, almost incredulous. You shook your head, forcing yourself on to your feet. Abandoning the icepack despite the throbbing in your hand, you moved past him as quickly as your ribs would allow. “You know what, I can’t do this.”
Clint opened his mouth to speak but you gave him little chance, slamming the bedroom door behind you.
You cross the room, sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the pillow by the headboard. Pulling it against your face, you let loose a frustrated scream into the fabric. You collapsed back onto the mattress, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
***
You woke in darkness, only realizing after a moment that you’d even fallen asleep. Lights from the street outside reached through the slender window to your left to leave long fingers of orange glow over the carpet. You sat up, rubbing sleep out of your eyes to find the time on your charging phone. A little after two a.m.
It took your mind a few moments to dredge back up the emotions you’d fallen asleep with, and you set your gaze on the closed door. Dim light lay beneath it, and you watched that little strip of light as you let the turmoil of your emotions roil through your stomach.
Was he even still here?
Still the shock of seeing him again… you’d resigned yourself to solitude over the last months. You hadn’t… the last thing you’d thought to be a possibility was that he would find you.
That light under the door remained unchanging.
You stood slowly, swallowing, your ribs still aching. You took a breath, discharging the energy you felt building with your nerves, the force of it pushing the bed a foot or so away from you, the sound of it muffled by the carpet lining the floor. The energy lit the room in that familiar blue glow for a moment before it dissipated.
Exhaling, you ran a hand through your hair before you finally made the decision to leave the room. And face him again.
The creak of the bedroom announced you, and you found the main room of the apartment as you’d left it, lit only by the weak overhead light of the kitchenette and the standing lamp beside the sofa.
Clint was standing in the kitchenette, his back to you, and the warm, rich scent of coffee teased your nose. He looked up over his shoulder as soon as he heard the noise, the shadows under his eyes grimmer in the low light. “Hey.”
His voice was gruff, worn from lack of sleep. He’d shed his jacket, the lines of his back hinted by his shirt, and you paused as he turned to face you. Your eyes fell to his arm, the once unmarked skin now covered in lines of black, tracing out shapes too complex to recognize through tired eyes from your current distance.
“Nice ink.”
Clint looked down at him arm as though he’d almost forgotten the tattoo was there. He glanced behind him, picking up the coffee he’d just poured and held it out to you in an offer. You nodded, and he turned to collect the milk from the fridge.
You sat carefully at the tiny kitchen table – a formica-style table built for four – your good hand pressed to your side. Clint joined you after a few moments, setting the mug of steaming caffeine down in front of you. Unable to find another clean mug, he’d brought the remaining coffee over in the pot for himself.
In the light, you could now see the damage to your knuckles, and you studied them too-carefully, avoiding his eye. There was a light patchwork of bruises over them, but underneath the ache, nothing actually felt broken.
“What happened to your ribs?” Clint asked quietly, taking the seat to your right. His knee bumped against the leg of the table, making your coffee dance in its cup.
You shrugged a shoulder non-committedly, still focusing on your hand. “I didn’t stick the landing.”
“You should…” he started. He cleared his throat. “I can tape it for you. It might help.”
You met his eye finally, holding his gaze for a few long moments before relenting and sliding the bag you’d brought home across the tabletop towards him.
Inside were supplies you’d picked up, including strapping tape and fresh bandages. You lifted your shirt hesitantly, revealing the purple bruises blemishing your side. Clint frowned slightly as he took them in, but didn’t comment as he pulled out a length of tape and tore it off with his teeth.
You spoke, if only to distract yourself from the feeling of his fingertips smoothing the tape down along your skin, pulling it taut gently. “How’d you find me?”
A touch of a smile curved one corner of Clint’s lips; his eyes focused on your side. “News reports of the Ronin making trouble places I wasn’t. Seemed like a good place to start.”
“And the rest?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Good old fashioned spy work.”
You nodded, your eyes on the ceiling. Of course, he knew how to find you. He’d been the one to teach you how to hide.
“‘Happy birthday’? Seriously?”
“I thought it’d break the ice,” he shrugged a shoulder, touching a careful hand to his tender jaw. “Not my jaw. I forgot what a wallop you had on you.”
“Yeah, I’m not going to apologize for that…” you told him, flexing the fingers of your injured hand. “Especially since my birthday was two weeks ago.”
Clint coughed a chuckle, grimacing apologetically. “Points for effort?”
“They wouldn’t make a dint in the deficit you’re running here, Barton.”
Your tone came out sharper than you’d strictly intended; a spark of the fury at his abandonment still burning inside you. Your eyes fell to the tattoo again, still surprised to see it marking his skin. The sound of another strip of tape tearing, and his warm fingers against your side again.
“So… are we just not going to talk about the tattoo?” you asked. You lifted the coffee mug, enjoying the warmth on your hands and in your chest as you took a sip. “That’s a lot of ink, Barton… it had to have hurt, right?”
Clint swallowed; his eyes still fixed almost pointedly on your ribs. His expression twitched apologetically as he pulled up the tape where it had laid crooked before he lay it flat against your side again. You suppressed a shiver.
“Clint?” you said when he didn’t respond, your brow furrowing as slow realization dawned on you. “Did you… you, you wanted it to hurt, didn’t you?”
He didn’t answer, but you took his silence as confirmation. He’d wanted to… to punish himself? To feel something?
He pressed the final piece of tape into place carefully, frowning apologetically as you hissed slightly as it pulled at your ribs. You lowered your shirt back into place, pressing your lips together for a moment before you broached another question. The only real question you had for him.
“Why are you here, Clint?”
The man in front of you remained quiet for a long moment, as though weighing the words before he chose them. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost hoarse, barely more than a whisper. You could have almost been convinced that he hadn’t spoken at all. “You’re still looking out for me.”
A crease formed between your brows, but you didn’t speak. You could feel the warring blend of sympathy and anger bubbling in your stomach, burning in your chest, your throat.
“I’m a piece of shit, Y/N.” he said, his choice in words surprising you. Still, you didn’t blink, studying his expression. What did it say about you that even with how royally pissed off you were at him right now, it felt good to see his face?
“I shouldn’t have done what I did… I shouldn’t’ve let myself…” he sighed, his hands wringing together in his lap as a kind of anchoring gesture. “I shouldn’t have let what happened happen, Y/N. I—”
You scoffed, pushing your seat backward. It screeched against the hardwood as you stood up, holding up your hands.
“Are you serious, Clint?” you asked incredulously. “Are you—Do you seriously think I’m mad because you fucked me and didn’t call me afterwards?” Clint flinched at the word ‘fucked’. “I’m not some moony-eyed teenager after prom night, Barton. You left me. That’s what I’m pissed about!”
“I know, I—”
“No, you don’t know!” you shouted. All the anger you’d been holding back ignited inside you. Sparks of frustrated psychokinetic energy danced along your fingers, and you squeezed your fists closed to quash them. You paced furiously, running a hand through your hair. “We’re supposed to be partners, Barton! We’re supposed to look out for each other! We’re supposed to keep each other safe and you left me behind and I had no way of knowing you were okay! Do you have any idea—”
“Y/N—”
“You seriously thought I was sitting around pining after you like some kind of… some kind of starry-eyed… it wasn’t even that—” you found yourself stumbling over your words before you could say it wasn’t that good, your mind flaring with the memory of the growl of his voice, the heat of his breath on the underside of your jaw and the way his hands had clutch so possessively at your flesh as you…
Heat rose in your face, and you shook your head, gaze raised to the ceiling. “What was all that you said in Russia, huh? You said you needed me, Clint, and I—”
“I do need you.”
You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him again. He was still sitting with his hands clasped together, but now he met your eye, staring up at you from under his brows. There was an earnestness in his gaze that made all the fury inside you dissipate, and you froze in place.
“I can’t… I can’t keep making myself believe I can do this alone, Y/N.” he told you quietly. “I tried, and I… there’s something inside me, Y/N, that I can’t pull myself back from. Something that wants to watch the world burn and that part of me doesn’t care who gets caught in the crossfire… I can’t…” he sighed, running a hand over his face slowly. “There’s something about you, Y/N, that makes me… stay myself. At least, it helps me hold myself back. I’m not going to stop what I’m doing, I can’t. The people I hurt when I’m working with you, they’re getting what they deserve. But you… you point me in the right direction. Even when you weren’t there, I swear, I could hear you in my head, telling me when I’d done enough, and…”
You wrapped your arms around yourself, teeth digging into the inside of your lower lip.
“I need that,” he said softly. “It’s selfish and it’s caustic, and it’s… but you stayed out here. You’re still watching my back, trying to help me out, and I…”
“I get it,” you told him, and Clint looked up at you again. There were the beginnings of tears in his eyes, and you nodded to your left, avoiding meeting his eye. “You can take the couch.”
You turned, coffee forgotten and a shiver between your shoulder blades. The tape on your side kept your back straight, and you touched a hand to your ribs.
“Y/N.”
He said your voice again just as you made it to the bedroom door.
“Thank you.”
.
.
.
.
tags: @trekkingaroundasgard @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @lol-you-thought @akumune @xxboesefrauxx @enna-core @hearmyharmony @katsies @youralphawolf72 @maenji @rhymesmenagerie @gwianasky @melaclintbartoncorner @loki-is-loved @whovianayesha @bradfordbantams @alice-the-nerd @fanofallthefics @ace-fandom-dumbass @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @twsssmlmaa @earth-pig-fish @meeksmusic83 @hallothankmas @justanothermagicalsara @janineb86 @darsynia @rhymesmenagerie @thatwelshbi @lauraashley93
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trivialbob · 4 months
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My week of ambition
There is PTO to use before year end. I took off this entire week despite no travel plans for Thanksgiving. I never can sleep late, my body doesn't do that, so I am up at at 'em long before the 7:15 AM sunrise.
It actually feels nice to get dressed first thing in the morning. Too often, because I work at home, I neglect clothing until the afternoon. This week I'm all about warm socks, jeans, and sweaters instead of a slippers, a robe, and sweats.
Sheila still has to work. Today she has a very early shift. Her vampire genes prevent her from enjoying sunrises like I do.
"But honey, it's not that bad. It's still very dark out as you get ready for work!"
"Shut up, Bob."
For the rest of this week I'm wearing a garlic clove to bed.
Rather than sit around in my robe, surfing the Internet or binging TV shows, I have been cleaning and organizing--while fully dressed.
The clutter of a hallway closet bothered me. I took out everything. When I put it all back in an organized fashion I saw we have enough shampoo, sunscreen, and bug spray to last the next twelve years.
That situation is a byproduct of a messy closet: Don't see what you need? Buy more. That happened in one of the kitchen cabinets I cleaned. We have enough tinfoil to protect us from a fleet of black helicopters.
Outside the Christmas light are installed. My motorcycle got re-winterized after the past weekend's jaunt. Some late falling leaves are now mulch. And that was just Monday.
I have been reading books too. Recently I finished David Sedaris' most recent one and really liked it. Yesterday I started one of his others, a "best of me" collection. Didn't care for it one bit. I read a few pages from different chapters, but nothing caught my interest. Today that book goes back to the library. Someone on a podcast read a piece by the author Patrick McManus the other day, about the difference between a creek and a crick. It was beautiful and funny. I'm going to get some of McManus' books today.
And finally, during weeks like this I don't treat myself to nice restaurant meals. The fridge and freezer should be devoid of leftovers by the weekend (barring any turkey we bring home from hosts on Thanksgiving). I'm trying to use up even non-perishable foods in the cabinets. That helps my cleaning and organizing too.
Should a zombie apocalypse occur this Sunday, I won't even have a day's worth of food on hand. That is my goal.
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pudgy-planets · 4 months
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That even more awkward moment when your foot lands on the bag of chips she was eating before the ice cream and she looks at you with half a gallon of melted vanilla splattering onto her belly from her mouth as she groans.
@readyplayerziggy
It’s one of those defeating crunches too. The kind that only occurs when a room is deathly silent without any external noise to the point where your own ears begin ringing passively.
Staring you down as her attention turns away from the still flowing nozzle, spilling onto the floor and pooling in the drain tray beneath the hose.
Her clothes, face, and a newly formed triple chin are coated in the sticky substance, smearing across her lips like a sugary gloss.
Groaning in confusion, distended and bloated stomach gurgling as it fiercely attempts to process a vat’s worth of dairy. A stereotypical cowboy stand off between yourself and a 400 pound undead former vegetarian with a pair of chipped Hello Kitty glasses.
And then her cheeks begin to bloat out… before unleashing a hurricane force belch which knocks you flat on your ass and skidding across the floor out the door you snuck into.
Do you foolishly attempt to disturb her meal once more, likely resulting in being crammed into a stomach with 15 pounds of melted ice cream or do you leave and find another establishment with its own stash of raw meat and other supplies in the freezers?
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olivetreehugger · 2 months
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introducing: dispatches from republic city
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Hey any and all Bolin fans! I recently rewatched LoK and it reignited my love of this universe. About 10 years ago, I sort of latched onto a side character and shipped her with Bolin, but it never became anything until now. I have started writing this story, "dispatches from republic city" about Bolin and this side character, who I have named Tanana or "Nani" for short. I will place a link below for a separate post regarding this character and why I am shipping her with Bolin.
But for story's sake, I headcanon that Nani sounds like Susan Egan (she played Meg in Hercules and Rose Quartz in Steven Universe! Her singing voice is similar, but I also headcanon that she sounds like Annapantsu on Youtube-she's INCREDIBLE!). In the show, her height isn't well established, in some gifs she's the same height as the other girls, other times she is the same height as Tahno? So I'm dubbing her a solid 5'7, while Bolin started the show at a nice 5'8 and seems to have grown a bit taller? Just look at him compared to Mako in Book 4 and tell me he hasn't gotten taller! In my fic, he's 5'10.
anyways, moving on. This story takes place post-Book 4, but I've made some changes. I've always been a Makorra gal, don't get me wrong we love the gays in this house but frankly I never got the appeal of Korrasami. I won't get into why right now, I just always loved Makorra and that will never change. Oh, and call me bitter but in this world, Zuko and Katara got together *cough*. It really won't be mentioned, but it is my head canon and I'm sticking to it.
in this story, Mako and Korra have recently gotten back together, but the actual narrative doesn't focus on them too much. The story is strictly from Nani's perspective, with only one possible chapter dedicated to Bolin's POV. We'll see how it fleshes out!
See below for chapter one of "dispatches from republic city"!
dispatches from republic city
chapter one: once a wolfbat
rating: M for sex and violence, language and eventual S/A
The sound of the lunch gong split through the air like a cannon, just as Tanana barreled into the kitchen of Mama Chen’s Dumpling Joint. She hurriedly tied her apron around her waist.
She glanced up at the clock and winced. 15 minutes late!
Any minute now, Mama Chen would burst through the swinging door, ranting and raving about her repeated tardiness.
The scent of sizzling pork fat and vegetables wafted through the air, making Tanana’s mouth water. Her stomach growled knowingly. She hadn’t had single thing to eat today.
Slyly, she ducked past the fry cooks and swiped a bun from the platter next to them and stuffed it into her mouth so no one would see. She then glided towards the back of the kitchen, near the freezer, and spent a few quiet moments savoring her stolen meal.
This was now a daily routine. She’d work from noon until midnight—at least, that’s what her timecard would reflect. Tanana, or Nani, as she preferred--was usually at Mama Chen’s from about 12 pm to 2am the next day, spending an extra two hours clearing out the drunks, teenagers and straddlers while simultaneously helping to close for the next day. She would then stuff her bag with whatever leftovers (whatever she could hide, anyways), and walk to The Bookkeeper’s apartment where she stayed. She’d eat, leave the rest of in the ice box for the old lady, and then collapse wherever she could before waking up and starting the day all over.
All for two yuan a day, though if she charmed the right customer, she might get lucky and score a decent tip.
Ever since Kuvira’s mecha-weapon destroyed the downtown area, people moved in droves to the outer neighborhoods, meaning there was less of everything to go around-including work. For many, it was a struggle just to keep their heads above water. For Nani, it was an ice cold wake up call.
As she chewed and swallowed the rest of the salty dough, the brunette wiped a dribble of oil from her chin with the corner of her apron. Without missing another beat, she picked up a tray of discarded dirty dishes and began her work.
The mix of steam, oil, and body odor marinated in Nani’s hair and skin as she worked alongside the other unfortunates around her. She didn’t bother to learn their names, why would she? After all, Nani wasn’t here to make friends. And none of these people were “friend-material”, anyway.
They all seemed to have a silent agreement, though-as long as no one snitched on the other, they all kept to themselves.
Well, some of them did, anyway.
As another invisible fixture of the kitchen, Nani usually got a front row seat to the hushed confessions of the degenerates around her: the ones who cheated on their spouses, the ones who stole money from their parents to buy opium, the ones who got pregnant and left their babies in the woods.
Hearing such tantalizing gossip would leave a person reeling, bursting at the seams as they waited to regurgitate the story to another person, but not Nani.  She’d learned a long time ago that being a snitch was a stupid form of suicide, and she had the scar to prove it.
Her life was otherwise an exhausting blur—what was a little gossip to pass the time? She would be lying if she said it didn’t give her a delightful thrill of power to know what made people stir at night, what made them ache from the inside out. To know that others were awful human beings meant she wasn’t as awful as she thought. And that was nice to believe, if only briefly.
The hours seemed to fly by quickly as Nani scrubbed, wiped and swept every inch of the kitchen. She wiped a few drops of perspiration from her brow as Mama Chen shoved through the doors.
“You!” The older woman pointed angrily at Nani. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your tardiness today. This is the last day you dishonor me. You’re fired!”
Nani felt her face instantly turn red as the other workers turned to stare at her.
She didn’t expect that.
Biting back a nasty response, she tore her apron off and let it fall haphazardly at her feet. She pushed past Mama Chen and ignored her when the older woman screeched something about “making sure she never worked in another restaurant again!”
The cool autumn air slapped Nani harder than Mama Chen’s words, but it was a welcome reprieve from the congested, sweaty air of the kitchen. She sighed and inhaled deeply, her nerves on edge as she suddenly realized that she was once again out of a job.
How could she explain herself when she showed up at the store early and empty-handed?
She started down the block, racking her mind with excuses to tell the Bookkeeper, who would undoubtedly assure Nani she was doing her best and to not worry about a thing. Still, the young brunette knew the elderly woman would have to worry about her next meal and the concerning lack of customers.
Another sudden gust of wind burst forth, smashing a flurry of discarded newspaper and ads into her face.
Nani stumbled back, the wall of stray papers temporarily blinding her. She sputtered as she ripped the sheets from her face, only for one of them to catch her eye.
It was a flashy advertisement, adorned with gaudy colors and symbols, calling hopeful talents to appear on Shiro Shinobi’s new radio channel 54. The advertisement promised the potential winner a chance at hosting their very own show on the channel!
She reread the last sentence over and over, her grayish-green eyes widening at the prospect.
Could it be?
Suddenly, Nani was on a stage, a crowd of mesmerized onlookers chanting her name as she crooned into a microphone for them. The camera flashes caught the glitter of the jewels on her dress so perfectly,  momentarily blinding her, but it didn’t matter.
She was star.
For a moment, Nani dared to dream about a future that seemed impossible just moments ago. This… had to be a sign. This opportunity quite literally slapped her in the face!
Feeling giddy, she hurried back to the shop.
----
Taking one last glance at the mirror, Nani grinned with satisfaction.
She looked good, really good, like that poster of Cherry Wong hanging in Mama Chen’s. She even emulated the famous singer’s makeup, dark red lipstick and sultry cat eyes to bring out the green.
One of the first, and most influential, performers in the United Republic- Cherry Wong wowed audiences with her stunning features and incredible voice. She had a talent that no one had seen in those times. She was known for taking old Earth Kingdom poems and transforming them into melodious harmonies. Her music was enjoyed by both old and young audiences alike.
As a child listening from the partially open windows of the clubs, Nani marveled at her talent and was utterly inspired by her passion. She spent most of her free time practicing her sonnets and ballads, hoping to find her voice like Cherry Wong found hers.
A crash sounded in the room next door, followed by a cry of pain.
Nani jolted, rushing to the sound. In the hallway, a massive grandfather clock had toppled over, pinning the Bookkeeper under its impressive weight. Shards of glass and wood lay scattered around her. Blood trickled from the elderly woman’s mouth.
“Oh…oh…” the woman whimpered, shaking as she struggled under the gargantuan fixture.
Nani gasped, nearly frozen by the grisly sight. She fell to her knees, cradled the woman’s head in her hands and cried, “I’ll call for help!”
She wasn’t sure if the woman was shaking from pain or simply nodding her head, but she spent no time discerning the difference. The brunette gently laid the Bookkeeper’s head down and jumped over the sea of glass shards that littered the floor. She sped outside and flung the door to the store open, shouting for help.
The rest of the morning was a blur of people, police sirens, ambulances and cleaning up glass. Nani breathed shakily as the medics strapped the Bookkeeper into the stretcher. She reached out and squeezed her hand.
“Don’t let them take my shop,” the Bookkeeper moaned, her bandaged face soaked in tears.
Nani couldn’t say anything with the massive lump in her throat, so she mustered a nod and watched as the medics took her away in a flurry of sirens.
The tumultuous morning events had shaken Nani terribly. A jagged feeling of guilt dug into her abdomen as she returned to her room, her gaze fixated on the poster she hung above her bed. She peeled it off the wall and folded it gingerly, setting it on the mattress.
She turned away, prepared to give up this dream once and for all.
Unless…
Nani’s eyes tracked round to the bed where the poster sat. After a moment, she reached for it and unfolded the paper, gazing at it intently.
Guilt be damned. She would be stupid to waste the opportunity.
Betrayal accompanied the sound of the clanging keys as Nani locked up the store and darted up the street, her purse and the poster in her arms. Waving wildly, she was able to flag down a taxi and hurled herself into the backseat.
“To Studio 54, please.”
----
Traffic was actually quite agreeable that morning. When the cab finally reached the studio, Nani tossed what little money she had left into the greasy palm of the cab driver and pounced from the backseat onto the pavement. The sound of the cab speeding away barely registered as the brunette gazed up at the building.
The studio itself had undergone quite a transformation. It used to be a simple office building in Harmony Park, but with Shiro Shinobi’s attention (and money), it quickly became the hub for all radio-based creativity and communications. People from all over the world could be heard from this very building. Their stories, their songs, their lives…spread across soundwaves and flowing indiscriminately to anyone who could turn a dial, only to become a daily, integral part of that person’s life. It was magical, really.
Bright red, towering doors were cast open, inviting Nani inside with their promise of fame and freedom.
When she walked in, she noticed the line for auditions was quite short. Only a handful of people were in the queue. Directly in front of her stood a broad-shouldered individual who was just tall enough to obscure her vision of the ticket desk at the front of the line. Hopping onto her tip toes, Nani got a brief view of the desk and noticed the alarmingly short stack of tickets.
Her stomach turning to stone, the brunette reached up and twirled a strand of curls between her fingers. It was something she’d done since childhood, whenever she was intensely anxious.
With every auditionee, the stack got shorter and shorter. She watched in despair as the ticketer handed over the very last one to the man in front of her. Nani took a defeated step forward, the last glimmer of hope extinguished as the ticketer merely shook his head.
“Sorry, toots. Gotta be quicker next time.”
Her shoulders sank and her eyes stung as the failure dragged her under water. Her gaze traveled to the group of auditionees filing into the audition booth, the forbidden space meant only for the most auspicious, blessed individuals favored by the spirits.
Nani, as usual, was not such a person. The spirits must’ve really gotten a kick outta this one.
She chewed on her ire and hurt as she trudged back to the shop. The stone in her gut had turned into a burning lump of coal. What was worse, the humiliation of being turned away from the one thing she’d always wanted, or the immense guilt of closing the store and setting the Bookkeeper back for a stupid pipedream doomed to flop?
When she reached the decrepit little book store, she hastily let her self in and slammed the door behind her. Her eyes caught the broken grandfather clock, now shoved into a corner where it could no longer fall on frail old ladies. She locked her jaw in indignation.
Marching through the shop, Nani found the tiny radio she shared with her elderly roommate. She tore it from its perch on the counter and chucked into the trash outside. She ripped the poster from her purse and tore it to bits, letting the pieces fall around her like confetti. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
There she was, once again in a hapless celebration of her own failures and delusions.
“You’re never gonna learn, are you?”
----
It was an unusually warm autumn morning as Nani walked into the Bookkeeper’s hospital room. Clasped between her fingers was a large bouquet of petunias, the old woman’s favorite flowers.
“What a surprise,” the Bookkeeper murmured, lifting her head from the pillow to see the young woman at the foot of her bed. “Come, come sit.”
A sad smile tugged on Nani’s lips. The Bookkeeper looked so much smaller than she remembered. Her face had become jaunt and skeletal, her eyes barely open slits, her lips cracked and bleeding. Her neck was so weak she could barely lift her head.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Nani offered.
“What lovely flowers,” the Bookkeeper said, as if not hearing Nani’s apology. “Find a vase for them, and put them in the windowsill. They like the sun.”
The brunette did as she was told and took a seat next to the old woman’s bed.
“I heard the most beautiful lady sing on the radio last night,” the Bookkeeper mused. Her eyes glittered with tears. “What a star she was. Did you hear her?”
Nani clenched her jaw. The audition was last week, so the stinging feeling of disappointment was still fresh. The Bookkeeper had unknowingly thrown salt right into her wounds.
The old woman turned her head weakly to smile at Nani. “I have no idea where she is,” she whispered, her tears falling down the side of her face. “She said she would be back, but I think she got lost.”
Concern set in as Nani watched the Bookkeeper’s face relax into silent, pleasant confusion. Her eyes settled on the ceiling, as though watching clouds in the sky.
It was later revealed that the Bookkeeper had cancer, and it not only ate through her bones, but it was actively chewing through her brain, too. Nani had thought it was simply senility easing its way in, a normal part of aging.
But this wasn’t normal aging. This was dying.
Nani sat at the Bookkeeper’s side for several days, comforting her as she cried out for people who weren’t there, moistening her lips with cool water, and mustering a brave face as she watched the woman who took her in waste away.
As the end drew closer, Nani knew what had to be done.
The woman deserved a proper burial at the very least. To sell the shop felt like betraying her, but what else could Nani do? She had no job, no support, and the shop hadn’t made a sale in months.  
That’s what Nani told herself when she found a buyer. The guy was skeezy, but he paid a decent amount that would cover the Bookkeeper’s funeral and then some. He seemed rather excited to take the shop off of Nani’s hands, and frankly, she was eager to wash her hands of it.
The exchange went well, leaving her with a hefty envelope of cash under her arm and one less guilt trip to carry around.
Still, her eyes filled with tears as she watched the flames flicking at the funeral pyre. The Bookkeeper was kind and generous. She never badgered Nani for rent. She never judged or shamed her when she lost a job. She was just there…a trustworthy, safe fixture that Nani could rely on.
When the last of the flames died and the old woman’s ashes were collected, Nani walked to her grave site and placed the urn in the ground before piling a mound of loose dirt over it. She sighed, wiping her hands on the hem of her dress and sat back on her heels.
The sky was gray as she dipped her head and pressed her palms together, murmuring a final prayer for the old woman’s soul.
“Well, ain’t that a pity,” a male voice drawled behind her.
Nani tensed. She must’ve not heard the footfalls coming up behind her. She used to be good at that.
A disappointed clicking noise left the man’s lips. “Can’t say hi to an old friend?”
Nani’s heart pounded in her chest as sweat began forming on her brow. Reluctantly, she turned her head to see the tanned, curly haired man looming over her. His hands rested on his hips as he stared her down.
“M-ming.”
Her voice betrayed her as it cracked. She didn’t mean to, but the very sight of him had her frozen to the ground where she sat.
The earthbender smirked at her, his soulless gray eyes boring through her body.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart. Tahno had us looking everywhere for you. After a while, we just assumed you died with the other poor souls in the tunnels,” he said, his voice devoid of any concern.
Nani gulped as he lent down  on his knees, meeting her eye to eye.
“Turns out, you’re just good at hiding,” he cooed, reaching out to caress her cheek.
The young woman gasped sharply as she jerked away, glaring at the man with a mix of terror and disgust.
A few moments passed as she tried to compose herself. “W-what are you doing here?” She questioned.
Ming glared at her intensely. “What do you think?” 
A shiver ran down her spine as she digested his question. Wolfbats were known for being possessive of their mates.
Nani’s hands wandered behind her, grabbing fistfuls of grass before finally finding a rock. She swung her arm around, clocking Ming in the jaw with it.
“I’m not going back!” She screamed.
He went down with a loud grunt, and Nani took off. She didn’t dare look behind her as she darted away, lurching over tombstones, urns and dead flowers, desperately running away from the life she left behind last year.
As she zig-zagged through the cemetery, she could hear the sound of heavy stones whooshing past her, some just barely grazing the tips of her hair.
“You chose the wrong place to pick a fight with me, baby!” Ming taunted, his voice echoing not too far behind.
Nani’s heart pounded against her ribcage. Her eyes fixated on the iron gate at the entrance, hoping to clear its threshold before her attacker could reach her. Her legs ached as she pumped forwards, her breathing ragged. With every distressing step, the gate grew closer.
Suddenly, two tombstones came flying from opposite sides, sandwiching Nani between the slabs of rock, slamming her into the ground.
Ming was right. It was stupid to challenge an earth bender in a cemetery.
“Agh!” She cried out, her ribs cracking under the weight.
She could hear the sound of grass being trampled and winced when Ming’s face came into view. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.
“You were always such a stubborn broad,” he lamented.
Like an act of mercy, the stones fell away and the pain swiftly disappeared with them. Nani blinked, staring up at her old compatriot.
“Just kill me, then,” she panted. “I’m not going back to Tahno!”
Ming dropped to her level again, this time cruelly yanking her forward by her hair. She yelped in pain.
“You knew that shop was drowning in debt, didn’t you?” He questioned, quiet but threatening. “The bank sent a letter threatening foreclosure four months ago. You let my uncle buy a foreclosed business!”
Nani wasn’t sure how to respond. Since when did Ming have an uncle? Was this not about Tahno?
“I didn’t know!” It was true, she didn’t know just how bad the debt was. All she had were a few bills and the deed to the shop. And, damn, if she’d known San Ho was Ming’s uncle, she would’ve never sold the shop to him. Now, she’d really done herself in.
Ming pulled harder on her hair, and Nani cried out, clawing at his forearm as she squirmed under his grip.
Eventually, he released her. Nani fell back, gasping for breath as she watched Ming, petrified.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Normally when someone pathetic and nameless crosses San Ho, they get whacked. But, we’re old pals-wouldn’t you agree?”
Nani diverted her gaze from him. ‘Pals’ was a strong word.
Ming flashed her a sinister grin. “When I heard about your little transgression, I had the option to send my uncle’s goons out to find you. But those guys, they aren’t exactly known for their self control, if y’know what I mean.”
Instinctively, Nani pressed her legs together tightly.
“Believe it or not,” the earthbender continued, “I was real down when you left us, Nani. I don’t think Tahno ever gave you credit for how talented you were, but I saw it.”
Drops of rain kissed the top of Nani’s head, soon becoming an overpour. The heavens above seemed to pour out their disfavor of her, thunderously crashing down like a typhoon in the spring. If she even dared to run again, the mud would only make the chase more difficult. Ming would capture her again, and would likely break a few bones to drive home his point.
She’d lost, Nani told herself.  If tears rolled down her cheeks, Ming didn’t see them.
“Once a Wolfbat, always a Wolfbat,” she murmured, echoing Tahno’s words.
Ming shook his head, snickering. Nani snapped her head up to look at him through a curtain of sopping wet curls.
He chuckled at her confusion, replying, “Like I said, Tahno was a fool to ignore your talent.”
Apparently, he had other plans.
Nani would have to sell her body again, but not in the way most girls on the streets did. San Ho, Ming’s very rich and very corrupt uncle, owned a lucrative brewing company as well as a few dozen opium dens throughout the United Republic. He had quite a few connections with the Terra Triad, of which his nephew was an avid participant. His customers were often high-profile businessmen and women who liked getting drunk and high while being, well, serviced. Everyone appreciated good music and dancing, and Nani would provide. It was abnormally merciful, but who was Nani to refuse?
After all, Ming teased, there were worse ways to put her mouth to use.
----
Nani sighed as she picked up the cheap, shimmering silver fabric of the dress laid on the chair of her “dressing room”, i.e. a dimly lit walk-in closet with a futon on the ground coated in mysterious dried fluids.
She slipped out of her old maroon dress, undid her brassiere, and slid the new dress over her head. She shimmied and danced a bit until she was able to get the cloth over her hips. Eventually, the dress was on, and it actually fit pretty well, considering it had belonged to someone else. Nani’s breasts and back were very much exposed , however, leaving very little to the imagination. Even the most salacious lingerie wasn’t this provocative, but Nani knew her “audience” would appreciate it. Even more so, Ming and his uncle would be pleased.
As Nani rummaged through the box of costumes in front of her, she pulled out a feathered, boa-like head piece with a glittery band that matched her dress. She wrapped it around her head, careful not to disturb her curls which she’d smoothed down with gel earlier.
A heavy-handed knock startled her.
“Come on now, let’s see it.” It was Ming.
A deep sigh left her lips as Nani threw open the door. The earthbender was leaning against the frame, his eyes trailing up and down, a stomach-churning grin of satisfaction on his lips as he drank in her appearance.
“You look good enough to eat,” he muttered.
Nani didn’t look him in the eye as she walked past him, the look of disgust apparent on her face. She made her way to the long mirror in the hallway and stared at her reflection. The ridiculous headpiece, the exaggerated makeup, the scandalous outfit.
She was a show girl. An indentured show girl.
A mirthless laugh left her mouth without warning. You want fame? The spirits asked. Here’s your fame.
Ming sauntered into frame and put a cold hand on her shoulder. It took everything in Nani’s being not to recoil from him.
“The madame wants to meet you before you take the stage,” he said.
In another room, one more decadently decorated and much cleaner, sat the Madame. She was a tall, middle aged woman with a heavily powdered face and nails like knives. She was dressed in a silk red and pink kimono and a glossy black wig. She was pouring tea into a small cup.
“Madame Yoshino, I’ve brought your newest act, as promised,” Ming announced, keeping his fingers tightly curled around Nani’s shoulder as he led her into the room.
The exquisite woman stood from her cushion, cup in hand. She approached Nani with narrowed eyes. She barely looked at her before turning away in disgust.
“She’s dark,” she spat.
Nani’s eyes widened at the unexpected jab. Her hands balled into fists, nails digging into her palms.
Ming patted her back, replying confidently, “You’ve got plenty of porcelain dolls, why get another one when you can have a bronze beauty instead?”
Madame Yoshino glowered at Ming for a moment before turning her attention back to the young woman. She raised an inquisitive brow at her. She studied Nani’s figure,  pausing over her chest and then her face, where she lingered for a long time.
Nani gulped as she tried, and failed, not to look the frighteningly intimidating woman in the eyes.
The madame grasped her chin and forcefully jerked her face from side to side.
“Open your mouth,” she demanded.
Nani gave her a hateful stare but complied when Ming slapped her ass with stinging force.
She bit back a yelp and let the Madame inspect her teeth.
“Hm…a few cavities, but overall not bad,” the older woman commented. She tapped Nani’s jaw as if to signal her to close it.
Shrugging, Madame Yoshino took a sip of her tea and settled her gaze on Nani again. “Where are you from, little miss? North or South?”
Nani understood her question, as many had asked the same. And she answered the same as she always did.
“Neither,” she replied boldly. “I’m from Republic City.”
Ming cleared his throat and pinched the back of her arm. Nani squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying out in pain.
Madame Yoshino set her teacup down, waving her arms in the air with disdain. “No, no, no! That won’t do. From now on, you’re a Northern girl, you see?”
Another slap to her behind from Ming, this time less vicious. “Our little arctic fox,” he teased.
Nani bit her tongue until it bled. Hatred burned in her veins as the two continued to talk about her as though she weren’t in the room. To them, she was just a piece of meat to be devoured later, then regurgitated and devoured again…until she was completely unrecognizable.
Madame Yoshino dug her dagger-like nails into Nani’s arm as she dragged her onstage.
The brunette’s eyes darted around the room. The atmosphere was thick with the familiar scent of opium and sweat. The dim lights were a blood-red hue, blanketing everything in a sort of sensual, dangerous anonymity.
Her gaze turned to the door in the very back of the room. If she tried to make a run for it, Ming could easily block off the exit with his earth bending, or smash a rock into her head with a swipe of his hand.
Madame Yoshino took the microphone and introduced her as a “Northern Snow Princess”.
A stage light shined jarringly in her face, blinding her for a few seconds. As her vision adjusted, Nani took in the environment around her.
Various paintings and portraits of people engaged in lewd sex acts decorated the walls. Well-dressed men, and a few women, sat on various couches and cushions, pipes and sake glasses in their hands as young courtesans fawned over them. Their clothes were still on, but a few had their shirts unbuttoned, dresses turned askew, shoes missing.
This was nothing like her daydreams.
The clientele hummed in surprise and intrigue, a few even clapped. Nani couldn’t stomach looking at them directly, instead focusing on a portrait to the right of her. It was a photograph, blown up on a poster, of a naked woman, her large breasts like two moons shining bright in the night sky, with a green and pink folding fan splayed out between her legs, just barely covering her sex.
Somehow, that woman was using her sexual prowess as a form of power. Somehow, she was able to take hold of the narrative that she’d been sold into. It was in her eyes. Her body was hers, and no one could take that away.
Nani longed to be half as brave as the woman in the photograph.
An upbeat, jazzy tune began playing behind her and her hands trembled as she took the microphone.
Just sing, she told herself. It’s like riding a bicycle.
The words tumbled from her lips on cue as she timed herself to the music. It was a song about falling in love, or something silly like that. It wasn’t the most appropriate song for a brothel, but somehow it got people going.
As the song continued, Nani sashayed her hips to the melody, waving her arms in a rhythmic swaying motion.  
The crowd was pleased, clapping along and cheering. Their enthusiasm would’ve been intoxicating had it not been for the fact that she could see them getting grabby with some of the courtesans.
She did her best to keep singing, to pretend it didn’t bother her. She murmured out a few more notes, humming along and dancing away, but then she saw it:
An older gentleman had his hands around a girl’s throat as he straddled her, his knee forcing its way between her legs. The girl was around Nani’s age, but her face was caked in geisha makeup to make her look older. Her eyes were wide with panic and terror, until they rolled back into her head. Her body went limp in the man’s grasp, but he didn’t let up.
All the while, the cheery cacophony of saxophones, trumpets, bass and drums continued their happy tune as Nani watched this man choke a dead body. Her voice had long been drowned out by the music. Or maybe she’d stopped singing altogether, she didn’t actually recall.
Her eyes were glued to the man’s hands. He just kept going.
The music got louder, the cheers got louder, everything sort of blurring together in the chaos.
It was in that moment that something buried deep inside Nani exploded.
A wordless, enraged shriek tore itself from her throat. She leapt from the stage, grasping the microphone stand in her hands. As she charged at the man, she held the pole over her head and brought it down on his face with a sickening crack.
He crumpled to the floor.
Nani’s hands shook as she dropped the microphone stand. The music came to a screeching halt. The looks of awe and wonder morphed into terror and disgust. Nani could feel Ming and Madame Yoshino’s eyes burning into her back, but all she could do was watch the man stir, trying to push himself up with his hands. Nani brought the pole over her head again.
But before she could deliver another blow, the thick scent of sulfur and ammonia filled the air.
Smoke seemed to pour from every orifice of the building, creating a cloudy miasma that rapidly replaced the oxygen in the room. Panic settled in, screams tearing through the atmosphere as everyone scrambled  to escape.
Nani coughed as she tried to fight the smoke, stumbling over the bodies of the clientele as they dropped like flies around her. Her eyes and lungs burned as the smoke seared into her mucus membranes. She gasped into the crook of her elbow, but the fumes were too much. She staggered towards the exit, when something caught her ankle, causing her to lurch forward.
She was unconscious before she hit the ground.
----
The sound of jingling keys and steel-toed boots woke Nani up. Or maybe it was the raging, fume-induced migraine boring into her skull. She wasn’t quite sure, yet.
“Wake up, miss,” a deep voice beckoned.
Nani groaned as she opened her eyes. She slowly lifted her head, squinting as the figure of a uniformed man came towards her. Behind him, she could see a set of bars. Her mind quickly registered the cuffs around her wrists and ankles.
Eyes snapping open with alarm, Nani jerked away from the officer. She held her arms up to shield herself, but that, unsurprisingly, did nothing to stop him.
“Let’s go,” the officer said, grabbing hold of her arms and pulling her up.
“No, no, no,” she begged. “Please don’t do this!”
She writhed against his iron-grip as he dragged her out of the jail cell and through the halls of the precinct. In her peripheral vision, she saw Ming being carried away by two officers, except his cuffs looked different, like they were wooden—probably so he wouldn’t try to metal bend his way out of them.
Relief washed over her for a second, but only for a second. She then realized she was in a showgirl’s outfit, in a brothel, surrounded by opium, prostitutes and rich people who were above the law.
“I-I don’t belong here!” She said nervously. “You have to believe me.”
The officer scoffed at her. “You know how many times I’ve heard that before?”
She ended up in an interrogation room, sitting across a young detective with enigmatic amber eyes and dark hair.  He had his arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes; he just looked at her.
She covered her chest with her arms, suddenly very self-conscious of her very exposed body.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” Nani finally muttered, her voice hoarse.
The detective leaned forward, his elbows on the desk in front of him, as though eager to hear more. “Well, a statement, for starters,” he responded.
Nani shook her head, her glittering headpiece tilting down to one side. “What is there to say?” She retorted. “You found me in a brothel. I know what you do to women in brothels.”
The man raised one sharp brow at her. “Oh?” He replied, as though inviting her to continue.
A tickle started in Nani’s throat, reminding her that she was quite dehydrated. “Can I have some water?” She asked.
Nodding, the detective left the room. In seconds, he was back with a glass of lukewarm water, but Nani didn’t care. She threw her head back and gulped down the whole thing.
When she was finished, she placed the glass in between herself and the detective.
“I’m not some skirt,” she said flatly.
The detective nodded. “I know.”
“How?”
He swiftly laid out several photographs across the table. Nani leaned forward to examine them. There were photos of San Ho, Madame Yoshino, Ming, and several young women and men she did not recognize. Evidence of drug, alcohol and sexual paraphernalia was wantonly displayed in the images.  There were also images of the brothel and other buildings within the Red Light District. Nani was surprised to see those pictures had been taken some time in the morning. They didn’t look so frightening in broad daylight.
The detective explained, “We’ve been watching this group for years-even had a few of our officers infiltrate their ranks to find information that could help us bring them down. They knew every face that walked into that bordello, except yours.”
Nani glanced at the detective and then back at the photos. She couldn’t stop looking at the faces of the young sex workers.
“We did however hear about an unsavory purchase that San Ho had made,” he continued. “Something about a foreclosed book shop?”
Her knee jerk reaction was to scream, “It wasn’t my fault!” but Nani held her tongue. Instead, she looked away.
“The woman I was staying with died,” she muttered. “She owned the bookstore. On her deathbed she asked me sell it.”
That little lie stung. Nani knew it was wrong, but it was better than the truth. The Bookkeeper had begged her not to let anyone take away the shop. Perhaps in her demented, cancer-ridden brain she knew the bank was going to take everything.
Leaning back in his chair, the detective appeared to take this in.
“Okay,” he started slowly, as though he was working out a puzzle in his mind. “So you sold the deed to San Ho, and then he somehow found out it was foreclosed. Then what?”
Nani sighed loudly. “Do I really have to walk you through every little detail?”
Reaching into his coat, the detective pulled out a yellow notepad with one hand and clicked a pen with the other. “Yes, please,” he responded. “Let’s start with your name.”
“Tanana, my friends call me Nani…at least they would if I had friends.”
“Is there a last name?”
“No.”
“Where are you from?”
“Born in Republic City.”
“Ok. Do you have any family we can contact?”
Curls shook furiously. “No family. Just me.”
The detective nodded. “How old are you?”
Nani bit her lip, hesitant. “I-I’m not 100% sure. Between 20 and 23, I think.”
His eyes flew up to her face, filled with confusion and possibly even concern.
“You grew up on the streets,” he responded, as though filling in the blanks. Despite her not asking him to.
The brunette’s expression was stone-like. After a while, the pity gets old.
Clearing his throat, the detective asked Nani to give her statement as truthfully and clearly as she could.
Eager to be done with it, Nani explained the events in the cemetery and the brothel, up until she met Madame Yoshino.
“I thought I was doing a show,” she explained. “But then I looked around, like really looked around, and I realized where I was.”
As she spoke, the detective scribbled furiously onto his notepad.
“Were you asked to perform any sexual acts?” He asked, his eyes not leaving the pad.
“Oh, no,” she responded nonchalantly. She noticed a dusting of pink on the detective’s face as he paused writing for a second. “But I saw quite a few people getting their rocks off in the audience.”
The writing paused momentarily, and then resumed. Nani watched the detective quietly as he wrote. His features just screamed with familiarity, but for some reason she couldn’t place it.
Seconds later, the man looked up and noticed her watching at him. “…I’m listening,” he prompted.
Nani shrugged, “I don’t have much else, sorry.”
Pursing his lips, the detective clicked his pen before stuffing it and the notepad back into his coat. He scooched his chair back and stood.
“Thank you for your statement,” he said curtly, resuming an air of professionalism. “My officers will be in here shortly to undo your cuffs and bring you your belongings.”
Nani nodded in response, watching him as he turned to leave. She almost let him go, but something nagged at her incessantly.
“Detective?”
He turned his head to look at her. “Yes?”
Rubbing the inside of her palm, Nani stared at the files in his hands. “What happened to that girl? Did she make it?”
A look of recognition flashed across his face, followed by somberness. Nani grimaced knowingly.
“No….she was one of ours,” he admitted soberly.
“Spirits….I’m sorry.”
A few seconds of uncomfortable silence lingered in the air.
“Me too,” he responded, closing the door behind him.
----
Less than thirty minutes later, Nani was freed. She wasted no time fleeing downstairs to the front lobby with her purse in hand, covering her chest. As she made her way down, she noticed a group of officers crowded around a radio, howling with laughter.
 She paused, simultaneously amused and annoyed, wondering what they were listening to that was so funny.
“Turn it up, will ya?” A stout officer exclaimed, shoving one of his companions.
The taller, thinner one obliged, chuckling as he playfully punched the first officer back.
Nani lingered in the lobby of the precinct, her ears perked to the sound of Shiro Shinobi’s voice:
--“AAAANNND welcome back ladies and gentlemen to Channel 54 Radio. I’m your host, Shiro Shinobi, and tonight do we got a program for you!”
“Tonight, I am pleased to announce the premiere of our newest program, ‘Dispatches from Republic City’, hosted by the one, the only…
“MISTER BOOOOOOLIIIIIIN!!!! ALSO KNOWN AS NUKTUK: HERO OF THE SOUTH!”--
Nani’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. Her mind went back to the day of the audition. The man in front of her….did she ever catch a glimpse of his face? Then she remembered, he’d said his name to the ticketer.
Bolin.
A festive, over-the-top jingle played over the soundwaves as the officers whooped and hollered in front of Nani. A tiny, likely overworked and underpaid intern scrambled behind her, spilling a week’s worth of paper shreds around her like a burst of confetti.
It would’ve been comical...if it weren't absolutely maddening.
Nani didn’t bother to listen to the rest of the program. She stared blankly ahead of her as she marched out of the precinct and into the chilly night air. She was burning with so much rage the cold actually felt good on her skin.
For a few seconds, she watched a slurry of satomobiles pass her by and contemplated walking into traffic. And she might’ve done it if she hadn’t looked up and saw a faded Nuktuk poster plastered on the wall of the building beside her.
No, she told herself. You’re not going out like roadkill.
She glared at the actor’s face, memorizing the face of the man who’d stolen her dream from her. Oh, she knew him. Maybe not personally, but she remembered him from her days with the Wolfbats.
He was a cocky Pro-Bender with a pet rat, big whoop. He got his fame when he starred in the movers, even bigger whoop. Who was he to steal audition spots? Didn’t he get his fifteen minutes?
Nani took one last look at the poster before tearing it down and ripping it to bits. People walked past her in the streets, staring at her like she was crazy, but she couldn’t give a rat’s ass if she tried.
She was furious, mostly at herself for giving up so quickly after the audition but also at the universe for favoring that big, dirt-pushing lug over her when it knew how badly she needed this.
Well, no matter. If the spirits could play tricks….then so could she.
She hurried towards the nearest hotel, intent on getting some decent beauty rest. She’d likely have to dip her fingers in some poor sap’s pockets to fund an outfit change. She wasn’t sure about the hair and makeup, but she would find a way. She always did.
After all, she had to look good if she was going to meet Nuktuk, hero of the South.
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iceycube · 3 months
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Morgenboller!
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Morning buns/rolls, one recipe yields 24 fluffy morning buns or 12 burger buns. Dry out in three days if in a plastic bag, within the day if not. I suppose you can use them for tea time, too
Ingredients:
550 g flour
50 g sugar
10 g salt
13 g fiber (i use a potato fiber from semper)*
50 g fresh yeast
1 egg
100 g butter/ 82 g oil
100 mL milk or water (if you do this by hand only use 50 mL)
100 g non-flavored yogurt/skýr/Creme fraiche/kefir/other sour milk product
250 g cold oat meal porridge (recipe under cut)
(for chocolate buns add 240 g chocolate chips when dough has been kneaded)
* fiber helps keep the buns feel soft for longer and helps digestion. Is optional, though, if you can't find it. Then just use 13 g of flour or oats.
How to:
Stand mixer with dough hook attachment or bid bowl and wooden spoon
All ingredients in the mixing bowl
Mix on slowest speed until all is combined or stir until everything is combined
Turn to speed 2 for 5-ish minutes until dough does no longer stick to the hook. Or knead vigorously for 10-15 minutes until it doesn't stick to your hands. If it keeps sticking you may want to wash your hands and change your kneading technique :b push the dough away from yourself with the ball of your hand and snap it back with your fingers. Do not stick your fingers into the dough. It is a very good workout, so you may want to only wear a t-shirt ;]
Do the gluten test. With clean warm hands take a small ball of dough and carefully stretch it into a thin rectangle just using your fingers. If it doesn't tear your dough is kneaded. If it does tear, you give it 1-2 minutes more on speed 2. If it tears at your fingers, but not in the middle, it is also done.
If you want to freeze the dough, weigh clumps of ca 200 g, make balls, and wrap in plastic wrap. When placing in freezer make sure they do not touch or they will keep each other warm and explode out of the wrap. Dough keeps for 3 months in freezer
If you don't freeze it: out of bowl unto a floured surface and knead into a big ball. Cover with a dish towel for 30-45 minutes
After it has risen you punch it down and weigh the buns out at 50 g. For burger buns you weigh 100 g.
Form buns and place on baking sheet. 12 per sheet for normal buns, 6 for burger buns. Press burger buns flatttt
Cover and let rise until doubled in size, usually takes 45-60 minutes. Or if your oven can heat to 35 C/100 F you boil some water and pour in a baking dish and set on the bottom of your oven and place your buns in the oven for 25 minutes. Take everything out of oven before next step
Preheat oven to 210 C convection
Paint buns with water or milk. Make sure they are completely covered
Bake at 195 C for 8 minutes, change placement of baking sheets and turn them around and bake for another 2-3 minutes
Done
If you froze the dough:
Remove from freezer evening before you need it and put it in the fridge
Two hours before you want to work with it you put it on the counter
Cut clump into 4 roughly equally big pieces and form buns
Do as points 9-14 above
Oat meal porridge
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Ingredients:
1 dL finely rolled oats
2 dL milk or water (1.75 dL if you make the buns by hand)
1/2 teaspoon salt
How to:
Put ingredients in a microwave safe container
Microwave at 100% for 1:30 minutes
Stir
Microwave again at 100% for 30 seconds
Stir and put in fridge for at least 1 hour
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bloobluebloo · 4 months
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Blue’s 10/10 Challenge: Part 10
Date: November 29th 2023
COLD COLD COLD
It was -7 degrees celsius, -13 with the wind but I ran by the water dam today and, no joke, it felt like I was in the freezer and then opened the door to a colder freezer. I have no doubt that it was closer to -15 or -16 by the river.
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Funny little story. While I was running I ran past another jogger. He was jogging very slowly which, smart because you shouldn’t push yourself in the cold. We gave each other the typical runner’s wave and I continued on my way. Anyways, when I looped around and came back up the path I ended up catching up to him. No biggie.
Until I see this guy pull up behind me and then next to me. Again, not an issue. Usually when I come across another runner, depending on pace, I either keep my distance behind them or pass them. I assumed the same case.
Anyways so now this guy is running beside me for maybe 100 or 200 meters and I’m wondering if I should speed up or slow down until he starts like, huffing and puffing really loudly to the point that he’s shouting (think of those gym bros that yell when they do a big lift). This guy is trying to either race me or keep up with me which he can’t do either of, especially in the cold.
Anyways I was amused and kept my pace knowing full well that with the hill coming up I’d lose him. And that is exactly what happened. I’m pretty sure he’s new to running because a more experienced runner would stick to their pace ahaha.
Tldr: Got into an unexpected race and won.
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And post workout meal. I GOT NEW POKEMON BOWLS AND THEY’RE SO CUTE 😭😭😭
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(Warm oatmeal reallt hits the spot after freezing your butt off in the cold 😭)
✨10/10 complete✨
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abramsbooks · 1 year
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RECIPE: Grilled Pork Tenderloin with Chimichurri (from Meal Prep Magic by Catherine McCord)
It was in Argentina where I began my love affair with chimichurri; a pot of it accompanied whatever meat we were eating. Just the thought of pairing it with pork tenderloin makes me giddy.
PREP TIME: 15 minutes, plus 1 to 2 hours for marinating COOK TIME: 15 minutes SERVES: 4 to 6
¼ cup (60 ml) Dijon mustard
½ cup (120 ml) apple cider vinegar
3 tablespoons light or dark brown sugar
8 cloves garlic, minced
⅓ cup (75 ml) plus 2 tablespoons olive oil
1½ teaspoons kosher salt
2 to 2½ pounds (910 g to 1.2 kg) pork tenderloin, fat and silver skin removed
½ cup (15 g) packed fresh cilantro
½ cup (15 g) packed flat- or curly-leaf parsley
1 small shallot, peeled
2 tablespoons red or white wine vinegar
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
Pinch crushed red pepper
Freshly ground black pepper
Place the Dijon mustard, apple cider vinegar, brown sugar, half of the garlic, 2 tablespoons of the olive oil, and 1 teaspoon salt in a large zip-top bag. Squish the bag to mix the marinade. Add the pork tenderloin and use your hand on the outside of the bag to move the marinade around the pork. Marinate for 1 to hours at room temperature or overnight in the refrigerator.
To make the chimichurri, in a food processor, place the cilantro, parsley, remaining garlic, shallot, the remaining ⅓ cup (75 ml) olive oil, the red or white wine vinegar, lime juice, crushed red pepper, remaining ½ teaspoon salt, and black pepper and pulse until finely chopped.
Heat a grill to medium heat. Grill the marinated pork on several sides for a total of 14 to 15 minutes, or until the internal temperature is 135 to 140°F (55 to 60°C) when checked with an instant-read thermometer inserted in the thickest part of the meat. (Alternatively, you can use a cast-iron skillet to roast the pork. Heat over medium-high heat and add 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Sear the pork all over for a total of 6 minutes. Transfer the pan to a 400°F (205°C) oven and roast for 15 to 20 minutes.)
Allow the pork to rest for at least 10 minutes to allow the juices to settle before slicing. Use a sharp knife to cut pork on a bias into ½-inch (12 mm) slices and top with the chimichurri sauce.
Make sure not to overcook the pork. Pork should never be cooked to more than 135 to 140°F (55 to 60°C). You want the internal color to be light pink.
Make double the amount of chimichurri sauce to serve with fish, shrimp, chicken, or steak later that week.
TO ENJOY LATER The cooked pork can be cooled and refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 3 days. Enjoy at room temperature or warm for 30 seconds in the microwave. Store the chimichurri in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 5 days, or freeze in ice cube trays then transfer to labeled zip-top bags for up to 4 months.
PREP IN ADVANCE Place the zip-top bag of the pork in its marinade in the freezer for up to 3 months. When ready to cook, place the pork chops in the zip-top bag in the refrigerator to thaw overnight; cook as directed.
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Become a faster, healthier cook with secrets from Weelicious founder and meal prep genius Catherine McCord
With celebrated cookbook author and Weelicious founder Catherine McCord's step-by-step process, your kitchen will be beautifully organized and fast, healthy family meals will be at your fingertips—starting with 100 of her favorite recipes. McCord believes that success in the kitchen comes down to two things—organization and meal prep—and she’ll show you how to master both in Meal Prep Magic.
One step beyond the ideological approach of Marie Kondo and The Home Edit, McCord brings you a practical guide to organizing the most important space in your home and using it. If you’ve ever lost leftovers to the back of the fridge, failed to find a spice that you know you bought, or faced a cabinet full of mismatched Tupperware, her advice will forever change your relationship to your kitchen.
After showing how to maximize your space for efficiency, McCord offers up her favorite family recipes. Including tried-and-tested secrets for saving time, these recipes are easy to prep ahead, make entirely ahead, contain basic ingredients that are always in your pantry, and/or strategically employ your freezer, air-fryer, Instant Pot, slow cooker, and more. Think grab-and-go breakfasts like Raspberry Creamy Chia Puddings, creative packed lunches including easy-to-assemble Salad Jars, healthy snacks like air-fryer crispy artichokes, and irresistible dinners that are even better leftover, such as lemony chicken thighs with lots of herbs.
By following McCord's simple strategies for meal prepping, you’ll always have food on-hand to enjoy throughout your busy week, limiting your trips to the grocery store and time spent in the kitchen. Eat healthy meals you love, while saving time, money, and your sanity. Never again stress out about what to make for dinner! Meal Prep Magic is a lifesaver for any and all home cooks, busy parents, and fans of Weelicious and McCord's popular book Smoothie Project.
For more information, click here.
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cooking-with-niki · 2 months
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Cooking log: 01/14/24-01/20/24
Here I am! On my new blog!!! I am not really sure how to start off something like this but I will just say that I am a cooking enthusiast and also an Ensemble Stars enthusiast. I love collecting anime merch and since I have my Niki nui, I thought it would be fun to take pictures of him helping me cook!
Basically, I cook the majority of my meals at home myself and I really enjoy trying new ones, but I just wanted to talk about them and also share how I feel about them! And of course with including Niki and some of my other Enstars merch, especially Wataru 💖 I have to admit I am not the best at photography, but I tried my best to at least capture the full image of the dishes hahaha.
This blog is really just meant to be a log for myself so I can remember all the food that I have cooked week by week and hopefully share it with other people along the way. Since I am usually the only one who ends up eating them, I thought sharing them through something like a diary would make it fun for me! If you are reading this, then hello and I hope you enjoy reading my ramblings about food!
So! Here we go!
01/14/24 Meal 1: Natto and Rice
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For the first meal I am cataloguing here, this is very fitting. I eat natto pretty regularly on the weekends. I actually love natto a lot... I learned about it maybe in like 2019? And then I found a Japanese grocery store near me that sells it, so I initially bought it just out of curiosity but ended up absolutely loving it so I buy it and keep it in my freezer basically at all times. Natto on rice is the most typical way that I would eat it, but this particular time was very no frills. I usually like to add a poached egg and green onion at the minimum, but I did not have either of these at home, so stripped down natto with just soy sauce on rice it was. And clementines are something I also buy pretty regularly. I love them a lot and go through a bag of them in a week. All in all, a very tasty meal but not anything too fancy!
01/14/24 Meal 2: Instant Pot Lentil Soup
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THE SOUP! I would say that I like to make soups and stews on Sunday nights for my first meal of the week because it is easy to make a lot and prep it for the rest of the week! I chose this recipe because I had a tiny bit of lentils left over from something I had made last year and it was pretty easy to put together with the things I already had. I followed the recipe I found here on a Couple of Cooks website, but with a few modifications. They called for brown or green lentils, but they did not have any at the store I shopped at, plus the lentils I already had at home were red, so I just got more red. Additionally, they called for fresh spinach, but again they were sold out at the store so I used 2 blocks of frozen spinach. I just added it in at the end on top of the rest of the ingredients before I set it to pressure cook. I also have had a few frozen veggies in my freezer left over from last year that I blanched and froze before I left for Christmas, so I am trying to use all those up too, which is why you see the bags of frozen carrots and onions in the picture. EITHER WAY. This ended up making a lot more soup than I had initially planned for, but that was fine with me! It just meant I was running out of bowls to store it in!!!
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As for the flavor, I would say it was pretty good. There aren't really a lot spices so the ingredients speak for themselves. I don't use fennel a lot in my cooking but it really did a lot of the legwork here! And of course the paprika is a nice as well. I also really like the flavor of the Better Than Bouillon broth. It was a pretty hearty soup and I enjoyed it all through the week for lunch!
01/15/24 Meal 3: Tuna Casserole
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Tuna casserole is a pretty simple recipe that reminds me a lot of being a kid... I tend to like trying new things that I never had before, but every now and then it's nice to fall back on a classic when I can't think of anything. I also had half a bag of egg noodles and half a bag of frozen peas I needed to clear out of my pantry, so this was the first thing that came to mind. The recipe I followed is from here at Five Heart Home, which I have made before so I knew I would like it. It's a bit different than the one I grew up with, but I like it because making the sauce from scratch is very satisfying to me. The recipe says to make the sauce in a skillet, but I prefer to make it in the same pot that I boiled the noodles in because I hate making more dishes if I don't have to. For my strainer for the noodles, I actually use this rice washing bowl since I can just set it on the side of my sink and let the water drain out of there.
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Oh, I was also going to mention, when I went shopping for this week, I looked at the cans of tuna and for some reason the tuna in oil was significantly cheaper than the tuna in water. I don't know that that is an anomaly, but I tended to grow up eating the tuna in the water, so I never really had the tuna in oil. I think because it is mixed in with the sauce it doesn't really make a difference, so I was fine to use in this case, though I don't think original recipe specified anyway.
Either way, I think this recipe is a banger. The garlic powder makes it quite addictive... I had a second bowl on the night I made it, so I ended up only having 2 more portions left for the rest of week... I also think that this is one of those recipes that gets even better as leftovers, since the sauce has time to firm up in the fridge. I would definitely recommend giving it a try!
01/18/24 Meal 4: Peasant Skillet Dish
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So if you haven't noticed, I tend to just meal plan based around things I already have at home and just want to clear out the stuff I already have and not buy too much new ingredients. This was something that came up because I was actually looking for a recipe that used bacon! I bought ingredients for a dish I did not end up making this week because the soup stretched further than I thought it would and I had plans to go out on Saturday night, so the majority of the bacon I bought will be used next week instead 😊 BUT. When I was meal planning, I found this recipe here on Taste of Home, and I already had the majority of the other ingredients--but only in half of the amount. I had about 2 potatoes, 1 carrot (the rest of the bag I used to make the soup), etc. so I scaled it to make only about 2 servings' worth. I DID use 5 strips of bacon, but I just ate one of them before crumbling the rest!
I made this one in a dutch oven instead of a skillet because... my only pan is pretty small, about 7in, so I was worried that everything would fall out when stirring, so I thought the pot would be a better option. I also cut my potatoes into cubes rather than thinly sliced because I have one of those vegetable choppers that makes it so simple to chop things into bite size pieces. Plus, with the mix of baby potatoes and a regular potato, I thought it would be easier to make them more uniform if I diced them instead. I also used frozen broccoli but just steamed it in the microwave and only used half of it for this recipe and reserved the rest for another dish.
Overall, this recipe is supposed to be something to put together from things you have at home and is very rustic. It was fine and I enjoyed it for the two servings I made from it, but is not something I am super excited to make again. Definitely not bad, but not so phenomenal that I would get a craving for it. The bacon grease for cooking is pretty good, but it makes everything very one note and that note is BACON. My house also smelled like bacon for like 2 days after making this despite me having the window open while I was cooking and the over the stove fan running the whole time! Alas, I think that is just the fate of making bacon...
01/20/24 Meal 5: Natto Omelette
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You see? Natto is something I eat like ALL the time!!! This is the other most common way I have natto, which is very not traditional. I think I watched a youtube video of a person making a natto omelette a while ago when I was trying to learn more things to do with it, and ever since this has been my other favorite way to enjoy it. This is really simple, just egg, natto, and cheese, but I did also have 2 strips of bacon to get the grease for the pan. Plus, even though the smell had just finally left my house, I still wanted to eat it 😂
I had wanted to actually use up the rest of the bag of cheese I used for the tuna casserole, but there is still probably a half of a cup left, but that's fine because I have plans for it for next week. For the bacon, you can see that I have it wrapped in plastic wrap--this is how I tend to store bacon when I buy a package. It is so hard for me to use up the whole amount in a reasonable time, so I will remove all the strips from the package and store them in groups of 2 strips wrapped in plastic wrap so they don't touch, and I stick those packets in a big freezer bag laying flat. I just put the individual packets of 2 strips in the fridge the night before i plan to use them and let them defrost overnight. I think it's really convenient to be able to freeze stuff for later and have it at your disposal pretty much for enough time to be able to actually use it! Yes, I will talk about the miracle of freezers infinitely!!!
Anyway, this is of course a very tasty way to enjoy natto, but unfortunately cooking bacon always makes my fire alarm go off so I am happy that I will be rid of the rest of it soon.
1/20/24 BONUS! Pistachio Chocolate Chip Cookies
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That's right A BONUS! One of my dear friends was celebrating his birthday on Saturday and I asked what he wanted for his birthday and he said "pistachios" so I ended up baking these cookies for him. Now, something I will say is that I actually do not like pistachios, so this was indeed a labor of love for me. I waffled thinking on following recipes that used pistachio pudding mix and made very vibrantly green cookies, but I ended up following this recipe here on The Recipe Critic because I thought just a variation on chocolate chip cookies would be pretty good even for someone who doesn't like pistachios like me!
So this recipe uses 1 1/2 cups of pistachios which ended up being about 3/4 of a one pound bag of shell-on pistachios... That's right, I bought shell-on pistachios and shelled them all by hand. A LABOR OF LOVE!!! It took me about an hour to shell all those pistachios, but I did it in advance of actually baking the cookies so that I could have them ready to go and not be overwhelmed by all the steps. I would recommend buying shelled pistachios though if you want to use them in large quantities!
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For me, this was also the first time I had the chance to try the stand mixer that my parents got for me for Christmas! It is not a KitchenAid but something a bit smaller so that it can fit better in my kitchen. Although, I am still working out where I am going to store it because I have no room on my counters for anything else at the moment... ANYWAY. The stand mixer worked pretty well, although the gap between the bowl and the mixing arm made it difficult to pour in ingredients while mixing, so I had to keep turning it off and on to lift the bowl out of the base and add the ingredients back in. I think it will work pretty good otherwise but I am still not throwing out my trusty vintage egg beaters just yet!
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So, this is where the drama comes in... Because of all that shuffling back and forth to add ingredients in, it seems that I mentally swapped some of the numbers when I was measuring out my ingredients and added 2 cups of flour rather than the 1 cup called for in the recipe... My dough ended up a bit firm and I had to mix it with my hands rather than a spoon when it came time to add in the roughly chopped pistachios and chocolate chips. It was like kneading bread dough I'm afraid... I didn't question it because I had never made the recipe before and just assumed it was a thicker dough than normal! It was only after I put in the first batch into the oven that I reread the recipe and realized my mistake! So coming out of the oven...
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The cookies didn't really flatten out at all, staying very round! For the second batch, I added maybe a teaspoon of milk and flattened out the dough before putting them in the oven so that they would be more cookie-shaped.
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I thought they turned out okay, but quite dry. Definitely would be better with coffee. Either way, I gave them to my friend and explained the story, but he was very gracious and really liked them, eating 2 in front of me because he loved them so much! I am happy that it all worked out even despite my mistake. I also gave him a whole bag of pistachios with the rest of the bag that I used to make the cookies added to it so that he could enjoy even more pistachios for his birthday.
And there you have it! The catalogue of all the meals that I cooked and ate this week. I hope you enjoyed reading and hearing the ups and downs of my cooking adventures. I am looking forward to the meals I will be cooking next week~
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ebonyheartnet · 1 year
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Okay, so here’s an extremely simple recipe that’s gotten me through the last few low spoon months. It freezes well, and I’m able to get about five or six meals out of it.
The base recipe is naturally gluten free. So long as you customize accordingly, it’s also extremely friendly to most allergies (bc god knows I have damn near all of them).
For those with texture issues, the chicken comes out almost like it’s stewed and the vegetables are very soft without being wet. As for the oats, they’re more of a rice or fresh pasta texture, not mushy or porridge like if you nail the moisture content. Though there is a good bit of browning, especially if you add the baking soda, nothing’s really crunchy. You can add a bit of crunch by putting the portion you want to eat back in the rice cooker for a few minutes on high/cook.
Equipment:
-14 cup rice cooker (mine is by aroma housewares and is about $25 USD on Amazon rn)
-plastic/silicone/wooden spatula or spoon
-Tupperware and/or quart sized freezer bags
Ingredients:
-1 tbs of oil of your choice (ghee, olive oil, etc. you decide what flavor works best with what you want to eat and go for it)
-1/2 lbs of frozen riced cauliflower (you can use whatever small, hardy vegetables you like, this is just what I can eat)
-herbs and spices of your choice
-1/4 tspn of baking soda (optional, but helps with browning)
-roughly 3.5 lbs of boneless skinless chicken thighs
-2 cups chopped leafy greens (I use either arugula, bok choy or napa cabbage, but literally anything works)
-about 4 cups rolled oats
-salt to taste
-optional pinch of sugar
Instructions:
1.) Turn on rice cooker. If you have one like mine, hold it down to meet the weight requirement and switch to cook.
2.) Add your oil, then add cauliflower and salt + herbs + optional baking soda.
3.) Open and salt chicken, then place in the pot. Stir until everything is covered in cauliflower + herbs, then cover and let sit for 20 minutes. (If using a leafy green with a hard stem, add stems now.)
4.) Stir thoroughly, until browned bits at bottom are evenly distributed and chicken has started shredding. Add your leafy greens, then stir in oats in two batches with an additional pinch of salt. Keep stirring until all oats are damp, adding up to 1/2 cup water if needed.
5.) Cover and let cook for at least 10 to 15 minutes. Stir and serve, or package in Tupperware/ziplock.
Variations I’ve made:
-2 tbs minced ginger + 1/4 cup mint for herbs. I used napa cabbage and bok choy for my greens, and 1/2 a cup of the oats was replaced with homemade cranberry granola.
-1 sprig of rosemary + 5 leaves of fresh sage + 6 sprigs of fresh thyme for herbs. Used some very spicy arugula for my greens and served with cranberry sauce.
Notes:
This recipe is for whoever needs it, and all I have is one request:
Please don’t offer me suggestions.
I’m aware what I’ve done is pretty bland, but there are severe dietary restrictions interfering with what was once a thriving spice cabinet. Tell other folks your ideas, help each other out, etc. just don’t say that I should cook it differently bc that’s a block for my own sake.
On a more positive note, the main reason why this is formatted the way it is is that, honestly, it’s the way I’ve always preferred to cook. Give me my base recipe, a couple fill-in-the-blanks, and then suggestions so that I can start thinking. You can add aromatics, swap out the cauliflower, etc. Do whatever you want, just eat a thing! :D
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