#looks like melted butter lol <3

[i-am-beckyu]

Im cacjling thats actually beautiful

Karls side effect makes him a kid lol

Oh n m friend n i were brainstorming, n we thought it would be funny if sapnap was just totally made of fire. But like when he shoots fire he just gets smaller n smaller. So he could be a tiny man when the fights over

Glad you like it

and honestly the kid thing could kinda work to his advantage if he kept an adult like mentality. Just slips away through crowds unnoticed cause everyone's looking for his other sona: not a child.

And OOOO So sapnap is kinda like Ember from Elemental except he gets smaller if he exerts his fire. I like that!!! I assume to get big again he has to eat like wood or coal to grow like normal fires do? Would make sense but I def like this!

#squishy my beloved #beckyu answers #sidenote: I have a wax melts burner I was given this morning by my coworker and the melt is all sparkly and smells sooooo good! But it also #looks like melted butter lol <3

[has-brain-rot]

new poll 'cause i'm feeling quirky :]

I was going to put "hot dog" on the list (a piece of bread with some ketchup and mustard and maybe relish with a hot dog placed inside) but it's actually somewhat decent.

Also all bread in this situation is multigrain!

#polls #sandwich poll #look I'm just curious #I've suffered too many tomato sandwiches to have to never speak of them again #not on the list: #balogne sandwich (a piece of balogne and mustard) #leftovers sandwich (unseasoned meat with mustard) #the “should I even eat this” (questionably raw meat with mustard) #the “isn't this plastic” (balogne with processed cheese slice and mustard. you could keep the plastic on the cheese and it taste the same) #the “i traded everything for this” (the butter and ham sandwich someone at school would give me. a solid 3 cm of butter) #the “i want to die” (a sandwich that someone else made and put in the fridge that might be moldy. Sad! oh well!) #anywayss i'm curious. also you can share shitty sandwiches you ate growing up too. #see compared to these the tuna melts were sosososo good #however i also used to take dares from other people at school to eat weird combinations JUST so i'd have food at school lol #because idk WHERE people are but none of the many schools I went to had cafeterias or gave out food?? like what?? #if you were really lucky sometimes you could go down and get a snack bar or a squishy orange but that's it. there's no food at school #only what you bring #etc etc i am so normal :]

[space-blue]

Modern AU Feydpaul, hear me out

Imagine... Just imagine... Feyd's older brother (canonically called Glossu Raban btw lol) is in line to inherit the Harkonnen business, leaving him to enjoy the life he wants. He not really going to uni, one of those smart kids who shows up for the test only and smashes it, *somehow*. He prefers to spend his time working on his band (the Harpies, it's him and 3 bald ladies).

And then one day a student transfer comes in... And destroys Feyd on every test score. Wouldn't you know it, the Atreides conglomerate just won an enormous contract usually taken by the Harkonnen, and his family has moved in town.

Feyd goes to the club to shake the mood off and spots this weird dark academia style twink completely out of place there.

Then they chat, and Feyd gets rocked so hard in the club's toilet, he discovers himself several new kinks. He knows nothing about the guy who just dommed him into oblivion, just that they apparently go to the same uni.

Now picture his face when he rocks up to uni the next day looking for his new rival only for someone to point the 'Atreides guy' to him and it's last night's freak, in black corduroy and cable knit sweater, looking like his only experience with sex is from books, like butter doesn't melt in his mouth.

Anyway.

#spiced and I have been going a little bananas over the idea #it's stupid tasty #feyd being the normie out of the two is just #extremely funny #they definitely both stalk each other #but feyd's been too busy larking #Paul means business #Paul's mind games are out of his world #feydpaul #feyd rautha #harkonnen #paul atreides #modern au #dune 2 #dune 2 fanart

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, noncon to dubcon and back again lol, choking, fingering ( r!receiving ), all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day twenty-three [ shogo makishima + choking ]

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.” his voice is low, and unnervingly soft, but damned if it isn’t effective. when he croons to you, his baritone like a siren song, you’re certain to do whatever he wishes. “You’re being very rude.” like now, when your hues flicker upwards. you wished you could find a spot on his forehead, or right between his eyes, to focus on so you wouldn’t be locked into those deadly, golden gems. it’s a hopeless feat, however, because you’re drawn to them, almost if his eyes are magnetized.

and he’s smug once you’re locked in, the heat of his breath on your bottom lip as his couplet hovers just an inch or so from yours, parted etched into a victorious grin. “There she is, the soft and obedient little lamb that I expected you to be.”

and his first two fingers push deeper into you, your thighs clamping around his wrist when they curl, as if beckoning the sensation out of you. you whimper, biting on your lip to repress the sound, loathing how completely unlike you it sounds. so weak. so needy. but his fingers fit so deliciously inside of you. your hips are shameless as they jut forwards, pushing your lower half off the wall to grind against his pumping digits.

“You love this, don’t you?” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, “How snug my fingers are in that cunt? You feel so euphoric, I can tell by the twinkle in your eyes, and you can’t possibly imagine how this feeling could get better.”

you hated that he was right, but his wrist flicked, as graceful as a cat, and his fingers massage your interior nerves until you’re all but melting butter in his palm. you didn’t have to answer, he can read you like an open book.

“But, I can give that to you.” he murmurs, his soft, addictive couplet ghosting over yours. it takes everything in your power not to angle your face upwards and capture the tiers in a fierce kiss that you know wouldn’t satiate your hunger for him. “I can show you a nirvana your minimal daydreams have never even breached.”

because your want for Shogo was not an ember that could be snuffed out— your desire for him was a raging wildfire that left naught but chaos and torment in its wake within you.

of course, you would never tell him that, but he already knew.

“Do you want me to make you come undone?”

you shake your head, but keep your tiers tightly sealed— fearful that your mouth would betray you and favor the skillful fingers delving inside you, and you would beg him for a release. your hue was already tainted— you knew it was wrong to want a man so carnally, especially a killer like Shogo Makishima, but you couldn’t stop the depravity before it sank deep within you. it also didn’t help that he enjoyed tempting you so.

his eyes are nearly blinding, coruscating as he searches yours, and you know he can see right through the lie, but he’s still smiling. his free hand flees to grip your face, the pad of his thumb dragging along your lower lip. “I was asking as a courtesy, not because I need your permission. You know that, don’t you?” when he squeezes his fingers into your face, hollowing your cheeks, the act forces your lips to purse outwards, and they’re met with his pair crashing into them, devouring them. Shogo’s kiss is so overwhelming that you’re almost swept away, lost at sea within the embrace, and you nearly don’t feel a third finger join the other two, until he twists them, stretching you, and you whine against his lips.

he only chuckles, his hand holding your face steady, “Mm, I know. I know it must be a lot for you to take, but it feels good, doesn’t it? Stretching around my fingers like you’re made of elastic?”

“No—“ but it’s a sultry moan and your eyes flutter. your hips stutter as your body defies your mouth and rubs into his palm, wanting— no, needing more.

he chortles, shaking his head. “Your mouth says one thing, but your body tells me another. You’re giving yourself away, darling.” whilst he speaks, he smears the remnants of his sloppy, forceful kiss over your quivering lips and you can feel his fingers tight on your jaw.

then, only for what had to be a fraction of a second, a thought overtakes your mind. it’s quick, the visage of his hand dropping to grasp your throat instead of your face, and how much you’d enjoy that, and then you force it away from the forefront. but it’s much too late. an expression all too telling paints itself against his flawless countenance— the visage of a god possessed by power and victorious in his conquest of your fragile mentality.

“You are quite the demented, little thing, aren’t you? How badly you yearn to feel my hand on your throat— you know I would crush it, no problem whatsoever, don’t you? And that only has you wetter.”

humiliated with your face on fire, you attempt to turn away, but his fingers dig too fiercely into the vulnerable flesh of your cheeks, and you whine. you want to say no, to shake your head until your neck is sore, but you knew that your body was the traitor. no matter how much you lied to him, told him you weren’t enjoying it, he could feel your desire from the inside.

“I could make you tell me the truth if I wanted, I could finger fuck the pleases and thank yous right out of you.” he chuckles, before the hand upon your face careens downwards to clench a fist around your throat— your breath catches just beneath his palm, and your pulse pounds like a drum under the pad of his thumb, “and it’s not hard to see through your pathetic excuse for a facade, but it is exhilarating to watch you try and fool yourself into thinking this isn’t what you want.” his lips ghost over yours when he whispers, soft and daunting, and you’re hyper aware of the subtle flick of a devious tongue at the seam of your tiers; they part obediently and you exhale a shaky breath on to his face, much to your own dismay. “So, you keep telling me that you don’t love this—“ the pressure on your neck increases, constricting the air flow, and the rhythm between your thighs follows the trend; deep, slow thrusts picking up speed, yet sparing no intensity, until your eyes are rolling back, “and I’ll keep fucking your soft, warm cunt until you’ve nothing left in your fragile, little body to lie. Not an inkling of power, only submission for me.”

#shogo makishima #shogo x reader #shogo x you #shogo smut #shogo makishima x reader #shogo makishima x you #shogo makishima smut #psycho pass #psycho pass x reader #psycho pass x you #psycho pass smut

[wonderl3ss]

pairing: adam stanheight x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT! MINORS DNI. praise, pet names, unprotected, v sweet n vanilla tbh.

a/n: some smut as an apology for being ia for a year n a half lol. requests r open, pls read rules!! apologies if its short n a lil messy im new to writin this stuff. not proof-read

‘i miss you, can you come over?’

adams phone pinged, the message from you lighting up the screen and turning the phone on. it wasn’t unusual for you to message him at the most random times asking for him to come over, it had happened too many times to count.

being friends for so long, you knew each other inside out by this point. you claimed you were only best friends, but everyone could see that there were deeper feelings involved, yet neither of you acted on them. the fear of ruining your friendship was the only thing stopping you.

you had met him one night at a high school party after being introduced to him by a mutual friend. from that moment on there was rarely a day you two spent away from each other. you had truly just started out as good friends, it wasn’t until you both hit your 20s that you realised there was something more.

for the past year or so, you had found yourself thinking about him a lot more often, not just in a more romantic context, but sexually too.

countless nights you had stayed awake with adam being the only thing on your mind; imagining it was his fingers inside of you instead of your own. imagining his lips were travelling all over your body, leaving marks on your most sensitive spots. imagining he was yours, and you were his.

you needed him so bad, in more ways than one. you needed him to hold you, kiss you, touch you, talk to you. not as your friend, but as your lover.

adam didn’t even bother to text back, he instantly got into his car and started driving to yours. admittedly, he had been missing you too, and it wasn’t just you who held those feelings, he felt the exact same way.

he too had spent countless nights with his hand wrapped around his cock, imagining it was your hand instead of his. wishing instead of his hand, he was inside you. filling you up so good, letting you know you’re only his.

neither did he knock on your door when he reached your place; he didn’t need to. you two we’re together so often that anyone would assume you already lived together.

you greeted him by pulling him into a tight hug the second he walked through the door. it startled him ever so slightly as he wasn’t expecting it, but he melted into the hug just as quick. he thought he could sense the faint smell of alcohol on you.

“have you been drinking?” he pulled away to look you in the eyes.

“only a little. i had like, one beer,” you looked back and gestured to the empty bottle on your kitchen counter behind you. “do you want one?”

adam stepped further in, closing the door behind him before answering, “sure, why not.”

you walked over to the refrigerator and took out two beers, one for adam, and another for yourself. turning back around, you handed the bottle to him and spoke, “there’s more in there if you want another after that.”

he only nodded in response before opening the bottle and instantly taking a swig.

-

staring at eachother for no longer than 3 seconds, the alcohol in your system gave you the courage to do something you had wanted for so long. something you had spent many nights dreaming of.

grabbing ahold of both his cheeks, you pulled him closer until both your lips smashed together. the sudden movement caused adam to not kiss back for just a split second, but once he realised what was happening, he wasted no time in returning the gesture.

the feeling in your stomach was a feeling you had been long earning for; those butterflies that seemed to flutter around in your stomach every time you were with him were going crazy in this moment. it’s as if they were also waiting for this.

adams hands now rested on your waist, his touch was warm — hot, even. it made your core feel hot too, as if the butterflies were now burning and being replaced by something else. what that was, you couldn’t focus on enough to figure out. all you could focus on was adams lips on yours.

you finally pulled apart, admittedly not wanting to. adam was the first one to open his eyes, with yours following shortly after. the small smile on your face widened when you began to laugh ever so slightly from the hot feeling on your cheeks and in your stomach.

“care to explain what that was for?” he spoke, his voice sounding angelic, like something you’d never heard before — yet you had, many times. maybe it was the adrenaline and alcohol, but his voice made the heat you felt all over just that little bit hotter.

you shook your head, digging deep in your brain to find the right words. “you just looked so.. i don’t know.. enticing, i couldn’t help myself… maybe the alcohol is partially to blame.” you were completely and utterly smitten with this man.

adam just smirked before pulling you back in for another kiss. this time, he grabbed hold of your hips and pulled you onto him so you were straddling his lap. feeling the slight tent in his jeans made your core tingle.

he obviously wanted you just as bad as you wanted him.

feeling adams tongue enter your mouth, entwining with your own, you took this as a chance to grind down on his clothed cock. the small groan this elicited from him caused your core to heat up even more — if that was even possible. you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

as adam broke the kiss, you pouted slightly, already missing his lips. this pout soon disappeared as adam spoke, “are you okay with this?” he wanted to make sure this wasn’t going to be something you’d regret in the morning.

you hummed and nodded in response, you wanted to waste no time in speaking, only wanting him to kiss you again.

“i want to hear you say it,” he looked you in the eyes, his fingers playing with the hem of your t-shirt.

there was something about the way he said it that made a flip in you switch; wanting this more than ever now.

“yes, adam. please.” you didn’t mean for it to sound like you were begging, but deep down you really were. begging for him to just touch you already; begging to feel him inside you.

satisfied with your answer, he began to lift your t-shirt over your head. you lifted your arms to make it easier for him to pull it up and off. you did the same with his t-shirt too before throwing them both on the floor, not bothering to look where.

“god, you’re so beautiful.” adam breathed out, taking in every inch of your topless body. of course, he had seen you in bikinis and whatnot before, but this was different. this time it was intimate.

you subconsciously tried to wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to cover up, feeling embarrassed at the sudden compliment. adam didn’t let you though. he gently grabbed your wrists and placed your arms down by your sides.

attempting to take the attention off yourself, you kissed him again while reaching down to undo his belt, ushering him to take his jeans off.

you lifted yourself off his lap ever so slightly to allow him room to take them off, freeing his cock from the suffocating fabric, now only hiding behind one barrier — his underwear.

he then helped you in unbuttoning and pulling off your own jeans, leaving you both in your underwear. the thin fabric was doing nothing in hiding the obvious wetness he had caused to pool in your panties.

you sat back down on his lap, the head of his cock lightly rubbing against your clit, causing your breath to hitch in your throat at the sensation that ran through you.

“adam… please, i need you,” you begged, afraid you would explode if you waited any longer. you had never needed someone as bad as you need adam right now, and honestly, it was painful.

“oh, really?” adam obliged, taking his middle finger and pressing it against your clit, teasing you just a little longer — he enjoyed hearing you beg, enjoyed knowing it was him, and only him, that was making you so so needy.

the slight, quiet moan that you let out at his touch only made him more eager. he began to make circular motions on your clit, adding a little more pressure. you let out another moan and rested your head in the space between his shoulder and neck; all the teasing and longing for this moment, had made you so incredibly sensitive.

you wanted him inside you, now. no, you needed him inside you.

you decided to take initiative by removing his finger and gesturing to his boxers, hoping he'd get the hint that you wanted him to remove them. thankfully, he understood. after he had removed his underwear, he helped you in removing your own, now leaving the both of you completely naked.

you rested your hands on his shoulders, and his on your hips as he lined himself up with your entrance, your slick and his few drops of precum mixing together.

"fuck." he groaned out as he finally pushed into you, the words were spoken so lowly you could feel the vibrations from his throat travel toward where your hands rested on his shoulders.

his fingers pressed harder into your hips as he began to take control and slowly guide you further down his cock before lifting you up once again, allowing you to adjust to his size and find a pace you were comfortable with.

"you okay?" he asked, making eye contact with you. his eyes were glossed over, lids heavy and ever so slightly closed.

"yeah," you breathed out, biting your lip.

"you're doing so good." he felt you tighten around him as these words of praise fell from his lips. he smirked to himself before pulling you into another kiss.

the room was then filled with nothing but the vulgar sounds of quiet squelching and skin slapping against skin as you bounced on his cock, both of your juices mixing together. his hands moved to cup your ass, helping to take some strain off your thighs and make it easier for you.

his lips travelled to your neck, kissing and sucking on the spot right by your jugular, marking you as his, because after this there was no way he was going to let you get away.

it was as if he knew this was a sensitive spot of yours, because the feeling of his lips and the wetness of his tongue pressing against your neck caused you to let out a whine and tighten around him once more.

once he finally felt satisfied there was going to be a mark there, he pulled away, his mouth making a pop sound and leaving a string of saliva behind.

his middle finger then returned to your clit, rubbing circles on it to push you closer to your climax, because he knew there was no way he was going to last much longer, not with the way you feel around him. so warm, so wet, so tight, you fit around him so perfectly. it was as if you had both been crafted so precisely to fit together like two puzzle pieces. you were perfect.

"adam... fuck. im so close," you managed to speak out, feeling that familiar sensation building up in your core.

"cum for me, baby. you're doing so good, c'mon." the pet name was just the cherry on top of all the praise. you sloppily kissed him as you felt the high of your orgasm wash over you.

adam wasn't far behind you, pulling out just in time to let his cum spill out onto your stomach and around his own thighs as you rested your head on his shoulder to catch your breath.

he sat you next to him before standing up and walking into your bathroom to grab a towel, and run a bath for the both of you to relax and clean yourselves off.

he returned back into the living room and you noticed he had already wiped himself off in the bathroom. he walked over to you and cleaned you up with said towel. when he was satisfied he had wiped most of it up, he kissed your forehead and dragged you into the bathroom to pop you into the tub.

he sat you in between his legs, softly kissing your neck as you closed your eyes, revelling in the warmth of the water and fondness you held toward the man behind you. you let out a sigh of contentment before speaking up, "adam?"

"yes, baby?" he replied, the petname causing you to let out a little giggle, those nervous butterflies returning once again.

"what are... we now?" you asked, turning around to face him, hoping he'd reply with what you had been waiting years to hear.

"i think we both know what we are," one more kiss to your forehead, "i ain't lettin' you go anywhere after that,"

you let out another sigh, one of relief this time, "god, i love you," you returned the kiss, on his lips this time before turning back around and laying against adam, him sliding his hands around your waist.

"i know, baby. i love you, too."

"i like when you call me that."

#saw x reader #adam stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #adam stanheight smut #saw smut #saw 2004

[messier51]

In reference to your tags on the food that makes life worth living post - what are chicken squares???

They're kind of like chicken salad sandwiches but wrapped up and baked in crescent roll dough.

They are very delicious.

[image description: four baked chicken squares still on the pan. they aren't very square but the crescent roll dough is nicely browned and they're covered in browned stuffing bits]

At the risk of sounding like a food blogger, these are the food that I'd ask for when given a choice for my birthday. These are kind of an ultimate comfort food nostalgia thing for me. I use an altered version of my grandma's recipe (I measure with my heart, I am so sorry gramma but it turns out just fine this way, and no extra mushrooms) which is below vvvv. There IS a recipe online, on the Official Pillsbury Website (https://www.pillsbury.com/recipes/savory-crescent-chicken-squares/) from one of their contests. The name on the recipe is not my grandma, but the location is not far from where she lived. My grandma's recipe is better (obviously) but they're very similar and the version at the link is half the size if you want to try it but don't want to do math or something.

Part of the reason for making the full 8-sandwich version from my grandma's recipe is that it uses a full modern 8oz package of cream cheese (instead of the 3oz version that used to be common I guess?), and then you do not put the other half back in your fridge and forget about it until it gets moldy. If that's too much food, the chicken squares freeze really well! Just bake them for slightly shorter (I do it about 20 minutes) and then stick them in a freezer bag in the freezer until you want to eat them. They just need to be re-baked!

Chicken Squares Recipe (from aj's grandma)

Filling:

1 8oz package of softened cream cheese

1/2 stick butter (that's 1/4 cup) (recipe says "or margarine" lol) melted (you use the other half of it below)

4 cups cooked cubed chicken (this can be approximate. One rotisserie chicken or so. Leftover turkey works great! Canned chicken would probably be good too. My sister does hers with mushrooms for vegetarian reasons but I have no clue how to do that. You can adjust this though! It's super forgiving.)

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

4 Tbsp milk (that's 1/4 cup)

4 Tbsp lemon juice

3 Tbsp chopped chives or onion. (Or like, as much as you want. If you like onion, more onion is really good in this. I have used half a large onion, a whole bundle of green onions, whatever looks good. 3 Tbsp is not enough imo, but if you're not into onions, then maybe ignore me)

2 8oz cans of refrigerated crescent rolls.

Sauce:

1 can chicken broth

2 cans cream of mushroom and/or cream of chicken soup

1 pint cream, half and half, or milk

sauteed fresh or canned mushrooms

Topping:

Pepperidge Farm Herb Seasoned Dressing (not the cubed kind) (you can use whatever breadcrumbs you have but the seasonings are really good! Sage, thyme, rosemary, poultry seasonings, whatever.)

The other half of your stick of butter

Instructions:

Cream the cream cheese (a stand mixer is helpful for this) and beat in 1/2 stick of melted butter. Beat until smooth.

Add chicken, onion, salt, pepper, milk, lemon juice. (Order doesn't really matter.) Mix well.

Separate 1 package of crescent dough into 4 rectangles. Firmly press perforations to seal 2 triangles together. Pat out dough to make thinner and larger (make it sorta square if you cant). (See alternate options below*)

Place about 1/2 cup filling into the center of each dough rectangle. Pull the 4 corners to the center. Twist slightly and pinch together, and pinch the sides that came together to seal. (It's totally ok if they're not perfect. They filling isn't gonna go anywhere.)

[4 unbaked chicken squares on a cookie sheet with a silicone baking mat. Three of them are sealed and kind of lumpy, the fourth is still laying out as a square-ish shape of dough with a scoop of filling in the middle. It's got a lot of green onions in it.]

Repeat with your second roll of rolls.

Melt other 1/2 stick of butter in a shallow bowl or pie plate and fill a 2nd shallow bowl with the stuffing/dressing/herbed seasoned bread crumbs.

Set out a cookie pan (I like to line them with parchment paper but it's fine if you don't, they won't stick).

Carefully lift one sandwich packet. Dip both sides(!) in butter and then in the stuffing. Place on the cookie sheet. (Sometimes I wear gloves for this step, your fingers WILL get gooey. You want the bread crumbs sticking out all over, it'll be delicious.)

Repeat for the rest of them.

[four unbaked chicken squares coated in butter and stuffing bread crumbs on a cookie sheet, ready to go into the oven]

Bake at 350°F for 20-25 minutes (or at 375 for about half an hour if you live on top of a mountain like me). They should be golden brown when they're done (see photos at top and bottom of the post).

You can partially bake and freeze or refrigerate for later!

Prepare sauce:

(I'm going to be honest I don't bother. Sometimes I make a can of cream of mushroom soup in the microwave and pour it on top. It's good! But it's way too much for just a me, and it doesn't freeze as well.)

Sauté mushrooms in about 1/4 cup of butter (sorry that's another half stick of butter, that wasn't in the list above)

Heat chicken broth and cans of soup.

Mix in mushrooms

Simmer until thick and bubbly. Reduce heat and add cream right before use. DO NOT boil after adding cream.

To serve, ladle mushroom sauce over each chicken square on plate.

[a baked chicken square in a shallow bowl swimming in cream of mushroom soup]

*Alternatives to trying to make squares out of crescent dough:

Supposedly it works with dinner roll dough too but I don't remember ever doing that.

Buy the sheets of crescent dough, which makes it a little less likely to split along the diagonal where you tried to smoosh them together.

Make little roll ups! Spoon filling onto large side of the crescent roll triangle and roll up just like you would if you were making it without filling (this is also really good with jam or nutella js). You can still dip them in the butter and dressing, they turn out great! You get a bigger bread to filling ratio, so you might need more rolls for the same amount of filling. Bake time is a little shorter though, keep an eye on them. They're cute though!

[three chicken roll ups(?) on a plate]

[baked chicken squares and roll ups on parchment paper-covered cookie sheets sitting on the stove]

So, go forth and eat chicken squares. I've got some in my freezer that I made after thanksgiving with my leftover turkey, I'm going to eat some on Monday for my birthday meal, as is traditional.

#replying to asks #chicken squares #recipe #idk if i would call these specifically a midwestern food but they have that vibe to them #cream cheese is so delicious #the filling is safe to eat too so you're just baking the crescent roll dough and heating up the insides #i took pics one of the more recent times i made them bc every time i mention these people go 'what' #lmao #now i have a whole post i can just link to in the future #random personal stuff #sorta

[hyvcklvr]

hi sorry to bother you. I was wondering if you could do a scenario for nct dream where they like it when their gf scratches their back?

Thank you so much for your request! Requests are never a bother ok. I've tbh never written about anything like this before lol but I tried my best. I hope you like it<3

I got another request like this for head pats, but unfortunately I deleted it accidentally so I'll be including that scenario in this one too! It ended up being something like how simple touches help the dreamies relax but I hope you like it anyway!

Requests open!!

Relax

Mark: Starting off with Mark, who is big on skinship even if he doesn't show it all the time. He melts to your every touch as if he's a stick of butter. When he's having a hard time, you softly caress his back, lightly scratching it and oh- it's like electricity courses through his veins. Suddenly he's forgotten everything and he's in cloud nine when you run a hand through his hair and pat his head, "it's okay baby, relax." You say and all he can think of is you and your somehow magical touch.

Haechan: Even though Haechan is always the one who's initiating the skinship, mostly giving it, not many know how much he likes to be touched, even in a non sensual way. He had a habit of lying on his stomach when he's going through his phone before bed, and soon you'll settle down next to him, phone in your hand, lying on your back. It's the one time of the day which both of you devote to work emails and important texts, and you have the habit of reaching out your hand and putting it on Haechan's back, and maybe softly giving it scratches. He thinks he does a good job in hiding how much he likes it but it's all lies, you see right through him. The minute you start caressing his hair he drops his phone, eyes closing and sleep overtaking him. "Gosh, you're such a baby." You laugh, looking at his half lidded eyes and he hums in agreement. "Mhm. Just for you." He says before pulling you closer and snuggling under the blanket with you.

Renjun: Renjun pretends to not like it when you're clingy with him, but he actually loves it. He loves it when you treat him like his little baby, giving him neck massages while he's working or absentmindedly scratching his back when you're going through your phone. He doesn't make a single sound and you don't notice that he has his eyes closed and head laid back until you look over to him. You'd coo at the sight, "Does my baby like this?" You'd say, gently caressing his hair with your fingers. He'd blush crimson, trying hard not to smile when he grumbles a small "shut up." But you know he doesn't want you to shut up when he pulls you in closer and buries his head in your neck. You give him a pat on his head as if he's some kid, and he loves it.

Jeno: Jeno's friends call him a puppy, and true to this name, he absolutely adores it when you'd lie next to him at night and caress his hair. Your perfectly manicured nails gave soft scratches to his back and he shivered, his hold on your waist becoming tighter. It feels like you're softly lulling him to sleep, and it's almost ironic how this huge man is a baby for you. None of you are big on talking, the minute he starts falling asleep, you give him a kiss on his cheek and whisper a small good night to him. He doesn't forget to reciprocate your actions, by kissing every inch of your face before going to sleep.

Jaemin: Jaemin very openly enjoyed your touches, but he was still shy to voice it out. You'd be cuddling on the couch with him and he'd pull your hand and rest it on your head, avoiding eye contact, simply smiling at the ground and that very minute you knew what he wanted, and you'd give it to him. You'd softly rake your fingers through his hair, hands slowly working their way towards his back where you'd scratch softly and he'd let out a sigh of relief, because after a long day of work this is just what he needed. He'd always remember to pay you back for the favour, by holding you as close as possible to himself, which you liked very much. The words between both of you were unspoken, but you knew each other well enough to know what the other needed at which moment.

Chenle: Chenle never thought he'd be into something like that, but when you absentmindedly caressed his hair that night while cuddling, something sparked inside of him. He loved it and it was evident on his face. “Do you like this?” You asked, and he smiled, nodding his head. You ruffled his hair and pressed kisses all over his face while softly raking your nails along the length of his back. You could feel his muscles relaxing under your touch, and before you knew it, he was fast asleep, hugging you with your head buried at the crook of his neck.

Jisung: Jisung would never directly ask you, but it was so relaxing to him. He'd crawl into the bed next to you at night and just sit there for a moment, and when you didn't give him the attention he wanted, he'd huff and fidget, as if he were a little kid. Finally you'd look at him, and he'd hold your hand, stroking it with his fingers. “Can-can you just...help me relax? I've had a bad day.” He'd mumble and you'd coo at him, immediately pulling him closer. “Oh baby, all you had to is ask.” He'd snuggle closer to you, resting his head in your shoulder and you'd softly caress his hair, maybe even massage his neck before dragging your fingers up and down across his back. It was perfect, he thought.

#nct #nct u #nct x reader #nct fluff #fluff #idol x reader #nct dream #nct wayv #nct dream x reader #nct dream x reader fluff #jisung fluff #chenle fluff #jaemin fluff #haechan fluff #mark fluff #renjun fluff #jeno fluff #kpop fluff #jisung x reader #haechan x reader #chenle x reader #mark x reader #jaemin x reader #jeno x reader #renjun x reader

[whentherewerebicycles]

hello dear Jes, I am all out of good meal ideas!! I’m always in awe of your drive to cook and the great-looking meals you create. Any good recs for yummy and relatively easy / quick recipes? thank u 🙏

hello!! yes here are some very easy, low effort low prep recipes i love. the bolded ones are the ones i find myself making most often when i am like wow i do NOT want to cook but if i must do so, i wish to make the easiest thing ever.

shakshuka (all recipes are basically the same! i make it with canned tomatoes to cut down on prep, add a sliced jalapeno to make it spicier, and top it with feta and cilantro. if you are not crazy about eggs my sister often makes it with chickpeas and no eggs!)

thai peanut noodles (you can make as-is but i often add roasted broccoli and air fryer tofu if i have time!)

ricotta pasta with roasted broccoli and chickpeas (i roast the broccoli rather than broiling it as i am afraid of broiling lol but it's very easy and delish)

creamy corn pasta (my beloved)

spaghetti with onion-"bacon", corn, and basil

roasted sweet potato tacos (roast sweet potatoes, warm black beans on the stove with spices, and make easy quick-pickled onions if i have time - then you can add avocado, sour cream, cilantro, and any other toppings you like!)

potato egg and cheese breakfast tacos (i roast or air-fry small-cubed potatoes, scramble eggs, melt cheese into the eggs, and top with the salsa of your choice!)

migas breakfast tacos

tortellini with pesto and roasted veggies

caprese toasts (toast bread of your choice, then add pesto, sliced mozzarella, sliced cherry tomatoes, basil if you have it, and balsamic glaze... my all-time fave easy/no-cook meal)

pesto pasta with frozen peas (another super easy one i make when i want to barely cook at all - you boil the frozen peas in the pasta pot for the last three minutes of the pasta's cook time. then add pesto, grated parmesan, a squeeze of lemon, and halved cherry tomatoes if you have them)

easy asparagus soup (thinly slice a leek and cut 1-2 bunches of asparagus into half inch pieces. melt 3 TBS of butter in your pot, then saute the leek plus 5-6 cloves of garlic for 8 min. add asparagus pieces and 4-6 cups of veggie stock, bring to a boil, salt and pepper, and simmer for 30 min. transfer it all to a blender and blend, then add 1/4th cup grated parmesan and the juice of half a lemon. serve with crusty croutons and sliced chives)

roasted sweet potato & figs dish (you can also make with dried dates if you can't find figs!)

easy chana masala

nectarine, arugula, and feta salad (best in the summer when it's nectarine season but delish all year round... you can also use peaches. i usually serve it on a bed of quinoa so it's more filling/more of a main dish. the basil dressing is to die for i could eat it with a spoon)

avocado & egg sandwich (you can make this on a bagel, english muffin, or bread... just toast your bread, mash avocado onto the bread & sprinkle with red pepper flakes, and then scramble or fry eggs to your liking and put on top)

#jes cooks

[staybabblingbaby]

SKZ x Coordi (Lee Know Part) a1 d4

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Reader is a successful makeup artist with a notorious and prolific career and no self awareness. Reader joins JYP as a part of Stray Kids' team and encounters their hazing ritual for new coordis: flirting.

Word Count: 639

Notes: I don't really like this one. It doesn't really feel Lee Know enough, yknow? I'll probably revise this entirely at some point. Upon review I also think the flirt is too subtle for the reaction Reader has. I mean, I would fold, but Reader is stronger than me lol. I am not our strongest soldier. Also needs editing for clarity + detail.

Warnings: None that I know of? Reader has weird self esteem but it's not bad? Reader referred to with She/Her pronouns

Masterlist link :D | Prev Part Link <3 | Next Part Link ;3

You’re not sure if it’s Han or Bangchan who informs the rest that you’re game to play along, but they must have. There's no other reason for the next attempt to be so much bolder. It’s about three days after Chan’s cheesy pickup line and you’re shadowing Lee Know’s usual makeup artist today. The two of you had decided (with Lee Know’s consent, of course) to do an even split down his face, and you’d copy what she was doing as she was doing it. It was working wonderfully, in your humble opinion, and as long as Ji-Won doesn’t look too long at your station, you’re certain you’ll get away with it.

You’re chatting idly with the idol as the other artist does one of his eyes. You’d kept bumping elbows at that point and you’d decided to back off for a bit in favor of preserving the look. Once you’d made some friends outside of work, maybe you’d be able to convince them to do something similar. Then you jostle each other all you wanted. Somehow, the topic of age comes up.

“I’m a 2000’s baby,” you inform him cheerfully, “I’m between Hyunjin and Han, age-wise.” He narrows his one open eye at you, and you can swear you see the moment a devious thought crosses his mind.

“Ah,” he muses, “You’re younger than me? Should I call you informally then?” You narrow your eyes at him then. You’re aware there’s a trap in there somewhere. The entire team was well aware of your overly polite manner of speech at this point. Even the girls you’d tentatively consider friends at this point were not granted permission to speak informally with you. Ji-Won was the only one who dared, as your head stylist. Still, you yourself spoke very politely to her in turn.

You know Lee Know is well aware of this. Lee Know is aware that you’re aware. You walk into the trap with a reluctant smile pulling at your lips anyways.

“Not at work, no.” You deny him. Your professionalism was your value, and you were someone who stuck by their principals. A smirk crawls over his face and you know you’ve been had.

“So home would be fine then?” He questions innocently, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. The implication is not lost on you nor on the stylist currently painting his face. You choke on a surprised laugh and her face contorts in amusement and embarrassment.

Quick as a whip, you shoot back, “In your dreams, maybe.” your sunbae finally cracks at this, setting the brush she was using down to sink to the floor and giggle helplessly into her knees. Lee Know, on the other hand, is looking at you with smug approval. And you simply cannot let that stand.

You lean forward with devious intent written all across your face. You lean in until your mouth is level with his ear, taking advantage of the other coordi’s distraction.

“And oh, what sweet dreams they’d be,” You whisper seductively, pausing just to emphasize, “Oppa.” before you lean back and smile, pleased as punch, at his flabbergasted expression.

You turn to your sunbae, still giggling on the floor, and offer to finish your side of Lee Know’s face while she pulled herself together. She flaps a hand at you uselessly, and you take that as permission. If you’re using the distraction to keep yourself from blushing, that’s for you and your elevated heart rate to know. After all, it’s not often you’re propositioned with such a sweet voice.

You can’t totally count this as a win, in all fairness. But you gave as good as you got, you think, and so you’ll count this one as a tie. Congratulations, Lee Minho, the first SKZ point on the board.

Coordis - 3, SKZ - 1.

#Baby Writes #Coordi AU #skz fanfic #skz fic #Stray kids fanfic #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #w.i.p fic #w.i.p

[azucarmorena97]

𝓑𝓸𝔂 𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓛𝓾𝓿…🍬|| BTS Reactions to Having a Plus Size GF

Love is beautiful in any and every form- and your form is his absolute favorite ;)

Makae Line coming soon <3

Jin

Absolutely ADORES your body, cannot stop touching you

Pokes your stomach incessantly, as it's his favorite part

will always choose staying home and stuffing his face with you over going anywhere else

Will stab anyone who makes fun of your weight protective

loves to reenact Lady and the Tramp whenever you guys eat noodles

"I made us some noodles, my love," He says, carefully walking over your bowls to the table. "No thanks, I'm not really hungry." He stares at you for a long while, bowls still in hand, an irritated expression on his face, "Then what did I do all this for?" "I didn't ask for you to make me noodles," You laugh. He puts the bowls down and then takes chop sticks out of this pocket, "Stop talking nonsense. Eat."

2.) Suga

hates when you insult yourself

thinks it's cute when you try to wear his t-shirts and they make you look like a sexy Winnie the Pooh

likes to randomly pinch your stomach when you're cuddling

Isn't as expressive with words

praises your body with his tongue

"Ugh, for ONCE I want to be able to wear you clothes without feeling like burrito busting out the foil," You groan, glaring at your reflection. He rolls his eyes, though admittedly it does cause him to chuckle a bit, "Oh stop." He comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist. He takes in the way your beautiful curves fill out his shirt- he especially loves how it looks paired with only those pretty little panties. Without another word, he kisses your neck; gently at first, but as soon as you tilt your head to the side to give him better access, it's a wrap.

3.) Jhope

Will not let you walk by him without smacking your ass

Loves your confidence and your massive thighs big heart

Put a mochi emoji next to your name LOL

keeps a photo of you in his wallet

loves every square inch of you

He leans back, eyes fixed on you as you focus on your reflection while you put in your earrings. Everything about you looks absolutely right tonight. "Baby, can you help zip me up?" You ask, turning your back to him. "With pleasure," He says. You press your boobs up higher to help the zipper a bit, sucking it in a bit as well. Once its all the way up, you're able to relax and smooth out the dress. "Oh yeah- this dress was a good choice," You say, turning sideways in the mirror to check out your ass. "Hell yeah it was," He says, runnings his hand down your back and then letting it trail down to your butt, "I might just keep you in this room to myself for the rest of the night."

4.) Namjoon

Never had the opportunity to date a plus sized girl before you (see below)

addicted

instant attraction from the moment he met you

attracted to your confidence and the way you carry yourself- like you're really THAT girl.

would throw hands for you fr

You wrap the towel tightly around your body, careful to tuck the top in so it doesn't fall as you walk around the room gathering everything you need to get ready for bed. "'Joon, can you pass me the shea butter from that drawer over there?" You ask, sitting down on the corner of the bed. "Of course," He says, his voice sounding giddy, "Can I do it?" "Why?" You laugh, watching him excitedly approach you with the the shea butter. "Come on, just say yes." "Alright, go ahead." He gets on one knee in front of you, dipping his finger in the butter and then rubbing it between his hands to melt it. You stare down at him, a sense of power rushing over you as you lift your leg and rest it on his shoulder. He looks over at your thigh, bottom lip falling open slightly. He begins rubbing the shea butter up and down, making sure to coat every single inch, though after a few moments he can't contain himself as he begins peppering your inner thigh with kisses. He's absolutely hooked.

#bts #jungkook #suga #jimin #jin #namjoon #bts imagine #jhope #bangtan sonyeondan #bts x reader #bts fanfic #kpop

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 3

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Chapter 3: Sedated

Chapter Summary: Something something a drunk mind speaks a sober heart.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 7.1k+

Content / Warnings: alternating POV, death, car accident mention, drug addiction, attempt to date rape, sweet bb dee gets to go off on a mf, consent discussions, flashbacks, binge drinking / alcohol use / blackout drunk, grief, divorce, angst, yearning, spooky ghost, hangover, toxic parent

Notes: Chapter title from "Sedated" by Hozier. Y'all I keep writing a million words per chapter lol. Brevity is apparently not my forte. Ok thanks for reading, friends, I appreciate you!!

[ Tag List ] [ AO3 ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ Series Masterlist ]

By the next time Dieter is able to come visit you, the snow has long since melted, and the idea of wearing a jacket sounds like hell on earth. Even now, when the sun has gone to bed and the moon is glowing full and luscious in the sky, the air is a thick soup that clings to Dieter’s skin as he walks the block from a liquor store to your apartment. He’s clutching a brown paper bag, which contains a bottle of whiskey, per your request. 

When he finds the entryway to your apartment complex and buzzes your unit, your voice comes crackling over the speaker into the tiny echoing glass box of a room, “Whooo is iiiit?!”

He flinches back at the unexpected intensity of volume, but presses the speaker button and responds, “Dieter.”

“DEEEE OH MY GOD HI! Come in, come in!!” you squeal, piercing his eardrums again, quickly followed by the buzz signaling the door being unlocked. He winces back. The slurs in your voice are evident already. 

I'm too fucking sober for this shit. 

Dieter yanks the heavy door open, limbs feeling exhausted and all too real. The plastic seal of the whiskey bottle crackles as he twists the cap off on the short stroll to the elevator. 

The circular button with an up arrow lights up when he presses it. He lifts the heavy glass bottle to his lips and takes three deep swallows of the intoxicant. A soft ding chimes, and the elevator's aluminum doors slide open. He steps inside, carefully avoiding his reflection in the mirrored walls as he smashes 5 on the panel of floor choices. His eyes fix on the glowing circle until his focus fades into abstract. 

He regrets not making another stop between his hotel room and your apartment. The deep yearning to snort a line of a powdered god complex straight to the back of his skull twists around his skin. It works in tandem with the tacky layer of sweat and humidity coating his body, exposing his nerve endings to the unrelenting stimulation of the world around him. 

As the elevator signals its ascent, he shifts his attention to the open bottle, to his fist wrapped around the crinkly brown bag at its glass neck, and raises it to his lips again. He tips it upside down and it glug-glug-glugs down his throat in time with the ding of the elevator flying up past floors 1, 2, 3, 4. 

The love-hate relationship he has with the smooth burn wages inside him when he reaches floor 5. He lowers the bottle, hissing as his mouth-to-stomach pipeline protests the whiskey. His head whips back and forth violently and his body shudders. The elevator doors slide open and he steps out, rolling his shoulders and tapping his fingers against the crinkle of the brown paper bag. 

He strolls up to your door, pausing to take a deep breath. His knuckles wrap against the dark wooden door. You bellow from inside, “IT’S OPEN!” 

When he opens the door, he looks around and immediately regrets coming here. You’re sitting cross-legged on the velvet, eggplant colored couch, half-empty beer bottle wedged between your thighs, wearing nothing but a loose, white, Fleetwood Mac tank top that hangs off one shoulder and a pair of black boyshorts. Tattooed, puzzle piece skin fully on display, looking butter soft in the golden light that emits from a floor lamp in the corner. 

Your beauty and lack of modesty isn’t what sets his hair on end, though. 

It’s the string bean of a man sitting next to you, hard eyes looking all too sober in contrast to how obviously wasted you are. His long, dishwater blonde hair is pulled back in a tight bun at the crown of his head. He’s wearing a pair of gray basketball shorts. That’s it. What Dieter assumes is the man's navy blue t-shirt is discarded on the plush, white carpet of your living room floor. 

His fingers slide along your bare thigh possessively as he sizes Dieter up. You look like you barely notice the touch, or even the person, as you clap your hands together and wave at Dieter, “Deeeeeeee ohmy godddd I’m so excited to see you, come here!” 

You jump to your feet, sending the beer bottle toppling onto the floor. The mystery man looks irritated and hisses as he flinches back at the sudden movement and its subsequent mess. 

“Oh noooo!” you giggle and snort, then try to bend over and pick the bottle up and stumble forward, catching yourself before you fall into the unlit gas fireplace. 

“I got it, I got it,” Dieter strides into the kitchen and trades the bottle of whiskey for a roll of paper towels off the countertop, bunching a few into a wad as he makes his way into the living room. You grab them from Dieter’s hands, then drop to your hands and knees, pressing down into the wet spot, soaking up the spilt beer. His eyes flick to Mr. Mysterio, who’s staring down your shirt, no doubt getting a fantastic view of your tits. 

Dieter goes back to the kitchen and rifles through cupboards until he finds a glass, then pours himself a hefty dose of liquor, and asks, “Either of you want a drink?” 

Mr. Mysterio shakes his head, “Nah, I’m good, thanks man.” 

“Yes, please!” you chime as you climb to your feet and clumsily make your way into the kitchen. Dieter shudders as your hand trails across the small of his back when you pass him.

You free throw the saturated, balled up paper towels towards the garbage. Your attempt fails, and the wad hits the linolium flooring with a wet smack. It goes unnoticed, and you grab a glass from the cupboard he left open, then set it down with a clink next to his. 

You lean back against the counter, gazing at Dieter with a hazy, half-there smile, “Thank you, boo.” 

Given your current state of sloppy drunk, he considers tricking you into drinking water instead of booze, but you’re eyeing the glass expectantly. Against his better judgment, he pours the amber liquid into the glass. 

“Who’s your friend?” Dieter mumbles, nodding to the shirtless man. 

You look ponder this, then tilt your head sideways to Mr. Mysterio, whose balls deep into something on his phone, “What’s your name again?” 

“Max,” he answers without looking up. 

“Max,” you repeat, grabbing the glass and pushing yourself off the counter. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

You tip toe back to the couch, swaying like a pendulum as you navigate the path. Dieter swallows the contents of his cup and pours more before he joins you two lovebirds on the couch. 

“So, is this gonna happen or not?” Max sighs. He finally peels his eyes away from the iPhone screen to roll his head on his shoulders and look you up and down. 

You frown and furrow your brow at him, “Ssss what happening? What’s happening?” 

He raises an eyebrow, “Sex.” 

Dieter has to physically bite his tongue. The muscle writhes beneath the grip of his teeth. Un-fucking-believable. This fucking scumbag is still trying to fuck you. 

“Mmm,” you toss your head back and forth, as if you’re actually fucking considering this, then look from Dieter to Max, “Not unnnnless Dee canjoin.” 

“No,” both men say simultaneously, but for very different reasons. 

Max stuffs his phone in his pocket and rips his shirt off the ground, then tugs it over his head, “Thanks for wasting my time.” 

Dieter’s teeth release his tongue, and he sneers, “Were you seriously gonna fuck her?” Dieter's eyes narrow in a glare at Max's back as he walks by, “She’s shitfaced.” 

Max chuckles as he heads for the door, disregarding the comments. 

Dieter’s nostrils flare and he stands up, noting that his body feels lighter, more fluid. The whiskey is hitting him. He trails behind the douchebag and fumes, “She can barely fucking stand, you think she can fucking consent?”

“Hey, man, she messaged me and told me she wanted me to come fuck her in the ass,” Max asserts, turning to face Dieter with his hands up defensively, “I was just tryna hold up my end of the deal.” 

“There no fucking deal if she doesn’t know what she’s doing,” Dieter bellows, getting heated now. 

“Listen, I don’t give a shit,” Max scoffs and walks to the door, calling back as he exits, “Good luck, man.”

Once the door closes, Dieter stomps over and deadbolts it. He mutters under his breath, "Dare you to come back here, you fucking little shit." 

When he turns around, you’re folded in on yourself, arms wrapped around your legs, face buried between your knees. Shattered sobs wrack your body. 

Dieter throws his head back and looks at the ceiling, hoping his gaze shoots straight to whatever omnipotent being hangs out at the end of that backlit tunnel he never made it to the end of. He sends a psychic signal, asking, “What the fuck did I do to deserve this?” 

The almighty tunnel demon or whatever doesn’t respond, and he supposes it doesn’t fucking matter anyway. This is happening. His shoulders sag as he releases a sigh that’s the exact square footage of his lungs. He grabs the bottle of whiskey en route to the couch, then plops down next to you and coos, “You… you ok?”

He was never good at this whole “comforting” thing. Maybe he should just leave. You probably won’t remember anyway. He seriously considers this, and he’s tossing the idea back and forth across his brain when you turn to face him. His body goes rigid as you meet his gaze. 

Your eyes are bloodshot and glassy, your pretty face sopping wet with tears. Maybe some snot, too, but you’re still fucking beautiful. Which is insane. Your face folds in its sadness and you whimper, “Why’d you say that, Dee?”

His mouth gapes open and he furrows his brow, shaking his head from side to side in confusion, “Wh-what?”

“You said ‘were you seriously gonna fuck her?’” your face contorts as you put on a faux deep voice, and Dieter assumes that’s an attempt to mock him. 

“No shit, Lua-” he scoffs, throwing his hands up in disbelief. Are you seriously mad at him for shooing away the fucking creep that tried to date rape you? 

“Why would you say it like that? Like ‘who would fuck her, that’s disgusting’? Is- is it because of my scars?” your eyes are welling with tears again and you self-consciously run a hand along the side of you that was put back together by sutures. 

He shakes his head and turns his body to face you, “No-”

“Am I really that fucking ugly?” you squeak and your body shudders as you inhale a sob. 

“Absolutely fucking not,” Dieter booms incredulously. 

Your face is wet and crumpled up like the beer-soaked paper towel on the floor beside your kitchen garbage can. You’re still crying. Is this what the whole night is gonna be? 

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and runs his hands through his hair, sending it every which way, and sighs, “You are… fucking gorgeous, Lua,” he pauses, then his brow quirks as he admits, “The things I would do to you… Unholy, unspeakable things, really, honestly. I would fuck you senseless any given day. I mean that.” 

A dopey smile spreads across your lips and you giggle. His face falls into earnestness, and he searches your face, “But I wouldn’t touch you if you were too drunk to consent. That’s a shitty fucking thing to do," he grits his teeth and cocks his jaw, dropping his gaze to the floor, "Which is why I asked that rat-faced fuck if he was seriously going to fuck you.” 

This explanation seems to satisfy you. Your puffy, red eyes finally stop producing tears. They’re far away and searching, like you’re deep in thought. 

“It’s fucked up that he would even consider it, let alone encourage it,” Dieter scratches the scruff on his neck and mutters, “Where’d you even find this guy, Lua?”

You shrug and take a deep, shaky breath, exhaling the residual cobwebs of sorrow that accumulated while you cried, “Jusss tinder.”

“Tinder,” he repeats with disdain, looking around the room at anything except your beautiful face, “Having any luck on there?” 

“Sss fine for what I need,” you inhale deep and unfold yourself, stretching your hands and feet as far away from your body as they can reach. The tank top you’re wearing pulls up and exposes a generous helping of your mid-drift. You let out a squeak and arch into the stretch. He has to avert his eyes to keep from ogling at the curve of your breasts that peak out from beneath the shirt. 

“And what’s that?” he looks down at the bottle of whiskey, then raises it to his lips, taking a big, burning swallow. 

You shake out your limbs, then look from the armrest, to him, “Can I lay m’ head on your lap? Looks comfy.”  

Dieter stammers, “Oh, uh… yeah, sure.” 

He makes room for you, leaning his back against the velvet couch as you scoot over and lay your head in his lap, draping your legs across the arm rest. Mentally, he pleads with his dick to not make a fool of him. The army green cotton shorts he’s wearing are thin and loose, and will absolutely not fucking conceal any kind of rumblings down under. 

“Hookups,” you tell him, looking up with a devious smile from your place on his lap, “No strings, y’know.”

“I am all about no-strings-attached,” he touches his fingertips to his chest and grins, peering down at you.  

“Deeeee,” you whine, gripping his free hand and interlacing your fingers with his. His dick jumps at the contact. God damn you. You don’t notice, just snuggle his arm against your chest like it’s a teddy bear and pout, “Can’t hook up with you like those guys. Too, um... stringy.” 

The admission twists his guts up in a confusing knot. He’s feeling numb around the edges, though, and moves past it, chuckling, “Too stringy?”

“I like you too much,” you blink and nod, then reach up and tap your finger to the tip of his nose and giggle, “Boop.”

“You are so fucking drunk, Lua, holy shit,” he starts laughing, hiding the heat spreading across his cheeks. He takes another long swig of whiskey, then snorts, “I’m tryin’ to get on your level.” 

You don't respond except for an amused hum. Some time passes in silence, your hands clasped together, huddled against the warmth of your chest. Sweat pooling between your skin and his. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the couch. In this darkness, he can zero in on the thudding of your heart as it pumps blood through your body, keeping you alive. 

He's envious of each blood cell that gets to course through your veins. How they get to know every square inch of you in a way he will never be able to. How they are always within the temple of your body, a civilization of organisms working tirelessly to keep their goddess alive, worshiping you on a microscopic level. 

“Can I tell you a sssecret?” you whisper loudly. His head downswings and he snaps his eyes open to meet yours, all stretched wide and dilated, like a doe's. 

“Hit me,” Dieter advises in a gravelly voice, grateful for your numbness, otherwise you might notice the way his cock is twitching at the sight of you. 

Your clutch on his hand tightens and you grin, “I wanna do this thing with the mirrors. To, mmm, talk to Ethan. With the mirror. I forgot what it’s called,” you frown and tilt your head, “psychomathlium.”

“What is it?” he cackles at the clumsy way the made up word falls from your lips. 

“Hang on-” you sit up, letting go of his hand, and start digging into the creases of the couch. He drinks to the loss. When you find your phone, you hold it above your head victoriously, “AHA!” 

He cannot fucking fathom that you have ever been able to convince yourself you're ugly.

“Gotta find the thing-” you mumble, tapping and sliding your index finger around the screen with one eye open. Dieter notes that the pulls of whiskey he had on the elevator ride up have fully saturated his nervous system, making him feel loose and wavy. You start trying to pronounce a word, only able to get as far as, “psychom-psychom-” 

He outstretches his hand, “Can I see?” 

You drop the phone in his palm, then get comfortable again, resting your head on his crotch. 

“Psychomanteum,” Dieter reads out loud. He crinkles his nose at the description google gives:

In parapsychology and spiritualism, a psychomanteum is a small, enclosed area set up with a comfortable chair, dim lighting, and a mirror angled so as not to reflect anything but darkness intended to communicate with spirits of the dead.

“Yes!” you snatch the phone from his grip to scroll down the screen, then toss it on the floor haphazardly. He watches your face fall from excitement to sadness, and your voice comes out small when you say, “I wanna ask him why.”

“Ask him why, what?” 

“Why he tried to kill us,” you answer, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He searches your face in confusion, but you're staring off into the distance, paying him no mind. His hair stands on end. 

“What do you mean?” Dieter asks hesitantly. 

“He crashed the car on purpose,” you close your eyes and stretch your hands above your head, “But he wouldn’t tell me why.”

He recalls the car ride from the diner in February, the frantic whimpers that fled your lips when you were asleep. The only discernible phrase Dieter could hear was, “Slow down, not buckled-” 

There are a million questions that cross his mind. Was he abusive? Was he drunk? Did he say anything to you? What fucking happened, Lua? 

When considering which question to lead with, it dawns on him that asking right now wouldn’t be fair to you. Even if the questions itch the insides of his throat. He wants you to want to tell him, and won’t try to divulge your secrets when you’re in a vulnerable state. 

“So… you want to make a psychomanteum?” he drags his eyes around your stonewalled face. 

“Mmmhmm," you nod loosely. The motion grazes your head against the soft length of him and generates a lusty ache deep inside his groin. With a sigh, you flick your eyes to his and admit, "I’m too scared to do it by myself, though. Sss why you shoul' do it with me.” 

“Right… right now?” Dieter’s eyes widen. 

“Why not?” you shrug. 

His brain sloshes around in his skull as he shakes his head vigorously, “No. No no no. We’re not going to drunk dial your dead husband, who tried to murder you, via mirror.” 

Your laugh is squeaky and delirious, and you throw your hands over your face as you snort, “Well, when you put it like that…” 

“I do, I do put it like that,” Dieter finalizes. His fingers are filled with energy when he thinks about how soft your hair looks, and he wills himself not to run them through the strands, then he mumbles, “What else do you wanna do?”

“Fuck?” you look up at him with hopeful eyes. Hopeful, half-open, completely offline eyes. 

Yes.  

“Absolutely not,” he chuckles, resisting the urge to rub his thumb against your cheek, and a spark jolts his insides when he tells you, “Maybe tomorrow. But right now you are trashed. Next idea.” 

“Hmmm,” you scrunch your face up and tap your index finger to your chin, then your face lights up, “Wanna lay in bed and watch shitty TV?” 

“Let’s do it,” Dieter smiles. 

You jump up a little too quick and stumble sideways before gaining your footing with a giggle, then you start down the hallway. 

He follows you, but stops dead in tracks at the closed door next to the kitchen when he thinks he hears something inside. His smile fades as a darkness with weight settles on his shoulders. It seeps into his bones, doubling their weight, pulling his soul to the ground. 

You pop into the doorway of your bedroom, backlit by the bright ceiling light inside, with a great big gorgeous smile on your face. Your hand extends towards him, “Come on! Do you want umm… pajamas?”

“Is there someone in there?” Dieter furrows his brow and points to the closed door. 

“Not… really,” your eyes flick to the door and you shift your weight to one hip, then clamp your lips shut with your teeth and avoid his gaze. 

That’s a weird fucking answer. But the twisting in his guts tells him he doesn’t want to know more than that. 

“I’ll, um… I’m gonna use the bathroom first,” he mumbles, then averts his eyes as he skirts by you into the bathroom. He closes the door and takes a deep breath, pressing his palms against the bathroom counter over the sink. 

That wretched feeling sucks him towards the center of the earth. Like he’s sinking in a tarpit. He shoves his hands in the front pockets of his shorts and digs around to see if, by some divine miracle, a bag of coke has magically spawned inside. No such luck. 

Maybe he can just ignore that insatiable burning in his chest. The yearning that’s pulling all the skin in his body too tight for comfort. That chronic emptiness that just intensified tenfold. 

What the fuck is in that room? 

He looks up in the mirror. The man that stares back at him looks like shit. Darkness like bruises stain the tear troughs under his pained eyes. His skin is dull and lifeless. Fuck, he just looks hollow. Like those vacant-eyed chocolate rabbits people gift children on Easter Sunday. No life to be found here. Nobody's home. 

With a sigh, he leaves the bathroom, flipping the light switch off behind him. A sickening shudder runs down his spine when he crosses the hallway to your bedroom. 

An image splices itself into his mind’s eye just for a second. Just one single frame of a man’s inky black shadow, somehow darker than the darkness of the room. 

A warning. 

Inexplicably, he understands that’s what it is: a warning. 

Then he steps through the threshold of your bedroom and he’s doused in artificial light. The room, its cream colored walls littered with colorful paintings and shelves of plants, feels different than the rest of the apartment. A plush white rug covers most of the hardwood floor. One large window, visible through the sheer emerald green curtains, runs parallel to the length of your bed, opposite the doorway. 

It feels… safe. 

You’re laying on your side, hugging a pillow, one leg hooked over the edge of the rust-colored comforter. The flesh of your thigh is exposed to the air. The swell of your ass catches the light. His fingers twitch as they think about how your skin would give under their grip. 

He imagines what it would be like to sink his teeth into you.

“You comin’ or what?” you mumble without breaking your line of sight from the tv mounted in the corner of the room. He shakes the depraved thoughts from his head and approaches the other side of the bed, eying the side table drawer that displays a photo of you and Ethan on a beach somewhere with white sands and perfectly tranquil turquoise water. 

He looks up at the cavernous black doorway. That warning churns his stomach again. 

But then his gaze flicks to you, and you’re looking back at him with your eyebrows drawn together over doe eyes. He thinks of you having to go to bed every night alone in this depressing fucking apartment. With a sigh, he pulls the covers back and crawls between the white sheets.  

All of a sudden he doesn’t know what to do with his extremities. How does he normally lay in bed? Surely, not like he is now. Like a corpse boxed into a coffin. 

Is it offensive to think that in a dead man’s spot? 

You cut him off from his spiraling thoughts as you tug on his shirt and mumble, “Dee?”

He doesn’t say anything, just turns his head to look at you.

“Can you cuddle me?”

There’s such a childlike innocence to the way you ask him this question. It’s all pink hubba bubba and Saturday morning cartoons. He can tell the intention is not romantic or sexual. It’s just comfort. 

So he nods and hums in a gravelly voice, “Yeah, come here, doll." 

You kick your legs all the way under the blankets and wiggle closer as he wraps an arm around you. Your body settles against his, cheek to his chest, one arm draped across his belly. His hand lands on your hip. It feels natural and innocuous, so he doesn’t move. 

It’s like you’re hit by a tranquilizer. Your body melts into his with such ease. His rigid muscles go lax, too. The colorful noise on the TV is just background. 

“I miss this part the most,” you whisper the statement like it’s a secret. 

He hums in acknowledgement and closes his eyes, sinking further into contentment. 

“Do you?” you ask in a yawn.

“Do I what?”

“Y’know, miss cuddling with your wife?” 

Dieter remembers the hotel room off the coast of Italy, the day after he and Anika were married. White curtains flapping in the breeze off the Grand Canal. Late morning chatter floating up through the open windows. 

Her back was pressed against his chest, a layer of sweat gluing them together. His nose was buried in her golden hair, breathing in the floral bouquet of the flowers that were anchored in her locks 24 hours prior. Their breathing moved in sync. He felt a warmth spread across his body as he marinated in the moment. 

He blinked his eyes open, waking at his own pace. When he adjusted his head to peer up at the frescoed ceiling, he studied the cherubs playing in the fluffy white clouds that decorated the sky blue background. His mouth moved in the shape of a silent word. 

Too afraid to say it out loud, too bold to keep it inside. It’s what that morning was, though, he was sure of it. 

Heaven. 

At home in their bed, dozens of times in those first few months, she would nuzzle into him as they fell asleep. As they woke up. After sex. While watching movies. Doing nothing at all. His lips spelled out the muted confession. 

Heaven. 

“I do,” he whispers his secret in exchange for yours. Evening the scales. Or whatever. 

“Do you love her?”

His skin tightens as the question bubbles between the layers. He gnashes his jaw back and forth as he considers this. 

In contrast to the months of content cuddling and hot sex, here were months of him reaching across the mattress in the dark, asking, “Can I hold you?” or “Can you hold me?” or “Annie, please, can you just look at me?” 

He was always met with silence. 

One night he quietly admitted, “I feel like a ghost each time I come home.” 

To which she responded, “A ghost wouldn’t leave me here with no one,” then got up to sleep in another bedroom. By the next morning, she looked right through him again. A phantom in his own home. 

It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. 

Dieter thinks about the divorce petition his lawyer, Gene, received from Anika’s lawyer. He has 3 more days to respond before the decision could default. Gene left him a voicemail earlier today explaining that defaulting could result in millions of dollars lost. 

But he can’t bring himself to sign it. 

If he signs it, it’s real. They’re divorced. Anika will go back to Europe. He would rather die than live in that huge, empty house without her. Each room haunted by memories of her, the good and the bad. 

“Do you love Ethan?” he finally returns when he’s unable to come up with an answer. 

“Yeah,” you breathe a sad chuckle, then sniffle, “That’s why I don’ understand.”

A split-second vision of a man-shaped black hole in the other bedroom invades his brain. The alarm bells start ringing as a shiver runs down his back and clutches his guts. But he swallows hard, clears his throat, and declares, ”We’ll do the psychomanteum tomorrow.” 

“Really?” you roll around to face him, and his hand slides to the small of your back. He’s acutely aware of the pads of his fingers resting on your soft skin. How tempting it is to set them into motion, to feel more of you. 

“Yeah,” he answers. Your face erupts in this big, beautiful smile that is contagious, making him grin despite the storm roiling inside him. 

Then your gaze flicks to his mouth and back to his eyes in a question. A question that divides him as his tongue slides along his lower lip subconsciously. You search his face for an answer, leaning forward enough that he inhales the whiskey taste on your breath. 

Your hand reaches up and your nails rake through his hair. A shudder rattles his spine and sucks the air from his lungs. The ache he feels when he holds himself back is torture. 

“Why don’t we go to bed, Lua?” he rumbles. 

You place your thumb on his lower lip and run it along the edge, sending a tremble down the center of him. His eyes flutter shut, and he feels your whisper hot against his skin, “Sss that what you wanna do?” 

No. Absolutely fucking not. 

But the slurring in your speech reminds him how fucked up you are, and the warning is twisting its way through his intestines. 

“Yeah,” he decides, opening his eyes to flash you a gloomy smirk. 

Your features sag in disappointment and you draw back, tucking yourself into his side with your head against his chest. You mutter, “Sorry.” 

The pain in your voice is apparent. You’ll get over it, though, once you return to sobriety and realize it would have been a mistake. 

“Do you want me to turn the lights off?” he asks, frowning up at the brassy ceiling light illuminating the room. 

“No,” you yawn, “Dark is scary.” 

He glances over at the darkness hovering on the other side of the open doorway and nods in agreement, “Ok.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes, and he thinks that maybe you’ve fallen asleep, until you mumble out, “Are you gonna leave when I’m asleep?” 

“Do you want me to?" 

"No."

"Then I won't."

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

But when your breaths get long and deep, and all the residual tension held in your tenuous state of consciousness slackens, the gnawing at his brain starts again. The Big Empty, gutting him and carving him out like a jack-o-lantern.

His eyes are fixed on the TV, but it’s just lights and noise. Nothing is absorbing. All he can think about is how much he wants to get rid of this sinking feeling. He may have promised you he’d stay, but would you really remember? Or would you be more likely to freak the fuck out when you wake up from your blackout next to him? 

Really, he’d be doing you a favor by leaving.

He takes a deep breath in and slowly releases it into the bedroom, then cautiously reaches down into his shorts pocket and fishes out his iPhone. There’s an unread message. 

> GLENN: > You coming out?

His molars catch the smooth inside of his cheek and bite down. A soft little snore emits from your throat. His eyes flick to the dark bedroom doorway and the tar pit of sadness starts sucking him down. Static vibrates hot in his veins. He texts back. 

< ME: < Yeah. Where? 

When you wake, it’s with a start, eyes snapping open with anxiety as you’re catapulted into consciousness. Your TV is blaring 90 Day Fiancé and the bedroom lights are still on. You sit upright and notice the covers are drawn back on Ethan’s side of the bed. 

Stomach acid rises in your throat as you start patting down your surroundings in search of your phone, taking a deep breath of relief when you pull it out from beneath your pillow. Two unread texts, sent hours apart. 

> DEE:  > Going to liquor store then I’ll be there

> DEE:  > Sorry, had to go. Text me when u wake up. 

You drop your phone and lay back down, covering your face with your hands as you groan out loud, “What the fuck did I do?” 

With your eyes clamped shut, you try to recount the night before. Pouring glasses of wine while talking to your mother on the phone. She was crying, telling you about how she was having a difficult time dealing with Ethan’s death. She doesn't understand why you’re not as sad as everyone else. She informed you that when her husband died, she was practically bedridden for a year. 

Like you don't remember. Like you weren't the one that picked up her slack to avoid living on the street. 

“Just because I’m not calling you bawling or posting bullshit on social media doesn’t mean I’m not fucking sad, mom,” you growled, then emptied the Pinot Grigio into your glass. 

Shockingly, she did not appreciate this. Her voice assaulted your ear drums from hundreds of miles away as she snipped, “Well I’m sorry for being a human with feelings, not a robot.” 

When you wouldn’t dignify her comment with a response, she continued to bait you, “I thought I could count on you of all people to know how I feel, but I guess not.” 

You rolled your eyes and put back the glass of wine like it was a shot of liquor. 

“Now I know better.” 

A pause to wait for your non-existent response. 

“Now I know better than to bother you with my feelings again. Nope, can’t talk to Louella unless it’s about her, isn’t that right? All about you.” 

That exceeded your limit for bullshit. 

“Yeah, that’s definitely what I’m doing right now, mom, making it all about me,” you scoffed, then hung up on her. 

After this, you dug out a bottle of whiskey from the back of a kitchen cabinet. You rejected her calls until you got drunk enough to not give a fuck if she went to voicemail or not, laughing out loud to yourself as each voicemail notification popped up on your screen, "Fill it up, bitch, I don't give a fuuuuuck!”

You remember snippets from there forward. Sexting with some guy on tinder. Dieter’s text letting you know his flight landed, asking where to meet you. The desperate urge to fuck. Laying in bed with Dieter. 

Your stomach clenches and you groan again when you remember trying to get him to kiss you. He rejected you. 

You lift your phone and send a text to him.

< ME:  < Gooood morning sunshine. Please tell me I didn’t make a total ass of myself last night. 

To your surprise, he responds immediately. 

> DEE: > Lol no way  < ME:  < Do you still want to hang out with me? Hahahaha  > DEE: > Obviously  > U hungry?  < ME:  < Only if you’re bringing food here 👀  < I look like shit and refuse to be seen in public  > DEE: > Impossible for u to look like shit lol fucking goddess  > Be there soon 

Your stomach flips upside down and makes you dizzy. Last night’s inconsolable desire to be fucked hard returns with a vengeance. A tingle twists at the your center when you imagine what Dieter would be like in bed. 

You’ve been on the phone with him while he was painting and drawing. He seems to get lost in a trance sometimes, rambling out the narration of his creative process. Messy, passionate strokes. An intuition for detail. Would he do the same with your body as his canvas?

You roll on your side to look at the empty half of the bed. Guilt that’s heavy and blue pools in your chest. It feels like a betrayal to wish Dieter would have accepted your advances. 

It’s not like you haven’t been having sex. You’ve actually been very successful in keeping your sexual needs met. There’s a divine kind of peace you find with another body pressed against yours as you work towards mutual ascension. They touch you in delicious ways that make your sorrows melt away, then you never have to deal with them again. Anonymous orgasm donors that you scrub from existence at the first opportunity. It’s exactly what you need. 

That, wherein, lies the problem with Dieter. You don’t want to never have to deal with him again. In fact, you like having to deal with him. He’s goofy, fun to talk to, and says nice shit like fucking goddess. You don’t want to dispose of him. 

With a sigh, you drag yourself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water falls on your head, washing your sins down the drain. A baptism into this new day. 

“How you feeling now, doll?” Dieter asks as you curl up into yourself, resting your head on a black and white checkered pillow. The greasy, tangy scent of Chinese food lingers from half-eaten takeout boxes that litter the end table on the other side of the arm rest, only about a foot away from your face. 

You groan, “Still terrible. I can’t believe I invited some fucking rando to my apartment. I’m so sorry, but also thank you for telling him to fuck off.”  

He chuckles, “Relax, forget it.” 

“Also,” your heart pounds in your chest when you lift your gaze to his, studying his reaction, “Thank you for, um… not… letting me kiss you.” 

The corners of his mouth turn down as he sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, “You were pretty drunk, I figured you would regret it.” 

You sit up and lean away from the now repugnant smell of lo mein, scooting closer to Dieter, admitting, “I haven’t, um… kissed anyone since, you know, Ethan died.” 

His eyebrows raise in surprise, “Really?”

“Yeah,” your face heats up and you continue to stammer, “I’ve like… hooked up with people or whatever, but that’s… different. I- I don’t know.“ 

“I believe ‘no-strings-attached’ is the phrase you used,” he smirks, turning his head to search your face. 

“Oh, is it?” you laugh, throwing your head back and covering your face in embarrassment, “Of course I told you that.” 

“That reminds me-”

“Fucking hell,” you groan and drop your head to your chest, mentally preparing for the next embarrassing thing that blackout you did. 

“No no no, I told you I’d do the psychomanteum with you today,” he tells you. 

Your breath catches. The betrayal you feel towards yourself is deep and cutting. Why would you fucking tell him about wanting to do that? You frown and turn to him, “What did I tell you?” 

“I- um, I mean,” he stammers, shifting in his seat as he crosses one leg over the other and looks up at the TV, “You told me that he tried to kill you both. And you wanted to um... to ask him why.” 

Shards of glass slice through the soft innards of your belly. Shame, hot and red and viscus, floods from the wounds and fills you to the top. You bring your knees to your chest and hug them tight, folding in on yourself, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t need to tell you about that.” 

“Wait, why are you apologizing?” he sounds bewildered. 

You shake your head and shrug, unable to come up with an answer. Your skin burns with embarrassment and you wish you could disappear. 

“Hey,” the couch next to you shifts and his palm presses against your back as he rumbles, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but if you wanna do the mirror thing, I’ll do it with you.” 

A sigh expands your lungs and you turn your head to look at him. His puppy dog eyes search your face for a clue as to what you’re thinking. Tears burn the backs of your eyes and you choke out, “I feel like an idiot for telling you about it. I don’t know.” 

He hums and rubs the back of his neck. Tilts his head from side to side, then scratches his chin as he tells you, “When I was a teenager, I had a friend named James.”

You sit up straight and furrow your brow at him. He leans forward, pressing his elbows into his knees, “We were military brats, both our families were stationed at Fort Lejeune in North Carolina.” 

One of his legs starts bouncing rapidly and he traces the lines of his palm. You reach out and grab his hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, then give him a firm squeeze of encouragement. He glances over, meeting your gaze. His eyes are tear-brimmed and bloodshot. You nod, as if to prod him forward. 

He frowns and drops his eyes to your clasped hands, then continues, “We had to move. I wrote and called him for months, but I never got a response, so I gave up. A year after we moved, I found out that he, um… he drowned in the river.” 

“Oh, Dee-” you breathe, and tears tingle behind your nose and eyes before they overflow onto your cheeks. 

“I’ve tried to contact him on a ouija board more times than I care to admit,” a sad little chuckle bubbles up from his chest, out his nose, “So, yeah, I get it. Wanting answers, closure, all that."

You nod and watch him, studying the tics in his facial muscles. He’s obviously lost in the expanse of his brain. Your thumb sets itself into motion, smoothing a circle against his hand. He takes a sharp breath in and looks up, shaking himself out of his trance, then says, “Anyway. I’ll do it, too. See if I can talk to him.”

An ache of affection radiates across your chest. You sigh, feigning annoyance as you grin and squeeze his hand, then release him to wipe away the tears on your face, “Fine. Ok. Let’s do it.” 

[ Next Chapter ]

#psychomanteum #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal fic

[sniffanimal]

Hey boss do you have an actual recipe for that gyro bowl? Or do you just cook by vibes? Literally have been thinking about that thang for a whole day, lol

So, I've cooked *similar* things from recipe but I was going off pure vibes alone, BUT I can type up what I did in a sort of recipe-esque format for you! This may not be 1:1 exactly what I cooked, but it might be close?

Recipe for Donnie's Gyro Bowl below:

Ingredience (amount of each fed 3 people in excess, so maybe 4 servings?):

1lb Ground Lamb (can be omitted for a vegetarian friendly recipe, or changed for Protein Of Choice)

2 roma tomatoes

1 cucumber

1 zucchini

2 cans of chickpeas

1 large white onion

Dill weed (I ended up having to get dry, but fresh is better!)

Pearl Couscous (1 box, was roughly 2 cups of dry couscous)

greek yogurt (1 little cup of it)

1 lemon, or a decent amount of lemon juice

white wine vinegar

feta

"tuscan seasoning blend" which seems to be mostly basil, oregano, rosemary, thyme, garlic, and fennel.

"taco seasoning" which I used mostly for its cayenne, i would have liked to use paprika and cayenne together instead of relying on taco mix

Garlic powder (again, would have liked at least minced garlic if not fresh)

onion powder

red pepper flakes

Olive oil, butter, salt, and pepper

preheat oven to 400f. Dice tomato and zucchini (keeping them separate), and halve then slice thinly the onion. Zest and halve the lemon then juice into a bowl/cup. Dice half the cucumber, then grate the other half on the medium/large size holes on a box grater (or really finely chop it into mush).

Put the diced cucumber and half the tomatoes in a bowl and add half a cup of white wine vinegar and some warm water. Add a few tsp of lemon juice, salt, pepper, and Dill. Allow to quick pickle while everything else cooks.

drain chickpeas well and mix in a bowl with olive oil and what feels like the right amount of tuscan seasoning and taco mix powder. the peas should look well coated but not like Caked with Seasoning. Toss to mix and then spread out in a single layer on a greased cookie sheet. Bake for ~25 minutes depending on your oven. They might make popping sounds while cooking, be not afraid.

Melt a little butter in a pot and then add the couscous to toast it a bit before adding the same amount in water and then a little extra, maybe 1/4 cup extra. Stir in a generous amount of garlic and onion powders and boil for uhhh a bit until all the water has been absorbed. If couscous is undercooked and all the water is absorbed then add some more and cook until done. Keep warm until ready to serve.

In another pan, melt a bit more butter then add the lamb, stirring to break it up and brown it. I added a lot of the seasonings in different amounts, and some chili pepper flakes. Once cooked through, add half the tomato to cook with it. Once the tomato is soft and the lamb is fully cooked, remove from the pan and keep warm.

To the ~juices~ from the cooked lamb in the pan, add the zucchini and onion and cook well until the zucchini is soft and charred and the onions are soft. Season with Salt, Pepper, and Dill. Add more butter or oil if you didn't have any animal fats left over from meat.

To the greek yogurt, add the shredded cucumber, some lemon juice, dill, salt, and pepper. Stir to combine and taste to see if it's balanced.

To serve, put a layer of couscous at the bottom of the bowl, followed by chickpeas, the meat mix, the cooked veggies, the cucumber tomato salad, and then tzatziki sauce. Top with crumbled feta cheese.

The dish has such a mix of great flavors and textures and temperatures and heat and cream and lemon sour and its all just really really delicious. It did take maybe 40 minutes for me to cook but was soooooo worth it new favorite thing to cook for people.

Also if you were wondering, I went to the grocery store to buy everything I needed to make it more or less and it was about $35 and fed 3-4. The real expensive parts were the dill and the lamb, so those comprised $20 of it. If you already have dill, and omit or change the meat, it's a lot cheaper. Also its 2024 and groceries are expensive as hell.

#recipes #recipe #food pics #asks #florasongs #badger rants

[hannahchronism]

I wish I had thought of this sooner because now probably you have made all your things unless you are a late night person or plan to bake on christmas day but do u want..... a cookie recipe? Behold:

Refrigerator Cookies*

*yes they probably have a proper name, no I don't care what it is

ID: A yellow notecard with the recipe listed in cursive handwriting, there are a few small stains on the card, and the whole thing has been laminated. Stains and all. Authenticity! End ID.

Transcription & more baking instructions below!

Ingredients:

1 cup butter (we use real butter but margarine and other substitutes should work fine!)

1 cup (granulated cane) sugar

1 cup brown sugar (light or dark, doesn't matter)

2 eggs (grade A is best for ratio reasons)

1 and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla

3 cups "flower" (all-purpose baking flour lol)

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 tablespoons ground cinnamon

1 tsp salt

1 cup chopped pecans (optional! but really very good)

[.... You know what? While typing this I just realized I forgot the salt in the batch I just made. hm...... The butter was salted it's probably fine.]

Bake at 400° Fahrenheit (204 Celsius- do you guys cook with Celsius too or is it only for weather?) for 8-10 minutes until light brown*

*the dough is already brown. I do not know how to advise you of its baked color you kind of just have to do your best, watch the edges. They're still good slightly overbaked don't worry about it.

Mixing Instructions:

DO NOT PREHEAT YOUR OVEN (YET)

1. Soften or melt your butter (/butter substitute)

Either soften by leaving it at room temperature for awhile, or melt it in the microwave (30 seconds at a time for best, least like to explode all over your microwave results.) Melted is better than softened, in my opinion, but either is functional. (Melted just effects the final texture, they're chewier this way. Also it makes the next step easier.)

2. Mix in sugars.

Once butter(/sub) is soft/melted, pour in the white sugar and brown sugar. One at a time works better with softened butter, both can go in at the same time for melted. Mix until combined. It's going to have a very pasty, gritty texture.

3. Add eggs.

Crack your eggs into the mix, watch for shell bits. Mix in the eggs until all trace of them disappears, like a magic trick! The mix will still be gritty and unpleasant looking.

4. Add vanilla, salt, and baking soda.

I know the card lists flour next but it's better to do this here. It also helps keep you from forgetting the salt (🤡). Mix until these things disappear, and maybe a little more just to be sure everything is all distributed.

5. Add cinnamon.

It's going to look like a lot and smell intensely like pumpkin pie or apple pie and change the color from looks-like-chocolate-chip-cookies to a much darker brown, and you're going to go "...really? two tablespoons?" but trust the process. Really, two tablespoons. Stir! until combined and very brown.

6. Now add the flour.

One cup at a time!!!!! Or even half a cup at a time! Trust me adding all three cups at the same time will just make a mess and you'll be sad. One cup in, stir until it disappears. Repeat two more times. Now, like most cookie dough, the amount of flour is a little flexible. Once you've added all three cups, if your dough is still very sticky you need to add more flour! Personally I usually end up with about another... 1/4 a cup? but I live in a very humid climate. You're looking for a playdough-like texture! It sticks more to itself than the mixing bowl or spoon (/spatula, whatever you're mixing with. Hey don't use a whisk by the way.) You should be able to pick it up with your hands and move it without it sticking to you. If you've ever made the pilsburry roll of chocolate chip cookies, where you buy the dough in a little tube? Like that. If your dough gets too crumbly, and won't stick to itself anymore, you've gone too far!!! You can revive this with a little little bit of water, like a teaspoon at a time, until you get it back to sticks-to-itself. It really shouldn't take a lot, and you don't want to add too much because it can throw off bake times and make your cookies thin and weird.

7. Add pecans.

I like to do this step here, and sort of just fold them into the (play)dough. You could also put them in before the flour, with the cinnamon! Whichever is easiest or least aggravating, it doesn't especially matter. Just make sure they're not all clumped up together. Also the pecans are optional but (barring an allergy of course) I really would say leave them in and try it this way at least once! I would... not substitute in peanuts. Or any other nut I can think of, unless it has a similar texture to a pecan? Walnuts would probably be ok, if you're so inclined.

8. Throw those suckers in the FRIDGE baby

We generally separate the dough in halves for this step! It's not strictly necessary, but it makes things easier to manage. Take your dough out of the bowl and slap it onto some wax paper. (Do not use parchment paper, it will leach out the moisture and your dough will stick to it and become a little crumbly and you will be sad.) Using the wax paper like a weird blanket or burrito wrap, shape your dough into a vaguely rectangle shape, fold the wax paper over it so that it's completely covered, and then put your dough-log in the fridge. The dough absolutely *MUST* rest in the fridge for at least three hours. We usually leave it overnight! It's convenient and also generally yields best results. But, if you're in a little more of a rush than that, three hours is fine. But no less!!!!! We've baked them without letting them rest before and it just doesn't work as well and they burn so quickly and so completely. They turn into charcoal. Fridge your fridge cookies or suffer!!!!!!!!!!

9. Preheat & Bake!

Once they've rested for at least three hours, you can pull them out and throw them in the oven! You can shape them, if you like. Roll them into balls like chocolate chip cookies or .. I think cookie cutters could be used here? If you're quick about rolling them out. We slice them from the 'log' and lay them on a (greased or lined!) baking sheet straightaway, so the cookie is sort of long and vaguely rectangular. It makes them distinctive and also you want them as cold as possible when they go in the oven, to keep from burning, so this is the most efficient way to do it! But, the shape doesn't have any real significance, go ham. Bake for ... ~8-10 minutes, or until you see them getting dark around the edges (which, I know, is very difficult because they're already kind of dark.) It's kind of a guessing game? But, as mentioned above, they're good if you overshoot a batch by a little bit, and you can learn and aim a little lower for round two!

10. Enjoy!

These bad boys are so stupid good. Excellent coffee cookie. No idea if they go with tea but why wouldn't they? I'm gonna eat 100.

Okay this has been a cookie recipe, that's all, Happy Holidays ♥

[birdsaretoddlers]

IM BACK WITH TWO RECIPESSSS

Maple Nut Bars

1 cup unsalted butter

1 cup sugar

2 large eggs

2 tsp vanilla

1 cup maple syrup

1 1/3 cups flour

1 tsp baking powder

2 cups oats

1 cup shredded coconut

1 cup chopped nuts

Leave butter at room temperature to soften for about 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees fahrenheit.

In a large bowl, mix butter and sugar.

Beat the eggs and stir in with vanilla and syrup.

Add the rest of the ingredients and mix well.

Grease a 9” x 13” baking pan.

Pour mixture in and spread evenly.

Bake for 30 minutes.

After cooled, cut into squares.

ngl, I hate listing the ingredients on tumblr cause the fact that the numbers are really big until i continue to type keeps annoying me, lol. But I love sharing recipes so it’s fine. also wow my handwriting is so bad ANYWAYS, SECOND RECIPEEEE

Chocolate and Vanilla Loaf Cale

3/4 cup superfine sugar

3/4 cup soft butter or margarine

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

3 eggs

2 cups self rising flour, sifted

1 3/4 oz. dark chocolate

Confectioner’s sugar, to dust.

Lightly grease a 1 lb loaf pan.

Beat together the sugar and butter/margarine in a bowl until light and fluffy.

Beat in the vanilla extract. Gradually add the eggs, beating thoroughly after each addition. Carefully fold in the flour.

Divide the mixture in half. Melt the dark chocolate and stir into one half of the mixture until well combined.

Place the vanilla mixture in the pan and level the top. Spread tbe chocolate layer over the vanilla layer.

Bake for 30 minutes or until springy to the touch.

Cool the cake in the pan for a few minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely.

Serve the cake lightly dusted with a little confectioner’s sugar if you want.

I need to make these sometime soon. They were both reallyyyyy good. But it kills me to look at all the recipes I re-wrote BECAUSE I KEPT WRITING THEM DIFFERENTLY like i keep noticing sometimes I clarify unsalted butter and sometimes I don’t. Anywaysssss hope you enjoyyy~

:p

WE HAVE BEEN BLESSED THIS DAY BY TWO RESIPPYS

#bird droppings #:p anon #bird recipe blogging

[smalltowngnoll]

Chocolate Meerca Roll

A tasty chocolate flavoured roll that looks like a Meercas tail!

Who doesn’t like chocolate cinnamon rolls? I did a powdered sugar/butter+water based Nutella glaze, but you can make a cream cheese based one! You can also substitute fudge for Nutella.

Ingredients

1 packet of yeast

1/4 c sugar

3/4 c milk + more if the dough is dry

2 1/2 c flour

1 tsp salt

1/2 c + 2 TBS cocoa powder (2 TBS is for glaze)

1 egg + 1 egg yolk

1/4 c + 1/4c melted butter (second 1/4 is for glaze)

1 c + 1/4 c Nutella (1/4 is for glaze)

1 TBS cinnamon

3/4 c walnuts

1 c powdered sugar

2 tsp vanilla

About 1/3 c hot water.

Recipe

Warm milk to like 110*F, dissolve sugar, then add yeast. Let it get foamy.

In a separate bowl, sift flour, cocoa powder, and salt. Create a well in the middle.

Add all wet ingredients to the well and mix it into the flour. Knead the dough until it gets elastic and smooth. Let rise for an hour.

Pulse walnuts and cinnamon in a food processor.

Punch down the dough, and roll it out in a large rectangle. Spread Nutella on top, saving a 1/2 inch at the end to allow the rolls to seal. Sprinkle with walnut mixture.

Roll up the rectangle, and slice into 12 rolls with a serrated knife. Grease a 13x9 dish, and place in slices. Allow 1 hour to rise or let rise in the fridge over night.

Bake in an oven at 350*F for like 25 minutes. If you let the rolls rise in the fridge, let them sot on the counter and get to room temp before baking.

Melt butter and Nutella in a saucepan. Sift powdered sugar and cocoa powder into the pan and incorporate. As the glaze clumps together, add hot water in small amounts until the glaze is runny enough to spread on its own. Glaze those rolls once they are cool, otherwise you’ll have a mess.

Shitty Picture

Initially, I was going to do pinwheel cookies until I saw the item description. My husband was thrilled, lol.

#neopets #neopia #neotag #neopetsfood #nostalgia #recipe #neopet

[maya-chirps]

I don't like talking about twitter drama anywhere but I just found the funniest twitter drama I've seen and it's literally about turon (a filipino snack made up of a fried wrapped banana with glazed sugar). Here's the translated thread as I guide you to this insanity:

"I SCOLDED CASHIERS AT SM MANILA SUPERMARKET. The line to buy a turon was long and there were only a few turon left on the stand. I was in the middle of the line and there was a lot more people behind me that wanted to avail a turon."

"There were 2 cashiers that were on break or had clocked out maybe that went to the cashier of the turon stand, and I heard that they were trying to reserve 2 turon. The cashier said 'Go to the line hey' but these two insisted that they don't need to go on the queue. So my blood started boiling because I really hate getting cut off in line."

"Then the one cashier took 2 turons for the two cashiers that cut in line. One of them said 'Dat ours?' then the cashier gave the turon to the two cashiers that cut in line and were waiting at the counter to pay. So my blood boiled even more."

"Then I told the cashier 'Miss you actually let these two cut in line while there's so many people in line, you're being unfair to the people waiting at the back' the cashier said 'Ah the two, sir?' Then I replied 'Obviously, yes!' with a bit of an angry tone in my voice."

"The 2 cashiers that cut in line for the turon were already holding them then I told these other two who were assigned in the counter that 'If you don't give up the turon, I'll let your manager know, there's a lot of people in line hoping to buy it too.' Dont tolerate that kind of attitude. So unfair!"

"The two cashiers didn't really say anything and they took the turon from the other two that cut in line. I just don't get why there's these kinds of people that could already see that there's a line but are still forcing themselves in and would choose to be unfair to others."

"Given that they're employees of SM, shouldn't they be more understanding because we're customers where they work. I'm not saying that the customer is always right, I just wish that they also know what's right and wrong. And there, I was able to buy a Turon with Chocnut*. Delicious!"

"And the people in line behind me because they were also able to buy some. 😊"

Additional Context:

Turon in SM is priced at PHP 25 which is relatively cheap. It's bout 0.50 USD?

More comparatively, seeing as OP looked at least middle to upper class (we'll discuss that later), it would've been easily affordable to him, but maybe a bit of a struggle for the two cashiers since they make less than the national average and are also contractual, often losing their jobs and not having any benefits.

Chocnut - a popular Filipino peanut butter chocolate that has a powdery consistency. it often melts in your mouth and is widely popular and beloved across the country.

This shit blew up and I mean blew up like this was just over ONE thread

It blew up so much that TURON started trending in Filipino twitter

Most people agreed that although cutting in line is bad, it seemed like OP felt way too proud of himself and probably should've just let it go because they were probably underpaid, overworked employees who only had 15 minute breaks.

OP's replies were also reeeeally self-important like

Person 1: mygod girl just dont anger a hungry person. lols OP: I stood up not for myself but for the people who were in line too and willing to wait. Again, respect and let's just be fair. Person 2: Oh no, he rly thinks of himself as a hero after what he's done here 😭😭😭😭

People jokingly started calling OP patay-gutom (lit. dead-hungry), a term we use here for someone extremely hungry and typically those who are hungry because of extreme poverty so OP decided to prove the haters wrong by... telling people that he was actually a millionaire???

Person 3: You're a bit patay-gutom sis in this part. All that lashing for turon? Hahaha. Get a life girly! Person 3: This is the deleted tweet of sissy @/op's handle [Screenshot of OP's tweet with an attached censored image of one of his bank account information that shows that he has 1.5 Million Pesos. OP: Me who's patay-gutom and a girly with no life, is this okay now? Or do I SS my other banks? Jkkkk✌🏻]

So anyway, here's some of my favorite tweets translated!

The turon of SM, bow The turon of SM is queued for The sweet banana, sugar and chocnut Spreads at every bite Giving joy to those in line and the cashier Yet the poor cashier Who stood for ten hours Was denied two of the turon...

Next time you should just buy turon here I mean you have P1.5 M in Metrobank anyway [Image of the top of a menu for Amanpulo Clubhouse Restaurant]

The line for turon at SM jk: [screenshots of two videos of people slowly walking in a line in a crowded railway station]

motherfucker your thread is so long that if you just used the time you used to type to just go to the next sm to buy turon

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

It's officially been about a day and half since this happened but it's still trending right now which is pretty crazy. I don't think I've ever been this blown away with discourse over filo twitter until now. I will probably think about Turon Man for a good while.

#mayaposts #mayapino #filipino #philippines #twitter #twitter drama #discourse #twitter discourse #turon #bananas #sm manila #manila #idk what else to tag this as #turon man #long post #people calling him a karen is so funny ngl #like honestly i get getting pissed off by this and yeah i could see people i know do this kinda thing but posting about it and then adding #what's essentially an ''and then everyone clapped'' in the end really made this story personally #then op revealing himself as a millionaire? *chef's kiss* #all for a cheap fried banana snack that from a chain mall that's honestly pretty mid compared to other easier and cheaper places you could #get it from #i know i do mostly history stuff but this was just so funny my friends who are otherwise also disengaged from twitter had been laughing #about this man for at least an hour now #we'll probably reference him for days to come #i also decided to translate this manually because the auto-translate isn't giving it justice + it didn't translate some of the tweets fsr