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thebimbopalace · 28 days

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ᡣ 𐭩 blurb: finals week has put you through the wringer but luckily your handsome, wonderful, caring boyfriend has a special treat for you.

wc: 1k

ᡣ 𐭩 tags: fluffy fluff, sfw, older bf!nanami kento x fem!reader, established relationship, age gap (reader: early twenties, nanami: late twenties), reader’s in college, feminine pet names, teeny angst, one kiss, self-indulgent cause i wanna be loved like this

"keep those eyes closed hun," kento's honeyed voice hits your eardrums as his large hand envelopes yours. he guides you to. . .god knows where, all you know is that you're outside. the soft, calming breeze flows through your hair gently blowing your flowy pink spring dress behind you.

his eyes scan your beautiful ensemble and he thanks whatever deity that's in the sky that you happened to walk into his life one friday afternoon. "are we there yet ken?" you inquire excitedly as you tighten your grip on his hand. he smiles at your excitement "almost," as he tries to stifle a chuckle at your cuteness.

his free hand goes the the small of your back moving you in front of him as you both walk to this destination he spoke of earlier. his expensive cologne invades your nostrils and your body immediately relaxes at the close proximity. "can you at least tell me where we're going?" trying to coax it out of him. "then it wouldn't be a surprise now would it?"

a pretty pout graces your glossed lips as you turn your head to scrunch your already closed eyes at him in a glare. "over here pretty girl," kento teases noticing you turned your head in the wrong direction. you follow the sound of his voice and turn your head in the correct direction of his face, adorable pout still adorning your lips.

"don't pout baby, i promise you'll love it," he chuckles as he presses a quick kiss to your temple. your pout is replaced by a small smile that effectively melts kento's heart into a puddle of goo. you let him lead you to this mystery he's set up. the walk is silent as you take in the sounds of nature. the rustling of the grass as the light air rakes through it, the birds chirping along with the trickle of water in the distance.

you haven't felt this calm in months. college has been a thorn in your side for a while and now that you took all your finals, you're agonizing over your final grades, wanting nothing more than to pass. kento knows this. he's seen how hard you've worked. hours of studying, late nights, and those stressed tears that broke his heart with each stream down your cheeks.

he'd catch each escaped drop with the pads of his thumbs as you were nestled in his lap in a comforting hold. in his arms, you knew nothing would harm you, especially sunday 11:59 pm due dates. and when you submitted your last final exam yesterday, he knew he had to do something big for his special girl. his only girl.

"okay, stop," he utters and your feet come to a halt. you feel the sun kissing your skin as you stand next to kento waiting with nervous-excited butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "open your eyes, baby," he whispers. his candied voice filling your senses increasing the jittery feeling in your gut.

you open your eyes, pupils adjusting to the sunlight and what you see takes your breath away.

a picnic. a beautiful picnic assembled on a vast green field beside multiple tall apple trees. a white plaid picnic blanket is laid flat with various foods. gourmet sandwiches arranged scrumptiously on a sliver oval platter, a full charcuterie board that includes various deli meats, crackers, cheeses, and fruits, a bottle of wine alongside two long-stem wine glasses, and a circle-shaped frosted cake with 'you did it pretty girl!' written in red icing.

not to mention the big bouquet of flowers that lay next to the picnic basket. your favorite flowers at that.

"kento," you mutter softly in disbelief. he really knows how to take your breath away. warmth spreads through your cells, filling you with affection for your lover. no matter how many times he surprises you, no matter how many times he shows you how much he loves you, it never fails to make you tear up.

he pulls you smoothly into his embrace, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. you bury your face into the crook of his neck. "wha—when did—," "last week," cutting you off. "i know college has been putting you through so much hun, i jus' wanted to treat you for working so hard, my smart girl," he coos the last part softly then proceeds to pepper kisses all over your head. like he's kissing your overworked brain.

that feeling of love and safety spreads through your veins like molasses. you savor the feeling. "i don't deserve you ken," you mumble quietly hoping he doesn't hear the insecure tilt in your tone. oh, but he did. his hands trace the curve of your waist sliding up until they reach your cheeks. he cups them in his calloused palms, thumbs stroking the apples of them.

"nonsense sweetheart. not only do you deserve me, but you deserve the world. and i'm going to give it to you, from now until my last breath." loving but determined. nanami kento in a nutshell. and that makes any remnants of insecurity vacate your mind. to prove his point, kento leans in and presses his soft lips against your glossy plump ones in a tender kiss.

not one of lust, not one of eroticism, one of affection. a kiss that says 'you are my love, my heart, my soul, my everything.'

he pulls back, interlocks your fingers in his, and guides you to the picnic blanket. you move to sit down, but not before he places a pillow below you so you don't have to sit on the hard ground. a gentleman through and through. "c'mon hun, can't let this food go to waste, can we?" as he sits on a pillow next to you.

"not with our appetites," you chuckle as you grab a cracker off the charcuterie board and poke a toothpick into a slice of ham. kento laughs with you as he gazes at you fondly. he believes this is where he's meant to be. on a blanket, with you, eating and drinking as the horizon turns orange in front of you both.

and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#✎ᝰ. ( signed your majesty ) !#nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fluff #nanami fluff #kento fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you

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stevieschrodinger · 8 months

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It's just biology, is all. Steve's an Alpha, Eddie's the only Omega in their little found family pack.

Steve picks up on Eddie's cycle; he can't help that either. He can pick the date Eddie's heat will begin about a fortnight before it happens. Again, he can't help that, he just knows, it's instinct.

Just like how he knows Eddie goes off carbs completely and becomes a demon for cheese and protein. Like he knows Eddie won't eat the pizza they order for movie night, so he picks up fancy meats and cheeses and a fruit platter thing from the deli and then labels it as Eddie's before everyone comes over.

He knows he does dumb stuff too, knows it's instinct and he operates on auto pilot. Knows that Eddie accepts it all unthinkingly too.

He catches Nancy smiling at him at the table and is baffled by that until he looks down and realises he's taking Eddie's favourite bits off his own plate and moving them to his.

He catches Dustin sniggering at him and shaking his head, it's all done amusement, but Steve has to genuinely stare at his own lounge for a good two minutes before he realises what he's done. He's set up for nerd game night as usual but...oh, yeah, there's like five blankets piled onto the chair when Eddie sits. Right.

Steve moves them to the back of the couch considering Eddie won't even be able to sit with them there...and then brings one back, the softest one, and leaves it draped over the back just in case.

It's all just instinct. Eddie will spend a few days alone in his nest, just like always.

#eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #alpha steve harrington #omega eddie because he's so pretty #omega eddie munson #angel steve harrington #steve harrington is a sweetheart #oblivious steve Harrington

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wildemaven · 1 year

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Sweet Creature: Chapter Two

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 5145

Summary: A washed up movie star with a failing career, fresh out of rehab and looking to turn his life around. He moves back to his small hometown to take a break from stardom and help his sister out with his niece— He’s traded the high-life for school runs and crafting. What he doesn’t except is to meet you, his niece’s school teacher who couldn’t care less about his extensive filmography or his dwindling fame.

Warnings: 18+ Blog; talk of drug use (no actual using), absent parents, mention of food and alcohol, slow burn, brown fuzzy coat, self doubt, break-up mention, annoyance towards actors, cursing, 2nd POV, that should be it but if I missed anything please let me know

A/N: It’s here!! I’m really excited for this chapter, lots of little things I love about that I’m so excited for you to read. This chapter is where we meet reader and learn a little bit about her. I wanted to also note, there will be an eventual nickname used, we just haven’t gotten to it being used yet so for now I’m not mentioning it. The response to this series has been so amazing and I’m so grateful for all the wonderful feedback!! Another big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for taking the time to beta for me!! You’re a champ for putting up with my spelling errors. Update: adding link to mug that is mentioned -> etsy shop

Series Masterlist / Sweet Creature Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous / Next

“Diem, you can’t really be considering this?! Did you forget, he was literally doing drugs off of your toilet!”

You pour another glass of a sweet sparkling wine you’d picked up before heading to Diem’s for your weekly chat session, then settling back into the array of plush couch cushions— a night to decompress a bit, vent and just catch up on the week’s happenings.

“Well, I’ve already considered and told him yes.”

“What?” You nearly spit your drink out in shock. “I don’t want to say I told you so, but I kind of called it when you invited him to Wren’s party. I just— I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“Look, I know you’re just being protective, and I’m so grateful for that, I truly am— but you have to just let me make this decision and trust that he’s going to be clean like he says he is. This is his longest stay in treatment, that’s got to be a good sign, right?”

The one thing you loved most about Diem was her big heart and her constant need to mother everyone around her.

She had literally taken you under her wing when you’d decided to uproot your entire life and move to a random city you had zero ties to.

A chance meeting in the halls of your new employer, Ojai Valley School, while rounding the corner and bumping into each other. Your stack of lesson plans scattering about the concrete floor and her basket of snacks toppling over— a dozen or so clementine oranges rolling around the haphazard mess of papers.

In sorting out each other’s disarray, you’d learned she was a parent of a kindergartener, to which you shared being the new first grade teacher.

Somewhere in the midst of an over abundance of apologies for the mishap and swapping mini life stories on the walk together to your classroom, her daughter’s class coincidentally next door, there was an exchanging of phone numbers and a no pressure invitation for drinks and appetizers at her place— she dubbed it as a proper ‘welcome to the neighborhood.’

A week later you found yourself in Diem’s living room bonding over similar interests with wooden platters of too expensive crackers, hard to pronounce cheeses, thinly sliced deli meats paired with quickly mixed and shaken cocktails over ice.

She shared her struggles being a single mom who was embarking on a new business adventure all while co-parenting with her ex-boyfriend. You learned her family didn’t live close, parents usually traveling through some part of the world or staying in one of their many extravagant vacation homes, while her brother was some big name movie star— Dieter Bravo, whom you’d seen plastered on the covers of gossip magazines.

There was an instant friendship between the two of you that flourished as the months went on— a sisterly bond you’d never had being an only child.

Weekly chats developed into spending not only more time with Diem, but with Wren as well. Dinners and movie nights became a regular thing, rotating hosting duties while Wren always had the final say in the movie. You shared your love for art with them as much as you could, making sure to invite them both when a new artist had their latest installment showing at one of the many galleries in town, Wren always so captivated with your interpretations of the art on display, encouraging her to seek out her own. If Diem ever found herself in a pinch with the hotel, you were more than excited to spend more time with Wren, especially on the warmer days where you both could take advantage of the pool and soak up the California sun.

You felt like an instant local and less of a transplant after a few months, building your own connections with merchants and finding your own niche outside of teaching within Ojai— you were a welcomed presence.

“I’m sorry Diem, I just have flashbacks to seeing him slumped over on the bathroom floor, high out of his mind— That look on your face ate me up inside.” You sigh at the recollection of your first meeting of her brother Dieter, all disheveled and extremely inebriated. Diem had cried on your shoulder for hours after everyone had left the party, but you did your best to comfort her as time went on. “I’ll be here for you if you need anything.”

She reaches over to you and gives you a hug, reassurance that she appreciates you always having her back.

“Thank you. I promise, any little inkling of something being off and he’s out. Just try to be a little nice to him, give him a chance to prove himself. He said he’ll be here in a few weeks and I’d love for you two to get a proper meeting, so let me know what your schedule is looking like.”

“I’ll try to be on my best behavior.” You playfully roll your eyes at her, but you would really try to be as open as you could be, especially for her and Wren.

“Okay, enough about me and my stuff. What’s new with you?? Any hot dates??”

Your dating life was near nonexistent. Yeah, you dated, but that was as far as things went.

Your last relationship had ended in a breakup before your move. Both of you wanting different things, you wanting him to move with you and him wanting to stay rooted, while also refusing to try the long distance thing, deciding a clean break was best for the both of you.

“Ugh. I went on one the other day. One of the teachers cornered me in the break room and insisted on setting me up with her neighbor.”

“And?”

“And, it was a disaster. He was late to the restaurant and then he was excusing himself every fifteen minutes to go to the bar to watch some sport’s playoffs. He also ordered for me off the kid’s menu, said he thought the restaurant was overpriced— he picked it mind you. Safe to say there was nothing ‘hot’ about the date. I literally give up. I’ll live the rest of my life alone— maybe I should get a cat or two.”

Your body slinks back amusingly into the couch cushions.

“Oh my god. Stop!” She swats jokingly at your limp arm. “You’re so dramatic. Firstly, don’t accept any dates from colleagues— those are always bound to be disastrous! Secondly, you won’t be alone forever. You just have to open yourself up to the possibility of something just happening organically— like fate! Thirdly— no cats! Wren’s allergic and I can’t deal with that mess of meltdowns from her wanting one of her own.”

“Why do you always have to be my voice of reason?!”

“Because that’s what friends are for… Babe!”

“I hate you!” You’re both in a fit of giggles as you toss a pillow across the couch at her.

“Oh! I do have some good news though! The gallery said they’re holding one last artist showcase before closing the doors and they offered it to me.”

Reverie Studio, a cute little art gallery and workshop space, had become a sanctuary for your creative imagination to live freely. They offered classes throughout the year to varying types of artists, novice to well seasoned, in their workshop space in the back of the gallery.

The gallery itself was spacious and washed in white, perfect for featuring painted canvases, framed photographs or ceramic sculptures. Giant bright windows facing Main Street, allowed for ample viewing for visitors.

You’d taken a few classes as a way to submerse yourself into the community, hoping to build some connections with like minded individuals. At one point you’d noticed the bulletin board that held a plethora of business cards, class schedules and other various information about town happenings, had a help wanted flier for the studio itself looking for someone to teach a few classes. You, being a teacher already, as well as an artist, decided to seek out more information. They hired you on the spot and allowed you to decide what classes you wanted to offer.

The latest flier was informing that the owners decided they would be closing their doors soon. If you had the means, you would have put an offer on the business to keep it open, unfortunately with your salary as a teacher it wouldn’t be feasible. While you were sad you’d be losing Reverie, you were grateful they considered your art to be shown as their last installment.

“What?! That is amazing! Finally people can see the amazing things you paint— I’ve been dreaming of this moment for you!! Also, I told you my brother’s an artist right?”

“Like, ‘I’m an actor, art is my passion’ while having zero idea how watercolor works…” Air quotes adding emphasis to your mockery.

“I thought you said you were going to be on your best behavior?” She tosses a pillow right back at you, nearly knocking over your empty glass in the process.

“Sorry, I had to get it out.” Thankfully she could sense your campy tone.

“I’m going to head out, there’s a stack of papers calling my name that I need to grade.” You state, grabbing your purse and making your way to the front door. “I’ll see you at drop off.” Throwing her a wave as you walk down the path leading to the main sidewalk.

“Oh! Before I forget, Wren asked if she could come paint sometime. Told her I’d run it by you first and see if there was any space for her.”

“Of course— Anytime!”

“Perfect. We'll chat more about it later then. Text me when you get home!” Diem leaning into the door frame, practically shouting as you cross the street, knowing you live a less than five minute walk down the block.

“Oh! And I want to have you over for dinner when Dieter gets here!!”

“Goodnight Diem!” Throwing a lax wave back at her.

Dieter can’t remember a time he’d slept so well. Could be the comfortable pillow top mattress, or it could be due to the fact this is the most relaxed he’s felt in years.

There’s clanking coming from what he can only assume is the kitchen, followed by the strong aroma of fresh brewed coffee. Diem is awake, still the early bird that she’s always been.

He begins to extricate himself from the cushy bed, swinging his legs over the edge, his body following suit into a somewhat hunched over sitting position. His fingers pick at the tiny sleep crystals embedded in the corners of his eyes, a few blinks to adjust to the light, his sight still a bit blurry.

An audible lazy yawn works its way through his mouth, sleep still ruminating within him for the time being. He reaches over to the side table to grab his black framed glasses, a few swipes over the lens glass with the crumpled top sheet before he’s lifting them to the window for a quick smudge inspection— passable and now snug to his face.

He convinces his body to rise to his full height, joints and muscles adjusting to their proper positions after several hours of a sedentary vacation. A quick roll of the neck and overhead arm stretches ramp up his alertness.

Stepping over yesterday’s clothes still plopped in the middle of the floor, he digs through his bags in search of something to cover his boxer clad body with the intent to make the trek through the house to a cup of rich amber heaven.

The air has a slight chill to it, not an uncommon occurrence being tucked in a valley on a California morning. He pulls on his favorite lounge pants, dark stripes pair with a thin cottony fabric worn in from years of wearing— a security blanket of sorts. Throwing his giant fuzzy overcoat over a wrinkled shirt while taking a few deep breaths, schooling his trepidation and the fact that a new life awaits him on the other side of the door.

Sure enough, Diem is busy moving about the kitchen. A mom through and through multitasking her way through the morning— coffee made with mugs set out, breakfast of eggs and toast plated waiting to be eaten, and a million other little tasks that seem to keep her attention focused.

“I can’t believe you still have that damn coat, I beg you don’t wear it in public.”

“Good morning to you too!” That first sentence a bit gravelly as he looks down to inspect the coat Diem had just insulted. “What’s wrong with my coat?”

“It makes you look— a little tacky and less ‘I’ve finally got my life together.’” He shakes his head at her remark, deciding he’ll leave out the part that it’s just a house coat these days.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Good. Best sleep I’ve had in awhile. Gonna need to know where I can get one of those beds for home.” Grabbing one of the mugs and pouring himself a decent amount of coffee, then positioning himself onto one of the barstools in front of his awaiting breakfast.

“That would be a “we’re so proud of you, here’s a bed” gift from mom and dad.” He can sense her somewhat sore tone as she wipes up the counters.

“You hear from them lately?”

“Aside from the gifts they send regularly for Wren and a few emails updating on their whereabouts, they seem to be living up to the absentee status quite well.”

He doesn’t expect the weight of her response to hit him so fiercely, knowing his own presence had been equally lacking as well.

“I’m sorry.” It seems like the only adequate answer.

“For what? It’s not your fault our parent’s decision to be unavailable the majority of our lives. I mean, I love them and I know they love us, but they sure have a weird way of showing it.”

“Yeah— well, I can’t say my track record has been any better over the years.” He wishes he could omit the guilt, but acknowledging and accepting his own absence seems like a more appropriate approach to mending the past.

“Hey, no! I’m not trying to project any of my thoughts onto you.” Her movements halted, giving her full attention to the conversation. “You made an effort, regardless of your— your situation through the years, you still made time for us. We see them maybe twice if we’re lucky. Sometimes they surprise Wren with a FaceTime call, probably so she doesn’t forget what they look like.”

His fork scrapes through his runny eggs, taking his anger out on them seems like a better alternative to a seething phone call to his parents. He’s not sure they’d even answer if he did call. Communication between him and them was tenuous, having sent them a few emails while in rehab, their only response was “That’s great. We love you!”

“Plus, you’re here now. Look at it as a second chance to make up for lost time.”

Before he’s able to give much thought to the prospect of a second chance, the trotting of tiny footsteps is heard coming from the hall.

“Uncle Dude!!! You’re here, you’re here!” Wren’s tiny little body launched into his chest as he tried to squat down to her level.

Uncle Dude. When Wren was younger, she had trouble with his name when her vocabulary started to expand, certain letter patterns fairing more difficult than others. Dieter joked around with the idea of her calling him ‘The Dude’, The Big Lebowski being one of his comfort films. Diem tried everything in her powers to make it not happen, but it only took an entire weekend of Dieter coaching the then 3 year old and Uncle Dude came to be.

“Hey Birdie! Gosh, you’ve gotten so big!”

“I know, mama said I hafta eat all my vegetables ‘cause they will make me grow and grow and grow.” She wraps her little arms around his neck, squeezing him tight before pulling back and fully inspecting him. “You brought teddy jacket wiff you!!” Her little hands running through the brown sherpa fabric of his coat, which she claimed felt like a teddy bear— Teddy Jacket.

“Brought it just for you.” He shoots a sarcastic smile over to Diem, who is doing her best to not make her eye rolling obvious, then plants a kiss to Wren’s tiny forehead.

“Okay Miss Wren, you’ve got to eat breakfast and get dressed for school.” Diem pulling out the mom voice, making both him and Wren exchange a brief scrunched expression.

Wren climbs the legs of the barstool and settles into its seat. “But I wanna stay wiff Uncle Dude! He always gets me donuts for breakfast!” Her little voice floats through the air and wraps itself around his heart, clenching over how much he’s missed her.

“Uncle Dude is actually taking you to school today, so you’ll have plenty of time before school to hang out. And we can do donuts a different time, eat your eggs then go get yourself dressed.”

“Are you gonna be here when I get home too?!” Looking at Dieter with pleading eyes.

“Heck yeah! I’ll be here for a while!” Dieter leans in close enough so only Wren can hear. “If you hurry up, we can get donuts before school, our secret!”

“YAY!!!”

Diem looks over her shoulder at the two of them, an eyebrow cocked at Wren’s abrupt excitement, then looking at Dieter and only getting an innocent shoulder shrug from him.

“I’m going to head out then if you’ve got this under control.” Dieter nods in agreement, finishing off the remainder of his coffee. “Perfect! I already left a message with the school you’d be dropping her off. No need to worry about picking her up, she has a wellness check with her doctor, so I’ll take her to that before we head home.” Diem scurrying around, grabbing items from different areas of the room and tossing into her oversized tote, before giving a kiss to Wren and quick hug to Dieter. “I’ll see you both later. Love you, bye!!” The door shutting quickly behind her.

There’s a beat of silence as Wren and Dieter exchange looks, as if they know what each other is thinking.

“DONUTS!!” Both announce in unison, high fives and uncoordinated movements as they both flail about.

“Alright Birdie, let’s get dressed and go!”

“Let’s go!!”

As promised, donuts were a designated stop on the way to school. Wren’s excitement was written all over her face as she peered through the bakery case deliberating on her choice. Dieter missed this, moments spent with her as she explored the world around her. Thinking back to his conversation with Diem, this instance is proof second chances exist.

“Thanks Uncle Dude for the donut!” He glances back at Wren in the rear view mirror, buckled securely into her booster seat, flakes of pink donut frosting smeared around her mouth, curls slightly bouncing as she bobs her head to the music she requested as Dieter buckled her in.

“No problem Birdie. Here, why don’t you wipe your face— hide the evidence.” He hands her a napkin, hoping she can manage on her own— she seems to do a good enough job of it.

“Donuts make me happy.”

“They do, do they?”

“Yeah! They make me smile. Mama says being a movie star makes you happy.”

“She did?”

“Yep! Does it?”

He thinks it does, or it used to at least. There was a time when the love he had for acting was limitless— he would eat, sleep and breathe acting. Getting sought after roles, memorizing pages worth of lines, stepping into character the instant the director said action. Acting filled a void in him that had been vacant for years.

“It used to make me really happy.”

“But it doesn’t anymore?”

“I don’t know, still trying to figure that out.”

“Mama says your heart knows when it’s happy, so just listen to your heart Uncle Dude!”

“I’ll do that, thanks Birdie.”

Most of your school mornings ran the same way. You tend to wake before your alarm ever has a chance to alert you, you’ve made such a habit of it you’re not sure why you bother setting one. You read somewhere about how cold showers at the start of the day help wake your mind, could be total bullshit but for some reason you believe it works— they’re the longest 2 minutes of your day. Being a private school teacher, the attire on school grounds tends to lean more conservative than your ‘normal life uniform’ of sundresses, distressed jeans and comfy band tees, but it makes for a quick selection of dark slacks and a comfortable top.

The coffee machine has already run through its cycle by the time shoes are on and your school tote is securely placed on your shoulder. Grabbing your favorite coffee mug that reads “Let It Gogh”, a gift from a student last year, you fill it with an adequate amount of coffee and a splash of cream before you're out the door.

The local bakery is your only stop before work, offering a good selection of breakfast sandwiches, bagels, and an enticing selection of donuts— you may or may not add one to your order of an egg and cheese sandwich some mornings.

You tend to breeze through your class preparation before the bells ring for the start of school.

The day's lesson plan already looked over, worksheets separated and ready for the students, and the whiteboard cleaned and daily tasks written out— you find it helps deter your students from having to ask “what are we doing today?” more than necessary.

There’s usually a good 30 minutes of quiet before the first student arrives, and if there’s no need for you elsewhere on campus, you take the time to read your latest book you picked up from Bart’s Books and hope you can get through a good amount of it the short time you have.

Like clockwork, your students trickle in with their ‘good mornings’ and vibrant stories about their world.

Some parents opt for a quick ‘drop and go’, while others linger a bit in the back of the class until you’re ushering them out when the bell rings. You enjoy the parent interaction. It’s usually spent answering homework questions or sharing upcoming events happening in the class, with the occasional non-school related discussions when Diem swings by with Wren— you both getting caught up in some story that is not really relevant to anything school related.

There’s a quick flash of a familiar little face, Wren placing her purple backpack on its assigned hook, then running back to where you’re standing at your desk.

“My Uncle Dude brought me today!”

“Your Uncle Dude?” Diem hadn’t mentioned not being able to bring Wren this morning, and you’ve never heard of this “Dude” person before.

“Yeah! He’s a movie star!!” Her little frame is buzzing with excitement, not able to stand still as she bounces on the balls of her feet. Before you’re able to question her further, she zips off towards her table, waving to someone over your shoulder. “Byyyyye Uncle Dude!!! See you later!!”

You’d been so wrapped up in your brief conversation with Wren, you hadn’t noticed the man standing at the door to your classroom.

He doesn’t seem to notice you staring as he leans against the door, watching Wren getting herself situated with her fellow classmates.

Dieter Bravo. Or at least you think it is. No it definitely is.

The images of your first encounter with him flood your mind. You’re not really sure what you expected when Diem said he was clean and sober now, but you definitely didn’t expect to find him attractive on any level.

He looks healthy and like he might actually sleep regularly, his eyes seemingly less sunken in from what you can see with his glasses perched perfectly on his face. His hair slightly shorter and still a little bit of a mess but purposefully, it seems to suit him though.

Your eyes roam a bit further down, noticing he seemed to have traded his disheveled clothes for a more put together yet laid back style. A white t-shirt under a black blazer that seems far too formal for school drop off and a snug pair of dark wash jeans.

You shouldn’t be ogling him like this, but your brain is having a hard time controlling itself.

“Hello?”

You must have zoned out pretty hard because you didn’t realize he was standing so close now, and attempting to get your attention.

“Oh— H-hi! Sorry, I was lost in thought there for a second.” You can feel your face heating up, trying to get your thoughts together.

“Hi, I’m Wren’s teacher—“

“I’m Dieter, Wren’s Uncle—“

You both attempt to introduce yourselves, speaking at the same time, hands knocking into each other awkwardly before properly situating for a shake.

Heat begins to rise in your body, you’re completely flustered by his subdued energy and the way he’s looking at you with his soft brown eyes.

“Sorry— you first, please.”

“I’m Dieter, Wren’s Uncle. Diem asked if I could drop her off, said she already had it called into the front office.”

“Yes— yes! Sorry, I must have not looked over my notes thoroughly this morning and missed that message.”

“I like your mug.” Pointing to your Van Gogh mug you forgot you were holding, he laughs as he reads the message on the front.

As if you didn’t know what was already on it, you instinctively lift the mug to view it, like it was your first time seeing it.

“T-thanks, a student gave it to me last year and it’s kind of become my favorite one to use for school, I’ll be sad if something ever happens to it.” You internally cringe at your tendency to over share, words just aimlessly falling from your mouth, trying to mask your nervousness.

“Keep it safe then. Anyways— I’m an actor, as Wren so kindly informed you. I normally live down in LA when I’m not shooting movies, but I’m—I’m taking some time off, no movies or anything at the moment, going to spend a few months with my sister and Wren, help out however I can.”

Ah! There it is, the “I’m an actor” spiel making the attraction you felt towards him flee instantly. While he may be a new cleaned up version of the Dieter Bravo you met a year ago, he’s still just a typical Hollywood actor who likes to talk about himself at any chance he can get. Having had your fair share of run-ins with actors before, they’re all the same as far as you’re concerned— his career holds zero significance to you in any way.

Releasing a heavy sigh as you remember Diem’s plea to be on your best behavior, you school your annoyance at his mentioning of it.

But unbeknownst to you, he can sense your lack of interest in what he’s saying and decides his introduction is over.

Thankfully, you’re literally and figuratively saved by the bell.

“Well, I better let you get to your class then.”

“Yeah— I’m sure I’ll see you around Mr. Bravo. Have a great day.”

You turn towards your desk hastily placing your mug down in exchange for a stack of worksheets, then making your way to the front of the class to get your lesson started.

“1-2-3, eyes on me! Good morning everyone! Please get a pencil while I pass these papers out.”

Dieter stands in the doorway, observing your interactions with your students, a stark contrast to the coldness you’d given him at the end of your conversation.

The rest of the day flew by once it started, the short interaction with Dieter unfortunately flitted through your mind more than you'd have liked it to. But you didn’t let your aversion towards him have any effect on your day.

After closing up your class and dropping off attendance sheets in the front office, you made your way home, looking forward to an evening of drinks and gossip.

A quick change out of your school clothes into some jeans, T-shirt and flip-flops, you filled your canvas tote with a chilled bottle of white wine and the cheeses you’d told Diem you’d bring over.

Being that it’s roughly a 5 minute walk from your house to Diem’s. The neighborhood is quiet most days, giving you a chance to really enjoy the ambiance of everyone’s front gardens and a few neighborly ‘Hello’s’ as you stroll down the sidewalk.

Nearing Diem’s house, noticing her car in the driveway, a sense of relief washes over you at the thought of Dieter being out and the chance of running into him would be slim. You were ready to unwind for the evening.

Front door unlocked, you let yourself in— both of you exchanging keys early on in your friendship in the off chance there was an emergency or one of you showed up to a locked door.

Hearing Diem rustling around in her pantry, not hearing your arrival, you decide to start unpacking your tote and announce your presence.

“You have no idea how much I need this tonight Diem!”

Not hearing a response from her, you continue placing things on her counter and continue to spill to her.

“Also! Would have been nice to have a heads up that your brother would be dropping Wren off— was not prepared for that. But what a difference a year makes, he looks good, definitely was attracted to him for a split second— sorry I know you don’t want to hear that, but honestly such a difference from my first interaction with him being when I was yelling at him for being strung out in your bathroom.”

Still no word from her as you open the bottle of wine and unwrap the cheeses in preparation for the evening.

“You’d be so proud of me too! I was on my best behavior despite how much I was annoyed with listening to him talk about himself— Hey, did you happen to get those crackers with the figs and olives?? I grabbed that honey goat cheese that we like to eat with them.”

The silence carries on from the pantry. No more movement. No sign of Diem.

“Diem? You okay? Hey, I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have mentioned your brother being attractive— and I honestly was really nice to him. I mean, at least I think I was.”

You can hear Diem finally making her way to join you in the kitchen.

Only when you look up, prepared to give her a big welcoming smile, your face immediately fades into a look of surprise when you realize it’s not Diem at all— it’s her brother, Dieter.

“Diem’s not home.”

“Oh fuck—”

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #pedro pascal #sweet creature series #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

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vidavalor · 4 months

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Can you share another horny homophone? Count me obsessed with Ineffable Husbands Speak.

Same, obviously. I can do that. Since "ma tante"/"my tente" was Aziraphale, here are a couple from Crowley this time:

To be bored/board and wrath/wroth

We know that when Aziraphale is hungry for sex, he ironically busts out this word below that means that one could go for a little snack:

And we also know that Crowley sees this as the most Aziraphale word that has ever Aziraphale worded because he was all oh babe really this one? in response to it in 1793:

His attitude is a bit: We're doing this now? We're calling it "peckish"? I mean, it meets the food-related criteria for a sexual euphemism in our wordplay and it's also funny as hell, since you have never eaten just a little bit of food once in all your days, and it's even got this weird, bird-like bit of hilarity to it but I can't do it. It's fine for you but there is no way on this Earth that I am ever going to tell you I feel like sex by saying that I'm feeling "peckish"...

This is not a Crowley-ish word.

So, what does he say then? What's the Crowley version of "peckish"? It's a homophone and it's...

To be "bored/board" (in Ineffable Husbands Speak). The Crowley version of "peckish", which is a word that is fine for Aziraphale but which Crowley is never going to use in all his days.

To be bored is to lament the fact that you are lacking in stimuli and activity and to be stuck in a temporary dearth of anything interesting happening. A homophone for "bored" in English is "board", which has several different meanings that are amusing in an Ineffable Husbands-y way-- much like "wily", "thwart", "smitten", "explode", etc..

A board in one bit of common usage today is a plank of wood-- as in, "honey, I'm going to Lowe's to grab some more boards for our home improvement project" but, inevitably, since you're all such wonderfully dirty-minded little skamps, your minds also went to the sexual euphemism for having an erection. As such, Crowley can speak aloud one sound-- like Aziraphale did with "tante"/"tente"-- and have it mean two different words at once and "board" has additional meanings that meet the criteria for being a word in Ineffable Husbands Speak... like its food-related one.

One of the original meanings of "board" is a table that is set for a meal. As in, "he was ravenously hungry when he returned to the house and sighed with pleasure at the board before him." The board, in this case, would be a table laid with food that was ready to eat. A more modern version of this kind of usage is less the whole table set up for a meal but more if I were to go fill a plank of wood or a stone slab or a platter with various deli meats, cheeses, olives, breads/crackers, etc., what have I made? A charcuterie board.

Additionally, a "board" can be used to mean those working as a small collective to make decisions and direct an organization-- as in, "she sits on the board of directors of the company"-- and is then a nod towards their healthy sexual power balance. More euphemistically, as a verb, you "board" modes of transportation-- like planes, buses, trains, ships... the latter two of which we've already seen Crowley and Aziraphale turn into sexual innuendo.

Ships are related to the sea and feature into Aziraphale's drunk innuendo around The Kraken and his more detailed Biblically-inspired dirty talk in the "seeds of destruction" scene. Trains are what Crowley parries back with after Aziraphale turned The Bentley and the bookshop into a sexual metaphor for Crowley and himself when teasing control freak Crowley about how he has been letting Aziraphale drive his car for centuries but is having a whole meltdown about letting him drive the actual, literal car.

While you "sail on" a ship and "fly" on a plane, in the cases of most other forms of transportation-- including the two Crowley and Aziraphale are flirting about in S2, cars and trains-- you, of course, "board" one to ride it to a destination. If you wish to board a mode of transportation, you wish to go somewhere-- you're bored and need to board. And you've a whole board of delicious-sounding meal options circling around in your mind lol.

So, Crowley can make one sound and it encapsulates two words with collective meanings of lacking in stimuli while being hard up/horny and fantasizing about a whole damn charcuterie board of sexual options.

Crowley can tell what Aziraphale means by his tone of voice and the reasons Aziraphale calls Crowley, according to Crowley in 2.01, are that there's a "something's wrong" emergency (which is what this scene in 2.01 is), that he has to tell him about something clever he did and can't wait the short amount of time until he sees Crowley next to tell him (which is so married and is also what happens when Aziraphale can't wait to tell Crowley how good a job he's doing managing his trauma in Edinburgh by having gone to the spot by the Gabriel statue), or that he's "bored"/"board"-- he's restless, lacking in stimuli, very peckish and wants to mess around (which is Good Omens: Lockdown).

Aziraphale: I just called to see how you were doing during lockdown.

Crowley: I'm bored... so *very, very*... *board*. *Transcendentally* (homophone) bored/board...

Maggie and Nina partner scene, in which they are locked down together, and Nina's a bit of a bitch but also kinda not wrong about physical media shops as unlikely targets for robbery:

Aziraphale: ...except for the other night, when (salacious tone of voice) *a few young lads* broke in and (faux-innocent tone of voice) tried to steal the cashbox! (mischievous, innuendo-laden tone of voice) But they soon saw the error of their ways.

Crowley: Did you smite them with your (homophone) wrath/wroth?

Wrath: righteous fury; of an angel, in Biblical terms. Pronounced by people with a moneyed English accent like Crowley's as "wroth", for some weird fluke of language/reasons no one is really sure on, probably because it sounds posh. *shrug* However, 'wroth' is a word itself...

Wroth: like 'wrath', means extreme anger... but is also the past tense of 'writhe'

To writhe: to make continuous twisting movements of the body; to thrash; to flail; to twist and turn. Frequently used to describe the movements of a body experiencing sexual pleasure or an orgasm.

[See also, other kinds of writhe-related wordplay: to founder vs. to flounder ("Seeds of Destruction" scene) and to get a wiggle on vs. to get a wriggle on (Discorporated!Aziraphale scene), when I finish metas on Fish and Seeds.]

Crowley: Did you smite them with your *wroth*?

Meaning: Did you discipline your imaginary burglars, angel-- is that where this one's going? Did they become smitten with you from your smiting-- all three young, strapping, muscled, cash-starved members of the local university crew team, I'd imagine?

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens 2 #good omens lockdown

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gay-jewish-bucky · 5 months

Note

Steve and Bucky bagel topping discourse???? 👀

Both Bucky and Steve agree that deli-made cream cheese is superior, and that all bagels they buy (New York style of course) must be freshly made and purchased from a family-run Jewish establishment; their favourite being Russ & Daughters, the same one visited by the Barnes family for decades. Grocery store bagels aren't allowed in their home under any circumstances.

When it comes to favourites, Steve has an open pallet. He can, and will, eat anything, no matter how exasperated his husband gets with his dietary choices. At first, he's just playing around with exploring options for toppings they never could have afforded before the war, things like gooey mozzarella, fresh avocado, sundried tomatoes etc.

But as he gets more adventurous, he realizes he gets a kick out of Bucky's "adorable" indignation. Gradually he becomes more over-the-top with his bagel topping choices, intentionally attempting to get a rise out of Bucky. By the time he gets to making the cursed macaroni & cheese with corn chips combo, Bucky realizes he's being played and breaks down laugh-crying while calling Steve a "g-ddamn punk".

Bucky's favourite is the classic: lox with a schemer of cream cheese, thinly sliced red onion, capers, and sprinkled with fresh dill. For a breakfast on the go, he enjoys turkey bacon with an egg patty, lettuce, and sliced tomato. For a snack he enjoys an open-faced bagel spread with plain cream cheese and topped with sliced fresh fruit. All-in-all, he's more traditional with his bagel topping tastes.

Surprisingly though, Bucky adores those sweet rainbow bagels that were popularized in Brooklyn a few years back. He even learns how to make his own at home that way he can serve a whole platter (including copious amounts of hand-mixed funfetti cream cheese) of these colourful delights at the annual community Pride Shabbat dinner each year!

#Assorted Jewish Writings - Food #marvel #mcu #bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #jewish!bucky #jewish!bucky barnes #jewish bucky #jewish bucky barnes #stevebucky #stucky #steve rogers #steven grant rogers

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elsewhereuniversity · 1 year

Note

Was no one going to tell me how unsafe it is to take naps in the student lounge?? I was just trying to catch up on some sleep in between classes and now someone’s done all of my homework for me, proofread my next two papers, signed me up for a summer internship, and done my sudoku for me. I don’t even like sudoku! You know how much work I’m gonna have to put in to keep up with these kinds of high jinx?! I can’t be on the dean’s list! You know what happens to people on the dean’s list?? They go to cocktail parties with their professors. They discuss “the latest findings” and get published works in magazines! I’ve never met a single professor in the computer science department. The work just shows up at like three in the morning in my emails. I go to random classrooms at random times to keep up appearances. I’m not even sure this school has a computer science department let alone a staff to….staff it? If we start making waves this is all over for us! For me! I don’t own a tweed jacket and I hate small talk, do you really want me to have to eat off a deli platter and drink wine? I thought we were friends, you know? Looking out for each other and all. If I find out one of you has been ear marking my books and numbering my study cards, I will be the most peeved you’ve ever seen me. If I go on to graduate with honors you can bet your bottom dollar I will be the best alumni you have ever seen. That is to say, I will become the villain in this story.

#vignettes #student life

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beesmygod · 5 months

Note

Someone your close to is throwing a HUGE party and your in charge of snack. Price is no option, they’ll Venmo you all the money you spent at the end of the party. What snacks are you bringing

all snacks??? shit i dunno. i'd just hit a bakery and a deli for desserts and deli platters

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reachartwork · 1 month

Text

Chum 86: Anne-Marie Gibson

School's finally out, and I couldn't be more relieved. Don't get me wrong, I love learning and all that, but this year was just…a lot. Between recovering from getting my ass kicked by Kate, testifying against Sparkplug and his goons, and trying to keep up with my classes, I'm running on fumes.

Let's get it out of the way first - Sparkplug and Squeal are both turbofucked. Just in case anyone was worried they wouldn't be. They are.

The first few weeks are pure bliss. I sleep in until noon almost every day, binge trash TV with my mom, and spend way too much time dicking around on forums and stuff. Keeping track of who's keeping track of Bloodhound and the Big Bad Wolf of Tacony, not to be confused with the Big Bad Wolf of Kensington, who is Derek, who is somehow still around.

By the second week, I've settled into more of a routine. Early morning runs along the park trails, followed by breakfast with whoever's there to have breakfast with me. Sometimes it's Grandma Camilla. Sometimes it's Dad.

Jamila and I go on a bunch of dates, cheesy stuff like the movies or mini-golfing. We have this dumb competition to see who can get a bigger trophy at the Main Event by racking up tickets. I won, which surprised me given that being aerokinetic gives her a distinct advantage in dexterity games. But also I've thrown a baseball before and she hasn't. So… I guess it sort of evens out?

She's still pouting about it, though.

My grandpa comes over a lot too. He likes to take me and my mom out for Sunday breakfast at this old-school Jewish deli in Northeast Philly. We get identical orders - lox and bagel platters loaded up with all the fixings. Grandpa always jokes that I'm gonna turn into a lox one day with how much smoked fish I put away. Tells me I should consider becoming a salmon-themed superhero. The Slicemaster, he says, and he even drew a really bad little doodle of it. When I tried to protest he just started regaling me with salmon facts.

#writing #web serial #alt history #superhero #sci fi #chum #chum web serial #chumpdate

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peache · 2 years

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#food #Italian #Italian food #Italy #Puglia #antipasti #antipasto #cheese #deli #grazing platter #grazing board #foodie

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mariacallous · 6 months

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When Liebman’s Delicatessen opened on 235th Street in 1953, the Bronx was still sometimes called “the Jewish Borough.” More than half a million Jews lived between Mott Haven and Riverdale, and according to the 70-year-old deli’s website, they were served by 100 kosher delis. Today, Liebman’s is the last one standing.

“I ask myself a lot: ‘why are we the one that survived?’” Yuval Dekel, who has owned the deli for 20 years, told The Nosher. “Certainly because we’re in Riverdale, which is still a Jewish community.”

He surveys the restaurant, where nearly all 60 blue naugahyde seats are occupied by neighborhood regulars over 60, noshing on pastrami to the strains of ‘50s jukebox hits. “We’re a deli that has regular New York City resident customers. We’re not a tourist destination.”

Dekel, one of the youngest people in the room, took a circuitous route to becoming a deli man. Born in Haifa in 1978, he arrived in the Bronx two years later with his father, who immigrated with hopes of becoming an entrepreneur. A business broker helped the family find Liebman’s, which had foundered under a string of owners after Joseph Liebman sold it in the late ‘50s.

Though Dekel’s father (also named Joseph) was of Romanian descent, he knew little about the Ashkenazi foodways of New York. “I don’t even think he knew about delis,” Dekel said. “In Israel, there’s no deli culture.” Joseph Dekel added Israeli dishes like falafel and hummus to the menu, but took pains to preserve the deli classics, too.

For his part, Yuval Dekel was a metalhead. He was the drummer for Irate, a well-loved New York City thrash band, touring up and down the East Coast, throughout Europe and Japan, and playing at iconic downtown clubs like CBGB in the ‘90s.

“It was pretty hardcore,” Dekel laughs. “Very serious moshing going on. Quite a different environment from this.”

But during his entire stint as a metal drummer, Dekel also supported himself by working as a baker at Amy’s Bread and the original U.S. location of Le Pain Quotidien, developing a serious commitment to artisanal foods. When his father died in 2002 and Dekel took over Liebman’s, his first priority was the quality. He wanted to make sure that every dish on the menu, from sandwiches to stews, got its due.

“One thing that differentiates us from — let’s say Katz’s — is we pay a lot of attention to not just the pastrami,” Dekel said. “Don’t get me wrong, I spent years figuring out how to make our own. But there’s this whole other side to us, which is basically a full-service kosher diner.”

Liebman’s excels in the kinds of homey dishes that tend to be afterthoughts for the best-known pastrami pushers. Stuffed cabbage, stewed in a sweet-and-sour sauce and piled with melting onions and plump raisins, falls apart at the slightest pressure from a fork. On Fridays, Dekel serves cholent, the slow-cooked Shabbat stew.

That’s not to say the deli classics can be missed. Dekel began curing his own pastrami several years ago, after the number of high-quality suppliers had dwindled. The deli slices it thin so that slivers of the smoked meat’s dark crust are evenly interspersed on a sandwich. On the Liebman’s Favorite platter, pastrami is piled high on an open-faced slice of rye, accompanied by fries — thick-cut, pleasantly greasy shards of potato — and kishke (stuffed derma) slathered with brown gravy. It’s an unbelievably hefty plate of food that reminds you the object of a Jewish deli is excess.

Daintier deli classics abound. Liebman’s tender matzah balls float in a rich broth slicked with beads of schmaltz. Hebrew National franks sizzle and blister on a foil-lined griddle in the front window, ready to be garnished with sinus-clearing brown mustard, sauerkraut, coleslaw or — a Liebman’s favorite — a scoop of potato salad. Old timers pick at artfully arranged cold cut platters of sliced tongue, corned beef and kosher salami.

Homemade knishes are of the circular variety, bearing little resemblance to the squared-off “Coney Island” knishes provisioned by wholesalers to hot dog carts across the city. Like all knishes, they are dense starch-delivery systems. But a Liebman’s knish is well-seasoned, and its crust is flaky and pastry-like.

With all of his attention focused on food, Dekel says he struggled with the business side of the operation originally. But a loyal base of customers helped him through his mistakes, and the deli has hit its stride again, getting attention from critics and influencers, and even making an appearance on “Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown” in 2014. Dekel is planning to open a Westchester County location this year, marking the first expansion of Liebman’s in its seven-decade history.

It seems only right that Liebman’s should be the last deli in the Bronx. A mid-century time capsule, it was reinvigorated by Israeli cooking and by Dekel’s do-it-yourself spirit.

“In some cases, being the last one standing doesn’t mean you were the best,” he says. “But I happen to think that we deserve it.”

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noneedtoamputate · 8 months

Note

Ooh, could I please request #61 polish and/or #73 dress for Ellen and Chuck? Thank you💞

Thanks for the ask! I already had part of this written for an upcoming chapter, but I added the polish part, and it was really fun to write Chuck as an early adopter to manscaping.

Chuck hadn’t realized how dull and quiet his apartment had been before the wedding.

But now it was their apartment, and Ellen had made it a home. And his senses came alive.

Her clothes, bright reds and yellows and greens, hung in the closet next to his drab browns and blues.

A whiff of her perfume hung in their bedroom, and the kitchen smelled like the flowers that sat in a vase on the table.

Ellen couldn’t carry a tune if her life depended on it, but she sang while she did chores or graded papers. Chuck never minded.

Every Saturday, she would make an elaborate meal, nothing like he made himself, nothing that came out of a tin can. She would go to Boudin Bakery and get bread bowls and then head over to the Wharf to get everything for clam chowder. Or she would stop by her favorite Italian deli in North Beach and pick up all sorts of meats and cheeses, olives, marinated peppers, and the orange soda Chuck liked so much. She’d lay everything out on a platter.

She would feed him the last piece of prosciutto and he’d pull her up from her chair and sit her on his lap and they’d kiss and laugh, wondering how they got so lucky.

Once a week, Ellen painted her fingernails, and Chuck always watched. He found it calming, the way she shaped her nails with the file and applied the color in long, sure strokes.

“Always pink,” he noticed. “Why not red?”

“We’re not allowed,” she said as she opened the topcoat bottle. “Red is too garish for teachers, or so the thinking goes.”

Chuck wondered what the school board would say if they knew what those nails did to his back last night. They would probably ban pink nail polish, too.

One week, Ellen surprised him.

“Your turn,” she said.

“No way.”

“I’m not going to put any color on. It’s like just using your nail clippers, but fancier.”

He still didn’t say anything.

“Just try it once, and if you don’t like it, I won’t ask again.”

He caved. “You cannot tell Joe about this.”

“Why would I tell Joe?”

“Well, you can’t tell Miriam, either. She’ll tell Joe, and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Deal.”

She filed his nails, then placed them in warm water for a few minutes. She used a tool to push back his cuticles. She massaged his hands and fingers with Pond��s cold cream, and it did feel nice. He closed his eyes.

“I can see you’re in total agony,” she said with a smile.

He frowned at being caught out.

“Topcoat?” she asked.

“Is anyone going to be able to tell?”

“I doubt it.”

He nodded.

That night in bed, he dozed off in her arms.

“You liked it, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he admitted, sleepily. “But don’t tell Joe.”

#asked and answered #chuck grant #ellen thompson #band of brothers fic #every beautiful thing #prompts #and a little bit of liebgott

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daretosnoop · 2 years

Text

What you should eat based on game vibes

Don’t know if someone has already done this but here we go:

SCK/SCK Remastered: PBJ sandwich, grilled cheeses sandwich, deli sandwich, soda in a can by day and glass bottle at night, chips, pigs in a blanket, cheeseits, an apple, milk in those paper cartons, crinkle fries with ketchup mustard mixed

STFD: fruit platters, coffee in a white mug ndwith a 90s logo, sautéed asparagus, stuffed mushrooms, NY pizza ordered late, gyro, sparkling water, strawberry shortcake, NY cheesecake

MHM: meat with a sweet glaze with mashed potato and boiled veggies, Chinese takeout ordered late, apple cider, pecan pie, pumpkin pie, ginger beer, stewed tomatoes

TRT: fondue stand, smoked ham, cebu lechon, pumpernickel bread with brier cheese , jam, jam cookies,hot cocoa, apple cinnamon tea, apple pie, toasted nuts, glazed carrots

FIN: popcorn, taffy, chalk candy, boiled peanuts, roasted corn, red liquorice, unbranded soda, peanut brittle

SSH: fruit platters, fruit drinks in watermelon and papaya, salsa, green salsa, avocados, grilled fish, lemon chicken, rotisserie, tortillas, lemonade, bean soup, barley and chicken in bell peppers, green tomatoes (in any form)

DOG: whiskey, stacked sandwiches (scooby doo style), pickles, banana peppers, fried fish, hot dogs, peach cobbler, blueberry juice, unidentifiable meat in a can stewed slowly over a fire, bread and butter with coffee in the morning

CAR: roasted corn, grilled seafood on a stick, boiled peanuts, cotton candy, ice cream, seafood medley, butter lobster, peach cobbler, aspirin, poutine, fish and chips, vinegar onions, korean corn dogs

DDI: clam chowder, seafood pasta, lemon butter pasta with lobster, steamed clams, rice porridge, blueberry muffins, sherbet, mint tea, coffee in a thermos

SHA: kidney beans stew, steak and potatoes, those tarts your get at bakeries, eggs and bacon with bread to sop up the yolk, hamburger steak with egg, hash browns, diner coffee, pancakes, grits with cheese

CUR: English breakfast, tea, vegetables with no seasoning, stewed chicken,mushy peas, cold cheese deli meats on bread, lamb chops, a ceramic jar of cookies kept just out of reach, hot milk before bed with a chocolate, ale

TRN: ratatouille, glazed veggies, pasta with a rue sauce, béchamel, fruit cocktail, gin and tonic, roasted potatoes, garlic bread, cherries, peach cobbler, smoked meats, fried chicken

CLK: peaches and cream, coffee with biscotti, illegal champagne, ribs, fried eggplant with marinara sauce, biscuits in gravy, rye bread, cherry tomatoes, crisp lettuce, grilled zucchini, stewed tomatoes, soft pretzels, apple pie with vanilla ice cream, iced tea

CRE: fish baked over a fire wrapped in banana leaves, pineapple salsa, grilled veggies on sticks, shrimp, any type of rice dish (jallop, pulao, spanish rice, fried rice etc.), citrus soda/lemonade, upside down pineapple cake, poke bowls

DAN: hot croissant with jam on one side and butter on the other, crème brûlée, mint tea, lavender cake, champagne, onion soup, charcuterie board, coq au vin, spinach soufflé, lobster bisque

ICE: honey cake, pancakes with maple syrup, grilled salmon with a maple syrup glaze served with wild rice and green beans, dijon mustard on bread, cranberry sauce, roast turkey, sweet potatoes

CRY: grilled seafood with cajun seasoning, beignets, doberge cake, couche couche with hotsauce, oysters, gin fizz, cognac, sherry, cafe au lait, dulce de leche, trout, seafood pie, crawfish, jambalaya, gumbo, red velvet cake

VEN: cappuccino, pasta with garlic and parmigiana, Neapolitan pizza, olives and capers, anchovies over bread, fried eggplants (no batter) in olive oil, rosemary and thyme infused oil with bread,

HAU: potatoes in every which way but especially roasted and mashed with butter, shepherds pie, mint tea, boiled peas, lamb chops, bread dipped in fresh buttermilk, Irish stew, sweet bread, Irish breakfast tea

RAN: cut fruit and grilled fish in a hallow pineapple, wild rice, ham or poultry with pineapple glaze, crackers, flatbread with grilled shrimp curry, coconut based curries, rotisserie style poultry, chutneys, apricot jam, jelly

WAV: croissants with orange marmalade and butter, mutton curry with jasmine rice, saffron rice with creamy chicken stew, sushi, seafood pasta, fruit bowls, overnight oatmeals, loaded potatoes, late night peanut butter snacking

TOT: Wisconsin cheese, vinegar pie, pecan pie, pumpkin pie, (all the pies from the Waitress), scrambled eggs with coffee, buttermilk soaked fried chicken, steak and potatoes, cornbread, chocolate chip cookies, chocolate dipped orange flavoured ice cream, steak and kidney pie

SAW: green tea, soba noodles, clear soups, pickled veggies, salmon on wheat crackers, roasted chestnuts, coffee spiced with oranges and cinnamon, sesame crackers (sweet and salty both), and yes, ramen

CAP: deli meats, assorted bread, honey mustard, butter, romadeur, dumplings, hollandaise sauce, fried potatoes (different styles), sausages, drumstick, cheese sticks, blanched vegetables, green apple sauce, custard, black forest cake

ASH: confetti cake, angel cake, BLT sandwiches, Caesar salad, lemon pasta, dill pickles, potato salad, quesadillas, steak, BBQ, deep dish pizza, carrots in ranch, chips, banana split

TMB: shawarma, falafel, cucumber salad, tahini, humus, garlic pita, grilled veggies, rice and spices baked in an earthen pot, kabob, grilled seafood, saffron rice, baklava, pistachio ice cream, date milkshake, beer

DED: vinegar chips, ice cold water, coffee from a dispenser in a styrofoam cup, stale snacks from a vending machine, peanut butter crackers, cheese crackers, baked goods in the morning, pad thai, fast food pizza, salad bar, trail mix

GTH: pecan pie, peach cobler, ground nuts, fried chicken, cheesy garlic bread, pimento cheese, chewy meat, BBQ, lemonade, sherry, gin, crawfish, pulled pork, rolls, soul food

SPY: haggis, mutton chops, Danish pastries, salmon with dill, pheasant, dundee cake, clam chowder, shortbread, coffee, Lincoln logs, smoked meats, clotted cheese, crackers, oatmeal with raisins, ale, whisky

MED: sushi, lemon grass tea, wheat grass shots, roasted sweet potato and yams with spices, pumpkin and squash stews, broiled veggies, rutabaga mash, rhubarb pie, steamed clams and mussels, truffle pasta

LIE: feta on bread with honey drizzle, greek yogurts with fresh cut fruit, fresh mozzarella over chicken salad, gyro, lamb rotisserie, shawarma, collared greens, pan fried seafood, steamed fish with lemon, carrot salad, pickled veggies, kefir, rice pudding

SEA: seafood buffet cooked every which way, skyr, salmon and haddock boiled with potatoes, dried seafood on bread, mutton soup, rice pudding, clear broth, veggie stew, mashed potatoes

#nancy drew #food #food based on game aesthetics

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