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bokettochild · 3 years

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Of Gramma’s and Pie

Saw a prompt about Wild and Legend baking pie together, so here we are I guess...

Should this go in the Bunny Merchant’s Fluffy Adventure’s collection? It’s not exactly Ravio centric....

“So, you claim the vet can bake.”

It’s morning and the heroes stopped by again last night, wounded and tired and all too happy to sip warm cider and cocoa while Ravio bustled about and worked with Mr. Hero to organize sleeping arrangements for them. The sun rose long ago, but most of Mr. Hero’s family is still asleep, and when he’d last checked he’d found Captain Hero Sir Jr. dozing on Mr. Hero’s bed with young Wild curled into one side and Tune curled into the other, Mr. Rancher spread out over the top of them like some sort of strange blanket.

Mr. Chosen Hero dozes on the couch, sailcloth wrapped around him as well as Mr. Hero’s favorite blanket, and the veteran hero lies collapsed on the floor (but suitably surrounded by cushions) at his side, the older hero’s hand hanging down to where Mr. Hero clings to it in his sleep, the edge of the quilt trails over the top of him, and Ravio seriously doubts that his housemate will be waking any time soon.

Fortunately, he’s not pressed for company, what with Mr. Traveler Hero happily inspecting the garden outside and humming softly, and Mr. Smithy busily mending the front door that he’s been nagging Mr. Hero about for years now. The tune of their work mixes with that of his own as he mixes up fresh bread dough to bake for breakfast.

Mr. Captain Hero Sir had stumbled into the kitchen mere minutes ago, pouring himself a cup of coffee from Ravio’s beloved Hytopian-press, and sipping it slowly as he sits at the table and watches Ravio work

The statement is out of nowhere, but Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s blue eyes sparkle over the rim of his mug, and Ravio can only smile back. “Yes, Mr. Hero is an excellent cook!”

“Really?” The captain doesn’t sound the least bit convinced, cocking a brow and giving a smile that screams doubt. “The vet, Mister I-Burn-Any-Food-I-Touch?”

“Mr. Captain Hero Sir!” Ravio exclaims, a hand drawing up to touch his chest in a sign of offence. “You speak so cruelly! Sure, Mr. Hero never mastered campfire cooking, but he’s a talented cook!”

The captain continued to stare and smile in unbelief.

“You should taste his pies.” Ravio sighs, determined to convince his friend. “Light buttery crusts, sweet tender centers, just the right balance of spicey and sweet...” He can already taste the thick gooey richness that is mincemeat, eyes sparkling at the thought of molasses, and stomach growling loudly at the mere hint of apple pie. “I’ll ask him to make you one,” He chirps as he snaps back to attention, shooing Sheerow away from his bread dough and offering his little friend a raisin to keep him busy. “What’s your favorite pie, Mr. Captain Hero Sir?”

“Oh no,” Mr. Captain Hero Sir shakes his head, laughing lightly. “I don’t like pie.”

From the bedroom, Captain Hero Sir Jr.’s snores cut off abruptly, Wild kicking lightly in his sleep and Tune’s brows twitching. In the living room, Mr. Chosen Hero starts awake and Mr. Hero stirs slightly, brow furrowing and nose wiggling at some disturbance.

Three sets of eyes stare at Mr. Captain Hero Sir, one through the window, another from the door, and the third practically in the captain’s face as Ravio darts forwards and slams his hands on the table. Coffee sloshes out of the mug and onto his sleeve, but he’s too busy staring down his old friend to care.

“You don’t like pie?!?!?!”

“Um...” Mr. Captain Hero Sir pulls away, wincing at the sudden noise and glancing nervously at the bedroom door. “No?”

He’s torn, half of him utterly horrified and half wanting to order the captain to go sit in a corner and think about what he’s said, as if his friend is a naughty child, and the other worriedly wondering if Mr. Captain Hero Sir even knows what a proper pie tastes like. “But...how?”

Mr. Captain Hero Sir shrugs, almost calm, as if his words aren’t critical to their friendship (they aren’t, not really, but Ravio had thought the captain had more sense than this). “It’s just not something I enjoy. If I wanted to eat fruit I’d go buy some, if I want crunchy bread I’ll buy some, why on earth would I mix them?”

“I sense a disturbance in nature,” Wild and Captain Hero Sir Jr. both stand in the doorway, the younger sleepily rubbing his eyes as the words leave his mouth with a yawn while his elder looms behind him, face shaded in the shadows of the doorway. “What’s happening out here?”

Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighs in resignation, letting his head fall into his hands as he whispers something unintelligible under his breath, but Ravio doesn’t spare him an ounce of pity as he points an accusing finger the captain’s way. “Mr. Captain Hero Sir says he doesn’t like pie!”

Four heads shoot up to stare at the man in question, the sleep fading from Wild’s eyes and Captain Hero Sir Jr. sighing in what can only be disappointment with his older brother/father-figure. Over in the living room, Mr. Chosen Hero has shot up to stare in something like shock at the captain, Mr. Hero’s head rising up next to him with a glower that makes them all shiver.

“Who said what in my house?”

“I don’t like pie.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir reiterates, and Ravio genuinely has to stumble back, hand on his brow as he looks at the captain.

“My own friend! Speaking such words of sacrilege! Such disrespect and sin! Why? I trusted you, Mr. Captain Hero Sir!”

The man in question sighs again, loudly, shaking his head. “You don’t need to make a big deal out of it, it’s just pie, it’s not even-”

“Just pie?!?” Two heroes shout en tandem, Mr. Hero practically vaulting himself over the couch and Wild stiffening indignantly.

“It’s not ‘just pie’!” Mr. Hero protests. “Have you ever eaten pie? Have you never-”

“Pie is sacred.” Wild nods sagely, eyes sharp and firm as they meet the captains.

“See?” Mr. Hero motions to the younger hero. “Pie is sacred! You do not disrespect pie!”

The disagreement turns into a full-blown argument and Ravio can only watch in ever growing shock at how defensive some of the heroes can be about their opinions; Mr. Captain Hero Sir tiredly reiterating his disagreement while the others each travel through the five stages of grief on repeat, Mr. Hero eventually scowling darkly and uttering the words that silence the others.

“I am gonna to make a pie so lip-smackin' good you’ll be on your knees repentin’ for your sins.”

And Mr. Captain Hero Sir looks all the more tired at the words, rubbing his head at the beginnings of a country twang in Mr. Hero’s voice as the veteran turns to Wild, eyes flashing indigo as they meet eerie cornflower blue. “Wild, I’ll need your help.”

“Why?” Ravio whispers, looking between the two.

“Because,” Mr. Hero runs his hands through his long hair, the locks still messy from sleep and left uncombed for days. “I still haven’t been able to recreate Gran’s recipe for apple pie and Wild’s my best chance at figuring out what I’m doing wrong.”

The merchant blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. And stares at his friend. “Doesn’t your grandmother live just down the road a way? Only an hour or so? Can’t you just ask her?”

And as eyes turn to Mr. Hero, the other boy waves him off, ears tainted pink as he turns to the kitchen cabinets and starts searching. “Nope, not tryin’ that. It’s been five years or so an’ she’d only be upset with me for not getting' news to her ‘bout anything. I’d rather save her the bother of fussin’ and worryin’.”

“You-” Mr. Captain Hero Sir is the one who looks outraged now. “You don’t keep your grandma up to date about how you are? What kind of a grandson are you, vet?!?!”

“A terrible one.” Mr. Hero sighs into the cabinet, and while his voice is resigned his ears droop ever so slightly, making the captain pause in his scolding.

Green meets royal blue as merchant and captain exchange a worried look, before both nodding as a silent conversation is spun between them, Mr. Captain Hero Sir plucking up his coffee mug and retreating, and Ravio following behind a few minutes later after making sure his bread is in the oven and that those in the kitchen are fully distracted and properly attired (it brings him no small amount of joy to see Mr. Hero don the frilly bunny apron he gave him last holiday season).

“We’re contacting that poor woman.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir murmurs as soon as the two of them are clear of the kitchen. “She’s got to be worried sick about him.”

“Who?” Mr. Chosen Hero is still blinking sleep from his eyes, but he looks between them with curiosity.

“Legend’s Gran.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir, explains. “Turns out the vet hasn’t contacted her in something close to five years, and now feels awkward about trying.”

“Oh.” Mr. Chosen Hero murmurs sadly. “Poor vet!”

“Poor Legend’s grandma!” Mr. Captain Hero Sir , brows furrowed as he shakes his head. “She’s got to be worried sick about him! Imagine if Wind’s granny didn’t know where he was for five years! She’d be sick as death with worry!”

“We need to contact her.” Mr. Chosen Hero breathes, eyes wide.

“Agreed.” The other two nod.

Mr. Chosen Hero’s hand is the steadiest, and his script the most elegant as they work to scribble out a letter. Originally, Mr. Captain Hero Sir had wanted to forge the letter and present it as being from Mr. Hero himself, but Mr. Chosen Hero had rejected the idea, claiming that doing so would only cause problems. “I’m a master of letter mischief.” The Skyloftian claims with a twinkle in his eyes. “You don’t write a letter for someone, or you’ll just cause trouble. Trust me. The best way to do this is honestly.”

At the doubtful expressions of the other two he adds on, only slightly sheepish. “All other methods are excellent ways of destroying relationships, again, trust me on this one. If we present it as Legend’s words, he’ll just get mad at all of us, and if we lie, then they’ll both be mad and likely hurt. But if we tell her the truth, that Legend is hesitant to reach out because he thinks she’ll only be upset, then any decent granny would either reply or wing it over here as soon as possible.”

“That’s ‘hoof it over here’.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir corrects with a grin. “But you’ve got the right spirit, Sky.”

The other man smiles up at him from his seat, eyes twinkling with trouble. “We share a spirit, so...”

The captain cuffs the back of his friend’s head, missing as Mr. Chosen Hero ducks, giggling softly and smiling as he turns his attention to the parchment and ink that Ravio had provided for their mission. The quill stills just above the paper as Mr. Chosen Hero pauses, biting his lip and looking up at the two of them. “How should I address it?”

The captain blinks, and Ravio watches as the man frowns down at the blank parchment. “...I don’t know. Does Legend even have a last name?”

“Lon.” Ravio chirps, moving to grab a letter laid at the top of the desk and pointing out the words scrawled on it in Miss Princess Zelda’s hand. Link Lon, the paper reads, and both of the heroes blink at it incredulously.

“Lon? Like-”

“Miss Malon?” Mr. Chosen Hero breathes, and the two exchange a glance.

“Miss- Oh!” The merchant brightens. “You mean Grammalon?” Again, he darts across the bedroom towards one of the shelves, the heroes’ eyes following his motions as he selects a framed picture from one of the shelves and presents it to them.

He watches in amusement as their eyes grow wide, Mr. Chosen Hero setting down his quill and reverently touching the picture.

“Is that Time?” Mr. Captain Hero Sir breathes, brows cocked as he bends over to study the picture that now lies in Mr. Chosen Hero’s hands.

“Is what me?” And there the kid/not-kid is, standing in the doorway with raised brows and a curious tilt to his head (some things never change).

“Time, Legend has your picture on his wall.” The captain chuckles, confusion still apparent in his gaze as his younger brother/son crosses the length of the room to stare at the picture.

Sure enough, the picture, faded and grainy, displays Time’s smiling face, free of markings or scars, with both eyes shining in a smile as what appears to be the younger version of the hero stares out from the photo, arms wrapped around an older woman with equally bright eyes and long windswept hair.

“That’s Mr. Hero’s Grammalon.” Ravio chirps as the three stare. “And her grandson, Mr. Hero’s ancestor, Sir Hero Raven.”

“Hero of Ravens?” The three heroes look at each other in confusion, and Ravio has to bite back a giggle at their stupidity. All Heroes were the same it seemed.

“Hero of Labrynnia, but his name was Raven. He’s Mr. Hero’s ancestor and mentor, but don’t let on that I told you!” He whispers, conspiratorially while the three adult heroes blink at him in confusion.

“Legend had a....” Twilight breathes

“How did his ancestor mentor him?” Sky wonders aloud.

“Are they still at it?” Legend grumbles as he stirs the dry ingrediants, gaze turning to where Wild stands by the cabinets, ears perked towards the bedroom door.

“Yep.” The champion replies, climbing on top of a shelf to reach something located higher up. “How do you even reach stuff this high?”

“Same way you are right now.” legend smirks, violet eyes never leaving the champion, waiting for the second he slips and sighing softly with relief when Wild hops easily down. “Don’t tell Ravio though, he’d scold me for putting me feet on things.”

Wild nods and the two return to their work, stirring and mixing and measuring and generally existing within the same space as they work.

It’s nice having someone to cook with, someone who isn’t fussy (although he does enjoy working with Ravio) and a person who’s daring enough to try nearly anything to make a recipe perfect. The vet and champion work in an easy dance, darting past each other and reaching over around and past in order to get what they need, falling into an easy pattern as Legend reaches for the cinnamon to hand to Wild just as the champion hands him a stack of pie pans to place the crusts in once their ready.

It’s easy to melt into the lull of the work, and he’s nearly lost in slicing the apples the right way when Wild’s voice begins to waver with an all too familiar lilting tune that has violet eyes shooting up to stare at him.

“Where did you learn that song?”

“You like it?” Wild offers a weak smile, and the vet can only nod slowly as Wild’s attention drifts back down to his work. “I think my mother taught it to me, I don’t know. It plays in my head when I work, and sometimes when I cook.”

“You too, huh?”

At the champion’s confused stare, he elaborates. “My Gran hums the same song when she works the farm, I’ve known it since I was a tot. Guess I never figured that our weird...” He gestures airily, careful not to scatter flour from his white-dusted fingers. “Family, I guess, that we’d all probably learn it.”

“Where did it come from?” Wild cocks his head, eyes imploring and ever so wide that it’s hard for Legend to remember he needs to look up to meet them instead of down.

“Great Grammalon.” Legend answers easily. He doesn’t know why the words spill from his mouth or why he’s so open with the kid, but Wild isn’t teasing and there’s no one else about now that Four’s moved on to join Hyrule in inspecting the bee hives out in the back. “It’s the family horse song, something of a lullaby too.”

“Does it have words?” Wild presses, curios and open, drawing a short halting laugh from the vet with the innocence of a face that has many times before been twisted in smiles that would make Hylia shudder.

“I recken’ so, never learned them though, just the tune.”

And Wild nods, content with his answer as the two return to their work. When the song drifts over the kitchen again, Legend startles to find that his voice is joining in, humming a soft melody to Wild’s lilting voice, the tune weaving about the kitchen and making every motion and task feel like a dance. They’re both light on their feet, both nimble and quick, both seamless in their motions in a way that makes it so much like a dance that Legend’s nearly lost in it.

In the bedroom, Twilight blinks awake to help write a letter to a forlorn and forgotten grandmother, while, in the kitchen, the vet and champion work to a tune that rings familiar in more than just their own ears.

Come breakfast time, when the others are awake at last and everyone has tumbled into the kitchen, they find Wild clapping the flour from his hands over the top of an already dust covered and violently sneezing vet, who’s smile stretches just as far as the champions as he wipes apple juice slick hands across Wild’s tunic, from the shoulders to the waist, snickering wildly as the younger hero pulls back with a soft whine of complaint.

“You two have been busy.” Time chuckles as he walks into the room, wiping ink from his fingers across Legend’s white dusted apron.

“Twilight, your kid needs to be controlled.” Legend promptly deadpans, earning a hurt look from the champion.

“But we just had a bonding moment!” Wild protests.

“You can’t deny the magic of bonding moments.” Time nods sagaciously as Wild embraces the vet, further covering the vet in flour and now juice as Legend rolls his eyes, but there’s no missing the little smile on his face or the gentle way he pats the arm that wraps around his front as Wild nuzzles into his flour coated hair.

“Mr. Hero!” Ravio’s startled shriek sounds, an envelope fluttering to the floor as he freezes, green eyes widening in horror. “What in Lolia’s name have the two of you been doing!”

“Legend spilled the-” The champion is cut off by a fast-moving elbow to the stomach, making him wheeze lightly as Legend reaches above his head to muffle the kid’s voice.

“Wild knocked a bag of flour off of the top shelf. Don’t worry he- yech!” The vet surges forward with a horrified expression, only to fall forwards into Wild’s arms where they’re still hooked around his chest, the champion’s tongue lolling out of his mouth with a dopey grin.

“Licking the hand? Really Wild?” Twilight shakes his head.

“That’s disgusting!” Legend shivers, wiping his hand off on his once pink but now white apron.

“The vet knocked it over.” Wild says sweetly.

“You lil’ shit!” Legend scowls upwards at the hero holding him, but when Wild’s eyes meet his there’s a glimmer of something mischievous in the vet’s gaze. “How would I even reach that?”

The champion only grins, a bit feral and entirely insane, and squeezes Legend closer. “You're a gremlin too!” And this time when the champion nuzzles again his hair with a delighted growling Legend only sits there in the embrace, covered in flour and wearing the most hideously frilly and pink apron any of them have ever seen, a weary but fond grin pulling at his lips.

“What’s with the letter.” The pink-and-white-headed vet questions, cocking a brow and leaning back in the embrace of a beaming Wild.

“It’s um...” Ravio flushes, darkening continuously as Legend continues to stare at him. “It’s...”

“It’s a letter to your gran.” Warriors pipes up, sipping a second mug of coffee as he sist at the table. “Poor woman deserves to know you're okay.”

The vet stiffens in Wild’s hold, earning Warriors a glare from the champion as well as the vet for ruining the bonding cuddles. “I told you to let it alone.” Legend scowls, hands fisting in his frankly hideous apron.

“And I know what it’s like to be a parent who doesn’t know where their kid is.” Warriors returns evenly, eyes softening slightly. “Privacy or not, you’re hurting someone else, and if it means not respecting your wishes in order to set an old woman’s heart at ease-”

“Okay!” Legend snaps, before sagging back against Wild, going very nearly limp and running is hand down his face as the champion looks down at his cooking buddy with concern in his gaze. “Just- What did you guys write?”

“We told her you’re okay.” Sky offers. “You’ve been traveling and doing things for the royal family and others and you were feeling guilty over not talking to her. We told her why you hadn’t visited, based on what you said earlier, and we said that we’d try and talk to you about it when we could.”

The vet nods slowly, a frown creasing his face where he’d been bright and smiling moments before. “Okay.”

“Are you alright with us sending it?” The gentle hero presses cautiously, and at Legend’s nod of the head Sheerow is already whizzing over to accept the letter from Ravio’s hands before whizzing back out the open window with an eager noise that has Legend shaking his head with a hint of a smile.

“Come on,” Wild hefts the smaller hero in his arms like a child with a puppy. “We need to force feed my dad some pie!”

There was no escaping it, Ravio’s bread was set aside and the only food available was three crisp and warm apple pies, which disappeared almost immediately.

Warriors repented of his sins.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #apple pie #lu ravio #lu legend #lu wild #lu warriors #lu time #references to #mamalon #sir raven (legend of zelda)#I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR!!!!#fluffics #warriors is wild's dad

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coffeecakefanfics · 4 years

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Paper Rings Spencer Reid x FemReader

A/n: To all of my lovely asks both criminal minds and avatar I swear i’m working on them. Anyway My Boyfriend and I were looking at RINGS so this idea popped into my head <3 Also don’t yell at me if mu timeline and characters are a little fucky it’s midnight and i’m kind of tired lol

Song: Paper Rings- Taylor Swift

REQUESTS:OPEN

Sunlight danced through the window, a warm blanket fell over her face. She looked peaceful. They had a tough case the week prior and were both thankful for the rest of the weekend. The room was a soft pink, barely visible yet. Spencer laid beside her, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watch his love sleep next to him. It was rare that he woke up before her on days off, but today was special. As the sun continued to rise the room filled with a gentle orange that kissed her skin. Her hair had fallen over her forehead, still a mess from sleep. Her lips looked so soft and gentle, just as they always felt him. He followed the rays the dip of her waist and over the muscles of her back that he could see from his angle. The white comforter and sheet draped loosely across her waist. Her torso bare. She looked like a goddess, laid infront of him like a statue or a painting. She looked. . .soft, that’s the only word he could describe it as. Her eyes twitched as she stirred. He held his breath, trying not to wake her.

“Good morning my love,” she said groggily, not opening her eyes, “you’re up early,” she smiled.

“I couldn’t wait to see your face any longer,” he grinned. She opened her eyes finally looking at him.

“Always such a romantic,” she moved to lay her head on his chest, the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her mind.

“can we stay in bed all day?” (Y/n) asked, moving back to look at Spencer.

“We need food,” he laughed.

“And? we can come back to bed after,” she tried to bite back her grin.

“Yes, but we had a day planned, remember,” he kissed her forehead, softly.

“Breakfast and then we needed to shop, yes I remember but we have all weekend,” She let a playfull pout sit on her lips.

“I’d give anything to stay here with you,” he twisted a strand of hair around his finger

“Then stay,” she set her hand on his cheek. He let his hand drift, tracing his fingers lightly over her shoulder, down her back and up to her hip before pulling her ontop of him. She leaned down for a kiss. It was soft and gentle, the love flowed between them like melted butter. They were seamless together, a perfect fit.

After much persuading from Spencer, (Y/n) and he sat on a deck of a nice restaurant. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, jelly, juice, and coffee was splayed out infront of them. The two were lost in conversation. The soft fall breeze whistled around them as they ate, the smell of fresh apple pies and pumpkin spice wafted through the street. Spencer sat back, holding the mug in his hand, a big smile splayed over his face as his girlfriend spewed over her recent obsession. Her face glowed as beamed as she excitedly talk about every detail of the show to him, trying desperately to get him to watch with her. Even though he wouldn’t need convincing. His heart swelled as she went on. The was she used her hands to accentuate her points drew him in. He was wrapped around her finger. Her manicure nails tapped her mug as she stalled in conversation trying to think of the right words.

The two walked through the shops hand in hand. She swung their tangled hands back and forth as she dragged him happily along. She let go of his hand for a quick second to hold up a cardigan to show him.

“It’s perfect,” she beamed and held it out to him. He happily slid on on for her to see.

“Navy is a great color for you,” she chewed her nail slightly in thought.

“I think you need it,” she nodded.

“Only if you’re buying,” he joked.

“Of course i’m buying are you crazy” you laughed as he handed the cardigan to her.

The two continued through shops. It was at the end when they passed a jewelry store.

“Why don’t we peek in?” he nodded his head in the direction.

“Why? you just bought me new earrings for our anniversary-”

“For a ring,” he bit his lip and waited for a response. She gulped and looked at him carefully.

“A ring?”

“yes, a ring, you know like the ones you wear on your fingers,” he joked.

“Spencer I don’t an expensive ring,” she smiled at him, tears welling up in her eyes.

“But you like shiny things”

“I’d marry your with paper rings” she took a deep breath and tugged him into a hug before walking hand in hand to look. The rings were all nice but it was the prices that made her queezy. Her head spun at the numbers. She had to step out and breath.

“Are you okay?” He followed her and held her shoulders carefully.

“Yeah, yeah i’m okay,” she took another deep breath.

“Do you not want to do this?”

“Oh Spence, of course I want to do this. I would love nothing more than to marry you, but not for 1,300 dollars,” she let her shoulders slump.

“It’s not a big deal,” he smiled and kissed her head.

“I really would marry you with paper rings,” she joked and giggled.

It was three weeks later. (Y/n) has gotten a text from Hotch to meet at the end of 14th street by the tidal basin. She got up to leave her desk when she was stopped by JJ and Penelope holding up a knee high black dress and heels. The girl quickly changed and got in the car.

“So is there a case?” (Y/n) asked.

“Yeah, sorry we didn’t have time for e meeting we all got texted to meet at the tidal basin in front of jefferson memorial. There’s a guy hiding out in the rotunda inside,and we need bait, and well, we chose you, here’s the file,” JJ smirked as she sat back in her seat.

The girls pulled up and (y/n) quickly got out and was about to run when she say the walkway of candles and roses and froze. She looked back at the girls who sent her forward. Gentle music danced through the air as she grew closer to memorial. At the end stood Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi to the side with Spencer straight ahead of her. The cherry blossoms created almost a grove above him. The setting sun set his skin ablaze with pinks and oranges. The water was crystal blue and blossoms floated down the tidal basin.

“(Y/n) (Y/l/n) I’ve had the lovely job of being your boyfriend for the past two year. In those two years i’ve decided that I want your dreary mondays, your complications, your angelic body, your glowing smile, your fresh scent, your good days and bad days, for the rest of my life,” he kneeled before her and opened the small box. Nestled inside was ring, beautiful and exactly her style. Tears welled up in her eyes at the man infront of her. “Would you marry me? even with paper rings?” he grinned.

“yes!” She nodded as tears fell. He slipped the ring on her finger and lifted her in a hug. Cheers from the team filled their ears. She grinned at him before catching his lips in a kiss, soft and sweet

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut

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isshuns · 3 years

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word dump

untitled kuroken fic in the lex miserables series :’) tw: eating problems, feeling disconnected from oneself, anxiety, idk if there’s depression in this lolol

the realisation that something is wrong with himself comes to kenma one day when hinata invites him to one of the firm’s after-work bonding sessions.

these bonding sessions usually take place on friday evenings, taking advantage of the happy hour policies of the bar down the street. the usual participants - tora, ryuu, noya, inuoka, lev and hinata - gather by kenma’s door while hinata beams at him expectantly, waiting for his acceptance to an invite that goes rejected every week.

it’s admirable, really, that hinata tries so hard to include him in the after-work team bonding sessions. it’s a benefit fully paid for by the firm, courtesy of the partners insisting that any costs for team bonding ought to be shouldered by the employers, but kenma is always the last person to ever take advantage of this benefit. it is probably the one single benefit of his employment that he rarely takes advantage of.

“come on, kenma, it’ll be fun!” hinata grins, radiant like the sun.

kenma blinks, steals a glance at the time displayed by the corner of his desktop, and sighs.

“sorry, shouyou, not today.” it ought to get easier each passing time he rejects hinata’s offer to drink themselves silly, but somehow it isn’t. the guilt that crawls through his skin consistently makes him sick with anxiety every time.

“it’s okay, next time, kenma! i’ll be sure to get you to come one day!”

hinata is welcome to try.

hunger faintly registers itself in his brain, but he has no appetite at all. he works backwards to identify his thought patterns for the past few days. he either stress-ate and had more meals per day than he usually did, or he didn’t eat at all despite knowing that he would get hungry the next day,

if kuroo noticed anything, kenma is only grateful that he hasn’t commented on it at all.

it feels strange, swinging from one end of the spectrum to the other end back and forth day by day. at the end of the journey, all kenma feels is bone deep exhaustion, bitter hopelessness and a sense of resignation.

on one day, he felt better, and indulged himself with an expensive unagi bento set from the michelin starred sushi restaurant down in roppongi. without digging in yet, he passed by his favourite bakery, saw his favourite apple pies fresh out of the oven, and bought two large slices on impulse.

kenma ate everything in one go for dinner. in the aftermath, the food he ingested probably washed away all the good cheer he had too. he felt sick, fat, and sluggish with too much food in his now round belly, and desperately wished that his stomach would stay flat forever instead. kenma felt disgusted with himself then, but not to the point he would stick his finger down his throat and purge everything out of his disgestive system. it was a passing thought, one he gave serious consideration to, but did not act on it because kuroo would find out.

the next day, he somehow felt dissatisfied, craved for the hash browns from mcdonald’s, and bought a breakfast set on a whim. kenma finished the entire meal on the way to work. and then he had lunch with the department, and by the time the sun was setting across the tokyo skyline, he lowkey disliked the feeling of ingesting food so much that he skipped dinner that night and forgoed all proper meals for the remaining days of the week. he survived on one single meal during lunch time, and continued to drown in the loss of appetite.

kenma hates this. he hates his relationship with food. he hates that therapy isn’t helping him to deal with this, that all the coping techniques he’s learned throughout therapy never prepared him for this. his next session with takeda-san is scheduled after another three weeks or so, and kenma is about to fling himself off the tokyo bridge if he has to continue surviving the days like this.

after hinata leaves, kenma continues to stare at his desktop, a blank expanse stretched across the monitor. he’s supposed to start on the submissions after trial for a case, but the cursor continues to blink and taunt him from the beginning of the blank page.

quietly, kenma slides open the drawer beside him, and quietly peruses the takeout menu kuroo left on his table last week before he travelled to hokkaido for a week-long trial. the yellow post-it note is still stuck onto the top left corner of the flyer.

just in case you don’t feel like going out for meals~, it reads.

it ought to feel endearing, and it would have, but kenma is stuck in some sort of fugue state with no exit in sight. so all he feels is emptiness, and disappointment in himself for failing to appreciate and capture the true emotion the post-it note meant to provide.

distantly, kenma feels the signs of hunger incoming. all he had for today was one salmon mayo onigiri from the local familymart at ground floor at noon. right now, time has trickled by and is inching closer towards 8pm. with the pandemic, restaurants will close soon.

i should order something, kenma tells himself, but the lack of appetite overpowers all semblance of rationality, disconnects his thoughts and shuts down his brain. by the time kenma leaves the office, the takeout menu is tucked back into the drawer, out of sight, out of mind.

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

kenma hears the sound of something frying coming from his apartment before he actually smells food in the air. the train leading home was oddly empty today for a friday evening, and kenma had almost the entire carriage to himself. hunger never came back to find him while he stared blankly out of the windows, lost to the static buzzing across his mind.

kuroo is back today, early, his brain tells him unhelpfully as he fishes out his key and unlocks the door, kuroo is cooking.

his mouth waters at the smell of fried oil wafting through the air, but somehow he still doesn’t feel hungry, nor does he feel the need to eat. if he doesn’t exert himself tonight and sleeps early, kenma is confident that he can power through the night without sustenance until lunchtime next morning.

“welcome home~” kuroo chimes, voice rising above the sizzling sound of hot oil frying in a pan.

kenma doesn’t need to wait for long before his partner appears before him in the genkan, ridiculous pink apron draped in front of his expensive armani dress shirt as he brandishes a pair of long chopsticks in kenma’s face.

“i cooked dinner.” kuroo declares proudly. because i know you have not eaten yet, goes unsaid.

what should kenma say now? i know, or that’s nice, or perhaps i’m not hungry? which response should he give that would not trigger kuroo to overreact and fuss over his recent lack of appetite? kenma doesn’t want kuroo to worry again. kuroo should only smile, and not have to worry about his wellbeing.

kuroo must have picked up on his mental dilemma, and gives him the easy way out.

“why don’t you go wash up? i’ll be done in five, then we can eat together.” he smiles, and ducks to peck a chaste kiss on kenma’s forehead before going back to the kitchen.

kenma’s heart twists in guilt.

when he’s done showering, kenma stands in front of the wardrobe mirror in nothing but kuroo’s oversized shirt hanging off his wiry frame. his face is thinner now, cheek bones more prominent. his fingers travel down from his jawline to press against the collarbones hidden beneath pale skin.

the hard touch of bones brings him comfort, somehow. with this, kenma will never have to feel disgusted with himself by eating too much and having food fill up his stomach. the sick feeling that he gets from eating one meal too much a day won’t return to haunt him anymore like this. his brain is now quiet, nothing is telling him that he needs to eat, that he needs to pick up the phone to order for food, that he needs to put on decent clothes and walk down the street to get food.

nothing, except kuroo, who is walking up to him this instant, fond expression painted across his handsome features, and planting his large hands over his hipbones.

“have i ever told you how much i love seeing you in my shirt?” kuroo dips his head and presses a kiss against kenma’s shoulder.

kenma rolls his eyes. kuroo’s smile grows wider, brighter, and he releases him after stroking his thumbs across kenma’s hipbones not once but twice.

“come, kenma,” kuroo leads him to the table, where a bowl of udon and assorted tempura awaits him. kenma’s shoulders drop a little more.

“eat,” kuroo says.

kuroo takes a seat across him, still smiling, and waits for kenma to start digging in. instead, kenma waits and counts the seconds it would take for that smile to disappear off kuroo’s face.

in this house, there is no need to pretend to force food down his oesophagus and feel shitty about it later. kenma chooses not to touch his food, just like how kuroo hasn’t touched his either.

“are you feeling unwell, kenma?” the smile is still there, perched on kuroo’s lips, but kenma notices the way it tightens a little and loses the casualness it once possessed mere seconds ago.

“... no.”

“are you not hungry?”

kenma fidgets in his seat. how does he tell kuroo that he just doesn’t feel like eating? that he looks at food and his brain doesn’t tell him to consume them for sustenance anymore?

“yeah. i’m not hungry, sorry, after you cooked and all that.” he says, quietly, like the walls of this house have ears and nowhere is safe for his ugly feelings to go.

“that’s alright, kenma. you don’t have to be sorry, we can save this for lunch tomorrow.” kuroo gestures vaguely in the air, “we have snacks. eat something. let’s not go to bed on an empty stomach.”

kenma shrinks further into his seat. he really doesn’t want to eat at all today, for some reason. the thought of food swimming in his stomach makes him feel a little sick.

“hey, kenma,” kuroo reaches out to touch him, voice soft, “what’s wrong? you can tell me, I won’t be mad.”

kuroo stands from his seat, and comes to sit beside kenma and pull the latter into his arms. he always comes to him, never the other way around. kenma doesn’t know what to make of it, but he feels touched yet guilty at the same time. he knows he should reach out to kuroo more often, reassure him whenever things are looking up, but it’s always kuroo that reaches out first because he knows and understands how difficult it is for kenma step out of his anxiety and take the first step.

kenma doesn’t deserve kuroo’s love. he will never be worthy of his affections.

“i just... don’t feel like eating. lately.” the last word comes out softer, barely a whisper, but from the way kuroo’s arms tighten around his shoulders, kenma knows kuroo has picked up the intended meaning behind his words.

“it’s okay to feel that way,” kuroo tells him kindly, “it’s okay.”

“i don’t know why. i just... feel disconnected, somehow, from myself.”

“thank you for telling me, kenma. what can i do to help?”

kenma wants to cry. well, at least that’s a feeling other than emptiness in him now.

“I don’t know, kuro.”

“we’ll figure it out. it’s okay, we’ll take baby steps, one step at a time. i will be here with you to support you.”

kenma closes his eyes and leans against kuroo’s lean body. he buries his nose into the juncture between kuroo’s neck and shoulder, seeking warmth and comfort. he feels the tension seep out of kuroo’s shoulders when kenma finally reciprocates, knowing that kenma isn’t closing himself off to the world now, to kuroo. the door leading to kenma’s being is still open and nobody has slammed any door closed yet.

kenma sighs.

“thank you,” he says.

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criticizing-blogger · 3 years

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The Waitress

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: (I feel like the first two should be warnings) mention of mary’s passing, the yellow eyed demon

Word count: 1199

The bell on the door chimed as a man with dark blond hair walked through the threshold. He stood in front of the entrance, hearing the soft click of the door when it closed as he looked around the small cafe. On his left were six booths lined up against the wall; the seats made of brown leather and the tables a mahogany colonial with condiments and napkins and a specials menu in the middle. On the right stood a wooden bar matching the table's color and a white countertop, with brown stools on one side and two waitresses on the other serving customers. Next to the waitresses, on the counter top, stood a chalkboard on a black stand with the coffee menu written on it.

He fixed his brown leather jacket before finding an empty table in the far corner of the building. There weren’t very many people here he gathered, granted, it was also very early in the morning. Normally he wouldn’t be up so early but the last case he worked got to him, having nightmares all night and waking up several times before he gave up on sleeping. He couldn’t imagine how he looked at the moment, but he knew he looked like he needed a pot of coffee or at least a few.

He took a seat and folded his hands on top of the table, leaning into his arms as he waited for a waitress. As he waited, his mind wandered into last night's case. It was heartbreaking. Three children waking up in their beds to find their mothers on fire on the ceiling in their bedrooms. Luckily none of the kids were killed but all three homes were burned to crisp. According to the cops, the houses had actual reasoning as to why all buildings were burned down. But Sam and Dean knew better, they found out it was a copycat demon. But no child should witness anybody like that or even go through the same thing Dean and his family went through.

Dean couldn’t get the images out of his head. Normally, he tried not to think about what happened when he was four years old, but having all those flashbacks from being a kid to catching the yellow eyed demon, brought back all those thoughts and emotions. The rage, the sadness, and even the hurt when his father made a deal with the demon to save his life. All the flashbacks that he tried so hard to push into the back of his mind came crawling back. All of that made the case much harder to work than he thought. But he still managed to do it.

Dean's thoughts were broken when someone cleared their throat, getting the man’s attention. He looked up to see a woman with (h/c) hair in a bun with strands sticking out and soft, round (e/c) eyes. She wore a blue and white plaid waitress dress and blue flats to match. Her hair in a bun with multiple strands sticking out showing she was rushing late. Dean could hear her trying not to breathe so heavily. She smiled as she looked at him, a notepad and pen in her hands. “Hello, sir. I’m sorry for the wait. May I take your order?”

Dean didn’t realize he was staring at her alluring until she loudly spoke. “Excuse me, sir?”

“Oh, uh. Sorry. What did you say?”

“May I take your order?” she replied, giving him a kind smile.

“Just coffee, black.”

She nods letting him know she’d be back with his drink in a few moments. When she got to behind the bar counter, at the end away from the customers already sitting there, her hands displayed against it as she slowly breathed in and out. Her chest hurt from waking up late and rushing to get out the door, causing her to lose her breath. The woman smoothed out her hair and clothes before pouring a fresh cup of black coffee into a plain white mug.

Before the waitress would give him his caffeine, she went into the cafe’s kitchen and grabbed a slice of fresh, warm apple pie. She thought the man would need something to eat instead of drinking a lot of caffeine on an empty stomach. It seems like he’s been through a lot and thought it would be nice to give him some warm pie. She stuck a slice on a white ceramic plate and grabbed the cup and walked over to his table. She set it down in front of him and with a small, friendly smile, she sat across from the man. “Thought you would like something to eat. It just came out of the oven. You seem like a pie kind of guy so I thought you could use a slice.”

He knew he needed a good slice of pie and fresh coffee so he wasn’t even gonna put in the effort to argue. Especially not with a cute girl, one that brought him his favorite thing. He smiled at her as a thanks and dug into the food. He moaned in delight as the first warm bite; eyes rolling into the back of his head. She giggled at his actions causing him to quickly swallow his bite and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. His face was probably a little red. “Sorry, it's good pie.”

“Glad you like it. It’s the owner’s recipe. She’s been baking pies since 1940.” the waitress spoke. “What’s your name?”

Her question caused the man to look up at her. “Huh?”

“Your name. What is it?”

He weighed his options for a minute debating on whether he should give her an alias or his actual name. “Dean. Your’s?”

“(Y/n).”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

(Y/n) smiles as she feels her face heat up. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”

Dean winks at her. “Only the ones I like.”

She laughed out loud as he joined in. “When do you get off of work?”

“At seven,” she replies.

“I’ll see you then.”

Dean grabs out money from his wallet and lays it on the table before winking at her one last time before walking out of the building. She watched as he walked out the door and got into his ‘67 black Chevrolet impala and drove out of the parking lot leaving a trail of dust behind. Her face felt hot. No doubt it was red. Taking up an offer from a man she doesn’t know, except for his name, seems like a really bad idea but something about him caught her attention. She needed what it was about him that caused her to give all her attention to him.

The bell on the door chimed breaking her out of her thoughts. She looked around and saw customers start to pile in. The woman didn’t realize he had finished his breakfast while she cleaned the table off. The plate and cup was empty she didn’t realize as she went on with her soon to be busy day, a smile painting her face. Excitement built up inside her. She couldn’t wait for tonight.

___________________________________________

A/N: New story coming out soon. Keep a look out! Down below is what it is about.

Sam and Dean arrive in a small, snowy Minnesota town. Strange occurrences had been happening. Little men had been seen murdering an employee and walk out of the store with tools in their hands. But where did they come from? And why were they murdering? As the Winchesters figure out whats going on, a woman Dean’s been talking to gets kidnapped and for a deal, the men who stole tools make a deal. Stop interfering the the little men’s plan and they’ll give them the girl back. But Sam and Dean don’t stop and unfortunately, the boys end up getting kidnapped. How will they survive? Will they be able to save Dean’s woman? What the hell is going on?

#oneshot #dean winchester #dean #supernatural #imagine #supernatural fluff #supernatural one shot #supernatural imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader

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cthonicathenean · 4 years

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Top 25+ Recipes to Cook This Month

Welcome to April, a month that is constantly crossed with logical inconsistencies, yet never more so than this year. It for the most part blows in nippy, however with the guarantee of sun, daffodils, and open ranchers markets. This year my neighborhood is in blossom, however shockingly peaceful, as we keep to our homes and hold up out the covid-19 emergency. What is there to do however cook? I think nearly everybody I know is heating brutally, yet in addition getting somewhat fatigued of isolate cooking.

Soba Noodle Broth Bowl

So how about we start crisp today, with 30 plans to involve your hands and kitchen this month. From spring moderate cooker chicken to pasta with a pile of greens, and breakfast deviled eggs to the best potato serving of mixed greens for spring, here are 30 thoughts and plans to assist you with anticipating cooking in the midst of the peculiarity of now.

All of these thoughts is expansive(- ish) with a couple of explicit plans as alternatives, contingent upon what you have and how you're supplied at this moment.

Plans for a Holiday at Home

April is a month of both fasting and devouring, as three of the world's incredible strict conventions hold consecrated festivals. Passover, Easter, and the principal seven day stretch of Ramadan all fall in April. Clearly none of us will celebrate with loved ones this year, yet even more motivation to stick to the flavor of customs and make the nourishment we love. So we should commence with some motivation for these special seasons you might be watching.

Kitchn Cooking School is in meeting! Join whenever to get 20 exercises every day to help you on the excursion of turning into the cook you've for the longest time been itching to be. Everything begins the Monday after you join, so be watching out for your first exercise!

Step by step instructions to Make Honey-Glazed Ham in the Slow Cooker

An entire ham!

Truly regardless of whether it's simply you, or you two, or a little group of four. An exemplary nectar heated Easter ham is an extraordinary thing to get this April (here's our manual for purchasing ham). Coating it, heat it, and afterward slash up all that meat you don't eat for capacity in the cooler. Bundle into holders or sacks with only enough for breakfast dishes, pan-sears, and other future cooking.

The most effective method to Make Honey-Glazed Ham in the Slow Cooker

The most effective method to Bake a Honey-azed Ham

5 Easy, 3-Ingredient Glazes for Easter Ham

Sweet Braided Czech Bread with Almonds and Raisins

A rich, expound bread venture

On the off chance that you haven't saw, everybody is by all accounts heating at the present time. Regardless of whether you float towards the moderate development of sourdough bread or the speedier delight of no-manipulate bread, this is the month to truly put it all on the line. Easter has a terrific convention of twisted, excellent breads, as well; I will make a tremendous Czech-style houska for my little family one week from now.

Sweet Braided Czech Bread with Almonds and Raisins

The most effective method to Make Challah Bread

The most effective method to Make Brioche

Exemplary Easter Cake with Coconut and Jelly Beans

An incredible Easter cake

Regardless of how you observe Easter, it's an incredible reason to prepare a cake. Meghan our Associate Food Editor says. "We will be proceeding with the custom of preparing our yearly rabbit cake for Easter this year." You can go all cushy and adorable with a retro exemplary light, fluffy cake, or tasteful with our most idiot proof bundt cake.

Exemplary Easter Cake with Coconut and Jelly Beans

The most effective method to Make the Very Best Foolproof Bundt Cake

Gluten-Free Sticky Lemon Cake

Matzo ball soup (for Passover and past!)

Not only for Passover! Matzo ball soup ought to be on your hit list these early, nippy long periods of April. A definitive solace nourishment, and one that utilizes every one of your pieces and bits to make juices. On the off chance that you need to step up, Leah Koenig's shallot-shiitake matzo balls are one of my preferred things I've at any point tried for the site.

Vegan Matzo Ball Soup

Chicken Soup with Shallot-Shiitake Matzo Balls

Slow Cooker Brisket and Onions

Brisket (go with the moderate cooker)

See, I realize you may as of now have a brisket formula revered in family custom. Provided that this is true, disregard me. Be that as it may, for anybody all alone with brisket this year, may I recommend this moderate cooker formula, one of my untouched top picks (swap genuine for Passover tamari for the soy sauce).

Slow Cooker Brisket and Onions

Delicate, Melt-in-Your-Mouth Instant Pot Brisket

Medjool Date and Apple Charoset

Charoset, to improve

This nut and natural product blend is a basic piece of the Seder plate, yet in addition a succulent and splendid taste of Passover to the individuals who celebrate. Make a twofold bunch and, on the off chance that you need to get wild, go Ben and Jerry's and make dessert with it.

Apple Walnut Charoset

Medjool Date and Apple Charoset

Charoset Ice Cream

Step by step instructions to Make Creamy, Crunchy Matzo Brei

Matzo brei for breakfast

A definitive solace breakfast nourishment for the morning after Passover Seder and all through Passover.

Matzo Brei with Bananas and Pecans

Step by step instructions to Make Creamy, Crunchy Matzo Brei

Moment Pot Kacchi Lamb Dum Biryani

Biryani for breaking the quick

Ramadan begins the night of April 23 and in numerous societies, biryani is a customary dish for breaking the quick. By and by I would take any reason to eat biryani and I particularly suggest right now Pot sheep adaptation from Urvashi Pitre.

Moment Pot Kacchi Lamb Dum Biryani

Slow-Cooker Chicken and Rice Biryani

Vegetable Biryani Rice

Down to earth Dinners (But Make Them Spring)

While I intend to eat off my vacation ventures for at any rate a week (and my Easter candy for seven days after that!) April is likewise an opportunity to revive our formula records. Here are down to earth yet at the same time crisp thoughts, that break with winter's soups and bean stews yet fit in your extra-bustling haven at-home life.

Slow Cooker Spinach and Artichoke Chicken

Spring chicken (in the moderate cooker!)

Kelli, our Associate Food Editor, cherishes this moderate cooker chicken. "This moderate cooker chicken is my outright most loved supper at the present time. I mean simply take a gander at it, between the artichokes, lemon, spinach, and white wine, it shouts spring. The formula calls for boneless chicken bosoms, however I typically swap in boneless thighs."

Slow Cooker Spinach and Artichoke Chicken

Slow Cooker Pesto Chicken

Slow Cooker Chicken Piccata

Soup, made rich with an egg

Spring soups need to take a break from overwhelming winter bean stews and I love spring soups improved with eggs rather than a great deal of meat. Lauren Masur our Staff Writer particularly cherishes Greek-style egg and lemon soup: "This is my preferred soup ever when I'm feeling debilitated," she says.

Instructions to Make Greek Egg and Lemon Soup (Avgolemono)

Soba Noodle Broth Bowl with Miso-Butter Mushrooms

Gingery Poached Egg Soup

Smoky Roasted Vegetable Hummus Bowl

Hummus as a supper

Only an update: hummus can be the base of an awesome supper. It's not only a plunge, not only an a hors d'oeuvre. Heap simmered vegetables and a smidgen of extra meat or cheddar on a bowl of hummus and ta-da — an exquisite, fulfilling supper. (Here are five all the more smart thoughts as well.)

Smoky Roasted Vegetable Hummus Bowl

Mediterranean Hummus Bowl with Chickpeas and Soft-Boiled Egg

Broker Joe's Shawarma Chicken Hummus Bowls

Lemon Braised Chicken and Beans with Mint Pesto

Dried beans, spruced up

There's been such a sudden spike in demand for beans during this across the country shutdown; odds are acceptable you have some in your wash room as well and might be becoming somewhat ill of them. However, don't abandon beans; they can change perfectly to spring. I love this lemon and mint number, to begin.

Lemon Braised Chicken and Beans with Mint Pesto

Green Pea and Chickpea Falafel

Slow-Cooker White Beans in Parmesan Broth

Fresh Pan-Fried Beans with Wilted Greens

Bacon and Egg Fried Rice

Singed rice, livened up with your extras

Singed rice is a fantastic method to go through small amounts of extras; far beyond the aggregate of its parts. Bacon and Egg Fried Rice

Singed Rice with Thai Basil and Tofu

Step by step instructions to Make the Best Chicken Fried Rice Without a Wok

Simple Sheet Pan Chili Garlic Roasted Shrimp and Broccoli

Spring sheet skillet suppers

Sheet skillet suppers get a spring makeover with these three, one a fiery and garlicky shrimp and broccoli circumstance that Sheela says is as yet the most loved in her home. Or on the other hand attempt a salmon supper or this game-changing approach to cook gnocchi.

Simple Sheet Pan Chili Garlic Roasted Shrimp and Broccoli

Firm Sheet Pan Gnocchi and Veggies

Sheet Pan Crispy Salmon and Potatoes

Prepared Risotto with Peas, Asparagus and Pancetta

Prepared risotto (hands-off, all solace)

Risotto is a go-to dinner for us all year yet the effortlessness and solace of prepared risotto is actually what I need at this moment. These three truly feel directly for spring.

Prepared Risotto with Peas, Asparagus and Pancetta

The most effective method to Make Easy Oven-Baked Risotto

Prepared Mushroom Risotto with Caramelized Onions

Simple Lemon Bundt Cake with Fresh Lemon Glaze

Sweet Treats

You've heated banana bread, chocolate chip treats, and an excessive number of dish of brownies. Time to switch things up! Start with the no-prepare stuff at that point gradually work once again into pies.

Salted Brown Butter Rice Krispies Treats

Rice Krispies treats (however extravagant)

On the off chance that this preparing flood conveys into April allows all guarantee to take a brief break and do a no-heat spell with these MOST astounding darker spread Rice Krispies treats.

Salted Brown Butter Rice Krispies Treats

Red Velvet Rice Krispies Treats

Treats and Cream Ric

#food

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paulvibe · 5 years

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Just Friends - Part 7 (Paul McCartney x Reader)

Words: 3.2K

Warnings: Minor Sexual Themes

Summary: Paul, finally, shows you the farm

A/N: Thank y’all so much for reading! I’m planning to write 2 more chapters, one being the final and then an epilogue. I sincerely hope that you all loved this story. It’s been fun to write, not only fueling my Paul love, but yours also. <3

A MONTH LATER

Fall had now fully come into effect. It had been a wonderful summer, so many events came and happened. Mostly happy, some sad. It was nice though, for the weather to start simmering down. You loved the summer, but there was always something so special about Autumn. The air was more crisp, and every step you took was followed by the sound of a crunching leaf. You also started to incorporate fall pastries into your bakery, so, more business was filtering in due to pumpkin pies and warm apple cider.

Over the past month, since your father's funeral, you threw yourself back into work. You worked overtime at the bakery, making up for the lost sales. You had also been working more to keep up your promise to your mother- to send money back to home to help with your siblings. Mom had also told you that Cindy started working at a diner to help with the bills, and David tended to the neighbors gardens. Each family member was pitching in and doing their part to help. It was sad that it took your father's passing to finally bring all of you together, but it is what it is.

Paul had also gotten swept back into work. He worked long hours at the studio, recording and writing for his new album. It was hard, to not see Paul, but you two talked on the phone the days he couldn’t make it to visit. Ever since the two of you showered together, the feelings you tried to deny were too strong to fight. It was a long time coming, I mean, there was moments before you were naked together that you had realized those feelings. But now, you finally acknowledged them. You were inevitably, undeniably, in love with him.

The thought of him brought butterflies to your stomach, it would cause you to smile and bite your lip. You would find yourself drifting off thinking, no- dreaming about what life would be like if you were together. You dreamt of the family home, the domestic lifestyle. Making breakfast for him in the mornings, dinner in the evenings. You get the drift. Sometimes you would get so caught up in these fantasies you would forget about the customer, waiting to be served.

The cool morning light peeled it’s way through your curtains, casting across the room. It was a Sunday, which meant the bakery was closed. You sighed, and threw the covers off yourself, getting up to stretch. It’d been a week since you last saw Paul. He was busy recording, which was unfortunate. However, you were also busy at the bakery. You looked at your alarm clock, reading 9:23 A.M. You made your way to the kitchen and set on a pot of coffee, and put a bagel into the toaster. You then opened your apartment door, grabbing the newspaper. You scanned the sections before one headline caught your attention.

PAUL’S NEW LOVER?

What? You read the sentence over and over again. It echoed throughout your brain as you frantically flipped to the page containing the article. A picture of Paul and Linda covered nearly a full page.

“...McCartney was seen last Wednesday with Linda Eastman wrapped around his arm. Will the former lovers rekindle that spark?...”

You tossed the paper onto the counter top, feeling a lump in your throat form. You were an idiot, of course Paul wasn’t in love with you. You two were just friends, and were to remain that way forever. You felt stupid, angry, betrayed. It’s not like you two were dating, nobody had made that clear. Your conscience stepped in, trying to calm you down. He had even talked to you about how their relationship just didn’t work out, they were always fighting about this and that. There had to have been a reason that he was with Linda, I mean, her father was his manager for god sakes.

You still couldn’t push past the picture. She was smiling up at him, while he smiled into the cameras. Her arms were wrapped around one of his, and they seemed to be walking together outside the studio. That should’ve been me. You thought, feeling a deep cavern form in your chest. You bit your lip and shook your head, trying to force the tears back into your eyes. It was stupid, it was like seeing all those pictures of him and Jane. You felt like a teenager again.

As if on cue your telephone rang, you knew it was Paul. You sighed, wiped your eyes and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey Love.” You loved how his voice sounded over the phone, so soft and always eager. It made you want to jump into his arms, but your heart was reminded of the picture with Linda wrapped around him.

“Hey, Paul.” You said softly, mixing creamer into your coffee. You could fake it, right? That you weren’t hurt? It’s a tabloid, you kept reminding yourself.

“Listen, I’ve been thinking. Would you like to come over?” Paul hadn’t invited you to his house since, ever. This would be the first time. You always thought it was strange, the fact he hadn’t invited you over.

“Um, Paul, I’m feeling a little under the weather.” You said, cringing with each word that came out. You were letting that stupid article get to you. Internally you knew that you were doing that self-sabotage thing you do. As soon as something wonderful happens to you, you ruin it for yourself.

“Come feel under the weather with me.” He spoke so smoothly. Maybe that how he charmed Linda back into his arms.

“That’s very sweet of you, but-”

“I’m sending the car over. I expect to see you soon.” Okay. So, there was no getting around this.You huffed, slamming the creamer back onto the counter a little hard.

“Fine.” You gave in, though you were finding it hard to be excited. Stupid article. You needed to find out the truth from Paul.

“Lovely, I’ll see you soon, Kitty.” With that, the dial tone signaled. That nickname always sent you over the edge. You wished he’d whisper it in your ear with a string of sweet-nothings. You groaned, wiping your face with your hands and then grudgingly getting dressed.

The driver showed up an half an hour after Paul called, and so started the adventure to Paul’s house. You didn’t even know he’d settled in Scotland until you pulled up to the home. Once past the gate, a gorgeous stone house came into view. Vines had grown up the sides of the home, and the stone work was covered with moss spots. A small garden patch was planted in front of the home, and you could see various vegetables growing. A few barns stood past the home out in a field and a handful of horses grazed the grass. You were awestruck; Paul lived in a medieval fairy tale home. Something you’d always dreamed of, in fact you talked about it with him when you were children. He always boasted about having a mansion with seven maids when he grew old.

The driver parked, and you thanked him whilst climbing out. Immediately sinking your foot into a puddle of mud. You groaned and pulled your shoe out with a shluck! sound.

“Oh, I should’ve told you it’d be muddy.” You heard Paul say. You looked up, your eyes drinking in the sight of him. He stood with his hands in his pockets and an amused smile on his face. He was wearing a basic long sleeve polo shirt with jeans and tall rubber boots spackled with mud. You sighed dreamily, he looked so good.

“That would’ve been nice.” You said dryly, snapping out of your dream state and stepping away from the mud.

“Welcome to the McCartney Estate.” He boasted, arms wide with a wide smile on his face. “I’ve been wanting to bring you here for a while.” He greeted you, and let you wrap an arm around his so you wouldn’t step or slip in any more mud. “Tour? Followed by breakfast?”

“Sure.” You said, checking your wrist watch. It was 10:37 in the morning, and you hadn’t had coffee yet; even though you did make some. You might as well get through the tour, though you’d be thinking about breakfast the whole time.

He lead you into the home, and took off his boots setting them aside. He also asked you to take off your mud soaked shoes as well. You looked around the home, absolutely astonished at how beautiful it was inside. A large kitchen was straight across from the living room, equipped with a fireplace and television. The bathroom stood down the hall, along with the backdoor of the house. A staircase in the living room led up to the bedrooms; 4 of them. He showed you around each room all of which were clean and tidied. He then took you to the basement and showed you the basic recording setup he had.

“Paul, this home is beautiful. You waited over three months to show me?!” You exclaimed, lightly punching his arm. He mocked hurt and rubbed his arm.

“Well, I was remodeling.” He defended as you two made your way back to the kitchen and living room. Breakfast had already been made, by someone who probably wasn’t Paul, and sat neatly across the counter-top. There were pancakes, fresh fruit, sausages and bacon, as well as syrup and whipped cream. Paul, being a gentleman, fixed you a plate with a little bit of everything and sat you down at the table.

“Paul, what’s all this for?” You asked, feeling slightly suspicious as to why he was making such a big deal over this.

“Can’t I just make you breakfast?” He had a slight hesitation before he replied. He fixed himself a plate and then he sat down in a seat across from yours. You assumed that was the best answer you were to get out of him, and just enjoyed your breakfast. He’d even gotten you a cup of coffee. Paul watched as you ate, feeling happy. This is how it should be, you in his home, eating breakfast slightly grumpy. He smiled warmly at the thought of you two waking up together, making breakfast, you complaining about this and that. Spending your days tending to the farm, feeding the chickens, riding the horses.

After breakfast, he gave you a pair of too big rubber boots and he showed you the farm. He owned three horses, all named something obscure. He also owned two pigs, five chickens, and even two goats. Each had their own pen, and small shelter. There was a large barn that held a small tractor, and a few bales of hay. It also harbored the other animals feed.

“I always remembered how you wanted to live on a farm.” Paul spoke softly, watching you spread the chicken feed. He thought you looked adorable in his spare pair of boots, that were indeed much to big for your feet. His heart warmed at the thought of this becoming a regular thing, tending to the animals together. Of course, you’d have your own size rubber boots by that time.

“I told you that when we were so young.” You spoke, setting the pan of seed down onto a nearby fence post. You looked up at him now. He had a look of adoration, leaning up against the chicken coop. Had Paul bought this home and farm for you? That’s just a ridiculous thought.

“(Y/N), I have something to confess.” He said after a few moments of consideration. You watched his face carefully, trying to assess what he was about to say. Did it have to do with Linda? “I- I’ve been feeling this way for a while.”

Oh god. Here it comes. He loves Linda. They’re back together, and she’s pregnant. You know it. Your chest tightened with each moment he didn’t speak. He was fiddling with one of the gate latches.

“I saw the article Paul.” You interrupted to him, not waiting to hear what he was going to say. You kicked some mud off your too big boots, and then looked up to see his reaction.

“Article?” He looked at you puzzled, now standing up straight.

“With you and Linda. I know. I know that you were with her.” You blurted. “I saw it in the newspaper this morning. You two, wrapped around each other looking happy go lucky. The picture was dated from three days ago.” Paul still looked at you puzzled. He shook his head, and ran his hand through his hair. You looked back down at the ground, feeling that gaping hole in your chest only grow in size. Him not answering only confirmed your fears. Well, you had a lovely run. As friends.

“I get it, we’re just friends. Paul, I- I-” You started, but Paul was quick to interrupt.

“No, you Idiot.” Your eyes raced to meet up with his, giving you a slight crick in your neck. “I’m in love with you.”

You gasped as the cavern in your chest immediately filled. Warmth filled your body, bringing feeling back into your fingers and toes. If you were holding something, you probably would’ve dropped it.

Paul’s body quickly wrapped around yours, as he rested both of his hands on the sides of your face, pulling you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, just a fiercely as he did to you. You grabbed his shirt by the sides and pulled him flush against you. It was like a typical, cheesy romantic movie. The kiss felt like twenty fireworks had been set off at once. Love was in the air; the cool, Autumn air.

“I love you too.” You managed to stumble out once you both broke for air. Happy tears stung your eyes. “I’ve loved you since I was 14.”

His hands slid down your back, now holding you tightly. He rested his forehead against yours, smiling softly. It was beautiful, with the chill Autumn air and sunshine billowing down onto you. The ambiance of the farm added to the romance.

“I knew the second I met you.” He spoke.

“You were eight years old.” You chuckled, kissing him again.

“I know a good bird when I meet one.” He winked. You shook your head with a giggle. You didn’t want to kill the moment, but you still had to ask what Paul was doing with Linda the other day. It was eating you up. If he loved you, then why would he be spending time with his Ex-Girlfriend.

“Paul, can I ask,” You paused, biting your lip, “What were you doing with Linda the other day?” You spoke softly, stepping out of his embrace.

“She was taking promotional pictures for the new album.” He replied. It didn’t even occur to you that Linda was a photographer, and her father was Paul’s manager. Of course. You’re an idiot, jumping to the worst conclusions.

“...Right.” You finally said, which a short laugh. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.” You kicked a few rocks, looking at your giant booted feet. Pauls hand gently grabbed your chin as he directed your attention up to him. He then kissed your forehead, and wrapped one arm around your waist.

“You know believing those stupid tabloids is rookie mistake number one.” Paul joked, finishing off with a quick peck to your lips. You savored the moment, being here with Paul. You knew at some point your Romantic-Comedy movie moment had to end. You wished it could be like this forever, but of course tomorrow you’d have to return to the bakery, and Paul would return to the studio.

“What will your fans think? Of us? I mean, You’re the last bachelor of the Beatles. I’m sure a lot of girls are going to be very disappointed.” You spoke up, while you and Paul walked back to the house. His hand held yours and it made you feel giddy. Sure, you’d been holding hands before but now there was meaning behind it and it was different.

“They’ll have to deal. I love you. Period.” He said, you could hear the happiness in his voice. It gave you butterflies. It’s crazy how three simple words could change your whole life. You two winding up together was such a fairy-tale moment.

You looked around at his vast property before entering the home. The chill air was starting to get to you, and you shivered slightly before the warmth of the fireplace brought you back to life. You poured yourself another cup of coffee, took off those ridiculous boots, and sat on the couch that was near the fire. Paul joined you a moment later, wrapping his arm behind you. You sighed, resting your head onto his shoulder. This is how life should have always been. You two should’ve been together years ago. However, if you did get together years ago he’d probably be working a dead end job, and you’d be a simple housewife.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Paul asked, after you two had been warmed back up by the fire. You adjusted your sitting position to look at him better.

“Yes, you know I love gossip.” You smiled wide. He laughed at your comment.

“I used to live in London, when we first reconnected. I-” He paused, a smiling interrupting his speech, “I bought this home and farm shortly after our first dinner. I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my days with you. I never forgot all those rantings of you dreaming about owning a small farm, growing vegetables, raising animals.”

“Do you want me to cry?” You spoke, a happy tear running down your cheek. You laughed shortly and kissed him hard, straddling his lap. He rested his hands on your hips, occasionally grabbing your bum as you kissed. No, you two hadn’t had sex before. Though as teenagers there were a few close calls. Mostly being drunk from going to parties, especially after Paul joined The Quarrymen.

You two kept kissing, each one getting more hot and heavy. Paul was now firmly holding onto your bum, while your fingers were tangled in his hair. You could feel him progressively getting turned on, his hips occasionally coming up to meet yours. You would break the kisses with soft moans, which only fueled Paul to continue. He grabbed you tightly and flipped the two of you so he was now on top of you on the couch. He quickly helped you get rid of your sweater, leaving you in jeans and a bra.

“God, I’ve forgotten how gorgeous your chest is.” He muttered, littering your chest and the tops of your breasts with kisses, occasionally leaving a love bite. You continuously ran your fingers through his hair, moaning at the sensations of him. Paul sat up straight and took his long-sleeve off, revealing his torso. You bit your lip, running your hands all across his chest. You’d always been sexually attracted to Paul, who wasn’t?

“Do y’want to go up to the bedroom, Kitty?” He whispered in your ear. His accent getting heavy. You feverishly nodded, and the two of you stood up, practically running up the stairs and to the master bedroom.

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Taglist: @starlight-and-moonshine @tarantinoandmetal @brifilm @yllwtaxi I love you all <3

#the beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfiction #paul mccartney fanfic #paul mccartney x reader #the beatles x reader #paul x reader #classic rock fanfic #classic rock fanfiction

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mamashitty · 5 years

Text

Samwell Elementary Chapter 11

Title: Samwell Elementary Fandom: Check, Please! Word Count: 2,291 Ship: Zimbits Chapter: 11 Previous Chapters: tumblr & ao3 Blurb: Eric goes home for Thanksgiving. WARNING: This chapter does deal with the death of a minor character. The death occurred over the summer, before this story started.

Eric -sends a picture of a his mama’s kitchen full of pies and other baked goods-

dat butt tho Wow. That is a lot of pie. You Bittles go all out, eh?

Eric Mama and I both might be stress baking. I’m not sure stress baking is exactly the right word. Sad-baking? Nostalgibaking? Memorybaking?

dat butt tho Do you need to talk about it at all? Shitty said this is your family’s first Thanksgiving without your Moomaw?

Eric You are too sweet, Jack. No, no. Spend time with Maisie. I will be fine.

Except Eric had not been fine when he sent that text message a couple of hours earlier and he is not fine now. There is a weight of sadness hanging over everyone. Usually, his aunts, uncles, and cousins stay late into the night for Thanksgiving. MooMaw was always at the center of it, no one really wanting to be the first to leave until she did. This year it was different. Aunts began arriving early like always. Eric and Mama had been up for hours baking and cooking. They always baked and cooked a lot for Holidays, but usually, MooMaw would arrive earlier than anyone else and help them out. She would take charge of the kitchen, and there would be laughter and loud voices. This year, everything i subdued. Oh, laughter does escape people and then gets picked up by others, but it never lasts long. Sadness and a strange sense of emptiness, of the sudden realization that MooMaw’s barking laugh is missing.

Eric knows it is rude of him to think but he is relieved when people leave earlier than normal. He knows that MooMaw would not approve of it, that she would chide everyone for behaving as they were. Mama tried to bring in more lightness and laughter into the day, and Eric tried to help her, but it was difficult and draining. And, Eric is just glad, that it is now nine in the evening and the only people in the house are his Mama and Coach. Eric helps them clean up, and he feels a tightness in his throat. He can see his Mama’s shoulders shaking and he looks away when Coach slips an arm around her, he tries not to listen to their murmurs, and he tries to forget the loud sob his Mama lets escape before she manages to stifle it.

“Dicky, we are going to bed now,” Coach says.

Eric swallows the lump in his throat, and he knows his voice sounds falsely bright. Too bright. “Y’all have a good night,” and he listens as his parents retreat to their bedroom. He stays in the kitchen, continues to finish the cleaning up. He is not sure what he is going to do for the rest of the night. Maybe settle in his childhood bedroom, open his laptop, and binge-watch something. He makes no move to leave the kitchen though. His legs, they feel strangely frozen in place. Then, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket, and he realizes someone is calling him. Eric fishes his phone out and stares for at it for a second before he answers.

“Jack?” He realizes his voice sounds funny, strained like he is fighting back tears. And he realizes, he is. He is not sure if this fresh onslaught of emotion has to do with his MooMaw or if it is just because Jack is calling him. He realizes after he answers, that they have never spoken on the phone before.

“Eric? Hey, eh.. is this a bad time?” Eric feels his shoulders start to relax once he hears Jack’s voice. Deep like he remembers, but different because voices always sound a little different over the phone. Eric is shaking his head, and he realizes after a beat that Jack can’t see him doing that.

“No, no. Not a bad time at all,” Eric says, as he flicks off the kitchen light and moves towards his bedroom. “I just finished cleaning up the kitchen. Everyone left an hour or so ago. Mama and Coach are in bed,” and Eric is dimly aware that he might be rambling.

“Everyone is gone or in bed here too,” Jack replies, and Eric smiles. He can tell it is a little thing, probably barely a smile, but he knows it is there.

Eric pushes the door open to his bedroom and flicks on the light with his free hand. Then he closes the door before settling down onto his bed.

“How was your day, Jack?” Eric asks because he does not want Jack to ask how his day was. He is worried he might prattle on too much about his sadness, and how weird everything was today. How he feels like he did not try hard enough to make everyone feel comfortable enough in their grief. He feels he should have made space for that, for himself, and for everyone. But it was difficult and Eric knows he was not ready to do that even if he thinks MooMaw would have wanted someone to do that.

“Today was good,” Jack replies, and Eric can hear him moving around on the phone. He wonders where Jack is. Wonders, briefly and then forces himself to stop, if Jack is in his bed. As much as he wants to picture Jack in bed, he also does not. “I always go to Camilla’s to celebrate American Thanksgiving with her family and Maisie. Maisie helped bake the pie we ate,” Jack says, and Eric can picture the soft smile that he is positive he can hear over the phone.

“What kind of pie did she bake?” Eric asks, moving so that he is resting his back against the headboard, his legs spread out comfortably in front of him.

“Apple. Because Apple is her favorite this week. That is what she said, anyway.” Jack says, finishing with a chuckle.

“Oh Lord, I can just imagine Maisie saying that,” Eric says, a quiet laugh of his own escaping him. “What else did y’all eat?”

He hears another soft chuckle escape Jack, and Eric wonders for a second if Jack is going to brush off the question or not. But, Jack answers, and Eric closes his eyes as he listens to Jack. He tries to picture what Jack looks like at this moment, what facial expressions he is making as he talks. Eric asks questions every so often, and Jack answers them and Eric is unsure of how long Jack talks about food and then dinner conversation and more of Maisie’s antics. Eric just knows that he feels relaxed, and maybe not exactly happy, but more content than he has been all day. And then…

“So, eh how was your day, Eric?” Jack asks, and Eric sighs.

“It… it was rough,” Eric begins, surprising himself that he did not deflect the question. “I think we all wanted to act like nothing had changed, to act as if MooMaw was still here, but.. it was too hard. MooMaw was always the first to arrive, and no one would leave until she mentioned she was going to head home, and then it would take an hour more before she actually left.” Eric is unsurprised to feel tears in his eyes. He had cried a lot over the summer when MooMaw first passed, and Trevor had done his best to be there for Eric, but Eric had mostly gone to Lardo and Shitty for comfort. Being back home, the first time since the funeral, was hard. And this being the first holiday without her, even harder still.

“I missed her laughter. I missed her presence in the kitchen. Mama and I got up as early as we always do, and I kept expecting MooMaw to show up when she usually does… or did,” Eric gives a shuddery breath. “I’m sorry, Jack. Prattling on about this…”

“Bitty, keep prattling on,” Jack says, before adding. “If you want or need to… or I could go back to talking about my day?” Jack offers.

Jack is giving Eric an out and Eric surprises himself by not taking it. Instead, he closes his eyes for a second, and sighs maybe just a little dramatically, before he opens his eyes again and stares up at his ceiling.

“Okay,” Eric says, “I do want to talk.”

“Okay,” Jack replies.

And Eric keeps his gaze on the ceiling as he talks. His rambling has no real direction. He finds himself first talking about waking up this morning, and padding into the kitchen. How he had wanted to beat his Mama to it, in order to get coffee and breakfast ready for her. His Mama had already been in the kitchen though and had made too big of a breakfast for the three of them. Then he shifts to talking about all the times he helped MooMaw cook or bake things. Then to the sound of MooMaw’s laughter, of her quick wit. Of how feisty she was and so full of love. He talks about the handwritten cookbook she had left him, full of recipes they had baked together and some that she had guarded all her life, with a wink and a promise that one day she would share the recipes with him. Eric goes from crying, usually softly, but an occasional sob does escape him. He finds himself laughing sometimes too, and he dimly worries about his parents hearing but they never say anything. He forgets, as he stares up at the ceiling and talks, that he is in his childhood home. That Jack is not next to him, but states away, listening to him talk. Jack has not interrupted him, but he does respond sometimes. There’s quiet laughter at some of the funny stories that Eric shares, and whispered condolences or questions that prompt Eric to talk even more. Jack seems to instinctively know what Eric needs to hear.

And Eric he really feels like Jack is truly listening to him, that he wants to, and that he cares. Sometimes, Eric is not sure if the tears he is crying are just for MooMaw or this strange happiness he feels in talking to Jack like this, in opening up to him so much. He knows this is the most they have ever talked. He feels that they have crossed some line, some threshold tonight. He wonders, briefly, if Jack is thinking and feeling the same but his thoughts go back to MooMaw and he continues to share stories, and his heart opens. He feels a warmth that had been missing all day.

Eric sighs, “I wish I had had the courage to share some of these stories with my family. I think it could have done us all some good, to talk like this. But… but we all held it in,” Eric is not sure if what he is saying, or trying to say, makes much sense.

“I am glad you could talk to me about it, Bitty.” Jack says gently.

“Thank you for listening,” Eric replies, a smile playing on his lips.

“I will always be here to listen, Bud. We are friends, right?” Jack asks, and Eric hears the vulnerability in it. His ears and heart lingering on the word ‘friends’ and before that ‘Bud’. The way Jack had said it, it had sounded almost like a term of endearment. His heart did something funny at it, soared a little. He latched onto the friends' bit, because that was easier to hold onto, and did not cause his heart to thud as hard. Friends, he could and would take that even if he wanted more. His lips were still turned into a smile, or maybe they had turned into a new smile.

He sighed before he could stop himself, a pleasant little sigh. “Yeah, we are friends. Yanno that means you can talk to me too if you ever need to? That I’m always here to listen too.” Eric says, trying to keep the like-sick simper out of his voice, and doubting he did.

He hears Jack inhale a breath and he waits.

“I was nodding before I remembered you could not see it,” Jack explains, laughing and the laugh sounds embarrassed. Eric smirks, amused. “But, yes. Friends... and I will talk to you if I need to.”

“Friends,” Eric repeats and for some reason, he feels like a little kid. He feels too giddy at the fact they had just confirmed they were friends as if their actions these last few months had not been building up to this. As if Eric does not want them to keep building up to something else. He opens his mouth to say something, his brain not quite caught up to it, when he hears Jack yawn and Eric realizes how late it must be. His phone suddenly feels too warm against his face. His own eyes feel heavy, and soon he is yawning in response to Jack.

“It is past your bedtime, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric gently teases.

“It is, “Jack hums in agreement, but he sounds sleepy all of a sudden.

“Goodnight, Jack. And thanks again,” he says, softly.

“Goodnight, Eric.” Comes the reply.

Silence stretches for a few seconds but neither he nor Jack disconnects the call. The repeat goodnight a couple more times before Jack counts down and then they both hang up just after he reaches three. Eric, he feels happier than he has since he landed in Georgia. He makes the mental note to try and share some of the stories he shared with Jack with his Mama in the morning. He just manages to reach over to plug his phone in, before he falls asleep.

#omgcp #omgcp fic #zimbits #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #a.shitty writes #a.shitty fics #samwell elementary au

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eurynome827 · 5 years

Text

Hayride

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1,536

Summary: A getaway with all the fall activities you can get your man to put up with you for, until you need his help to get through a haunted hayride.

Warnings: nothing really, fluffy flufftastic

Author Note: This is my entry for Mimi’s Fall Into Marvel Challenge hosted by @captain-rogers-beard and my prompt was Hayride.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”

Bucky shook his head and smirked at you as you trudged barefoot through a large tub full of red grapes.

“I’m just fine out here, doll.”

You bit your tongue to keep from harassing him but couldn’t resist raising up your foot and chucking some grape remnants in his direction. He moved out of their path easily, but the winemaker in charge of the grape crushing party cleared his throat and glowered in your direction.

“Sorry!” you waved at the winemaker with a big smile and Bucky snorted.

“You’re a child.”

You stuck out your tongue at him and jumped, hoping to splatter him a little but then you shrieked as you almost lost your footing. Bucky rushed to grab your arm and steady you before you fell into a tub of half crushed grape mess. “Brat,” he couldn’t keep his amusement out of his voice as he smoothly scooped you up in his arms and pulled you out of the tub. “Let’s go get our wine and sit somewhere dry.”

You couldn’t remember ever being this happy. Somehow you had convinced Bucky to spend a long weekend with you on the North Fork of Long Island doing all your favorite fall activities. You were staying in a beautiful old bed and breakfast on the edge of a vineyard, right in the middle of Harvest season. You drank cider and danced in the courtyard at the Riverhead Cider House. Bucky let himself be dragged along apple picking AND pumpkin picking, with only the promise of fresh baked pies sustaining him.

Other than that, Bucky’s favorite part of this trip so far had been the evenings spent at the fire pit at the bed and breakfast – snuggled up with you under multitudes of stars, impossible to see with the bright lights of Manhattan. No, this trip hadn’t been ALL bad.

You wriggled your toes on the vineyard lawn as Bucky aimed the hose at your stained feet. Once all the crushed grapes were washed away from between your toes, you allowed Bucky to lift you again and he walked a short distance to place you on a wine barrel. You stretched your feet out on a neighboring barrel and turned your face toward the sky, grateful for the warm Autumn sun. While your eyes were closed Bucky took out his phone and quickly snapped a picture of you, with a soft grin on his face. No, this trip hadn’t been all bad, not at all.

“I’ll get our glasses, doll,” Bucky turned toward the tasting barn and then called over his shoulder, “Red or white?”

“If it’s cabernet sauvignon, grab me a red. Otherwise, white please!” You checked your watch while you waited for his return. Just enough time to enjoy one glass in the sun, and then you would need to change for the harvest festival that evening. One more night under the stars out at the fire pit, and then home in the morning.

At the harvest festival you both ate your fill of delicious but decidedly unhealthy foods, topped off with apple cider donuts for dessert. The atmosphere was raucous, with several live bands and tons of people milling about. You took a moment to look over at Bucky but he actually seemed to be handling the crowds well. Even so, you took the opportunity to get away to a quieter place and wandered through the corn maze hand in hand. The only interruptions were the children rushing past at intervals, trying to race each other through the maze. Bucky paused at the center of the maze and nudged your cheek with his nose. You looked into his eyes with a smile, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he kissed you softly, “I know I’ve been grumpy, but this has been a really nice trip.”

“Yeah?!” You smiled ear to ear at him and hugged him tightly, “I’m so happy to hear you say that. I’ve had the best time. I’m really lucky you want to put up with me!”

Bucky kissed you one more time and took your hand to lead you out of the maze. “I’m the lucky one, doll.”

At the end of the maze your childish enthusiasm got the better of you again. “A HAYRIDE! Can we go, please?” You hung on his arm with a pleading look in your eyes and Bucky let you pull him toward the horse-drawn cart. It was getting late at the festival and you were joined on the cart by only one more family. A mother and father on the young side, with a boy about three years old and a little girl you placed at about six. You smiled at them as they got settled across from you and Bucky, but then jumped three feet into the air as the driver loudly announced, “WELCOME TO THE HAUNTED HAYRIDE!”

“….haunted?” you glanced at Bucky and briefly considered jumping off the cart. You loved fall and you loved Halloween, but you were notoriously easy to scare. You knew you were about to completely embarrass yourself in front of these children and that Bucky would never get tired of telling this story. He was already looking at you with amusement, knowing exactly what was going through your head. “C’mon, you know I’ll protect you,” he whispered to you, and you huffed and sidled closer to him. Let him have his fun, you thought to yourself. He had certainly let you have yours.

The horse began a slow clip-clop toward the field, away from the festival and the corn maze and the lights began to fade away, leaving only the moonlight. This would have been lovely if you weren’t anxiously waiting for some teenager in a terrible costume to jump out at you! As if on cue, two zombies grabbed onto the side of the cart and moaned and you nearly ripped Bucky’s arm off. The two children were not faring any better. You whimpered and dove under Bucky’s arm, covering your face with your hands.

“Shh, baby,” he soothed you, but the laughter stayed in his voice, “something is coming up, behind us.”

And it went on like that, with your strong boyfriend with his super soldier senses warning you of every impending danger. The two parents were obviously in over their heads, trying to calm the little boy while the girl was jumping and screaming just the same as you. After the third or forth jump scare you saw him reach out his hand to the little girl. “Hey honey,” he said sweetly to her, “if you stay by me I can tell you when to close your eyes.”

She didn’t even hesitate and hopped over to your bench, scooting under Bucky’s flesh arm as you cowered under his metal one. He began to whisper his warnings to little girl and softly squeeze you closer when it was time to hide. You looked up at the parents across the way and saw their relieved faces. “Thank you,” the mother mouthed to Bucky and he grinned widely in return.

Finally the ride of terror was over, and you accepted a quick kiss from your man before hurriedly jumping down from the cart. Bucky helped the little girl out and offered a hand to her mother, who took it gratefully. While her father and brother were climbing down, the girl pulled on Bucky’s hand to get him down to her level.

“My name’s Zoe, what’s yours?”

“Bucky,” he grinned back as she shook his hand solemnly.

“My mama said I could have a caramel apple after the hayride, but I want you to have one too for being so brave.” She kept her hand in his and started pulling him toward the food stands and you thought your heart had grown three (or more) sizes. There were quick introductions amongst the adults and then caramel apples for all, but soon it was time to say good night and goodbye.

Back in the cozy room at your bed and breakfast, you washed your face and brushed your teeth, and when you turned to exit the room you were blocked by Bucky leaning in the doorway.

“My hero,” you teased quietly, standing on tiptoes to kiss him gently and then shifting to move past him, but his arms held you tightly.

“My love,” he said softly, nudging your nose with his.

“Yes?” Your voice caught in your throat.

“I was thinking,” he began, and you nodded in encouragement, “when we come back here someday, it would be nice to have someone else to protect on the hayride.”

You paused, a little confused but pretty sure you were getting his drift. “Okay, Buck. Who did you have in mind?”

His eyes twinkled down at you. “Let’s make a baby.”

You swallowed the lump that flew into your throat. “You sure about that, Buck?” He lifted you off the floor and you wrapped your legs around his waist with a giggle. “Oh, right now?” He ignored your laughter and carried you straight to the bed, laying you down with a slow, deep kiss. “I thought you’d never ask.”

#mimi’s fall into marvel challenge #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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lillianfromaccounting · 5 years

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Finally getting around to this!

Was tagged by @cenobitic-anchorite (thank you!)

Putting this under a read more, because I wrote a lot.

1. What is your favorite movie? My answer to this is always Sleeping Beauty because it was the first movie that I stayed up watching with no adults. Like I must have been around 7 and my older cousin was 12 and we stayed up watching it after all the adults went to sleep. So for me, it signified some sort of independence. (On another note, that same cousin and I also stayed up to watch Pretty Woman before I realized what was going on in that movie.)

I know sometimes it’s a cop out answer, because I really can’t pick a favorite live action movie. There’s too many and I love a lot of them. Also, usually, when I say Sleeping Beauty, based on the other person’s reaction, I can tell if they’ll be compatible and/or get my vibe or not.

2. If you had to drastically change your hair, how would you cut it and what color would you dye it? I want rainbow hair, but I can’t have that where I work. I’ve been saying I’ve wanted to dye it red for several months now, but haven’t made the appointment yet (long story, but also mostly me dragging my feet). I’ve ALWAYS wanted a pixie cut, but have always been told that my face shape isn’t good for it (I did it senior year of college and there were people who flat out told me never to get that hair cut again). I’ll do it again, when I feel like I have the energy to maintain it.

3. Can you drive a manual transmission car? lol, no. I can just barely drive an automatic. (Fact: I got my license at age 23 and didn’t regularly drive until 32.)

4. What’s your favorite thing to cook or bake? Why? Is there a word limit to this? Cuz we’ll be here a few days. lol Favorite thing to bake is scones because I love scones. I also love to bake pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. And anything with a short pastry, so pies, tarts. I LOVE making sweet danishes. Oh crumb cakes. Oooh it’s season for fresh cranberries. I make a really good cranberry lime crumb cake. Cake, in just about every variation (rounds, sheet, cup, etc.) I like these because they’re delicious (and very few bakeries make them well, and I’m a dessert snob. If I’m eating it, it better be worth the calories. I’m also very particular about my cake to frosting/crumb ratio). Also, fact: I suck at baking regular cookies. I can do it, but they never look right and I’m pretty sure I’m screwing up the ratio of dry to wet ingredients or the butter’s not cold enough or something, but yeah, my cookies always look seriously deformed. (yes, I’ve seen that chart that troubleshoots cookies. No, it hasn’t helped.)

Favorite thing to cook. Hm... go to comfort stuff: penne vodka, but really, I like trying new recipes.

5. How old were you when you got your ears pierced (if your ears aren’t pierced, do you want to get them pierced? The first time I got my ears pierced, I think I was in 8th grade, so 13-ish. After the initial however long it was that you’re supposed to keep them in, I got lazy so I didn’t keep earrings in all the time (and they hurt my ears), so the holes apparently closed. I got them re-pierced in sophomore or junior year of high school and again, after a little while, they closed again. I was thinking about getting them re-pierced again.

6. Do you like Thanksgiving? Why or why not? I LOVE Thanksgiving. Yes, the historical aspect can go to hell, but personally, I love Thanksgiving. So growing up, being Chinese, we never celebrated American Thanksgiving. When I was about 13, I got a bread making book from the Scholastic book fair and discovered that we had a working oven (Chinese people don’t cook with ovens. We have a wok and a rice cooker. That’s really all you need.). Anyway, I started baking bread and it was amazing.

Also, our local supermarket would do the holiday promotion of if you spend $X, you can get a free holiday protein, and being a household of 8 (sometimes 10), we hit that spending threshold very, very quickly. So one year, I told my mom that we’re getting a turkey, instead of the ham that she likes. She was skeptical, but I was hell bent on celebrating American Thanksgiving and figuring out what this whole turkey hoopla was about.

I started cooking a Thanksgiving feast for my family (immediate and extended) from the age of 14. I did a sticky rice stuffing in the bird. Mashed sweet potatoes (no marshmallow. it’s sweet enough by itself.) I always made a lasagna (with cheese from DiPalo’s, where I would wait hours on line for our order) or another pasta dish. We did Chinese vegetables. And every year, we would pick new recipes we’d want to try. By ‘we’, I mean me. I would pick new recipes that I’d want to try and my three younger siblings would be obligatory sous chefs. And since bread baking happened in the wee early hours of the morning, we would have it for breakfast. So then I expanded the menu to include breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It became an all day thing and I was (and still am) obsessed.

Oh, it probably also helped to know that I come from a very large extended family and everyone would come through our house during holidays. Usually, it’s because my family hosted the mah jong parties, so we were kinda party central. My biggest Thanksgiving, we had about 50 people cycle through the house that day, so I had to make sure I had food enough for 50 people. Growing up, I’m pretty sure we never had less than 30. (It’s been a shock for me these past several years when we’ve hosted less than 20 people on turkey day.)

Then, my siblings would find recipes that they want to try, and Thanksgiving was this day where we would try food. Not all the recipes worked out, but no one ever got sick or food poisoning (oh man, I have stories from adjacent family members). But yeah. It’s an insane production and I love every minute of it (especially since my mom did the clean up, because bless that woman, she messed up Jiffy corn bread mix when she tried to bake, so she sticks to cleaning).

Anyway, after I got married, I demanded Thanksgiving, which my in-laws didn’t care about because they were getting it catered anyway. But I found out the hard way that they’ve sucked the soul out of my Thanksgiving festivities. One person demanded Stove Top (over fresh sausage dressing?!??!!). Fine. Another prefers roasted turkey (as opposed to smoked or fried). Year after year, they keep telling me to make less food, because they don’t enjoy watching me cook (they think I work too hard, but they also don’t understand that I’m having the time of my life).

At this point, I know that in order to get back to the Thanksgiving that I want to celebrate, it will be after that generation has passed. It’s fine.

I used to start planning my Thanksgiving menu in March, studying recipes and picking and choosing stuff up until like two weeks before hand. Ever since the kids came along, that excitement has also waned. But I’m excited for this year. There will be apple cider mimosas. And I’m roasting a savory pumpkin. And there will be artichokes. Oh and one of my good friends went to Dominique Ansel Kitchen’s pie night this year and had a poached pear chocolate pie that she said was divine. I am attempting to recreate it based on her descriptions of the textures and her pictures. This is what I live for.

(where the fuck is that barney stinson challenge accepted gif when you need it?)

and yes, this year will be my 24th year cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

7. If you could live in the world of one film, which one would you pick? Oh man. D2: The Mighty Ducks. Ok, I lied. I do have a favorite live action movie. I wish I had a more creative answer to this. Yeah, Harry Potter’s world would be cool. Yeah, I identify with hobbits. Any of the Star Treks would also be good in terms of universes. But I want Adam Banks to teach (13-14 year old) me how to ice skate.

8. What kind of pet have you never had, but have always wanted? lol one of my bffs and I always wanted a baby panda.

9. If you won the huge lottery, what would be the first 3 things you’d do?Get a good fucking lawyer, set up a shell foundation so it’s not listed in mine or my husband’s name, prepare to disappear after a couple of years of acting normal. Then, for the more fun three, pay off debt, travel, get a house somewhere the fuck else.

Ceno’s answer was too perfect, so I left it, mainly because I’d pretty much do the same. I’d buy my parents a new house and hire a chauffeur for them. Also @katiekeysburg will get a chauffeur. And I’d throw money at teleportation research. And fund a bunch of gofundmes.

10. Have you ever gotten a tattoo? What is it? If you haven’t, do you want one? I do not have any but I’ve always wanted one of my Chinese name above my ankle and I’ve always wanted the pi character somewhere (debated various locations). One day, when I get the guts to. (and when it’s seasonally appropriate to get one above my ankle, cuz omg I never knew about the various care required while it heals.)

11. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done? hahaha um. Probably calling the cops on an online friend who I thought was going to kill himself, but he really wasn’t (but I didn’t know that). (hey kids, don’t put your addresses in your aol profiles--yes I’m ancient.) actually, I’ve done my share to stupid aol/online shit. it will probably come back to haunt me if i ever run for public office or marry a celebrity.

Ok, real stupid thing. I’m a severe klutz, and one time I walked off a raised cement slab (like the kind that statues would sit on) and sprained my ankle. It was probably 3 inches off the ground on the side that I got on it, but it was further off the ground on the other side, so when I got off the slab, I misjudged where to put my foot and I rolled my ankle. Ended up at the ER and they put me in a soft cast. I had to have crutches to get around campus and this one guy who I don’t even know his name, picked me up and carried me up the campus hill (we had a really big hill), and it was against my consent. I did NOT want him to pick me up. It was terrible. Anyway, I rolled my ankle by walking. I have tons of stupid shit. How much time you got?

I was also pretty pretentious when I was younger. (I might still be. I’m not as self aware as I wish to be.) I once asked an Italian friend to try my tomato sauce and asked him what was missing because it didn’t taste right. (I know. I was so gross. You learn from your own grossness though.)

What other stupidity? I fawned over boys. My bff gave me a copy of The Giving Tree in college (I had never read it before) as a metaphor of how much of myself I gave to this toxic dude. I sobbed reading it for the first time.

In hindsight, not getting my license at 17 was a pretty stupid move too. But that also had to do with life circumstances.

OH. Turning down an interview for an internship with my dream company at the time, because I had already accepted an internship position with another company.

Trying to explain to my MBA ethics class how my industry worked only to get it mansplained back to me (pretty stupid of me to have tried in the first place).

Going for my MBA was also a pretty stupid move in the holistic view of my life.

12. Have you accomplished your New Year’s Resolution for 2018? I honestly don’t remember if I even made resolutions, so I’m going to say hard no.

13. If you could get any degree from any school, free of charge, what would you pick? Criminal Psychology. Ceno, we can go to school together! (this reminds me I need to catch up on last week’s Criminal Minds) Another option would be anything in the forensics sciences. I would also like to learn massage therapy. And I want to take that artisan bread breaking course at the Institute of Culinary Education.

I forget how many people I’m supposed to tag. @katiekeysburg @daisyjm75 @steverogersnotebook

#personal #long post #tagged #this was fun #if only to explain my love of thanksgiving

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sprucemarch23 · 2 years

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Low-cost Breakfast Catering Ideas For Morning Folks

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#外燴

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fulltum · 6 years

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Caterpillar Boy’s Bakery Binge

Yall did it! I’m tickled that this worked so well. Here is this week’s fic - Caterpillar Boy finds his way into an unattended bakery and eats way more sugary snacks than he should. Fortunately, though, a gentle baker finds him and takes care of his tum!

On DeviantART here.

Sunlight shone through the open windows of the bakery, warming the recently painted windowsill as it cast bright rays across the freshly-baked pastries so neatly arranged behind the counter. The grand spread included everything one could imagine – sugary Danishes with raspberry filling that glistened in the light, freshly-iced eclairs bursting with gooey vanilla cream, buttery croissants, a pyramid of green and pink macarons, three different fruit pies (blueberry, apple, and raspberry), bear claws drowning in almond slices and frosting stripes, and turnovers topped with big grains of decorative sugar. These were only a few of the treats that had been prepared this morning. The baker, a young man who had graduated from culinary school just two years prior, removed the last of the day’s fresh pies from the oven and placed it next to the other three, then slipped off his oven gloves and hung them up on the wall. Time for breakfast! The delicious smell of warm, sugary cherry filling beneath a buttery crust rose from the hot pie pan and filled the room as he locked up the cash register, and by the time that he’d closed the front door of the bakery and hopped onto his bike, the wonderful aroma had already begun to drift out of the windows and weave through the air, travelling further and further in the slight breeze. It was about fifteen feet away from the bakery window when it reached the nose of a hungry little caterpillar boy who had been on his way to the garden next door. Being about twenty in human years, he was finally ready to undertake the most important meal of a fairy’s life – the seven-day long feast that would fuel his metamorphosis from caterpillar taur into a perfectly humanoid fairy with beautiful white butterfly wings. He would have to stuff himself at every waking minute until his little tummy felt like it was going to burst, and only then, after a full week of this, would he curl up much fatter and slip into the deep sleep of metamorphosis. Whatever the fruity smell moving through the air was, it smelled delicious, and the greedy little fellow simply couldn’t resist. His mouth watered and his six little legs moved in the direction of the smell as fast as they could, carrying him through the grass toward the bakery’s window at what must have been a record speed for caterpillar boys. His tummy grumbled softly in anticipation when he reached the wall and stared up at the window towering above him. Better not fall! He rubbed a hand over his hungry belly as if to say, ‘soon,’ then started the climb up the four feet of wood siding beneath the windowsill. It wasn’t hard for his six little caterpillar feet to get a nice hold on the grainy surface of the wood, which even a thick coat of paint hadn’t completely smoothed, but he used his hands too, just to make the trip a little quicker. When the caterpillar boy finally pulled himself up the last centimeter of wall and perched in the wide windowsill, his mouth fell open. The sweet, fruity smell that filled the strange room was almost enough to make him faint. He’d never seen so much food in his life, and all of it was begging to be eaten by him, an unimportant little caterpillar boy! Well, he couldn’t just let all of these strange, gigantic snacks go to waste, so he carefully descended the other side of the wall and stepped onto the countertop perpendicular to it. A tower of strange pink and green sandwiches, each the size of his entire torso, towered overhead, and cylindrical, chocolate-covered pastries fatter and longer than his entire caterpillar body were piled like logs on a fancy plate a few inches away. The caterpillar boy, however, was much more interested in the juiciest looking treat of them all – a Danish!

The unfamiliar pastry was the size of half of the caterpillar boy’s bed back in the fairy village he had come from, with circular edges and sweet smelling red-violet goo at the center. Little white stripes zigzagged across the entirety of the pastry, and while he had the sense that the goo was made from some kind of fruit, he had no idea what these were. The caterpillar boy pinched off a tiny piece and held it up to his mouth, immediately humming with appreciation. Sweet! What he had just tasted was decorative icing. He scooted a little closer, even stepping directly onto the soft crust with his front two feet. The buttery surface crunched and sank down under his toes as he leaned forward and scooped some pastry filling out of the center and held it up to his mouth. The caterpillar boy moaned with pure delight the instant the filling touched his tongue. It was so good! The thick, sugary treat was like a fruity explosion of flavor in his mouth, and he was sad to eventually swallow it down – at least until he scooped up another two handfuls and gulped them down, hardly taking any time to savor them. Smears of sticky raspberry decorated his cheeks and covered his tiny little hands up to the wrists as he continued to gobble up the treat, his stomach rapidly filling with heavy, sugary goop. The caterpillar boy burped as he sat down and leaned forward, bringing his face closer to the little sea of raspberry jelly at the center of the pastry, then continued shoveling it into his little body with pants and whimpers of delight. He’d never tasted something so good, and it was quickly beginning to show in the little bump under the bottom of his ribcage. It occurred to him that he hadn’t tried any of the flaky orange part of the pastry, so he pulled a buttery, crisp hunk off the edge of the Danish and shoved it into his mouth, too. Tasty! He swallowed thickly and pulled off another bit, this one with a stripe of dried icing the width of his ring finger running down the middle. The icing crunched pleasantly in his mouth and filled it with sugary goodness. The greedy little fellow chomped and swallowed gleefully, his face lighting up with a smile. Human food was wonderful! His tum was feeling a little full by then, heavy, even, but he paid it no mind as he scooped another handful of filling out of the center of the pastry and shoved it into his mouth, sending it into his stomach with a wet, sticky gulp and a high-pitched little burp immediately afterward. His belly burbled as the gooey mix squished around inside of it, gently stirred by the soft contractions of digestion. He would have stayed at the Danish forever, but his greed had pulled him in what felt like a hundred different ways as he stood before the massive spread of treats. Obviously, sugary, fatty human-sized deserts were no diet for a tiny caterpillar boy, but he didn’t seem to realize as much, even though his tum had begun to rumble and gurgle with uncertainty as it started to absorb the wild amount of sugar he’d already managed to cram into it in his gluttonous frenzy. His belly stuck out like he’d swallowed half of a grape by the time that he started to scurry toward the nearest bear claw, walking directly through the pastry’s center and leaving tiny sets of six footprints at a time connecting the display of Danishes to the tray full of bear claws. He was a little out of breath by the time that he climbed up the raised lip of the long rectangular plate playing host to the stack of bear claws, as he was unused to toting around such a hefty tum as the one he’d quickly started to grow. It was worth the effort, though – whatever these long, cream-colored discs atop this kind of pastry were, they smelled very tasty! The caterpillar boy pulled off an almond with one sticky hand and chomped into it, finding to his delight that their taste was every bit as good as their smell. He crunched it up quickly and that, too, tumbled into his stomach, followed by nine more. Even the almonds weren’t enough to sate the little glutton. Now appearing as if he’d eaten an entire grape, he continued to munch away with delight, stretching his drum-tight belly further and further with every bite. He ate four whole mouthfuls of nothing but white sugar icing, then dipped his finger into the marzipan leaking out of the side of the bear claw and licked it experimentally. Sugary, nutty, and sweet! Three of his new favorite flavors, all in one snack! The caterpillar boy immediately sucked all of it off of his fingertip, then leaned down and directly bit off a big mouthful of marzipan and pastry crust, even managing to catch the edge of one of the icing stripes as well. He could hardly get enough of the rich, delightful taste, gulping down bite after bite whilst paying no mind to his stomach’s distress with the sugary overload. It continued to grow as he chomped and nibbled away at his treat, letting out little pants and delighted hums between swallows and occasionally rubbing a sticky hand over the round bulge of his tum. He had managed to chew a sizeable dent into the side of the bear claw by the time he pulled away from it and surveyed the counter to see what else was there for him to try. His bulging tummy grumbled with dismay as it began its struggling attempts to digest so much sugar, but it was simply no match for the huge gorge his tiny little body was struggling to contain. The caterpillar boy was vaguely aware of the growing ache in his middle, and certainly knew that his tum couldn’t hold much more than it already was, but he was simply too much of a little glutton to give up. He loved to eat, and he’d quickly developed quite a craving for sugar, so he walked right across the rest of the bear claw on his way to the source of the smell that had originally drawn him into the bakery - cherry pie! He was out of breath by the time his chubby little legs had scuttled to the edge of the pie pan. His mouth, which still tasted sweet from all of the goodies that had passed through it up until now, watered. Although the caterpillar boy had never actually encountered a cherry, he could tell that the sugary goop filling the huge pastry was fruit, and like any caterpillar boy, he loved fruit. A sugary leaf pie with lots of white sugar icing on it would have been even better, but he was a realistic little guy, so he didn’t complain as he laboriously hoisted himself and his round, pregnant-looking tum onto the still-warm surface of the crust and sat down, tucking his front feet under his squishy lower body like a cat lying down in the sun. The caterpillar boy plunged a sticky hand into the crust and pulled off a shard of pastry crust with a little grunt of effort, then another. All of the sugary desserts bubbled and rumbled in his tum, which was beginning to cramp and ache as it realized that it hadn’t been filled with nice, healthy leaves. The little guy had doomed himself to the world’s worst tummyache, and it was gradually beginning to set in. Nonetheless, he ignored all of the gurgly warning signs and took a huuuuge chomp of the pie crust, crumbs tumbling down onto the bulge of his pastry-packed belly and decorating its pink-flushed surface, then burped softly as it forced a little air out of his stomach. Like an ice fisher chipping out a hole in a frozen lake, he gobbled down handful after handful of buttery, rich crust and continued to devour whole mouthfuls at a time with audible gulps as he grew closer to the source of the scent. At last, his fingertips sank into the thick, warm red goo that had drawn him all the way from the yard outside. He scooped out a big heap of the bright red gel, cramming it into his mouth and moaning with delight. It was even better than it had smelled! The caterpillar boy, greedy as he was, didn’t even savor it - just dove right in, sucking in handful after handful of the tasty, sugary goop as his tum began to expand wildly. It groaned and strained as the messy gulps continued, pushed far beyond the point of comfort, but it somehow managed to continue stretching without simply bursting open, as the caterpillar boy was starting to become worried it might. He tunneled deeper and deeper into the pie, until the ledge of crust his front pair of feet perched upon simply crumbled under the weight of his tremendous belly, which was rapidly approaching the size of a tennis ball. The caterpillar boy yelped with surprise and fright as his heels slipped in the pie filling and sent him tumbling into the big hole he’d chewed into the center of the pie. He tried to catch a hold of the top of the pie with his other two feet, but they, too, slid uselessly. His lower half twisted and sent him onto his back, sliding like a fat little sled until he was thoroughly wedged into the empty space where quite a few cherries’ worth of gooey filling had been excavated from the big treat. When he stopped moving at last, Caterpillar Boy carefully reached out and patted his sticky tummy, making sure that everything was in order there; although he felt VERY tight and woozy and even his sides were beginning to ache, no permanent damage seemed to have been done by the fall. The hole he’d chewed into the pie was actually quite cozy and soft, so he wiggled a little bit and got more comfortable, then reached to the side and scooped out yet another handful of filling. Cherry goo glistened on his ripe little belly as he ate and ate, seemingly oblivious to just how much he was growing. He had become fruit-filled himself! The caterpillar boy broke off a bit of crust and was halfway to bringing it to mouth when a sharp, bubbly cramp tore through his round belly, making him drop the treat on himself and cry with pain. His insides knotted and gurgled as they tried to process the years’ worth of sugar he’d crammed into himself, little bubbles of gas rumbling through his stomach beneath his inverted bellybutton, which had stretched quite large compared to what it had been before he started to expand. He was exhausted and very, very fat - but he had to keep eating! He was surrounded by food on all sides, and seeing as his monstrous appetite had no off switch, the caterpillar boy could only continue to shovel down each bite, whining and wiggling and moaning as his stomach stretched closer and closer to its bursting point. He felt as if it was about to tear at any moment - why had such a fun, tasty time been ruined? The caterpillar boy swallowed down another big hunk of flaky crust and rubbed the arc of his overstretched belly as if that would do anything for the straining organs below his pink-flushed skin. Alas, however, he was so full of sugar that nothing could help him now other than perhaps a nice rub, the kind that he was unable to provide it, seeing as he was so tremendous that he could no longer reach his own bellybutton. Ooohhhhhhhhh, he moaned sickly, punctuated by a hiccup that jostled everything inside of him painfully. He whimpered and rubbed the sticky surface of his tum in an attempt to soothe it, but the effort had no effect at all. Another hiccup tore through him and jostled the contents packed into his huge belly so hard that it even shook out a soft, high-pitched little burp. This was horrible! The caterpillar boy whined and continued his attempts to ease his horrible tummyache, but what he didn’t notice was the giant figure unlocking the front door to the bakery. Well, at least until he heard the jingle of the silver chimes on the door. The plump insect taur turned his head so fast it made his neck cramp, and to his horror, he saw a MASSIVE human quickly walking toward the spread that he’d thoroughly decimated. Caterpillar Boy squeaked with terror and immediately began to flail his piggy little legs, wiggling and twisting in a frantic attempt to get off of his back and escape from the pan. He was too fat! His belly had simply become too heavy, and without realizing it, he’d stuffed himself into immobility right in the middle of the pie. He belched and hiccuped as his efforts continued, heart racing. He should have listened to the other fairies when they told him to stay away from humans! Now he was going to be eaten! He whimpered and panted as he continued his struggle, shaking with fear. I have to get out of here! “What on earth-” came the human’s voice. So he’d seen the wreckage, all of the sticky little footprints and bite marks in his hard work and the tremendous hole in the middle of the cherry pie. Its owner halted mid-sentence when the two of them made eye contact, then his pale blue eyes moved down to the massive orange-sized bulge of the intruder’s tummy. He seemed to take a moment to even process what he was seeing. “Did you eat all of that, little guy?” Caterpillar Boy, of course, understood none of this, and only thrashed harder, sniffling and crying with terror and pain as his tummy blorped and groaned with overindulgence. His stomach was so upset by all of the sugar he’d eaten, in fact, that the baker could hear it from where he stood a few feet away from the pie pan. “It sounds like you did-- kind of looks like you did too.” He chuckled with amusement, then crouched down to be on eye level with the glutted little creature and slowly reached out to scoop him up. “Let’s get you washed off so we can put you back outside.” The caterpillar boy screeched with terror as the massive hands cupped around him and tried to push them away from himself, but his twiggy little arms were no match for them in the slightest. The giant’s huge paws lifted him high, high, high off the ground, bouncing his massive belly with each step. He hiccuped painfully even once the big human had set him on the countertop next to the sink and produced a bowl from the cabinet overhead, and although he felt very sick, he started wobbling and squirming, attempting to drag his big belly full of sugary treats away from the giant. He had hardly made it very far at all before the baker set the bowl in the bottom of the sink and started a trickle of warm water from the faucet, then picked him up again, positioning him so that the curve of the caterpillar boy's back rested against his big palm. The stream of water dribbled onto his round tum and rolled down the sides, gradually washing off all of the messy pie filling. Although he was still quite frightened, he was simply too tired and too weak with tummy pain to do much of anything about it, so he stayed relatively still, his cries dimming to a continuous stream of fearful whimpers. The human gathered a squirt of hand soap on the index finger of his free hand and moved the caterpillar boy out of the stream of tap water, dabbing a little soap onto his trembling, gurgly tum and gently lathering his tight-stretched skin. He squeaked with fear and wiggled harder, but it had no effect, so he resolved for covering his face with both hands so he at least wouldn’t have to see when the human bit into his ripe little tum like he was a big, juicy fruit. Instead, though, the stranger continued to very gently wash him, even removing a raspberry seed that had become stuck in his bellybutton. He soaped up the caterpillar boy’s skinny arms and yellow-green tail, then rinsed them off, and spoke up again. “Alright, close your eyes and hold your breath so we can get that pie filling out of your hair.” The caterpillar boy did neither of these things until he realized that his head was being moved toward the small waterfall coming from the faucet, at which point he took a shallow breath (his stomach was too full for his lungs to completely expand) and scrunched his eyes shut as tightly as he could. The lukewarm water cascaded down his head and started to brush the dried sugar and fruit off of his cheeks, but the cherry goo remained in his hair until the human worked the bright yellow-green strands into a lather and rinsed them. The caterpillar boy whimpered and tried to scoot away when the giant fingertip first touched the top of his head, but he was too heavy and tired to do much more than that, so he stayed (somewhat) still until the soap had been washed out of his hair. He was squeaky clean! The stream of water stopped and he opened his eyes as the giant reached for a hand towel, which he began to pat the caterpillar boy dry with. Caterpillar Boy hiccuped and burped when the terrycloth brushed against his tum, making the human smile (although he hardly understood why, seeing as his belly really hurt and there was nothing amusing about that). When he was all dry and the hand towel went away, the chubby little fellow wrapped both arms around his tum in an attempt to soothe it, whimpering quietly and wiggling his legs with displeasure. He was only feeling worse and worse as time went by. “Aw, you still feel sick, huh? It’s no wonder, look at how big and tight your tummy is.” Caterpillar Boy was at least a little less frightened of the giant by now, but he still wasn’t thrilled when the baker ran his fingertip along the curve of his swollen, achy tum. What was he doing? The last thing it needed was to be bothered more! His guts rumbled and bubbled as the human lightly stroked back and forth, loosening up a few soft little burps that admittedly did make him feel somewhat better. He was full to bursting with food that was very bad for a little caterpillar boy, though, and he hardly felt very good overall, so he'd really rather the human just leave his sensitive little tum alone and let him sleep somewhere. The gentle rubs continued, however, brushing over his tight navel and stroking his sides; while the sugar was still causing his belly to hurt quite a bit, the repetitive motion and the warmth of the hand against his back were made him even drowsier nonetheless. He struggled to stay awake as the big hand continued to rub his belly, occasionally pressing in ever-so-slightly and drawing out a pitiful whimper of discomfort - the little caterpillar boy didn’t realize it, but the light massaging was to help his fruit-filled tum in digesting its heavy contents, which it couldn’t completely do on its own. He did seem to understand as the minutes passed by that the human didn’t seem to mean him or his tremendous belly any harm, the realization bringing with it a sense of calm. The giant’s hand felt very secure! Caterpillar Boy snuggled into his new friend’s palm just a little more as the baker continued to stroke his straining, flushed tum, yawned, and finally shut his eyes. He drifted off to sleep not too long after that.

#stuffing #belly kink #belly expansion #gt #tinies #mine #fic #my stories

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sarahb2436-blog · 5 years

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Imagine walking into a bakery, smelling fresh cookies coming right out of the oven, warm coffee being brewed fresh everyday, seeing a display of cakes, cookies and other baked goods all fresh and ready to buy. This is Flour(ish) Bake Shop located on 79 Rantoul St, Beverly, MA, owned by Taryn Manzi. Flour(ish) Bake Shop specializes in all things baked especially wedding cakes, with a wide variety or baked items that everyone will love.

Taryn Manzi absolutely loves what she does. Starting out over three years ago her company has grown so much. She started her bake shop with a friend who later left and gave full ownership to Manzi who has created this unique and beautiful place where people can love what she makes. “I really had a art background I went to Mass College of Art and studied Graphic design after I graduated I worked locally for a woman who did advertising and product branding, worked there for a few years and while I worked for her I took up cake decorating just to keep things interesting” said Manzi. Not loving sitting and staring at a screen all day Manzi loved to watch on her free time all those bake off shows like Cake Boss, she then decided to take up some basic cake decorating classes at Michaels Craft Store in Danvers and just went with it. She's self taught and has been baking with 10 years of experience, she knew it was a hobby she wanted to make into a reality.

Flour(ish) Bake Shop located right on Rantoul Street near downtown Beverly is a cute little corner store that when you walk inside you don’t know what to look at first. Right when you walk in there is a glass case filled with cookies like chocolate chip, m&m, toffee, coconut macaroons, almond macaroons. In the morning they will make fresh muffins or baked donuts, some sort of breakfast item, they also sell brownies, blondes, lemon squares, and whoopie pies. During different season they will have specialty items like pumpkin bars, apple bars, or cookie dough bars. Manzi says “we always have cupcakes on hand, which we frost those fresh for people everyday, we do this because they don’t last as well in the case so we'll always have cupcakes sitting fresh and then some frosting that we can use right there to make them for our customers”. Behind that is a little workstation and then a huge wall of toppings for cupcakes, cookies, cakes and much more. When you enter the store more to the right there is another long table behind that another workstation with more breakfast type stuff in the back to make coffee, muffins, and breakfast treats.

“I love seeing people happy with what I make because that’s the best part of the job, the happy customers” says Manzi. Since she own the whole company now being her own boss is kind of nice. Manzi loves to hear people talk about her shop and see how many people like and post on Facebook about her cakes she made for them. Manzi says “Being the name and the face of the business is kind of cool, when people hear about flour(ish) Bake Shop it’s really right now while it’s still small is really coming from me so that’s something i’m very proud of”. With only one culinary student working with her right now she loves that she has a supporting family and husband who come in and help whenever they can, Manzi is looking to expand and hire two more people at the beginning of the year next year.

Social media is a huge way Flour(ish) Bake Shop stays connected to customers. “I think it’s really important to have a presence online it’s definitely a way people communicate now and it’s so important and things online can go viral so quickly” says Manzi. Focusing a lot of her attention of expanding her wedding side of the business that she loves to advertise online, pays venues to advertise her business to customers, she also goes to places and sets up tables with samples so that brides and grooms can get her contact information and try some of her amazing cakes while she's there.

When Manzi makes the amazing cakes there is a bunch of steps to creating them. First she has to bake the cake, after that she has to let it cool for a little, next comes the fill to the cake, then you have to chill the cake more, after that is her favorite part the decorating she loves to design and decorate the cakes the most, in the end you have to cool the cake for longer and right before its sold the finishing touches are added. Some of the most interesting cakes Manzi has created could be a cigar box, a fish, a stack of pancakes, a stack of chocolate chip cookies, and pizza. She loves to make cakes that look like food because when the customer comes in she loves to see that wow factor on their face.

Each day of the week Manzi has something different do to in her store. Sundays and mondays she is closed so tuesdays are the start to her week. “Tuesday I usually come in make my coffee, make my muffins and get the store situated and then i’ll spend most of the day writing my bake list and getting my orders organized for the week and i’ll start baking a few things most of the cakes and things won't be made till Wednesday or Thursday because we like to keep them as fresh as possible” says Manzi. On thursdays and Fridays she comes in and decorated the cakes so they have time to chill before customers get them. “So each day is kind of different because we have like a system that we go through and what we focus on each day” says Manzi.

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jasonwhorl73-blog · 5 years

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Vegan Des Moines: Options in Iowa’s capital

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Vegan Des Moines round-up including Brightside Kitchen, Zombie Burger, Ice Cream El Michoacano, Open Sesame, and vegan donuts at Whole Foods.

In recent years Des Moines has really stepped up its game where vegans are concerned!

It used to be that when I was visiting my hometown, it was a strain finding exciting vegan-friendly options. But nowadays, the choices are plentiful and growing.

Today I’m highlighting some of the vegan Des Moines options at restaurants, food trucks, and grocery stores.

Brightside Kitchen

Brightside Kitchen is a vegan establishment owned by Deanne & Steve Bryce. It’s tucked away inside of Mercy’s Health & Fitness Center in Clive, Iowa.

They serve plant-based fare for breakfasts & lunches throughout the week. You can check them out Monday through Friday between the hours of 7 am and 2 pm. They also serve brunch on Saturdays from 9 am to 1 pm.

The eatery focuses on whole foods, plant-based cuisine. Order at the counter and then you can eat it at one of the handful of tables or take it to go.

They offer smoothies, soup, salads, wraps, sandwiches, and a bowl of the day that changes throughout the week.

On one visit, I ordered the special – a Mexican-inspired bowl. It was made with seasoned lentils, roasted vegetables, and a fresh green salad.

It was popping with flavor and incredibly fresh. There was enough left over for lunch the next day.

(I enjoyed it so much, I made my own vegan burrito bowl inspired by it when I got home!)

I also had one of their signature BBQ sporc sandwiches at an Iowa Farm Sanctuary event. It’s pictured at the top of this post.

In addition to making some delicious lunches & brunches, Brightside Kitchen offers vegan cooking classes & catering.

Zombie Burger

Zombie Burger is a Des Moines favorite amongst vegans & non-vegans alike.

They have locations in the East Village of downtown Des Moines, as well as locations in Jordan Creek, and the Coral Ridge Mall in Coralville.

(You can read about the Coralville location in my vegan Iowa City post.)

One note about the East Village location – it does get busy. So if you’re going during a popular mealtime, prepare for a wait.

My favorite thing to order is the Undead Glenn, which is the Beyond Burger topped with shredded lettuce, pickles, and vegan zombie sauce. (My husband orders this one with a double patty, like a vegan Big Mac.)

The zombie sauce is similar to a spicy Thousand Island dressing with sriracha instead of ketchup.

I’ve also heard high marks for the Lucile, which is the Beyond Burger topped with caramelized onions, lettuce, tomatoes, red onion, guacamole, and vegan chipotle mayo.

Zombie Burger really gets the Beyond Burger preparation right – crispy around the edges and meaty on the inside. Plus, the bun is nice and fresh. The downtown location also offers vegan cheese for an extra charge.

Order the burgers with a side of regular or sweet potato fries. Just make sure to get them without any non-vegan dressing.

Ice Cream El Michoacano

Ice Cream El Michoacano is a casual, order-at-the-counter restaurant on Merle Hay Road. There are tables for dining in at the restaurant. Or food can be made to go.

It’s a non-vegan restaurant. However, everything at Ice Cream El Michoacano can be made vegan. That includes flautas, sopes, empanadas, burritos, tacos, and velvety refried beans.

They have soy-based vegan meat, as well as vegan cheese that I’ve heard is Follow Your Heart.

You can ask at the counter for a vegan menu, or look on their website.

Vegan sopes are made with a layer of masa dough that’s been fried into a cup. It’s crisp on the outside and soft on the inside. They are topped with a soy-based meat, beans, lettuce, and vegan cheese.

A super delicious & decadent option!

Vegan flautas are filled with mild potatoes. The fried tortillas are topped with non-dairy cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and avocado. They are served with a fried jalapeño on the side.

Vegan refried beans are topped with non-dairy cheese and guacamole.

They said that typically they serve a thin avocado sauce as their guacamole. But if you want a chunky guacamole, just ask for the thick style.

The guacamole has lots of bright lime flavors and tastes very fresh. The refried beans are beautifully smooth.

Of course, you can also get tacos. They offer a variety of sauces & styles. My husband is especially a fan of their pineapple salsa.

Since “ice cream” is in the name, you may be wondering if they have vegan ice cream as well. It’s my understanding that they offer mango chile & lime non-dairy flavors. Although, I haven’t spent a lot of time exploring the ice cream case.

Vegan donuts at West Des Moines Whole Foods

Vegan donuts are a unicorn in Iowa – nearly impossible to come by. While other nearby states like Nebraska, Illinois, and Minnesota have vegan donuts fairly readily available, Iowa isn’t so lucky.

(Although, there is a donut shop in Cedar Falls & Waterloo that has rotating vegan options. I haven’t made it there yet to try them!)

But before you get in the car and start driving for hours to cure your donut cravings, visit Whole Foods in West Des Moines instead.

They are now selling vegan donuts in their bakery. You can buy them individually. Or they sell them in packages of six for $10.99.

FYI: These are not yeast-raised donuts. You won’t find a puffy glazed donut or cream filled vegan long john here. They are cake donuts. I’m typically not a cake donut fan. But for cake donuts, these are quite good & very fresh.

While you are at Whole Foods, pick up desserts from Chicago Diner in their bakery case, Beyond Meat sausages, and Miyoko’s cheese.

Open Sesame

Open Sesame Lebanese café is a located in the Des Moines East Village. It’s a small space, but decorated in such a way that feels like a special, hidden gem.

The vegan options are not marked on the menu. However, when we were there, the staff had no problem pointing us to vegan dishes and/or telling us how to modify non-vegan offerings.

I had the vegetarian sampler plate with hummus, baba ganoush, falafel, tabouli, and dolmas. It is vegan by default.

Everything was excellent, even the tabouli, which I don’t typically like. (I’m not a big parsley fan.) However, the tabouli had a perfect hit of lemon to balance the bitterness of the parsley.

They’re open for lunch Tuesday through Saturday from 11-2, and for dinner from 5:30-9. They are closed Sunday & Monday.

Gusto Pizza Company

Gusto Pizza Company is a non-vegan pizza shop with lots of vegan topping options.

They have four locations – one on Ingersoll Avenue, two in West Des Moines, and one in Johnston. But I’ve only personally visited the Ingersoll location.

Gusto is a great place to go with a group, because there are plenty of long tables. And the menu is huge – meaning everyone can get exactly what they want.

Gusto uses Daiya cutting board shreds for their vegan pizzas. Regular Daiya isn’t my favorite. So I was really impressed by the big improvement of the mozzarella cutting board shreds on their dairy-free pies.

Their vegan topping options include: roma tomatoes, cremini mushrooms, kalamata olives, a variety of peppers, onions (red, green & yellow), Giardiniera relish, green olive relish, diced apples, capers, pineapple, black bean corn salsa, butternut squash, and artichokes.

5 Borough Bagels

One of my favorite low cost things to do whenever I’m visiting New York City is to walk into almost any random bagel shop and get a vegan bagel.

In places like Iowa, vegan bagel toppings are usually limited to peanut butter or hummus. But in New York City, non-dairy bagel spreads abound with fillings like olives and mixed vegetables in their vegan cream cheese.

When I’m in the city, I’ll pick up a toasted bagel, filled to the max, and walk to Central Park to sit on a rock and tuck into breakfast.

Now that experience can be repeated at 5 Borough Bagels in Clive. (Sorry. Central Park not included.)

When owners, Sarah & Toney Chem, moved to Iowa from NYC, they decided to take a doughy piece of the Big Apple with them.

They have two vegan filling offerings – spinach artichoke and cinnamon walnut. Both fillings are tofu-based and taste homemade.

The spinach artichoke spread reminds me of Kristy’s tofu chèvre with a definite taste of tofu and highlights of spinach and artichoke. The cinnamon walnut has big chunks of walnuts and some sweetness to make it more of a dessert-style filling.

They don’t skimp on the spread, which I appreciate. It pushes the bagel into meal category. They can be topped with additional vegetable slices as well.

Toney suggested adding cucumber, tomato, and spinach to my spinach & artichoke spread on an everything bagel. You know how I love a good bagel sandwich. This was perfection.

David opted for the cinnamon walnut spread on a sesame seed bagel, which he also enjoyed. The bagels were fresh and chewy, just like you want.

With the exception of the chocolate chip bagels and cheese bagels, the rest of the bagel options are vegan.

Toney checked with their bagel baker, and she confirmed that the seeded bagels do not include an egg wash. The seeds are applied right after the bagels are boiled.

They also have three types of non-dairy milk available for coffee drinks. Soy, almond, and coconut milk are on the menu. My husband ordered a black coffee, and I went with a soy latte. Both were full-bodied and delicious.

Des Moines Farmers Market

The downtown farmers market runs from the first Saturday in May through the last Saturday in October.

It has a festive, fair-like atmosphere with food vendors, locally grown produce, live music, arts and crafts. It’s a great place to meet up with friends and enjoy the summer vibes.

Grab a smoothie, juice, or raw tacos at the Fresh Café & Market tent at the corner of 3rd & Court Avenue.

Malo

Malo is a Latin restaurant in downtown Des Moines with a nice outdoor patio and a few menu items that are vegan upon request – including a portobello taco & crispy onion and avocado taco.

The onion & avocado taco is vegan by default. It comes with fresh avocado, chipotle crema made with cashews, pico de gallo, and crispy onions like you might find on green beans at Thanksgiving.

The Portobello taco is vegan by request. (Just ask them to leave off the queso fresco.) It’s topped with guacamole and salsa roja. The Portobello mushrooms are marinated in a spicy chili sauce.

All of the tacos can be served on corn or flour tortillas.

I was prepared to have the avocado tacos be my far and away favorite, but the Portobello mushroom tacos came in for a surprising win. They had a good spicy kick to them and a well-rounded flavor.

Cool Basil

For more of a sit-down restaurant vibe, Cool Basil in Clive is a great option.

While this Thai restaurant isn’t entirely vegan, they’re happy to prepare dishes without fish sauce, oyster sauce, and eggs when possible. You just have to ask.

Plus, when you get your receipt at the end of the meal, the words “no fish sauce, no oyster sauce” are printed right on it. That gives some assurance that the message got through to the back of the house.

They don’t offer seitan. However, tofu is available or they can replace meat with extra vegetables.

I like to get something different every time I go, as there are plenty of vegan-izable options to go around to vary your order.

Fong’s Pizza

Fong’s Pizza has a few locations – downtown Des Moines, Drake area, Ankeny, and Cedar Rapids. It is a quirky, divey restaurant, specializing in unusual pizzas.

They have one listed vegan pizza on the menu, or you have the option of building your own. The white crust is vegan, but the whole wheat isn’t since it contains honey.

They offer Daiya for vegan cheese. Or you can go cheeseless, as is my preference. For the base, you can go with marinara or olive oil.

When we were there, we ordered one half and half pizza. Mushrooms, tomatoes, bell pepper, and onions on one side. On the other, sauerkraut and potatoes.

The potatoes taste like they are simply blanched and sliced, as opposed to being browned on the stove or seasoned in any way. The pizza was pretty bland.

But if you happen to be in Des Moines, the atmosphere is fun. And they have late hours, which is nice.

Another pizza option in downtown Des Moines is Blaze Pizza. They also have vegan cheese on the menu, and they cook them in a brick oven. Although it is a fast food-style pizza experience, I actually prefer the flavor of Blaze Pizza over Fong’s. Read all about Blaze Pizza in this post on vegan fast food.

Centro

For a sit-down option, Centro in downtown Des Moines has some vegan options.

Tofu gnocchi is on both the dinner and weekend brunch menus. The dish includes lots of vegetables in a coating of garlicky olive oil.

When I had this dish, I found it to be inoffensive but dull. It reminded me of something you might get a hotel restaurant, where they’re feeding a lot of guests from around the globe and don’t want to be too daring with flavor.

Although I almost never use one in a restaurant, I was glad there was a salt shaker on the table to add something. I’ve heard that asking for marinara sauce instead makes for a more tempting dish.

Centro has pizzas on offer, which can be ordered without cheese. David went that route and ordered a tomato, basil, and mushroom pizza. He also got a small salad on the side.

He liked the wood-fired flavor of the crust, but didn’t think it would be a pizza he’d go out of his way to get again.

Centro offers brunch on the weekend. And it’s one of the few places in town that has a tofu scramble. It’s served with potatoes & fruit.

Des Fresh Foods

Des Fresh Foods is a vegan food truck in Des Moines.

The menu & location changes, of course, but has included things like a chick sandwich, mac and cheese bites, summer squash tacos, street corn, and lotus cookie.

I recommend going early, as when I went it was near the end of the night. And they were running out of food.

Check out their Instagram or Facebook page to see where they are and what’s on offer.

Other vegan Des Moines resources & news:

Veg Life Des Moines

VegLife Des Moines is an awesome non-profit that hosts vegan meet-ups & potlucks, restaurant tours, and a yearly Vegan Fest.

Connect with them on their website or Facebook page to keep up with the events they are organizing throughout the year.

Dirt Burger

A new vegetarian restaurant, Dirt Burger, is slated to open on June 14, 2019 in the East Village. I’ll add details once I’ve had a chance to visit!

Originally posted June 2014. Content updated June 2019.

Source: https://cadryskitchen.com/vegan-des-moines-iowa/

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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turkeyfeet8-blog · 5 years