#i salt my porridge too

[ipso-again]

It's funny how we condem Mike for pouring syrup onto his eggs, yet we throw eggs in cakes without batting an eye.

Egg by nature appears to be neutral before you do something with it. It can be used for so many things and consumed in so many contexts.

Now, considering the fact that Mike was raised in a household that presumingly didn't use spices (we've seen their chicken. It's not great), is it really that odd that he looked at something that tasted like nothing and poured something that tasted of something onto it? Turning the neutral vessel into a sweet breakfast dish.

I do judge him, but I really shouldn't, because I do pour syrup into my porridge and it probably tastes like more on it's own than those eggs.

#dude was really just being ressourceful #he was raised to believe that salty food is spicy food #and those eggs were probably not even salted #and even if they were #i salt my porridge too #just a pinch #mike wheeler might not be that quirky #just trying to challenge his tastebuds #like i wouldn't do it #but maybe he was desperate? #i think we should analyse this further #stranger things #mike wheeler #byler

[tiralja]

ok yeah I'm def coming down with something which after not getting sick these past 4yrs at all is gonna be an Experience but at least there is congee.

#Gd good congee too #I like mine spicy #So I added last of my ginger #Teaspoon of lemongrass #Like four cloves of garlic #And a heaping teaspoon of gochujan #Made with a mix of vege and homemade chicked broth #And some fish sauce #For that salt #Gd this is a lifesaver #(also im able to swallow it unlike most other stuff atm but that's rice porridge for ypu) #Talks

[konigsblog]

Hi! This is my first time asking something :D 

Do you do anything, not nsfw? And if so, what would some random könig headcanons you agree with? Like habits and stuff you’d think he’d do? (does that make sense lmao)

If you just do nsfw you could make them nsfw headcanons.. Or just combine both aha

**HII.. i do write for sfw and fluff, as well as angst it's just not really requested as much as smut :) but here, hope you enjoy this!!! 🌙

silly könig headcannons

⭒ mentions of weed use, fluff.. 🌷🎀

⭒könig who prefers cats over dogs. they're quieter and calmer, has a ginger cat called ‘spice’ that's fiesty to new people. he loves the animal to death, and hands it to his oma when he's on deployment.

⭒i've mentioned this before, but i feel like könig was in a band as a kid, just a school one. he played the drums and was pretty emo in his teenager years...

⭒he sleeps in the weirdest positions. he'll either wake up with his body contorted into different ways, his arms above his head and across his chest with his legs intertwined with eachother.

⭒he's an easily jealous person, always top of his classes and getting 100% on his tests. his mother always wanted the best outcome for her son, so she was shocked when he decided to join the kommando spezialkräfte instead of becoming a doctor or a lawyer.

⭒has 100% attempted to get up but fell because his legs were stuck and tangled in his bedsheets.

⭒gets second hand embarrassment far too easily. he's cringing on the inside when someone does/says something stupid.

⭒absolutely hates the summer. it's horrible; everybody's sweaty and stinks, missions make him want to peal his skin off. definitely prefers autumn/winter.

⭒his favourite food to eat whilst sick is soup, a special homemade soup him and his mother made together while growing up. her own special recipe that he only teaches to his closest of friends.

⭒loves late night conversations. they're so deep and understanding, chatting for hours 'til your jaw hurts and the sun his peaking through the curtains.

⭒either drinks black coffee, really bitter. or drinks the most sugary coffee ever, no in-between. (tell me your opinions)

⭒is a morning person. gets up early and has his breakfast, something quick and easy, like toast or porridge (oatmeal), has a morning shower 'nd everything. (i love adding salt to my porridge/oatmeal)

⭒hates when people say germany and austria are the same. will definitely have a whole rant about the differences 'til you understand fully.

⭒smokes weed a lot, pretty much an addict. he says it's to calm his nerves down but he gradually started doing it more and more often. a stoner fs.

⭒enjoys movies, a lot. he loves sitting down with a blanket beside him, covered in orange cat hair. will probably make a bowl of popcorn to eat whilst watching, but ends up eating it all before he's even 30 minutes in.

big, bear hugs. we all know that the big, brute and towering man gives amazing hugs, but he really wants to lay atop of you, to cage you with his warmth.

⭒has a tendency to over share, rants sometimes while pretending to be confident, finding anything to talk about before feeling a bit uncomfortable with what he'd said.

⭒isn't shy. it's my biggest pet peeve when people make könig out to be someone shy, scared, ect.. he's not shy, he's socially anxious, but that doesn't make him quiet. he either puts on a front and pretends to be confident with a cocky, loud personality.

⭒absolutely adores milk. he drinks like a gallon in two days, that's why he's 6’10.

⭒enjoys mint chocolate chip ice cream, hates strawberry, especially if they have chunks. (self projecting)

⭒enjoys doing the dishes, finds it satisfying. until he touches food and gags.

⭒avid banana hater, the texture to the taste, everything about it makes him feel ill.

⭒listens to music for hours, usually something rock or heavy metal, loud music in his ears and the loud explosions gives him some hearing damage.

⭒usually smells woodsy, fresh cut trees and vanilla.

⭒germaphobe. doesn't like being near people when they're sick and will avoid them, probably because he gets sick too easily, despite having a strong immune system.

⭒isn't a very emotional person, he has sympathy for others but can't express it through tears and emotions. he's cold and aggressive to the recruits, blaming them for his issues because he struggles taking blame and fault for situations and needs a punching bag.

⭒owned a fish when he was around 7, cried because it died. turns out it was alive and he saw it swim down the toilet. never got another fish again, traumatized.

⭒doesn't like being told he's in the wrong, will refuse and deny it 'til he's forced to either apologise or end the friendship.

⭒curly ginger, or wavy ginger, you can't change my mind.

⭒doesn't really understand tiktok that much, or instagram. not really something that he's interested in, but occasionally uses twitter for like 5 minutes.

⭒has anemia, or iron deficiency. takes a couple naps a day because he doesn't like taking his supplements.

these are all i could think off 😵‍💫 tell me your personal headcannons!!

banner credit; @cafekitsune

#orla speaks #call of duty modern warfare #modern warefare ii #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod headcanons #cod mw22 #cod imagine #könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig x reader #konig x reader #konig x you #cod konig #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #call of duty headcanons #cod modern warfare #konig #konig cod #könig mw2 #könig x y/n #könig cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x you #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty mwii

[goatcheesecak3]

What I think saw characters eat for breakfast

I'm not sure why but all these make perfect sense to me

John

I feel like John likes to keep it simple with egg and soldiers, not too much salt but a lot of pepper. If he wants to treat himself though, he'll make himself scrambled eggs on toast and a little salad. (He is my peepaw and I love him)

Amanda

She's an omelette girly <3 if she's got any vegetables knocking about she'll put them in, if not it's all just very plain. She prefers something more exciting, but can only really have something convenient and quick, considering how busy she is.

Lawrence

This man loves, and I mean LOVES, avocado on toast. He probably gets fancy bread from some market, and if he knew what the hell an Instagram was, he would post a picture of it with some corny caption like "what a way to start my day!🤗☀️🥑"

Adam

He doesn't eat breakfast most days, and when he does it's usually unbuttered toast. But in an ideal world, if he had the time and the money, he'd have pancakes with chocolate sauce every day. What can I say? I think he's got a sweet tooth.

Hoffman

I think Mark had a full English ONCE and never looked back. He doesn't have time to make one every day, but he'll be damned if he doesn't at least make himself a bacon sandwich with LOTS of brown sauce

Strahm

I think strahm is big fan of porridge with some jam in it. He makes a big deal of it being "healthy, yet tasty!"

Lynn

Lynn is a busy gal, her job means early mornings and a sporadic schedule, so there's no time to make a real breakfast. I think she's big into fruit smoothies for a quick breakfast that she can drink on her way to work.

#john kramer #jigsaw #tobin bell #Amanda Young #shawnee smith #lawrence gordon #cary elwes #adam faulkner stanheight #adam stanheight #leigh whannell #mark hoffman #detective hoffman #costas mandylor #peter strahm #agent strahm #lynn denlon #saw #sawposting #headcanons #saw 2004 #saw franchise

[axlerica]

SICK DAY~

-The one where Pedri is sick and being such a baby and his gf takes care of him-

One chilly winter morning, Pedri woke up feeling unwell. He had caught a nasty cold and was feeling quite under the weather. Y/N, his loving partner, noticed his discomfort and decided to take care of him.

Y/N: "Pedri, are you feeling okay? You look a bit pale."

Pedri tried to smile but couldn't hide his fatigue. "I think I caught a cold. I'm just feeling a bit weak."

Y/N: "Oh no, I'm sorry to hear that. Don't worry; I'll take care of you."

Throughout the day, Y/N made sure Pedri was warm and comfortable. She brought him blankets, brewed some hot tea, and even put on his favorite football match to lift his spirits. But Pedri's appetite was nonexistent, and he didn't feel like eating anything.

Y/N: "You need to eat something to regain your strength. How about some warm porridge? It'll be easy on your throat."

Pedri: "I don't feel like eating babe. My throat hurts."

Y/N: "Come on, Pedri, I’ll make it for you, so that you will feel better."

Pedri pouted like a child, but Y/N wasn't one to give up easily.

Y/N: "Please, for me? You know I hate seeing you like this."

Pedri's expression softened at Y/N's words. "Okay, fine. But only because you make it."

Y/N: "Okay now you should stay in bed and rest. I'll take care of everything for you."

Pedri weakly protested, "But I don't want you to do everything alone. I can help."

Y/N smiled sweetly, placing a gentle hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

Y/N: "No no no, your temperature is too high baby, Don't worry about it. Your priority right now is to get better. I'll take care of you, my love."

As Y/N went into the kitchen to prepare a warm bowl of porridge for Pedri, he tried to follow her, wanting to help. However, his legs felt wobbly, and he stumbled a little, earning a worried glance from Y/N.

Y/N: "Pedri, you really need to stay in bed. I don't want you to get more exhausted."

Pedri sighed, reluctantly returning to the bed.

Pedri: "Alright, I'll stay in bed, but you have to promise to let me help you when I feel better."

Y/N chuckled, "Of course my love. Now, rest while I make you some comforting porridge."

In the kitchen, Y/N carefully cooked the porridge, adding some extra love and care. She knew how much Pedri loved her cooking, and she hoped it would lift his spirits.

When the porridge was ready, Y/N brought it to Pedri, who was now lying down with a slight frown on his face.

Y/N: "Here you go, baby. Eat this, it'll make you feel better."

Pedri sighed dramatically, "I'm not really hungry right now.."

Y/N's eyes sparkled mischievously, and she decided to use a tactic she knew would work.

Y/N: "Oh, come on, schmoopie boo, just one spoon for me?"

Pedri's eyes widened at the playful nickname Y/N used only on special occasions.

Pedri: "Schmoopie boo? Really?"

Y/N laughed, "Yes, seriously. It's a special name for my special baby, and I think it suits you perfectly."

Pedri couldn't help but smile at Y/N's charm and affectionate teasing. He then finally took a small spoonful, but his frown didn't go away.

Pedri: "It's bland… I can’t taste anything, can you add some more salt or something? "

Y/N chuckled, seeing through his attempt to get out of eating the porridge.

Y/N: "Nice try, but no. You need to eat it as it is baby."

Pedri grumbled but reluctantly continued to eat. However, the porridge seemed to taste better with each bite, not because of any added salt, but because it was made by the one he loved.

Y/N: "That's it my schmoopie boo. Keep going, it'll make you feel better."

Pedri rolled his eyes playfully, but he couldn't help but smile at Y/N's determination to take care of him.

Pedri: "Fine, but only because you called me schmoopie boo."

Y/N laughed heartily, using the nickname she knew Pedri secretly loved.

Y/N: "You know you're my adorable schmoopie boo, and I'll always take care of you."

Y/N: "You know what would make you feel even better, schmoopie?"

Pedri chuckled, knowing exactly where this was going.

Pedri: "A kiss on the lips, right?"

Y/N grinned mischievously, "Oh, you wish! But you're still recovering, remember? I don't want to risk catching your cold."

Pedri pouted, but he understood Y/N's concern. He didn't want to get her sick either.

Pedri: "Fair enough. How about a kiss on the forehead then?"

Y/N's eyes softened with affection.

Y/N: "Of course, schmoopie."

Pedri leaned in, and Y/N placed a tender kiss on his forehead, sending a wave of warmth and care through him.

Pedri: " Aww, thank you, my sweet schmoopie."

Y/N: "You're welcome baby. Now, finish your porridge, and I'll go get you some more tea and medicine."

Pedri nodded.

Y/N: "Alright now, you need to take this medicine. It will help you recover faster, okay?”

Pedri: "But it tastes terrible, and I hate taking medicine."

Y/N: "I understand, but it's for your own good. Please, just one spoonful, and I promise I'll make it up to you."

Pedri crossed his arms, looking like a stubborn child.

Pedri: "I don't know... Can't you give me a kiss on the lips instead?"

Y/N laughed, trying to hide the amusement in her voice.

Y/N: "Nice try, but you know that's not a fair trade. Medicine is essential for your health."

Pedri continued to pout, but Y/N knew just how to handle him.

Y/N: "Alright, here's the deal. You take the medicine, and I'll give you three forehead kisses."

Pedri raised an eyebrow, considering the offer.

Pedri: "Three? That's it?"

Y/N: "Three, and they'll be extra sweet, I promise."

Pedri hesitated for a moment before finally relenting.

Pedri: "Okay, fine, but only because I can't resist your forehead kisses."

Y/N smiled, handing Pedri the medicine.

Y/N: "Good choice, schmoopie. Now, open wide and take it like a champ."

Pedri reluctantly swallowed the medicine, making a face as he did so.

Pedri: "Ugh, that was awful."

Y/N grinned, leaning in to deliver on her promise.

Y/N: "You did great! Now, here come your forehead kisses."

Y/N placed three tender kisses on Pedri's forehead, and he couldn't help but smile, feeling a little better already.

Pedri: "You're a sneaky one. But thanks for taking care of me."

Y/N hugged him tightly, knowing that even with a bit of teasing, taking care of Pedri was a labor of love.

Y/N: "Always, schmoopie. Now rest, and let the medicine work its magic."

After taking the medicine, Pedri settled back into bed, and Y/N placed a damp cloth on his forehead to reduce his fever.

Y/N: "There, the damp cloth should help bring down your fever and make you feel more comfortable."

Pedri closed his eyes, feeling the soothing sensation of the damp cloth on his forehead.

Pedri: "Thank you amor, you always know how to take care of me."

Y/N smiled, leaning down to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Y/N: "My pleasure love. Now rest, okay? Get some sleep."

As Pedri closed his eyes, he felt grateful for Y/N's love and care. With Y/N by his side, he knew he would recover in no time.

In the quiet moments that followed, Y/N continued to sit by his side, occasionally brushing her fingers through his hair and whispering sweet words of comfort as he drifted off to sleep..

As the day went on, Y/N continued to take care of Pedri, making sure he had everything he needed to recover fully. She would occasionally sneak in playful forehead kisses, knowing it brought a smile to Pedri's face.

Two days later, Pedri's cold had subsided significantly, thanks to Y/N's love and care. As they snuggled up together on the couch, Pedri couldn't help but express his gratitude.

Pedri: "You know, I couldn't have asked for a better partner. You make everything better, my sweet schmoopie. Te quiero mucho mi amor. “

Y/N blushed, feeling adored and cherished.

Y/N: "And I couldn't have asked for a better schmoopie boo. You bring so much joy into my life and I love you more baby."

Pedri couldn't help but feel grateful for Y/N's presence in his life. Being sick might not have been ideal, but having Y/N by his side made it a little more bearable.

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri fluff #pedri fanfic #pedri x you #pedrito #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri x y/n #football #imagine footballer #footballer #fc barcelona #barcelona spain #barcalona #barca #pedro gonzález lópez #pedro gonzalez

[daisychainsandbowties]

how do you think the wn characters feel about bread

Ava loves bread obviously. she made Beatrice blush and stammer their first night in the apartment because she made toast and milky tea for dinner, as you do when settling into a new place.

Ava who grew up on porridge and applesauce and weird stew that tasted like iron filings, watching Bea butter the toast all the way to the edges, and it’s real butter not stupid spread. Ava biting into it absentmindedly because it’s a stealth food, just smells like bread. doesn't seem, at first, like anything special.

then moaning and reaching out to slap the back of Bea’s hand like ‘!!!!! holy shit what is this?’

‘it’s toast.’ Bea with her little perturbed frown watching as Ava takes another bite and lays back in her chair, eyes closed. like she just tasted something other than slightly stale bread toasted a little too much because Ava kept distracting her by going ‘oh Bea!!! i found mold in this corner.’

and she’s been complaining about the apartment all day but it’s theatrical. she loves it and it took them twenty minutes to make the bed because she kept looking out the window, letting the sheets tug out of her palms.

‘sunset, Bea’ and ‘a fucking feather just stabbed me from this pillow’ and holding up various utensils from the drawers as Beatrice made up a tub of soapy water to wash everything at once. dropping them in with a determined frown, ‘uhh… spatula?’

‘that’s a can opener.’

‘so you’re saying i was close.’

she’s still hiding her smiles. they’re still in so much danger.

but Ava keeps touching her. not on purpose, really, just the way she is. reaching out absently, touching her neck, thumbs at the nape, fingers gently cupping her throat, to peer over her shoulder as she butters the toast, as she adds the teabags. her hands cool, soft. she’s really been overusing the soap in the bathroom and it smells of sea breeze. salt and air.

and that night she watches Ava eat, crusts and all, with a certain recklessness that crawls in her chest and makes her ache.

she’s used to being hurt, but not like this.

‘we need to eat this every night. it’s even better than the croissants i had for, like, my first breakfast.’

Bea huffing, blush fading from her cheeks. ‘it can’t possibly be that good.’

Ava’s sipping her tea.

okay, she’s slurping, but it’s…. god it’s nice. it’s cute, steam putting moisture on the tip of her nose.

‘no seriously. this is the best food in the world.’

and it goes unsaid, because Beatrice is a nun and she’s already gripping her teacup too-tightly, but it’s there in Ava’s eyes when she examines them by memory. later, in bed.

clean sheets, sea breeze. they’re so far from the ocean.

she needs no mnemonic device to remember Ava’s eyes regarding her seriously over her milky tea. she’s seen people pray, and it always awakens a sort of silence in her. all of her prayers for all her life have started with god, please.

but that night, she turns over in bed very softly, careful not to disturb the way Ava’s hand is reaching towards her, fingers curled up in an empty grasp. she looks at her - Ava - and she already feels too important for their short acquaintance. like a heartbeat, like a chipped teacup.

and that’s the first night Beatrice closes her eyes, and breathes, and starts her prayer with god, thank you.

#there's your bread ask you fiend (i love you) #avatrice #'anon' #did i answer the question? no. but i had fun

[gettinshiggywithit]

hiiiiiiiiiiii jayaaaa~ poppin in with a req if that's okay 👉👈

if you're alright with it may i please request fluffy hcs of dazai, atsushi, chuuya and ranpo taking care of a sick reader? if i've requested too many characters you can get rid of some of them, just do whatever suits you best :)

if you do choose to write this please take your time and take care of yourself, no rush at all!! and one more thing!

~ dia 💜

!In Sickness And In Health!

scenario:-dazai, atsushi, chuuya and ranpo and poe~ taking care of a sick reader!

Pairings:- dazai x gn!reader | atsushi x gn!reader | chuuya x gn!reader | ranpo x gn!reader | poe x gn!reader

Genre:- fluff!

Type:- headcanons

A/N:- DIAAAAAAAA OMG HIII (lets pretend i wasnt talkin to you like a literal second ago😭) i hope you like this and i did you justice! Also i kinda added poe i hope youre okay with that?also thanks for gettin me outta my writers block!

AND NO im proud of YOUUU!

Get well Soon Babes!

Atsushi

I think atsushi would be concerned.

Like depending on what it is you have I think how concerned he is would vary,but he’s still worried

He just wants you to be okay….

Would ask kunikida to take the day off or at least some of the day,to take care of you.

Until you’re better enough to do things on your own that is

Kunikida obliges because,honestly lets be real,atsushi’s already stressed tf out,and he knows that letting the boy worry on the job wont help anyone.

Honestly at first,atsushi’s surprised kunikida agreed so easily,but doesn’t question it!

He rushes home with some of your favourite snacks and surprises you.

I think that since he has healing along with his weretiger ability,he may not get sick as easily?

Or at least if he did,he’d be able to get better a lot faster.

So he’d gladly cuddle up to you if you needed him

buddy aint listening to your protests.

“but ‘sushi,you’ll get sickkk!!!”

“don’t worry y/n ill be fine” *le crawls into to bed and cuddles you*

Would ask kunikida to make you some oden if you liked it (dazai volunteers when kunikida says he’ll do it right after his paperwork,to which kunikida responds by whacking him{dazai} and immediately getting on it)

The rest of the agency would help atsushi with his nerves when he gets back to work

The boy’s just scared okay🥺

Basically,best boy all the way.

I mean its atsushi what did we expect?

Dazai

Honestly,I think he’d be more competent that we’d give him credit for.

We all know dazai’s not actually dumb or a fool.

He just acts like one!

So when you get sick.he knows exactly what to do!

He’ll roll over on bed one morning and when he sees  you sick his joke-y morning musings become serious and he gives you one last cuddle before getting out of bed to make you some okayu (rice porridge, a rather simple dish of rice, salt, and water.) and asks you to eat it

He knows its not the best tasting thing ever,but tells ya that it’ll make you feel better

Dazai Wouldn’t be worried to leave you to go to the agency,he’d rather skip work but kunikida be kunikida-ing😔🤷🏻‍♀️

He does call to check in though!

But serious calls are made privately of course(God forbid kunikida sees he can actually be serious for stuff like this and{tries to make} makes him just as serious about agency work )

He would DEFINITELY tell kunikida that he’s just goin to check on you and leave during the day.

Does he know you’re perfectly okay?yes. does kunikida know youre perfectly okay? No~

And He’s gonna capitalize on that fact~

Wouldn’t be as physical as atsushi would be,but would eventually just say ‘fuck it’ and be snuggly if you want him to be

anything to skip work! (and spend time with you ~)

I think atsushi would be sent over by kunikida to make sure he isn’t killing time.

Atsushi doesn’t snitch obviously! But he isn’t exactly the best liar

Dazai Calls kunikida the next day saying he got sick~~

Kunikida obviously comes by to make sure that this little shit isn’t bullshitting his way out of work again!

Is honestly surprised when he find dazai actually sick.

Dazai.who has NEVER gotten sick…. Goddamit

Crafty bastard

Wait I meant, your crafty bastard

Gets atsushi to bring shit over, snacks, drinks,medicine. Anything! (how can he go get it??? He’s sick toooooo)

The poor childdd isn’t gonna turn dazai down,even though he knows he’s full of shit

Ah just you,your crafty boi and the microbes that got you sick <3

Happy recovery!!

Ranpo

Ranpo,ranpo RANPO

Foodie supreme

I think he’d definitely have some ‘get well’ foods he’d get for you and him to try!

Would he be as dotting as atsushi or as concerned as dazai? Probably not.

Buddy knows you can take care of yourself,sick or not.

But if you asked him to cuddle he wouldn’t be that opposed to it…he would be cautious tho.

Expect for him to sleep on the couch or anywhere away from you

Its nothing personal,he just doesn’t want to get sick.

Losts of take out

I think ranpo knows to cook a little but honestly,he’s not bothered.

He just orders take out! Different hot and soothing foods! He’s make sure youre fed (him too,aint no way he aint getting at least a piece of the stuff he’s ordering!)

At one point when kunikida hears that he’s just been ordering take out the whole time,he himself comes over and cooks.

So does yosano! Dazai offers but he downright rejects him! (oof big yikes)

He’d contemplate askin yosano to make you better,but decides against it…

Honestly,ranpo wouldn’t be bad if you were sick. He’d just be a bit clueless at time.

Don’t worry! Fukuzawa and kunikida and yosano (mainly) are always there to help!

He tries his best and whenever he does anything he’s honestly so proud

Slay babygirl slayy

Chuuya

MY MANSSS

Chuuya would be doting on you,calling to ask if you were okay and making sure you have enough of anything you need.

Mans is takin care of you,what can I say~~

Chuuya is quite responsible and really knows what he’s doing so he’d have the best doctor(or just your doctor if you wanted) to treat you and make sure you’re on the right track to recovery!

He’d take a day,or at least half-day off  work if you needed him,but if it couldn’t be avoided,he’d send one of his subordinates to check on you.

Maybe someone youre more familiar with if you asked?

Is he scared of getting sick?

Not necessarily,he jus cant afford to get sick…

His job is pretty demanding,so he might sleep away from you if youre contagious…

But he’d still take care of you,cooking for you whenever he could and making sure youre all comfy.

If he does end up getting sick from you,he wouldn’t really be mad.

Would prolly beat himself up for bein careless(not for you to hear ofc) but in the end you ride out the sickness together!

If he catches something different to you?

He’s self isolating.

Different apartment.not risking giving it to you!

He honestly just wants the best for you and would do what he had to to make sure that you did.

Now back to if you were sick with him (like a similar illness )

He’d stay in bed with you if you wanted.

King of cuddles honestly.

I can only describe him as tiny but mighty

But he’d make sure you got sunlight and were active at least a little.

You’d do little couple-y things

Cooking together,little crafts

Even readin eachothers fave books!

He definitely makes it as bearable for you as possible.

Lucky tbh :’)

EDGAR ALLAN POE

Hehehehe

Poe with a sick s/o?

Amazon prime? Try Anxiety Prime!

Buddy’s doing everything he can!

Calling doctors,buying medicine,snacks,stuffies anything to make you feel better!

Heck,he’d write you a story to travel into if you were feeling down in the dumps too!

Buddy’s just trying his best tbhh

Oh and KARL

 karl is 100% gonna be there to cuddle you when poe’s not around

Karl is his eyes and ears!

Would he be opposed to being close? If you were contagious? Perhaps.

But he’d prolly even wear a hazmat suit and cuddle you if you wanted!

Either that or he’d just take medicine to make himself immune and cuddle you!

But if youre down really bad he’ll prolly stay on the couch or in the extra room.

Would sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor if you needed supervision or if you wanted him close.

He doesn’t mind!

Poe just wants the best for you and he’ll do anything he can to make you feel better.

If he gets sick too,he doesn’t mind.he’ll just hop into bed and get comfy with you.

Poe’s quite a tall fella so he’ll be able to wrap you in quite a snuggly hug! (he is 6 feet after all! If youre taller than or as tall as him, its still work!)

He has snacks around for when ranpo comes around so,regardless of if he restocks or not,you’ll have enough snacks for when youre sick.

Has separate colour coded pill boxes for the two of you and reminds you to take em daily.you do it together!

He’s be great honestly~

But then its poe,so whats new ey?

All rights reserved © 2023 gettinshiggywithit . Please do not repost, modify or claim as yours.

#🎙jaya speaks #📬jaya answers #💜 dia~ #📚jaya’s tales #🐶🐕jaya’s bungou stray dump🐕🐶 #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #atsushi x reader #ranpo x reader #poe x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #bsd x reader hcs #bsd hcs #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #chuuya bsd #ranpo bsd #bsd ranpo #bsd atsushi #bsd poe #dazai x reader fluff #chuuya x reader comfort #atsushi x you #edogawa ranpo x reader #poe x reader fluff #bsd x gn!reader #bsd chuuya x reader

[nannymcpee]

Boo bears day of pampering

After a hard couple of weeks of adulting I decided @mummys-lil-mushbutt needed a day of relaxation and pampering.

We started with a yummy breakfast of mummy’s special recipe porridge, a bottle and nursing cuddles. Then I got him out of his soggy night time nappy (one of my favourite nappy changes, nothing beats the smell and sog of the first nappy change of the day).

Then he was popped into a warm bubbly salt bath to help all his achey muscles. We played in the water while he soaked. My sweet little Prince looked so cute when he squirted water in his face while checking if Wally the Walrus had any water in him 🤭 Bruce the Hammerhead Shark, Willy the Whale and Squirtle the Turtle all got to play too.

After his bath I wrapped him up all snuggly in a warm fluffy towel and gave him lots of cuddles while drying him off. Then he got a very special massage all over his beautiful body and a sneaky suppository popped into his bottom 🥰

Then it was play time and a chance to ride on Mr Apples, boo bears new rocking horse. Some time while he was playing the special concoction I made for his breakfast and the little helping hand I gave his cute little bottom took effect.

I let him play a little longer before pulling him up on to my lap for tummy time and cartoons.

Later, as I cradled and rocked my beautiful boy, I looked down into his eyes and wondered what I’ve ever done to deserve such an amazing baby boy.

I love you my little munchkin and hope your day of pampering has made all those nasty grown up worries go away. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#ab/dl community #caregiver #ab/dl boy #ab/dl couple #ab/dl diaper #ab/dl lifestyle #ab/dl mommy #cgl little #cgl relationship #abdlmommy #abdluk #messy nappy #poopies

[dirty-bosmer]

WIP Wedensday

tagged by: @atypicalacademic @mareenavee @lucien-lachance @rainpebble3 @thequeenofthewinter thank you 🥰

tagging: @atypicalacademic (for the new week ❤️) @elavoria @wispstalk @skyrim-forever @gilgamish @throughtrialbyfire @justafoxhound @paraparadigm @miraakulous-cloud-district @nuwanders @kookaburra1701 @ladytanithia @sylvienerevarine @orfeoarte @snowberry-crostata @flymmcargo

Surprisingly, I had something written this time (could hardly believe it :o) From my Skyrim fic, Slither and Writhe:

Morning greeted Sylawen the same way the evening had bid it’s cruel farewell— penniless, clammy, and shivering from fever. She tested her throat with a stiff swallow. It burned. For a long while, she lay still, staring at the brown stain on the ceiling above, attempting to divine her fate in its sprawling limbs. How did I get here? Where did I go so wrong? How do I get out? Please give me a sign. Just one? A fat drop of rainwater landed in the center of her forehead, the roof now thoroughly soaked through. Peeling herself out of the sheets, she found herself still sick, still angry, still very much broke, and promptly rued the day the Nibenese settled Bravil.  Breakfast did little to lift her spirits, a bowl of rice porridge that smelled of sea grass and the bay water’s brine. But food was food, and as she hadn’t the appetite for much until today, she choked down what she could. It was no pan-seared trout, but it had a nutritious taste about it. Bold. A little bitter, the pungent scent of salted fish so strong it bored through even the thick walls of her congestion. Belly full, she paced the room, and once that returned no particularly fruitful ideas, she dug through her pack for her charcoal and sketchbook, ripped out a page, and wrote to Nana. …and so, after such cruel and unusual punishment, I had no choice but to flee. I’m sure you see it as I do, with crystal clarity— if even among family my most important research is reviled, what can a scholarly woman (such as we are) do but find somewhere else to practice?  Alas, I’m afraid it can’t be Bravil, indisposed and indigent as it has left me. If you would be so kind as to enclose a modest sum of say, several hundred septims, I might be able to seek refuge somewhere more conducive to my studies. Or I might even be able to travel to you? Wherever you are… Sylawen addressed it to Anvil, hoping Nana was indeed home, already knowing with a sinking certainty that she’d never return a reply, because of course Nana wasn’t in Anvil. When was she ever? Sylawen should have ran there like she had the last time. At least Anvil was dry. The rest of the day passed in a blur, much of the following day too, and by the fifth morning of her not-vacation in Bravil, there was enough grime under Sylawen’s nails, in her hair, enough mildew choking her lungs to admit she’d made a grievous mistake in fleeing here.  Yet Sylawen would not regret running. To regret was to admit fault, to surrender the righteous anger flaring furnace-red in her belly, and if she had nothing else in her possession, at least she had that. Still, with no wherewithal to run elsewhere and plenty of spite to keep from writing home, she did the only thing she could think of and set out to find help. And preferably a bar of sweet-smelling soap.

#slither and writhe #skyrim fic #tes fic #tesblr #wip wednesday #sonny writes

[wwrenwrites]

Jason Todd x Filipino! reader headcanons

A/n: i don’t care if this will be my most flopped post, I had to do God’s work

He would LOVE Filipino food

Jason is pretty open with food considering he has traveled frequently for work.

Being accustomed to seeing rice available even if it’s high in carbs lol. Started as a pancit (stir fried noodles) boy to a BIG garlic rice boy ever since you’ve introduced him to it.

Could see him really liking champorado (chocolate rice porridge) for some reason, since there is something so homey about it. Plus it’s not that sweet. He definitely have tried it with tuyo (salted dried fish) when you mentioned it but prefers it just the champorado alone.

Jason enjoys Jollibee most specifically the fried chicken, both of you have movie nights with a bucket on the coffee table with pineapple juice or alcohol. Would find Filipino spaghetti ‘meh’ cause it’s a bit too sweet for his liking but he wouldn’t mind it after a few more tries since there’s that child-like taste that makes it addicting.

Would 100% love lumpiang shanghai (Filipino spring rolls) and quotes as he explains it to Roy or any of his brothers ‘a way better version of Chinese spring rolls’, just like how you told him. He stops craving for the usual spring rolls if you guys go for Chinese take outs from then on.

Despite what the media depicts of having adobo (soy sauce & vinegar chicken stew), sinigang (tamarind stew) or ube hyped. He does think Filipino food is still very underrated compared to Thai, Chinese, Japanese etc.

Could also see him enjoying clear soup stews like pork sinigang & bulalo (clear soup with beef shanks & bone marrow) because of the homey taste versus the flavored stews but he definitely still enjoys them (also see him being a big kare- kare (peanut butter stew) lover by your influence.

Like every other man, he would be a sucker for San Miguel beer. He knew about it even before both of you were dating since there is a small Filipino town in Gotham. Considering he goes to different bars from time to time. He would enjoy the concept of food on sizzling plate but it would take time for him to actually try exotic street food specially Balut (duck embryo) lol. But he’s down for it!

Spicy White Boy

Canon- wise, he knows Portuguese and there are lots of similar words with Spanish. Which I’m sure he knows maybe the most basic and common sense ones; so Jason understanding a good amount of Tagalog shouldn’t be surprising but would baffle you when you find out he started learning bit by bit for you.

It is very impressive indeed, there are not a lot of good resources in studying it. However, Jason is a Wayne and if his father was able to learn Kryptonian. He would easily be in a level of fluency by time.

And being the intelligent simp he is. He would understand it in a good level in less than a year or two when both of you are pretty much ‘all in’ in the relationship. Especially when you brought up one time before you were both exclusive, that you were scared of the idea of your partner being left out in family events even if English is pretty much the second main language in the Philippines.

Though I feel he would have more confidence in trying to speak the language after a few more years including a few slangs cause he doesn’t want to handle the anxiety of being roasted by your family & friends even if he obviously has thick-ass skin.

You keep telling him that he has already won his parents approval (too fast) when he swoon them with just the use of ‘po’ and ‘opo’ the first time meeting them. Plus the very occasional whispers of ‘gwapo’ , handsome, or ‘matangkad’, tall, here and there would give him a mix of a sheepish ego boost.

Culture Differences

THE ‘NO SHOES IN THE HOUSE’ RULE is a mutual practice that both of you have no problem doing. It has always been a routine for Jason when he gets home and right away he would wash up just so he could be in bed with you.

The no shoes rule seems to be only followed by Alfred when he drops by with groceries for him in his apartment. It bewilders his siblings when he makes a big deal out of it even if they are just dropping by (uninvited as usual) but also more like so you wouldn’t get triggered if you get to meet them but frankly it triggers Jason more since he’s quite neat as a roomie (plus future hubby points too.)

THE FAMILY CULTURE in a Filipino household is usually a mix of chaos and laughter which Jason is quite familiar with but with your family he could tell how close all of you are from all the frequent get together celebrations or holiday trips.

But also he was told a few times from some neighborhood titos (uncle) when he was still in the streets that the number 1 rule when dating a pinoy (shortened term for Filipino) is if you’re ‘dating a Filipino you’re also dating their whole family.’ You even tell him when you show pictures of your immediate relatives and family, that it’s basically a whole village if you include your extended relatives which shocks him even more. You don’t even know who are all your aunts or uncles names nor your second cousins.

You gave him a heads up and number of pointers to Jason when you were both talking about your families plus the never ending group pictures and selfies that awaits. You get worried if he would be overwhelmed even if he tells you, “Doll, don’t worry you literally met mine” “It’s not the same.” With a kiss on your forehead and the cute pout he loves still present.

He immediately gets interrogated and compliments which takes him a back getting him a bit shy. Would vibe with your cousins and would be forced to sing. The karaoke machine playing till midnight, the never ending food being offered in his plate but also your baby cousins getting attached to him which you greatly adore. He would purposely annoy you with flirty gestures in front of your cousins just for you to swat his arm or his biceps multiple times getting a reaction from your comments mixed of ‘yiee’ or ‘landi!’(flirt).

SOUVENIRS in Filipino is pasalubong, and it doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re materialistic it’s more of the thought when a person is away; may it be for family & friends.

Jason bringing home food or snacks when he goes out or something unique when coming from a long mission for you has been natural. You don’t expect him to always bring something home for you of course. Fortunately, Jason loves spoiling you and seeing you sulk when you rummage his duffle bag filled with used clothes and is helmet is too cute. Plus, this is definitely one of the first words he would understand besides the word ‘makulit’ (a neutral connotation of annoying, cheeky, and naughty combined.) and other cuss words.

The first time Jason brings you to the Wayne manor Alfred and Bruce immediately doesn’t see you as a threat especially with a bottle of wine or fruits as formalities. You panic a bit when both of you weren’t able to bring anything to the manor every time you go after that, he has to reassure you it’s fine. Though he appreciates and finds it adorable on how much his family becomes fond of you because of how genuine you are.

When you and Jason travel, you would be having an extra luggage for goodies and shopping and would get endless teasing from Jason. You would tease him back though if he needs something but you would also use his luggage as well if needed for everything you bought.

#jason todd #redhood #jason todd x reader #redhood outlaws #redhood x reader #jason todd headcannons #jason todd x y/n #batboys #jason todd x poc!reader #jason todd x southeastasian! reader #jason todd x asian reader #jason todd x fem! reader #dc universe #jason todd headcanon

[sunniskyies]

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞-𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐝 || 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐟𝐢𝐜

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Finnick Odair x original female character 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: All warnings can be found on the series' masterlist 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.97k 𝐀/𝐍: Another long chapter !! I don't expect people to read this, I'm just posting old stuff :)

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞-𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝟎𝟒 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟐𝟑𝟎𝟖

The scent of salt still clings to Eloise's skin as she pushes open the cottage door, droplets from her sunrise swim dripping onto the worn wooden floor. She had swum longer than usual, for once having a whole morning free of classes and work. It’s mid-morning now, and Cova sits wriggling on Cressida’s lap as she pulls out the cloth bound in her hair to reveal two large blonde ringlets. The little girl squeals joyfully, the nervousness for the day ahead absent in her smile. Marlowe sat at the small square table picking at a plate of runny porridge. She for once doesn’t complain as Eloise quietly approaches her and begins plaiting two braids into her long dark locks. She ties them together in the back in a half-up half-down style.

“You’re gonna be okay Marly. Don’t worry so.” She assures the girl quietly and lets the conviction of her words seep into her tone. Marlowe wouldn’t be going to the games this year or any other year, Eloise would make sure of it.

She looks over to Cova to see that her mother has also decided on a half-up half-down style, but instead of braiding it she lets the ponytail sit amongst Cova’s new ringlets.

“Wow, Mama!” Cova chirps, admiring herself in the reflection of Cressida’s dirty old hand mirror. “I nearly look as pretty as Eloise.” She looks over wistfully at the older girl. Eloise snorts. 

“Yeah right. I’m as plain as they come, you and Marlowe are way cuter than me.” Eloise pinches Cova's cheeks, making her giggle.

“I put your reaping dress on the bed.” Her mother says, placing a plate of porridge in front of Cova with shaky hands. “There’s a pail of water on the stove. Wash the salt off yourself and clean your face.”

Eloise’s dark eyebrows knit together. “Do I have time? I thought I needed to go get errands done before we go.”

Her mother shakes her head but doesn’t elaborate. This happens often when she gets overwhelmed, so Eloise obliges. She stands on the sliver of grass behind their house and douses her body. She shivers, the sun well up in the sky but the air still crisp, as if the sun itself was mourning.

Back inside, Eloise’s reaping dress lays out on the bed. It was the same every year, but perhaps this time it would finally fit. It’s a long, sea-grey, sleeveless Gunne Sax dress with tiny floral patterns all over it. It was simple, perhaps a little frumpy, but Eloise didn’t care much. Staring in the mirror, Eloise saw how now that she had grown into her body, the dress hugged her somewhat nicely..

“It matches my eyes?” Eloise had said half-heartedly to Jenny-Grace once a few years ago before the reaping, comparing the colour to Jen’s one. It too was a Gunne Sax dress, but hers was soft spring green with pretty ribbon details.

“It does not match your eyes. That thing is mental illness grey. Your eyes are as blue as the ocean, everyone always compliments them. Grandma says you got ‘em from swimming in the sea too much.” She had responded. Eloise had flushed, and Jenny-Grace had burst out laughing.

“Can I do your hair now?” Her mother’s frail voice snaps her out of the memory, and Eloise turns away from the full-length mirror in her shared bedroom. Cressida stands with a matching sea-grey hair ribbon. Eloise had made sure not to get her hair wet this morning in the ocean, but she didn’t realise they were going to style it.

“My hair isn’t straight like the girls’, Mum.” Eloise laughs, gesturing to her long dark blonde curls. “You don’t have to doll me up.”

Her mother just spun her around to face the mirror again, running coconut oil through her ends, lifting a heap of curls and tying it in a matching style to Cova and Marlowe’s. She ties the ribbon in a long bow at the back.

“So you all match.” Her mother says in that whisper-like voice.

Eloise kisses her on the cheek gently. “Thanks, Mum.”

“Have you got your bracelet, Petal?” Eloise nods. She never takes it off.

Her mother gives her a soft smile, a rare sight. “Now, sit down on the floor.” She instructs, stronger now.

Confused, Elosie looks down to see her mother had extracted a handful of cosmetics from her pinafore pocket. Her eyes widened.

“Makeup? Mama, I’m only 17, and I’m not a television star!” Makeup in the districts was limited to the wealthy and adults. It was a luxury for those who earned it, not some sea-nymph who brawls at the docks and drinks beer with 40-year-old men. Her mother shakes her head, meaning that Eloise can’t argue any further.

So she watches in awe as Cressida brushes light swathes of the precious powder over her cheeks, careful not to hide the subtle freckles on her nose. Then she adds a kissable pink to the bud of her lips, and finishes off by applying dark paint to her eyelashes. 

Looking at herself now, Eloise suddenly sees that vision of herself sitting with Caesar Flickerman, wearing a beautiful gown and a TV-worthy smile. Except it isn’t just a fantasy, she really can put the almost pretty face that was staring back at her onto that girl.

Behind her, Cressida let a soft sob slip from her lips. Eloise rips her gaze away, quickly wrapping the dark-haired woman in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Mama. I look great. Come on. Come on, we need to take the girls.”

Her mother sucks in a breath, letting Eloise help her to her feet. Together they gather up the girls, dumping porridgeless plates in the sink and tying the wriggling childrens’ laces. Holding hands, the four girls walk to the square where the reaping would start at 1:00.

It takes longer to get there than it takes when Eloise is by herself, it would be improper to scuff her shiny chestnut boots running around. By the time they make it to the square, it’s swarming with people. Tear-stained children saying goodbye to their mothers, older siblings guiding youngsters to the right pens. But a solemn air hangs everywhere, filling the children’s frail little lungs and choking out the warmth of the sunlight.

The girls take turns hugging their mother, and Eloise watches as she totters off to the parent’s area. Marlowe and Eloise hold each of Cova’s hands, the little one now swamped with nerves about her first reaping.

“Now Cova, remember what I told you? They’re gonna prick your finger for a teensy bit of blood, and then you’re gonna follow your school friends to the right pen, okay?” Cova looks dazed, nodding absently. Eloise squeezes her hand reassuringly.

“Look, I’ll go first, show you it’s not a big deal, m’kay?” She says, partly for the 12-year-old, and partly for Marlowe too. The poor girl had gone as white as a sheet, her dark eyes huge.

A few more kids get pricked, and then it’s Eloise’s turn. She holds out her finger as confidently as possible to the masked Peacekeeper, wanting to encourage her younger sisters. But in all honesty, Eloise has a slight phobia of needles. She grits her teeth as the needle punctures her soft finger, rough hands pushing her scarlet blood onto the page alongside a hundred others.

As she’s sent along, Eloise tries to look back at her stepsisters. But a wave of children sweeps her forward, blocking her view and forcibly dividing her off into the 17-year-old pen. She can only hope Marlowe and Cova found their way as she’s jostled around by nervous bodies.

Finally, everyone settles down, and Eloise cranes her neck to see the stage. An elegant podium perches at the prow of the stage like a ship’s figurehead, behind it a row of chairs hem the seam between the wooden stage and the Justice Building. The chairs' occupants appear, walking up the stairs and filing along to their seats.

District 4’s Victors line up in order of victory, 74-year-old Mags Flanagan at the head. She won the 11th games, Eloise recited automatically in her head. Next, Marino Bay, victor of the 42nd games. Eloise remembers seeing the 45-year-old occasionally, popping his head in for handfuls of advice at the academy now and then. Then follows Rio Fathom, 34-year-old victor of the 53rd games. Eloise doesn’t know much about him other than he only lives with his wife and has a fondness for rum. Behind him, Caspian Dune. A meticulously vain man of 26 who won the 60th games. He wasn’t not handsome, but Eloise found his beauty artificial and tremendously upkept, hair gelled into the perfect way, lips curved in a practised smile. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say he radiated egotism.

We, he would if it wasn’t the Finnick Odair who walked a few steps behind, the arrogance that bloomed from the young man overpowering anything Caspian could muster. Finnick Odair won the 65th games at a record 14 years of age, and this is his fourth year mentoring, despite him only turning 18 five months ago. Not that Eloise is counting.

He is constantly gracing the television screen, the ‘Darling of the Capitol’ always wearing the latest fashion with a new woman at his hip and a camera on his heels. He had won over the conceited people of the Capitol with one flash of his charming smile, and after he came back from the games as a Victor his person is the only thing the Capitol seems to want to talk about. How he looks, who he is with, the whole thing makes Eloise’s stomach turn. But unlike Caspian, Finnick is undeniably gorgeous. Golden skin and bronze hair, toned physique and an alluring smile, Eloise can see the appeal. She herself finds her eyes following him as he takes his seat at the end of the line.

There used to be more Victors, 3 or 4 more, lost to ‘old age’ or ‘health issues’, but Eloise remembers the hush-hush murmurs of suicide or substance abuse.

Once all the remaining Victors are seated, the thin figure of District 4’s Mayor Saltwick followed closely by the broad shoulders of Anemone Kale appears on stage. Anemone Kale is a ridiculous woman and is well known for fully embracing the role of District 4’s escort. While other Capitolites get surgical enhancements to have colourful skin, replicate animals or other gruesome body modifications, Anemone has gotten scales, gills, and skin colouration done until her head and shoulders resemble that of a mermaid. No one in District 4 admires this look, but the woman seems to believe this is a groundbreaking beauty standard in the seaside district. Because of course, they are fishermen! What do you mean looking like a fish isn’t attractive?

The two of them barely sit in their designated seats when the large clock at the top of the Justice Building heralds 2 o’clock. The Mayor stands once again and makes his way to the podium. Eloise zones out as he rambles on about the history of Panem, his annual reprimand fading into the background. She finds her gaze sliding back over to Finnick, reclining in his chair with his leg resting comfortably over the other and arms draped about him. He looks so at ease, she thinks to herself, no sign of the drunken mess she had seen yesterday.

His gaze seems to be roving over the faces of the children, and for a moment, his sea-green eyes seem to rest on her ocean-blue ones. She instantaneously looks away in fright.

She swore he had recognised her at the docks yesterday, but did he? They had never met before, so surely he must’ve gotten her confused with someone similar… Then why did it feel like he was staring at her? Eloise scoffs at herself. He is a hundred kids and a stage away, he can’t possibly have located her eyes! But when Eloise looks back, she could’ve sworn his gaze caught on her again.

Her reverie is shattered as the crowd around her begins to clap and the Mayor, apparently finished, steps away and is replaced by a bustling Anemone. ”Happy Hunger Games!” Anemone practically sings, the microphone whining uncomfortably. “Now for the selection! May the odds be ever in your favour!”

Trotting over to the girls' bowl, Anemone rifles through the pool of tiny white envelopes. Each paper contains the name of a child, a daughter, a sister, a life. The one Anemone holds in her silk-gloved hand now contains the name of a doomed child, a lost daughter, a missed sister. Anemone leans back into the mic. “As always, ladies first!” She drawls, pawing at the black seal of the paper slip.

The mass of children and parents stills, watching with bated breath for the name that is to be announced. The fear that surrounds Eloise is stifling, but she can’t deny the validity of it. Regardless of the blood that runs through their veins, Marlowe and Cova are her sisters, and the thought of their rosy cheeks and curious eyes being sent to slaughter aches deep within her. ”Florence Bay!”

A wave of relief washes over Eloise. She isn’t a friend or a loved one, and that is the best outcome. But the same can’t be said for everyone. From behind Anemone, Eloise can see that the Victor Marino is stiff, hands clutching the armrests, eyes wide. Then she realises. She must be his daughter, Eloise grimaces.

About thirty heads in front of her, she can see the young girl pushing her way through the 16-year old pen, her curly brown locks tied in two loose plaits down the back of her eggshell blue pinafore. The girl stumbles up to the stage, hesitantly joining Anemone at the front, glancing at her father, who somehow looks more terrified than her.

Eloise feels a churning deep in her stomach at the sight of the Victors, a nervous flutter that slowly fills her whole body with a electrified buzz. Was it the way the Victors held their heads high? Was it the strong limbs and weaponry skills they all harboured? Or was it the knowledge that each one of them had entered an arena with 1/24 odds and came out with glory dripping from their names?

Eloise stares up at the female tribute, trying to picture her sitting on stage in the beautiful gown and the whole of Panem watching, but she can’t. The poor girl looks green to the face, and by the pitiful way she stands, she resembles more of a scared newborn giraffe than a fierce warrior. That girl will die for sure, and Eloise feels the strange sensation one usually gets when seeing a dead person. Unfortunately, Florence seems to know this as well, and frantically looks around at the other girls in the audience when Anemone speaks again.

”Now, as is customary, we will call for volunteers!” The escort’s voice rings out to be met by silence.

A handful of heartbeats go by, roaring in Eloise’s ears like an earthquake despite the deafening silence that stretches out, until;

”I volunteer as tribute!” a strong voice calls out.

For a second Eloise wants to look around to see where the voice comes from, before she snaps back to reality. It is her arm in the air. Her voice that had called out.

She has paused in her moment of realisation, and now everyone in the square is looking around for her. Eloise feels dizzy. But Anemone just lets out a small cough, prompting Eloise to come up and swap with Florence.

Eloise jerks into action, her legs taking her through the crowd of murmuring girls and into the corridor between the girls’ and boys’ pens. She vaguely registers Peacekeepers plodding behind her as she walks toward the stairs. There, she passes Florence walking back down to her section. Up close, Eloise can see the tears swimming in her eyes, her cracked lips forming a hasty ’thank you’ before the Peacekeepers push her onwards.

Eloise does her best to hold her head high, not wanting to look weak. She still hasn’t fully grasped the situation she’s in right now, but she knew how many people were watching this moment and on the television replay tonight. Sizing her up.

Before she knows it, Eloise finds herself standing before a sea of people, hundreds of familiar eyes trained on her. Heart pounding, her vision stretches and warps at a swell of disorientation that starts stirring in her head, and Eloise has to clasp her hands behind her back to steady herself. The cameras can’t see this, of course, but the Victors lined up behind her surely can see the way her fingers involuntarily squeeze the blood out of each other, white knuckles tangled together.

She is so out of it that she almost doesn’t hear Anemone asking her name over the roaring of blood in her ears. Eloise steps slowly up to the microphone for fear of her knees buckling beneath her. ”Eloise Thorne,” She says, managing to steady the hoarse tremble that threatens to crawl into her mouth before she speaks.

”Splendid!” Anemone trills and Eloise steps to the side of the flamboyant escort where she has seen so many girls stand before her. Never before did she actually think she’d be here herself. They were just daydreams, weren’t they?

”Let’s give Eloise a show of our support!” Anemone all but gushes, her enthusiastic claps slowing awkwardly as she finds herself the only one clapping. Hesitantly a steady smattering of applause fills the square, but Eloise can’t bring herself to search for the undoubtedly applause-less figures of Jenny-Grace and her family, she doesn’t need to look at them to see the looks of horror and disappointment on their faces.

”Now for the boys!” Anemone continues, her heels clicking on the hardwood as she strides over to the glass bowl that holds the names of hundreds of wide-eyed boys. Another wave of that stifling atmosphere swamps the plaza, and even the breeze holds its breath as Anemone’s gloved hand flits through the bowl before decidedly plucking an envelope as if it were a particularly juicy treat and not the name of an innocent boy doomed to death.

The sound of paper rustling seems to echo throughout the surrounding buildings as the escort click-clacks her way back to the microphone and slips open the paper sleeve. ”August Reed.” Anemone announces.

Eloise’s body goes slack, her previously knotted fingers dropping to her sides in disbelief. The name sounds distant, as if being read underwater, until she realises she is swaying. She swallows.

Squaring her feet to steady herself, Eloise searches the crowd for the sweet curly mop of August’s hair. She sees it, bobbing as he slips between bodies and trips over feet before he finally emerges from the 15-year-old section, brown eyes as round as saucers locked onto Eloise’s. She winks and tries to project reassurance into the smile she shoots at him. He still looks tense, but the cloudy glaze seems to clear from his eyes when he realises she wasn’t already sizing him up for murder. He pads up the wooden steps and hastily crosses the stage, the beady eyes of the crowd finally leaving Eloise and looking at the boy instead.

Eloise’s fingers twist together again when no one volunteers in the young boy’s place. No academy kid raising their arm to say ‘Leave him! Take me instead!’. 

They numbly stand a mayor-length apart as the haughty man drones on about the Treaty of Treason. Eloise isn’t listening though, her mind thinking about poor Jenny-Grace Reed in the crowd losing her best friend and her brother in less than ten minutes. Eloise begins to feel the weight of her actions sinking through her shoulders and clenching her heart. Her life that once stretched out in front of her now curls up, forming an impenetrable door that everyone else has the key to but her. Because she already knows what she has to do.

She has to get August home.

Once the Mayor finishes his dreary recitation, he gestures the tributes to clasp hands. But without hesitation, instead of accepting August’s outstretched hand, she reaches over and pulls him into a tight hug. While tense at first, August quickly melts into her familiar embrace, her arms seemingly the only thing holding him together in that moment. The crowd lets out the breath they were holding, a gentle hum of relief, pity and regret all stirred together.

The anthem of Panem begins to trickle from the large speakers mounted around the square, and soldiers dressed in white take this as a call to action. The Peacekeepers usher them into the Justice Building, unsympathetic gloved hands prodding and pushing them down opposite hallways.

Finally, at the end of the hallway, the Peacekeepers lead her into a secluded room and shut the door behind her. Looking around, Eloise can’t help but gape at the wealth cloying to every inch of the room. The walls were covered in wallpaper, white ducks and tiny seashells on a background of blue, velvet sofas and chairs, deep chocolatey wood and a shimmering crystal chandelier.

Eloise walks up to the window and peers out. The crowds have almost dissolved, Peacekeepers shouting orders around muffled by the glass but still audible. Eloise can’t bear to look at those large families going home for the afternoon, so instead she sinks into the sofa.

She thinks about Magnus, the closest thing to a father that she can remember. And all the rest of the crew, who will tell them why she won’t be there on time for her shift? Will word of mouth get around?

And her stepsisters. Eloise doesn’t worry too much about them, even without Eloise’s wages they will get by okay. In all honesty, Eloise has always believed that she’s a bit of a black sheep, with curly hair instead of straight and blue eyes instead of brown. Her mother passes more for Marlowe and Cova’s mother than she does for Eloise. Maybe it’ll even be better this way.

And Jenny-Grace. Eloise winces internally. She won’t be surprised if she doesn’t show up to say goodbye, it must be uncomfortable to say goodbye to someone you want dead, if only to keep your brother alive. But Eloise understood, she would choose the life of her sisters over her best friend, because at the end of the day, Eloise was Marlowe and Cova’s protector. And Jenny-Grace was August’s.

The door to the luxurious room swings open, two distraught sisters streaming in followed closely by their stepmother.

“El!” The girls both shriek, grabbing her shoulders.

“What were you thinking?” Marlowe wails “You didn’t get called!”

“You’ve gotta tell them you’ve made a mistake!” Cova cries, her words jumbled from the stream of tears and snot, and the sobs wracking her body.

“Shhhh. It’s gonna be okay.” Eloise says, pulling them both into a tight squeeze. “I’m just going on a little trip. You know I’m super strong, I’ll be back before you know it.” Eloise lies, not wanting to tell them about her decision to sacrifice herself in exchange for August’s survival.

“But it’s so dangerous! What if you… what if you…” Marlowe blubs into her dress.

“You saw that little girl up there? Florence?” Eloise says, pushing the two girls back so they could see her face. “She’s your age, Marly. Wouldn’t you’ve liked it if someone took your place? You saw the way no one volunteered for her! She’s just the same as you, just as deserving of life as you.” She reasons. Marlowe just shakes her head strongly.

“But you’re deserving of life too!” She whispers hoarsely. Eloise does her best to smile.

“Yes, and I will come back. Go on now, you two. That Peacekeeper needs you to leave.” She deflects, the Peacekeeper who appeared at the door now asking them to leave. Hesitantly, the girls oblige, leaving the room with shouts of ‘I love you!’ and ‘Please stay safe!’

Defying the Peacekeeper, her Mother stays behind, pulling Eloise into a quick, tight hug.

“Stay safe.” She whispers, not a tear in her eye. “I love you.”

Eloise studies her, the confusion must be written all over her features. Surely her mother, too fragile for even the mundane, should be breaking down at an event like this? Eloise’s eyes widen.

“You knew.” She gasps. “Forfeiting the errands. The hair. The makeup. How did you know? I didn’t even know!”

Her mother just shakes her head, lost for words as always. The Peacekeeper is tugging at her shoulder, demanding she leave. Her mother blows her a kiss before disappearing out the door, pushed by the Peacekeeper.

Other than Jenny-Grace, who wasn’t going to come, and The Wayfarer’s crew, who were currently out at sea, there was no one left to say goodbye to Eloise. She sits back down on the couch, letting her body sink into the squishy pillows. I wonder if I lay here, I’ll sink all the way in and stay there forever, Eloise thinks idly, before surprisingly, the door swings open again.

Annie, Noah, Vera, Jasper and Mako flood into the room. Eloise springs up.

“What are you guys doing here?” She exclaims.

“We’re here to give you some last-minute advice.” Annie says, hands on her hips “Why’d you not tell us you were going to volunteer?”

Eloise lets out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t know I was going to.” She croaks. Annie’s eyebrows furrow and she quickly pulls her into a tight hug, the others following suit until they are all hugging each other. Eloise had never thought about her classmates as friends before, but right at this moment, she felt like she was going to miss them terribly.

“Get to the Cornucopia first.’ Vera sniffs “You’re fast.”

“Yeah,” Noah agrees, “find a trident. Or a spear.”

“Get water!” Annie adds.

They all start bombarding Eloise with advice, even as three Peacekeepers start forcefully dragging them out.

“Think of us when you’re on TV!” Jasper calls, halfway out the door.

“Don’t die!” Annie calls, already out in the hallway being carried by a Peacekeeper.

Eloise laughs, not necessarily a happy one, but a laugh nonetheless. Don’t die, she thinks to herself. If only it was that easy.

She found herself thinking once again about Jenny-Grace. Sweet, lovely Jenny-Grace, who always sneaks peppermints into kind customers’ brown bags, and spends hour after hour patiently waiting while Eloise runs around doing god knows what. Sweet lovely Jenny-Grace who always wears yellow and smells like coconut and the sea and freshly baked bread. Eloise’s face turns stony as she thinks about how she must feel, watching her beloved little brother sent off to death. She couldn’t imagine seeing Cova or Marlowe like that, and Eloise knew more than ever why she needed to do this.

Her solitude is interrupted by another group of Peacekeepers entering the chamber. They wordlessly guide her out of the room and down a different hallway. Eloise squints as sunlight hits her eyeballs, and finds herself being led towards the Capitol train station.

Realising with a pang in her chest that this is the last time she will ever be in District 4 again, Eloise lets her eyes drink in the scenery. The smell of salt and summer flowers, and the warm, albeit weak, sun on her back.

As they enter the station, Eloise is shocked to see the eyes of a thousand camera lenses clicking and flashing in her face. Trying not to be disoriented by the shouts and whistles, Eloise does her best to smile as she’s escorted onto the flashest train she’s ever seen.

Inside, Anemone Kale sits on a plush blue sofa, but Eloise doesn’t have time to look around before a familiar mop of dark curls clamber aboard after her. August’s eyes are glazed, and Eloise wastes no time crossing over to him and wrapping him up in a bone-crushing hug.

“Hey, hey. Don’t worry, don’t worry.” She soothes, already feeling the tears soaking into her shoulder. “You’re gonna be fine, okay? I’m going to keep you alive. I’ll keep you alive.” She repeats these whispered words, hugging her best friend’s brother until he takes a deep breath and steps away.

“You can’t… you can’t do that,” He whispers, averting her eyes. Eloise understands it’s one thing to politely refuse a cup of tea, and another to refuse your own survival out of politeness. You can’t do it.

“Yes, I can.” She insists. “I’ll keep you alive until the very end.” 

“What if… we’re the final two?” August whispers with a shudder. Eloise shakes her head.

“Then I’ll die. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” She says, resolutely. If not to convince herself, then to reassure August.

“Children, why don’t you go to your rooms and have some downtime, hm?” Anemone interjects awkwardly, obviously overhearing their conversation. “I’ll call you both for supper in a few hours, and you can meet your mentors! How exciting!” She gestures to a hall that must contain their rooms.

Eloise and August don’t share this excitement, shooting each other a look as they walk out of the luxurious main room in silence. Eloise gives August a shoulder squeeze before they disappear into their separate rooms.

Eloise walks into a space larger than her entire house and immediately beelines for the bathroom as a wave of nausea rolls through her. Quickly gathering up fistfuls of golden coils, Eloise collapses in front of the shiny toilet bowl just in time as she revisits her porridge. It doesn’t help that the train pulls out of the station halfway through, making her lurch and grab on tightly to the toilet.

After her body adjusts to the movement, she staggers over to the sink and washes her face and mouth, watching numbly as the precious powder her mother had lovingly applied just over an hour earlier washes away down the drain. Tears prick in her eyes. Why did she volunteer? She wasn’t Annie Cresta, she didn’t want to kill anyone! Looking into the gold-inlaid mirror, Eloise saw the face of her fantasy staring back at her, the one who sat in front of Panem and revelled in her victory.

Eloise hears a scream escape from her mouth at the sight, and stumbles back into the shower and ripping her dress off as fast as she could, shutting the door and blasting the water. Eloise had never taken a hot shower before, only ever bathing in metal tubs. But she had used the outdoor showers at the docks meant for blasting sand and grit from you with cold seawater, so finding the right button wasn’t difficult.

A rainbow of bottles and pots sit on shelves around the spacious shower, and Eloise finds herself studying them. Unlike at home, the Capitol seem to have bottles of different soaps for different purposes, instead of just one singular bar. Despite the life-threatening situation Eloise is currently in, girlish curiosity wins over and she begins reading their labels and lining up several bottles on the floor that sport different titles. She shuffles them around into the correct order according to the instructions on the back and begins washing her hair and scrubbing her body head to toe. Delightfully, she finds one of each that smells like coconut, and closing her eyes, Eloise can almost picture herself at home while her mother mixes ointments in the kitchen.

She steps out of the shower 45 minutes later, cleaner than she’s ever been. She wraps her wet hair up in one of the towels and another around her body while she rummages through the chest of drawers in the bedroom. It’s full of soft, fine clothes and that same girlish joy from before hijacks Eloise’s hands as she shuffles through them. If she is going to die in a matter of weeks, she might as well enjoy this luxury.

She chooses a soft white blouse and a pair of jeans. Jeans! Denim is unheard of in the districts, and the Capitolites don’t see much fashion in them. But Eloise finds them very comfortable. 

She sits on the side of the bed and looks out the window, running a coconut-scented lotion through her hair in an effort to remind herself of home. It smells more artificial than the stuff her mother makes, but Eloise doesn’t mind. Outside, the train seemed to be racing through a huge expanse of red dirt, cacti and lumps of rock are the only undulations on the surface. This is nothing like home, ELoise thinks, picturing the soft sand and expanses of water that rule her beloved District 4.

Eloise must’ve fallen asleep, because she wakes up to a sharp rapping on her door. “Dinner time! Hurry now!” Anemone’s insufferable voice pierces through the door.

Groaning, Eloise sits up from the uncomfortable tangle she had fallen asleep in. It must’ve been a few hours, because her hair is soft and dry and stars twinkle outside her window. Slipping her feet into the fluffy slippers provided for indoor use, Eloise shuffles down the hall and is welcomed by a deep mahogany table ladened with more food Eoise has even seen in her life.

Everyone else is already seated, and 4 pairs of eyes glanceup at her arrival. A curious pair of sea-green ones meet with hers, and the breath leaves Eloise’s lungs. Quickly avoiding his gaze and trying to suppress the rapid thuds of her heart, Eloise sits down with her head lowered. Distracting herself with spooning meat, vegetables and the fanciest bread onto her plate, Eloise is awestruck at the mountain of food available. This table could feed a large family for over a week!

Anemone doesn’t seem to register her shy demenour, smiling at Eloise’s polite ‘table manners’  as she takes small, unenthusiastic bites. She must be bored by now of starving children shovelling food in their face, Eloise thinks bitterly.

“It’s August, right? And… Eloise?” A velvety deep voice asks from across the table, and Eloise could feel eyes on her. It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement. Glancing up for the briefest amount of time, Eloise nods, and sees August doing the same.

“And you're a Career, huh? What’s your weapon of choice?” Finnick presses. Eloise fidgets slightly.

Eloise isn’t usually shy, but all she wants in this moment is for the Victor’s attention to leave her. “What? No! No, I’m not a… I’m not…” Eloise begins, but trails off when a flash of white catches her attention. August was cutting a slice of ham away, his wrist sporting a string of cowrie shells.

“August? Is that?” Eloise starts at the sight, and August’s dark eyes meet with hers in confusion. Eloise gestures to his wrist, and August’s eyes widen in understanding.

“Oh! Oh, yes it’s Jen’s.” The usually bubbly young boy says, devoid of his usual spark. His eyes seem to glaze over. “She gave it to me. For my token.”

Eloise (Who has now forgotten that a certain someone is across the table, unanswered) takes in a breath. August notices this, and he gives her a sad smile.

“She told me to send her love. And, and that she wanted to come say goodbye, but she- she-” August says, searching for the words.

Eloise smiles. “It would be too difficult,” She croaks. “I understand.” A weight seems to leave August’s frame at that, and he sits a little higher in his chair, his eyes less dark.

Sensing a silence, Anemone begins rambling on about the schedule of the next few days, spurring on their mentors, Finnick and Mags Flanagan, to begin coaching. The two of them ask various questions about weaponry, survival skills and other Games-related trivia. Finnick ends up taking the lead, but his rapid-fire questions seem to be aimed at Eloise, who finds herself often pinned under his intense stare.

Thankfully, August is all too happy to answer the questions for Eloise, generously raving about her abilities at the Academy and her jobs in the community.

“My grandmother loves her.” August says. “She says El always gives her the freshest bread. And she is so brave! You must’ve heard about the time when the Peacekeeprs caught her r-” 

“Want some more salmon, August?” Eloise interrupts quickly, shooting August a glare. He flushes, looking sheepish.

“Yup!” He squeaks. Finnick’s eyes roam over to her again, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘Go on?’. Eloise averts her eyes again, shaking her head slightly. Damn it, August!

A swarm of Avoxes come out, clearing the messy table in a couple efficient seconds. Behind them, another group follows, arms carrying trays spilling over with various deserts. The two tribute’s eyes practically pop out of their head.

Awkwardness forgotten, Eloise eagerly joins August as he piles his plate high with slices of cakes, puddings, sweet sauces and fruits. A bowl of fruit sat near Anemone catches her eye, and she gingerly reaches over and plucks a piece from it, rolling it around in her hand.

Calling it a bowl of fruit is generous. In reality, it was a bowl full of fresh, pink peaches. Eloise slowly takes a bite, and is transported back to the narrow grass lawn behind her tiny house overgrown with various fruit trees. She pauses, her mouth about the soft flesh as she drinks in the scent for a long moment, her eyes looking up at Anemone.

“Are these from District 4?” She asks, holding up the fruit.

“Yes, they are.” Mags answers instead. Her voice is frail, but not the way Cressida’s is. Hers is delicate like a spindly sapling, whereas Mags’ is frail after a long life of courage and strength. Eloise meets her friendly gaze.

“Me and Finnick brought them from home. We didn’t want to leave them to rot. Aren’t they just the most delicious peaches you’ve ever had?” She smiles, taking one for herself. Eloise’s breath hitches.

𝟎𝟏 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝟐𝟑𝟎𝟒

"Mother, do we have to do this? It’s our food; we shouldn't share it with other people. Especially not him, he was stinkin’ rich!" 13-year-old Eloise whined. Cressida stood at the kitchen table, gently filling an old Blue Eye beer crate with juicy pears, bunches of grapes, and nectarines from the orchard garden outside. She then filled a small wicker punnet with handfuls of sugar-snap peas, tying the peas' flowers into bunches along with other wildflowers from outside, and nestled them in between the fruit until the crate resembled a glorious gift basket.

"Yes, Petal. It is a kind thing to do. Their poor boy just got back from the games," she sighed with a smile, popping a pod of peas into Eloise’s pouting mouth.

"But they don’t need it!" Eloise insisted. Her mother frowned.

"How did you know that they don’t need it?" she asked. Eloise's brow furrowed.

"Because they can afford food easily! They don’t need us to give it to them!" she responded adamantly.

"Yes, maybe you’re right. They do already have food. But a gift is more than its contents; it’s showing the other person love, and that you care about them," Cressida hummed, settling a few jars of her coconut lotion in the crate too. "That little boy has been through an ordeal; wouldn’t you agree that the thing he needs most right now is some care?"

Little Eloise thought for a long moment and then nodded. "Yes, I understand. But what are they giving us in return?"

Her mother, finally finished, handed Eloise the punnet of peas while she carried the crate on her hip like a basket. Eloise opened the door, and they began walking away from the house.

"Nothing, dear. The kindest souls are those who perform good deeds without expecting anything in return, simply because kindness is their nature. Even when it goes unseen," she responded. "Does that make sense?"

Eloise nodded. They were heading somewhat out of town, and after 20 minutes of walking, the two girls reached the iron gates of the Victor's Village. Eloise was almost speechless by the gleaming white houses that lined the road stretching out ahead, and pictured herself returning from the Games to a house like that.

"Come on, Petal. We don’t want them to see us, remember? We’re not here to be attention-seekers; we’re just being generous," Cressida said. She had already placed the gifts in the gateway and started walking away. After another moment of awestruck staring, Eloise tore her eyes away and began to follow her mother back home. She had just turned the corner, out of sight of the Village when she heard a door open. Ducking behind a huge ivy bush that climbed the wrought iron fence, Eloise peered into the Village.

A young boy exited his house in the distance and seemed to notice the crates at the gate. Curiously, he began to walk over. He knelt down, inspecting the crate of fruit for a name, a note, anything. Not having found one, he looked up, confusion etched on his soft features as he glanced around for a sign of the kind gifter. He looked down at the crate again and plucked a peach out. Rolling the sweet fruit around in his hands, a small smile began to spread over his lips.

Eloise Thorne had never seen a boy like him before. Not like this. The boy’s tan skin was soaked in golden morning sunlight, a breezy white shirt hanging off him. His bronze hair was tousled, and Eloise felt like she could just reach out and touch it. It looked so feathery, falling into his eyes when the boy had looked around for the gifter. She could see his eyes, the softest shade of sea-green. Eloise had never seen eyes that colour before. Her heart skipped a beat at the happy expression that molded his features, his lips upturned at the corners as he studied the peach, his brow furrowed gently.

She had done this, Eloise realised. She had made this boy smile like that. Euphoria filled her body, and she gazed eagerly out at the boy, her eyes drinking in every inch of his pretty face.

Butterflies tried to flutter up her throat when the beautiful boy looked up once again, searching for the gifter. She jumped back out of fright when his eyes landed on the bush, and with one look back at Finnick, she sprinted down the road and after her mother.

Every month after that, Eloise took it upon herself to fill an empty Blue Eye crate with whatever fruit was in season in her garden. She picked bunches of flowers, jars of jam, handfuls of carefully selected seashells. Her mother watched on fondly, knowing full well why her silly daughter was so eager every month to carry out her delivery.

"It’s just a nice thing to do!" 15-year-old Eloise had protested once, Cressida laughing at the oblivious girl.

She never let the gorgeous Victor see her, of course. She sneaked over to the Victor’s Village ridiculously early on the morning of the 1st, 2nd, or 3rd of each month to drop off her delivery before her morning swim, sometimes pausing for a moment behind the bush to try and glimpse him.

Finnick would always try to catch a glimpse of his “Blue-Eyed Gifter” too, waking up early at the beginning of the month and hurrying outside. But every time, he was only greeted by a crate full of thoughtful gifts, the closest thing to a name in sight being the large Blue Eye label printed onto the wood.

Eloise never admitted it to herself, but her surge of admiration for the young Victor led her to take on her intense lifestyle. She begged and begged Remus and her mother to let her drop out of regular school to attend the combat academy. Her parents were at first horrified at the idea.

"Why would you throw away your education for fight training? You’re not going into the games!" Her mother had whispered hoarsely, her hands gripping the table.

"Mother, please! I’ll study at home and at work; I’m smart! But I want to be strong so I can work a proper job here in District 4!" She had begged. Remus scoffed.

"We’ve already let you take up those shifts at the grocer and that savage job at the docks. Why should we do anything for ya?"

Eloise frowned. "Let me? I give you all the money from those jobs!"

Magnus, darling Magnus, had started teaching Eloise combat in secret a few weeks back, and it became apparent she had a talent for it. He had suggested attending the Academy, and Eloise was set on it. Think about all the Victors that came from here! Eloise had daydreamed.

Every reaping, Eloise caught sight of the golden boy in broad daylight, and every year she wished for his sea-green gaze to notice her. Every lesson at the Academy she hoped he would be there to lead a lesson, but was always disappointed by Marino Bay or Rio Fathom instead. Every month, she fantasized about leaving a note with the delivery, a name, or a place to meet, before blushing out of embarrassment and deciding against it.

Eloise has never acknowledged to herself that she has a crush on Finnick Odair.

𝟎𝟒 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟐𝟑𝟎𝟖

Right now, a boy with golden hair sits across the table from Eloise, watching her intently as she studies the fruit in her hands.

“Yes, they’re very delicious.” She mumbles. Could these be the ones I dropped off yesterday?

They all finish eating in comfortable conversation, August now fervently asking questions about survival skills to Finnick, who responds with equal enthusiasm. After everyone is stuffed to point of discomfort, Anemone tutting dissapointedly, Mags instructs them all to go down to the television where they will watch the reapings. Eloise feels nerves bubble up as they begin to move to the long, crescent shaped couch. These were the kids she was going to have to kill.

August and Eloise fill a large bowl with popcorn, cookies and slices to nibble on as the holographic television powers on. They sit next to eat other, watching intently as Ceasar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith open the program, excitedly revelling at what an amazing Hunger Games that had before them this year.

The begin showing the reapings switching to a shot of the glistening town square of District 1. Naturally, two 18-year-olds volunteered, a tan girl called Starla and a muscular boy named Nikolai.

“Careers.” Finnick says, “They are going to be your biggest competition, unless you ally with them.” He shoots a quick glance at Eloise, who realises with a jolt he thinks she is a Career too. And, well, she is, really. But not like them. They have spent their whole lives preparing to kill, she has spent her whole life preparing to survive.

District 2 is next, and unsurprisingly two more Career volunteers. What is surprising, however, is the 14-year-old girl who was lightning-fast to put her hand up. Once up on the stage, the cameras zoom in on the young girl.

“Woah,” August breathes.

She is gorgeous. Possibly the prettiest girl Eloise has ever seen. Unlike the tan skin of District 4, this girl has pale skin and bleached, ice-white hair which she wears cropped around shoulder-length. Like Eloise, her pin-straight hair was put up in a loose half-up half-down style, and the cameras manage to pick up the menacing line of silver earrings adorning her ears. She has dark eyeliner on, and she looks ready to kill. For a 14-year-old, she’s unbeliveably fit. She must’ve been training her whole life.

Speaking into the microphone, she reveals her name to be Minthe Vercoe, and the 17-year-old next to her is Bennett.

Everyone in the room is silent, all of them knowing that that girl, despite her ridiculous age, would be the biggest threat. But Finnick obviously doesn’t do well with defeat, and pipes up.

“Don’t worry about her. From what I’ve heard, you are plenty strong enough to hold your own against whatever she’s got, Eloise.” Eloise blushes at that remark, and shakes her head softly. She tries to restrain the butterflies in her stomach that begin to dance at the sound of her name on his lips.

From District 3, an uninspiring duo of 15-year-old Clarke and 16-year old Wyatt. And then it is District 4.

Eloise watches as Florence Bay is reaped, and she watches her very own hand shoot up in the air. Eloise has never seen herself on video before, and is secretly pleased to see how put-together she looked walking up to the stage. She sure didn’t feel it in the moment.

She sees herself introduce her name, surprised again to hear how steady her voice was. She can see her arms behind her back, and knows the way their fingers must be twisted.

“For a second there I though your fingers were going to drop off!” Finnick says from along the couch. Eloise whips around to lock eyes with him, a smirk playing on his features, and unbelievably a laugh slips out of her mouth.

“You saw that?” She winces with a giggle. Finnick nods, seemingly pleased to of finally made her react for the first time all day.

“I did. Although I was quite distracted by old Marino almost passing out from relief. Thanks for saving Flo, by the way.” He grins with a wink. The dancing butterflies in Eloise’s stomach have started a rave.

The TV shows August’s name being called, the camera panning to the nervous young boy walking to the stage. Thankfully, the camera focusing on August takes the attention off of her, where on the side of the screen you can just make out the way she sways slightly from shock. Caesar and Claudius ‘ooo’ and ‘aww’ when the two Tributes hug at the end, and Finnick and Mags comment on how this was a good start as the program continues on. Eloise actually agrees with them, to anyone else she must look like any other Career tribute.

A 12 and a 15-year-old are reaped from District 5, and a 17 and a 13-year old from 6. None of them look particularly menacing.

But from Dsitrict 7, a little 13-year-old girl named Bronwyn captures Eloise’ attention, reminding her painfully of Cova. Her District partner, a handsome 17-year-old boy named Kam.

District 8 hosts a pair of jittery tributes, wheras District 9 reaps two tough looking lumberjacks. A girl the same age as Eloise called Ivy, and a 16-year-old boy.

Out of the remaining 3 Districts, 6 underwhelming kids are reaped, obviously there due to tesserae withdrawal. Eloise feels pity stir in her stomach at the sight of the malnourished children, but pushes it down. If she wants to save August, she has to think like a Career. And an Career would only see those little mites as easy pickings.

Anemone clicks off the TV. “How thrilling! I’m going to head to bed now, it’s awfully late. Kids, I’ll fetch you for breakfast tomorrow. Get some rest now!” She sings, standing up and shuffling off in her mermaid-shaped dress. Eloise rolls her eyes dramatically, and from the loud snort across the sofa, Finnick must’ve seen it.

“Well. How do you feel about that lot?” He asks the two tributes from his relaxed sprawl at the end of the couch. “I think you two have a good shot! Pick your allies carefully and listen to me and Mags, and odds are you can come back alive.” He says, his sea-green eyes once again subtly looking at Eloise

The butterflies turn to black, goopy mush in her stomach. “I’m not coming back.” Eloise shoots back tersely, harsher than she meant to. She stands up abruptly. “August is. I’m going to bed.”

Eloise escapes from the now stifling room, chased by three pairs of curious eyes, flinging herself on the bed as soon as the door shuts. Embarrassment at her statement battles with the flustered feeling Finnick gave her in her mind. Why’d he keep looking at her? Why does she not know what to say around him? She hates herself like this, she’s usually so calm and in control. Red-faced, Eloise tries as hard as she can to push that boy from her mind.

She strips down to her undergarments and crawls into the cool sheets of the bed, but sleep does not find her. Eloise has spent the last 4 years of her life sleeping in a warm heap with her two sisters, and the feeling of sleeping alone in this air conditioned room is too much. She tries humming a lullaby to no avail. At one point she even jumps out of bed and does a short workout. Still nothing.

So Eloise fishes a tank top and pair of soft cotton shorts from her drawers. Slipping out of her bedroom, Eloise finds her legs taking her all the way down the train, right to the end where she discovers a smallish lounge room surrounded by windows. A plush, curved couch hems the end of the traincarriage, and Eloise slumps exhaustedly onto it, chin propped up on the back of the sofa and watches the train ride through the night. She studies the darkened landscape, trying to picture where on the big hand-drawn map at her old school they were.

Her thoughts inevitably wander back to Finnick. She wonders sleepily if he’s asleep right now. I wonder how he got his hair to look like that, Eloise thinks drowsily, sleep pulling her into a dreamscape of golden sunrays and sea-green waters.

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

#ph☆ebe's scribbles #hunger games fic #finnick odair fanfic #hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair #the hunger games #fanfic #fanfiction #finnick odair x oc

[fritesandfries]

For dinner tonight, homemade congee -- savory rice porridge -- that sticks to the bone.

Homemade Congee

For 4 servings:

Congee:

1 cup [uncooked] long grain rice

4 cups bone broth [chicken or beef]

3 cups water

1 tsp. Kosher salt

Combine all the ingredients together in a small pot. Bring to a boil; simmer on the stove for at least 1-hour and cooked down to desired texture. (I don’t like my rice too broken down.)

Common congee seasonings include green onions, ginger, roasted peanuts, egg, pork floss and so much more. But for this recipe, I added duck to mine!

Duck Breast (the lazy air-fryer version) -- Optional:

12-ounces Moulard duck breast

1/2 teaspoon five spice

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1 tbsp. vegetable oil

Pat dry the skin on the duck breast with a clean paper towel. Score the skin with a crosshatch pattern. Add seasonings and oil on the skin, spreading evenly. Cook in an air fryer at 400F for 15 minutes -- the internal temperature should be around 130F. Slice before serving with congee.

#recipes #cooking #dinner #congee #air fryer #food #winter recipes #rice #food video #homecooking

[stargirlstudio]

Citrine and Sapphire [Part 1]

☆ Aemond Targaryen x Princess of Leng!Reader

☆ Physical attributes canon to Lengii people (golden eyes, black hair, skin tone is implied to be darker than pale - but non specified)

☆ 1st/3rd POV, she/her pronoun usage, no y/n

☆ WC: 3k

☆ Summary: A princess from the Isle of Leng sets off on a journey to Westeros in search of adventure and knowledge, but other players are out for their own agenda. Aemond Targaryen, the shy boy who eventually becomes her friend and greatest ally, is more similar to her than she thinks.

☆ Guide:

[ ] - Lengii language

{ } - YiTish language

Part 2 ⇨

If the princess had known the journey to Westeros would be this long and arduous, she would have planted myself in the sands of the docks and never left. Traversing through the rich provinces of YiTi was fun, familiar even.

The sea journey provided a temporary solace from the bustle of the people on land but soon gave me the worst temperament. She woke up and went to sleep with a pit in her stomach — She was not a mariner. There can only be so much gruel and dried shrimp she can eat. A servant in the back of the ship expelled what seemed to be this morning’s meal — rice porridge and salted egg. Rice porridge, while a commoner’s dish, used to be her favorite meal to wake up to. Leng’s thousand suns, as they say, sweltering outside while they get to eat the soft meal with leaves fanning their back. Roasted and dried YiTish salmon and fermented vegetables on the side. She despised the smell bile produces, mixed with the saltiness of the dark sea. The water would mist into her mouth, and sometimes if she closed my eyes, she could taste the salty radish.

Many times she prayed to the Old Ones when large waves drowned the deck. The YiTish sailor screamed what she assumed to be a word a princess should not repeat at his fellow sea folk. Leng servants rushed underground, wet with their fabrics clinging to their skin. Today is the day of her birth, but no one knew that except her handmaidens. If she were home, she would eat all the sweets she wanted. Roast pig and quail would be on the table. Though, not too fond of quail, but she would do anything to take a bite.

Her fathers would be playing with her, and her mother would be dancing. The princess’s brothers would be chasing her sister around. [“I want to go home!”] She cried. The older handmaidens wiped her tears and told her to sleep. A man with dark hair and a prominent brow ridge ran past the window. [“The window is going to break!”] She panicked and cried. Snot ran down her nose and chin. Her chest hurt from the wailing. She should be brave, but the young girl not stop herself. The screaming from below and above only made it worse. The maidens, wide-eyed and frightened, take a step back. The only one who does not is the oldest maiden - with her graying, straight hair. Deep wrinkles in the fat of her face and eye bags protruding further than her own eyes.

[“Whoever let the princess course on waters should be fed to the hogs,”] One of the newer handmaidens spoke.

The older handmaiden spoke softly, {“Would you like the sleep milk?”} The princess continued to sob, not paying attention to her question. She sighed and walked over to the chest. A blood-curdling scream came from outside, and she battled to drown out the others. The older handmaiden sat next to her and tapped on her lips. She opened her mouth before the cool white liquid droplets melted on her tongue.

Sleep milk was the only thing that could calm her down. After her fall…She used it to temper her dreams. The medicinal women have told her that when she fell off the cliff years ago, it must have caused terrible dreams. The milk helps her fall into a deep sleep when she panics. She doesn’t know how long she can be like this, but her mind sullies those thoughts as she falls asleep.

Three weeks later, flies buzzed beneath the deck - a rotten stench coming in waves as the latch opened and closed. I stare at the open latch, nothing to be seen but darkness. Two men carried a servant, her skin was gray, and her body was stiff. The whites of her eyes yellowed, and a green liquid fell from them, staining her face. A trail of the same color liquid trailed from her ears, sticking her hair to her face.

“Do not look at them, Princess,” Xhoha said as he turned my seat around. “You do not need to see that,” Xhoha was my advisor. My mother insisted I needed someone fluent in Westerosi and familiar with their culture. Xhoha was from the Free Cities but traveled around. He will not tell me what he did before he came to Leng.

[“Will we have Westerosi lessons again?”] I asked.

Xhoha sighed, “Remember, it is called Common Tongue. We will have more lessons than usual to prepare. Food poisoning swept through the ship. We are docking at Qarth. We were lucky to even make it this far from Leng,”

[“Did you say you were from Qarth?”] I asked. He chuckled, plastering a grin.

“If this is another attempt at you trying to get details of my life, I guess I’ll give you some satisfaction. No, I’m from Pentos. The closest Free City to Westeros,” He mused. [“Let us start speaking in Common Tongue,”]

I nodded. Common Tongue has made no sense to me. I struggle with every word; Xhoha remarked that I sound Dornish when I speak Common Tongue. He is highly insistent that I should try my best to adopt the dialect spoken in King’s Landing. He pulled out a Westeros map and tried his hardest to teach me about each city and its notable people, but every detail mixed with another. I have only held onto the reliance of Westerosi people from the texts given to me by monks.

The most extensive text is on Corlys Velaryon, who is still alive. I traced the indented lettering on the book, The Snake of the Seas, by Monk Hattenu. A young man with hair of alabaster set his feet upon the Leng sands. With a YiTish translator by his side, he negotiated agreements. For resources, he would offer a favor — of any kind so long as it was reasonable. In the personal texts saved by the monks, in my aunt’s diary, it seemed that she was…smitten with him.

The priestess aboard the boat had come to interrupt my lessons, “Pardon me, your majesty, it is time for you to pray,” She said. I nodded and hopped off my chair.

“We will continue after you are done,” He said. I followed her to the back of the boat, weaving my way around the men carrying bodies. The stench was foul. The priestess and I sat on our knees, facing eastward to home. I followed her movements as I picked up the reserved sand creating an arch around me.

“Princess, who shall we pray to today?” The Priestess asked. “I suggest Ah’Vannika for the health of those on board. Or Ah’Jan for safe travels,” She suggested. The Old Ones are the gods I pray to in Leng. It is believed they live beneath us. There is no gender assignment to the gods we revere, as they come in many forms. Ah’Vannika - the god of health, may come to someone as a hummingbird. A woman cloaked in white or an old man with a gray eye. In a coastal Lengii city, the people wear white and silver to honor Ah’Vannika. I have my doubts about the Old Ones. Some have claimed to see the form of a god, but who’s to say their form isn’t just some regular person? Or maybe someone is lying?

“I think Ah’Jan has heard enough prayers for our safe travels,” I said meekly. “Let us pray to Ah’Kasaya, for good weather?” The Priestess nodded. “And Ah’Vannika for good health,”

That night, I tossed and turned in my bed. I was watching the sea mist rain against the window. I closed my eyes, covering my ears to drown out the crashing waves. My mind blanks, and suddenly, I’m falling to my death, the cold and dark waters engulfing me. A hand grabs my ankle and pulls me deeper until I wake up screaming again.

Aemond’s POV

Aemond stood with his family on the day of the Princess’s arrival. The young prince felt nervous, he knew of the delays but now that the guest us finally here he did not know what to do.

“More than half of her servants, unfortunately, passed away from this illness,” Viserys continued. “The Maesters suspect that perhaps they are not used to the known world, succumbing easily to such illnesses,” The room had fallen silent. Aemond’s mother, Alicent, silently moved the food around. “Horrible really, the letter spoke of yellowed eyes and fluids coming out of every orifice. Awful…,”

“The princess may not come at all if she also falls ill,” Aegon jokes.

“The God-Empress of the Isle of Leng has been kind enough to extend her hand. The isolationist Leng has made a pact with House Velaryon for Corlys Velaryon’s kindness during his Nine Voyages,” The stout man says. A cheer erupts amongst the crowd - much to the man’s annoyance. He continues, “God-Empress Citra welcomes you to a ceremonial performance and for you all to welcome her daughter, second to the throne, the princess,”

Performers with white face paint and bold makeup came fluttering in. Their flowing gowns and tilting hands excited the guests. The music, a solemn fanfare, transitioned to string-dominated and hopeful melodies. Gasps came from all sides of the room. Aemond glanced at his older brother, his smile curving upwards. One of the performers supplanted themselves before the family. A cloth held up by their fingers blocked their faces. The performer, with their red dipped fingertips, danced the fabric in front of them before dropping and making a funny face. They watched as the performers circled the other people, interacting with them and causing them to laugh until they disappeared into the entrance.

Numerous performers, YiTish and Lengii, came back into the hall and out. Some animals that had survived the journey were also shown off to King Viserys. A striped stallion and a baby spotted back ape, like the ones in the books the Maester had him read, were also shown. The ape had started causing some trouble, but it was quickly forgotten amongst the existing performances. Halaena, who usually had her head turned away, was entranced by the spider performer, which seemed to be two women holding a rattan-crafted spider body. She giggled at their slow movements and their jolts.

The dancers all began to leave in two lines which tall guards quickly replaced. They formed into two lines blocking the guests - creating a direct pathway to the family. The music slowed, and the musicians bowed their heads slightly. Aemond squinted to see four girls walk in. He focused on the one in the front, who could not be older than him. The three other girls mimicked the same head bow as the musicians and the guards, while the youngest girl held her head high—her crown, with peaks no longer than her face, accompanied by weaved flowers in her dark hair. Her golden eyes match the crown on her head. Deep red fabric draped around her.

“I’m surprised. I think we all thought she would be old,” He paused, lowering his head closer to Aemond’s ear. “The seafarers get younger and younger,” Aemond ignored his brother, watching the princess and the rest of her subjects follow suit with gifts in hand. He heard his mother gasp. Some performers held silks; others held more jewels and what seemed to be spices. Items to be most prized.

Lord Corlys had acquired his great wealth during his Nine Voyages. One of the places he had sailed was to the Isle of Leng. At a meeting with the small council, he announced the letter from the Empress of Leng.

“To Lord Corlys Velaryon, The Revered Mariner, Friend of the Crown,” He repeated once at a dinner. “When you came to visit our lands, you made a promise to my mother, the late God-Empress Kanitara of Leng, that you would extend a favor and your support in exchange for our resources,” He paused. “My daughter, a fourth born, second in line, wishes to explore beyond Leng. She heard many stories of your adventures and wished to visit Driftmark and the rest of Westeros. There is no crown for her here, as she is not my eldest daughter. I fear that she may find more success beyond these gates. I wish to send her to you, where she will be in your care and teaching. If you accept, I will be sure to give you our treasured valuables,”

The princess bowed, taking two hands to touch her forehead and bringing them toward the family—a greeting reserved for other royals. A translator came right beside her. “Princess of the Isle of Leng, second daughter to God-Empress Citra and Lengii Emperor Consort Kiet, commander of the armies,” Aemond noticed some guests wincing at the idea of an emperor consort. “Offers her extended gratitude for inviting her to your kingdom. She offers great gifts and valuables to House Targaryen and House Velaryon,”

The translator droned on, but Aemond looked at the young princess. Her hands scratched at her thighs with her head bowed.

The celebration of the Princess’ arrival at King’s Landing was filled with more festivities. It was a week-long celebration. Performers, both Lengii and YiTish, put on their theatrical shows. Dancers in face paint and shadow theater performers entertained the nobility of Westeros. Aemond stood by, watching the Ladies secretly ogle at the Leng men. Their arms were bare and muscular, their hands hovering over their eyes to shield themselves from the sun. Aemond and his siblings sat next to their mother, while the princess and her advisor sat next to his father.

“The Princess wanted to apologize for her delay. It was a dangerous journey to Westeros,” The advisor said. He was not from Leng, at least by appearance. The man had pale skin, with freckles marking almost every inch of his skin, with shoulder-length brown hair. His long mustache wiggled with every movement of his mouth. He sounded like the traders from Pentos.

King Viserys laughed, “You need not worry. You have brought our family gifts, and most importantly you are intact,” He gestured to his family. “We welcome you,” The Princess smiled.

“Thank you, your grace,” She spoke in Common Tongue. “You have such beautiful children,” She said, lingering her gaze on Aemond, who looked away abruptly, shying his eyepatch.

“Thank you, dear Princess,” Alicent said. She gestured for the princess to come over, reaching out to hold her hand. “I did not get to see your face earlier. Such a beautiful girl,” His mother admired, the jingling of her bracelets filling the silence from the children. Aemond finally turned his head, having avoided eye contact with the princess. She stood still, a smile plastered on her face. Soft pink fabrics draped around her body, creating a loose fitting silhouette. The extra fabric draped over her shoulders, lined with small beaded floral embroidery. Local flowers had been weft into her hair along with gold pins. The princess had a strong, pleasant scent. All of the people of Leng do. The perfumes and oils saturated their skin, adding a glow.

“And you are a beautiful Queen,” She said back; Alicent had squeezed her hand. The King had announced the tourney would be taking place soon, with the family being dismissed first. Alicent held Helaena and the Princess's hand as Aegon and Aemond trailed behind. The Princess turned her head to look at Aemond, who looked away again. She turned her head forward and moved her fingers anxiously.

For the next few days, Aemond sat near the Princess. First, watching her wince at the tourney, sitting next to her at feasts, walking near her around the grounds with Helaena. The Princess does not have a name.

“The Princess has a name, but in her culture, it is forbidden to use the name with strangers,” Her advisor explained. “A shortened name is often used with their people,”

“Then how shall we address her?” A Lady asked Xhoha.

Another Lady interjected, “Lady Leng seems proper!”

There had been times when the princess had tried to speak with Aemond.

“What are you holding?” “How are you?” What are you doing?” but she was met with a hmm or a few words. Eventually, she didn’t talk to him at all. Aemond didn’t mean to ignore her, but he felt…anxious around her. Perhaps it was because she was a stranger. Everyone was focused on her; the Princess’s arrival was important enough to garner a week-long celebration. He dug his fingers into his palm, watching her from a distance as she was invited to dance with a young lord.

“Lady Leng,” The cropped haired boy asked. “May I show you how to dance?” The Princess accepted his offer. She giggled, accidentally stepping on his toes. Aemond walked away, only hearing fragments of apologies.

—

☆ A/N: A long overdue part 1 for my Leng princess fic! If you want to see more and would liked to be tagged, please comment! Also I would love comments about what you enjoyed or any potential plot ideas!

#fanfic #fanfiction #fic: citrine and sapphire #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #Aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x leng!reader #se asian!reader #asian!reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #fem reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond targaryen reader insert #leng #isle of leng #island of leng #fics

[letswonderspirit]

I was gonna put this in a reply but it’s too long so here’s an ask instead! good luck on the teeth front, I got mine out last year and it’s really nice to have little containers of food prepared before the surgery so you don’t have to worry about cooking anything. I’ve got a couple ideas for stuff to eat

-blended/smooth soups and broth of course

- pudding, ice cream, cool dairy in general. Here’s a recipe for a milk pudding that’s delicious and cool in your mouth https://kirbiecravings.com/japanese-milk-pudding/. You can brew the milk with tea to give it a different flavour. Personally I really liked mint or rose

- jello :)

- protein shakes

- blended up mashed potatoes or sweet potatoes with broth or gravy

- blend some cooked beans or lentils with spices (cumin, garlic, salt, pepper, etc)

- If you cook all bran cereal with milk then it becomes a porridge that you don’t have to chew, add some sugar/cinammon/honey to make it taste good and get your fibre

Oh my gosh thank you for the info!! 💚🖤💚🖤I’ll definitely have to try the milk putting recipe whenever I get the chance

#helpful #info #food

[avastrasposts]

Sourdough - A Baker's Dozen TedTalk

I’ve mentioned sourdough a few times in A Baker’s Dozen but I never dedicated a chapter to it even though it’s probably my personal favourite to bake. So to make up for that, I’m indulging in making a whole post about my other obsession, sourdough bread!

I love baking with sourdough because the process behind it is like magic to me. Flour, water and salt, three ingredients, and you can get the most delicious bread. The magic, unseen, ingredient is of course those wild yeast bacteria that live around us. 

My mum was always the one who baked sweet things around the house when I was a kid, my dad made the bread. When he first got into it he produced bricks. You legit could’ve used some of his loaves as a foundation for a house. And I’ve produced my fair share of bricks in my baking career too… But he got better and for most of my life I had the luxury of having fresh, homemade bread for breakfast. That’s where my need to make my own bread came from and once I got past the novelty of being “allowed” to buy bread from the store after moving out of my parent’s house, I got into making my own bread pretty fast.  

I started baking with sourdough about ten years ago when I stumbled on a blog about it. My first loaves were flat as pancakes and it took A WHILE before I graduated from baking in bread tins to managing to make loaves that actually held their shape. Sourdough dough does not behave like regular yeasted dough… But when I did manage to make my first proper levain, you know one of those beautiful golden loaves with nice holes and crunchy crust? I ate the whole loaf in one day. I couldn’t stop. Just butter, some sea salt and that was my food for the whole day. I’d never tasted bread so good. It’s tangy and flavourful in a way that yeasted bread just can’t imitate. 

I’m no expert but here is how I make and manage my starter and my bread. Important to remember is that flour, water and climate, especially the humidity, has a HUGE effect on the dough and the bread. No recipe will have the same results and to a certain extent, it’s a process of trial and error and learning how to bake in YOUR kitchen. 

In order to make sourdough, you need a starter and it’s surprisingly easy to make and maintain. I have a tiny starter, only about half a cup in size. The starter is your “yeast”, a small colony of yeast bacteria that you feed and culture so that you have enough for whatever you want to bake. 

The starter takes about 5-7 days to make and once you have it, you can keep it in the fridge and just feed it before you want to bake. 

So to make it you need: 

Organic whole wheat flour, stone milled if you can find it. 

Organic will contain more yeast spores and make the process easier. Don’t use old flour, check the expiration date of the flour you have at home. Flour can actually go rancid and wreck your bread. 

Water

I use tap water but if you live somewhere with chlorinated water, use bottled water. The chlorination will kill all bacteria, the good and the bad. 

A clean jar with a lid. 

It doesn’t have to be a clear glass jar but it’s pretty handy because it makes it easy to see what’s going on. 

Ok, now that we’ve got everything, let’s start. 

Day 1 - Evening

1 tablespoon flour

2 tablespoons tepid water (roughly body temp, maybe a bit cooler)

The amount of water you need to add can vary depending on how your flour has been milled. The mixture should be like gruel, not porridge. If two tablespoons isn’t enough, add a little bit more water until you have a fairly loose and liquid slurry. 

Mix together in the jar, put the lid on top but don’t screw the lid on. Leave for 48 hours in a warm place. Inside the oven (turned off) is a pretty good place. 

You can check on your jar after 24 hours. It’s pretty liquid and should smell warm and a bit sweet, almost like honey. If you see any brighter colours in it, red, yellow, orange, I’m sorry, but you have to toss it. That’s mold and that’s not what we want. So throw it out, start again (this is one benefit of this method, all you lost was a tablespoon of flour). 

Day 3 - Evening 

Ok, so if your flour/water mix is looking good, a bit liquidy, maybe it’s separated a bit, maybe a bit bubbly and frothy, we’re all good for the next step. 

Add 1 tablespoon of flour and mix in. Leave it overnight. 

Day 4 - Morning 

If the starter is on the right track now, you should begin to see small bubbles on the side of it, inside the glass jar. It should smell sour and yeasty, “bready”. 

Add 2 tablespoons of flour and two tablespoons of water and mix it in. Leave until evening. 

And that’s it! By evening you might/should see that there’s activity in the jar, bigger bubbles forming, the starter will rise up in the jar and expand, just like a dough. If it doesn’t, feed it 1 tablespoon of water and flour again and leave it overnight. Like I said at the beginning, lots of different factors are at play here so despite the fact that it’s all chemistry, it’s not an exact science (well it is, but since we can’t measure all the factors in each individual kitchen, we need to depend on a bit of trial and error). 

So now you have a starter and can start playing around with making bread. I won’t go into that because there are so many good instructional videos online. I can really recommend Claire Saffitz’s video, I’ll link it below. 

Obviously this starter is very small. Many recipes I’ve seen online call for much bigger starters and then discard half of it when they feed it but that always seems very wasteful to me. So what I do with my tiny little starter is just keep it in the fridge in its jar. When I plan on baking I take about 30 grams of starter and put it in a bowl and mix with 100g water and 100g strong bread flour. That is then the base for my bread the next day. To that mix I add whatever flour I’m baking with. The starter gets fed another tablespoon of flour and water and stays on my countertop overnight. That replenishes the starter and gives me enough for the next time I want to bake. In all, I usually have about 150-200 ml of starter in the fridge at any time. 

If I’m not baking, the starter stays in the fridge. I’ve had it there for a month without feeding (I was away travelling) and when I got home, I just fed it like above and left it out overnight. I had to feed it a couple of times before it got back to full strength. But the yeast bacteria don’t seem to die very easily, they just go dormant and are easily revived with flour and water. 

Fun fact, the actual science behind the yeast bacteria is that they eat the carbs in the flour and then convert that into energy and emit the gas carbon dioxide. The gluten strands in the dough traps that gas and makes the dough rise. So essentially, farts make the dough rise, tiny bacteria farts. I love science :D 

What else did I want to say about sourdough? Oh yeah, TIME! Time will make your bread taste better! And this goes for regular yeasted bread too.  By letting the dough cold proof in the fridge the yeast activity is slowed down but at the same time, flavour develops. With sourdough, you get a tangier, more sour bread. I usually keep my loaves in the fridge for 24 hours before baking them, same for my pizza dough. 

So thanks for coming to my TedTalk about sourdough! It’s amazing and frustrating and a real pain sometimes but when you get it right and you get to cut into that perfect loaf that YOU MADE and it tastes better than anything you’ve had, that’s real magic. 

#Youtube

[suzieb-fit]

There are lots of things I cannot eat. Including oats, peanuts, sweeteners, wheat AND gluten (not the same thing).

I used to love porridge with peanut butter and protein powder. Nope. Literally and figuratively.

I've been eating mixed nuts with a spray of olive oil and sprinkled with sea salt. Coupled with fresh apple and cinnamon. Very nice.

But fancied trying some "keto porridge".

So I've got a new amazon order on its way.

I already use collagen and inulin in other ways, but I'm throwing all these things together to see how it works as a hot breakfast. I'll add my half an apple and cinnamon into the mix. Maybe blueberries too. I also used to have those on my porridge.

It's all about trying new things. Working round what our biology, hormones and genetics throw at us from time to time!

It doesn't help my bank balance, lol. Just the cashew butter is a big jump up from much cheaper peanut butter, but I'll just have it as an occasional treat. A break from my usual breakfast.

#healthy living #health and fitness #suzieb-fit #good nutrition #health and nutrition #diet and nutrition #healthy nutrition #high fibre diet #high fat diet #dietary restrictions #healthy diet #food intolerances