#What to Cook with Prawns

[stevieschrodinger]

This is not how Steve wanted to spend his afternoon.

Actually, he’s found himself doing a lot of things he hasn't wanted to since Starcourt burned down but, honestly, this is probably right up there.

God it’s disgusting.

But he had to try. All the kids had looked at him with their stupid hang dog faces, so he said he’d try. Which is why he’s at lovers lake, freezing his ass off in the water and nipple deep into the shrubbery, ripping slimy crappy weeds and grass out of the muddy lake bed.

At least Robin got in with him. She’s shivering in her bathing suit, but she’s gamely holding onto the cooler as it floats in the water, so at least there’s that.

The bin full Upside Down vines next to the tank hadn't made much sense at the time, but it became apparent pretty fucking fast when the fish creature in Steve’s pool hadn’t eaten for forty eight hours, and Steve was now, finally, sober enough and not concussed enough to put two and two together.

Hopefully this works though; all the kids have, obviously, become immediately like, fucking pack bonded with the thing. Man. Fish Man.

El and Max keep insisting he’s a mermaid ��� Merman? Merdude? - like he’s something out of a fairy tail and is all magical and shit.

Steve takes a breath and ducks down again, having felt something hairy and frond like with his exploring toes.

“You think this is enough? Like as a fair test?” Robin rocks the half full cooler forward and Steve peeks in.

And alright, Steve just doesn’t want to fucking be here at all, so he says, “yep, looks good,” as they share a lightly guilty look.

It might not work at all, of course, so their wanting to give up is legitimate. They can always come back when it’s warmer if the fish man does eat this shit.

He certainly isn’t interested in the raw fish the kids have been trying to feed him – Steve’s going to be eating fish for a fucking month with what’s in his freezer now, and don’t those reprobates realize the price of fucking prawns??

The fish man wasn’t interested in meat either, not raw, not cooked – even though Dustin insisted that because of his ‘forward facing eyes’, ‘claws,’ and ‘slightly pointed teeth,’ he must be a predator Steve! The vines must have just been for, in his tank, or whatever, Steve!

Whatever.

Steve’s here to prove them wrong, and Robin’s backing him up.

The kids have gone home when they get back, which is a fucking relief. Even with the heaters in the car on full, Steve still feels cold in his bones. His skin warm and tingly, but the shivers still locked inside; him and Robin head for separate bathrooms without even really talking about it, fishboy has survived this long, he can do another twenty minutes.

Steve finds the biggest sting of kelpy weedy seaweedy stuff from the lake, and drags the tip of it in the pool. It’s dark out, the light from in the house reflecting on the surface of the pool, making it impossible to see where the creature might be hiding; until he disturbs the surface, a few seconds later.

Steve splashes the end in the water, “here fishy fishy fishy.”

“Steve,” Robin elbows him.

“What, it’s not like he has a name,” Steve doesn’t look at her though, he’s watching that strange pair of eyes come closer. They reflect the light strangely, like a wild animal in the headlights. His dark hair is plastered to the top of his head, being wet, and everything else is submerged.

Steve knows he can breathe fine for at least an hour out of the water though; that’s how long the rescue took. And then the bathtub; he was fine in there for a day while they drained the pool of chlorinated water and refilled it with fresh. And it was easy enough to get him in there; if he was human, Steve would say that fish dude was starving to death. Concave stomach, all his ribs clearly visible, pale flesh pulled too tight over the knobs of his spine. Steve had lifted him easily, the sad curl of his dull black tail hardly adding any weight to him. He felt frail, breakable; like a bird.

If there’s any lingering chemical in there, it doesn’t seemed to have hurt fishguy, but then a creature from the upside down must be tolerant to plenty, Steve thinks, imagining the constant fall of ashy dust from the dark sky.

The creature cautiously approaches, and when he’s near enough, there’s a gentle tug on the weed, like the most cautious of bites on a line. Steve lets go, and both fish guy and weed disappear under the water.

“Do you think it worked?” Robin whispers, like they’re viewing a skittish wild animal. Which, they kind of are.

“Don’t know,” Steve whispers back, unable to stop himself. There’s just something about someone whispering to you that’s irresistible; it’s like an unavoidable instinct to follow suit.

“How will we know if it’s worked?”

“Dunno. Try another? See if he takes it?” Steve’s just about to break open the cooler again when the head pops up. All of it, this time.

He has dark hair. So dark it looks black; thick and ropey, it kind of reminds Steve of the vines of the upside down. His face is...pretty much human; just very pale. When he’s got his mouth shut, hiding the slight point of those teeth, nothing would give him away.

He lifts a hand out of the water, offering something to Steve who, gingerly but reflexively, takes it.

It’s the stalk of the weed. The leaves are gone, and the fleshy green of the outside has been carefully stripped off; use for those pointy teeth. Steve guesses all the plant material of the upside down is actually probably quite sturdy and quite hard to eat. It probably also has the nutritional value of wet cardboard.

Steve offers another weed, and the fish dude doesn’t leave this time. Steve watches as he eats; quick, practiced movements, trimming leaves with his claws, rolling them, eating them, then just as Steve suspected, using his sharp teeth to strip the outer stalk of all it’s fleshy wet goodness.

Steve doesn’t shudder at the thought of the mud at the bottom of Lovers Lake.

“Steve one, Henderson zero,” Robin says quietly, the fish man tipping his head to the side, as if he’s listening. Steve’s seen it a lot, the amount that the kids chatter at him, but the fish guy tends to stay at the other end of the pool to them. Watching. Nervous, and frightened, if Steve had to put a label on it.

But then, wouldn’t anyone be? Stolen from your world by unrecognizable creatures in hazmat suits. Shoved in a tank. Probably experimented on.

The whole thing sounds shitty.

Steve offers another weed, and the fish guy repeats the process, floating closer still, “Robin, humor me, go and see what’s in the crisper drawer.”

She follows his logic immediately, “on it.”

Steve watches the creature, the fish man, and the fish man watches Robin warily, moving away from the edge again a little, but coming back when Steve offers another frond.

He takes it, strips it, hands it back.

“We need a name for you man, I can’t just keep calling you ‘fish dude’ and ‘creature’ in my head.”

Steve looks over at the house, figuring he has another minute before Robin comes back, he taps the middle of his chest, fishguys strangely gimlet eyes tracking to movement from his too thin face, “Steve.”

Nothing. He tries again, pointing to himself and tapping, “Steve,” and then pointing to the creature, trying to get him to understand.

Fish guy swims a little closer, raising a hand out of the water. Steve sees the stubby but pointy black claws, like little ovals on the end of his fingers. His webbed fingers, Steve sees next, webbing stretched between them up to the first knuckle. He hesitates for a moment, but Steve doesn’t move, wanting to see where this is going.

Fish guy points cautiously at the center of Steve’s chest, close but not touching, lifting far enough out of the water to reveal protruding collar bones. He opens his mouth, and Steve watches with baited breath, fish guy frowning like he’s concentrating, such a human emotion on his face.

Footsteps, then, and he drops back into the water, backing away into the middle of the pool, sinking down so only his eyes are visible. Steve remembers to breathe; he’s not imagining it, something was about to happen. But he can try again tomorrow, once Robin has gone.

“I got some lettuce and some frozen peas,” she whisper hisses at him as she sits again, handing them over.

“Gimme the lettuce,” that seems like the next nearest thing to Steve.

Part two

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi fellow adventurers!! A few weeks ago i caught wind of "Delicious in Dungeon". I'm not really an anime person, but I am a TTRPG, CRPG, and cooking person- . And holy shit. It is so good i  convinced my partner to binge read the whole thing. I'm caught up on dungeon meshi, the anime, and just yesterday i also finished dungeon meshi, the manga.

Its rare to come across a serialized story that is so thematically cohesive and knows its characters so well. All of the bonus content like the artbooks and monster tidbits are just the icing on top.

So, inspired by Ryōko Kui's writing and illustration I'm going to attempt to create a recipe for every single Delicious in Dungeon recipe!-

Today that means Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot is on the menu!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is one of the pricier dishes until we get to the kelpies and dragons of the menu-

Rock lobster tail

Porcini mushrooms

Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus

Small potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water

OPTIONAL: your choice of dipping sauces

There was a crossover/promotional event in Shibuya which featured various realworld dishes from the series. They had one for Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom, but they used prawns.  while those cook better in a hotpot, they also didn't look enough like the scorpion for me, they also used udon noodles for the slime and a seaweed/kale(?) mixture for the algae. If you're looking for substitutes due to price or availability i would start with those ingredients.

AND, “what does a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKI hope Senshi would forgive me for technically cooking the lobster outside the pot, once he tastes it.

Okay im always partial to veggies but wowowowowowowoowowowow the snow fungus and the mushrooms tasted soooooooooooo good in the lobster stock

A nice delicate layering of different flavors

Try to get a bite with the lobster meat and shiitake together, dip in butter then chili- trust me

Its up to you what texture you prefer if you want to put the noodles in at the end or put them in halfway through the meal. Either way dont go for eating those first as theyre very filling

I think this would pair well with a citrus drink, something light and clarifying

This would also pair well with being extremely high and hungry (if you feel safe cooking while inebriated lol) very calorically dense

For the trial run I did one lobster tail in the pot with everything else, and one lobster tail off to the side to be picked apart. The former is more in spirit with a hotpot, but it got rubbery as the meal went on and lost its nice taste. The latter may be a bit more work but all you have to do still is boil it and set it aside. I found it held up much better. It was also easier to get inside the shell.

. If you have hardshell maine lobster available, i think it would be superior to rock lobster (keep in mind crustaceans will get rubbery if cooked too long in the pot) . Green onions and/or lotus root would make excellent additions

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From getting the ingredients out to sitting down and eating, id say it took maybe 30 minutes max? It'd vary on how fast you can prep vegetables and get the various implements heated.

Hotpots are not something i do very often as i'm usually just feeding myself. I think thats why a hotpot makes perfect sense to start the series off. If you want to set the tone of "take care of yourself, eat food with others, and use what you have" (generally speaking) there is nothing more simplistic, flexible, and defeats-the-purpose-if-you-eat-it-alone than a hotpot. Gather around and let your friends bring ingredients to the pot if you want to fill your heart up extra full <3

I'm doing something different here because unlike previous recipes where i used a bunch of different sources and made my own recipe out of hodge-podging it, or just used another persons recipe entirely if they did it really well, i made this more whole-cloth based off of what i had available, what I could discover through research, and my existing knowledge. Instead of the recipe being 50/50 original, this one is more 20/80. So. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys :D 

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

2 Rock lobster tails

3 Porcini mushrooms

2 Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus (a good handful, should rehydrate in the hotpot)

2 Small waxy potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water/lobster stock

Method:

Lightly rinse all of your vegetables beforehand and let them dry.

Vertically slice the porcini mushrooms. Cut off and dice the stems of the shiitake mushrooms. You can slice the tops if youd like.

Peel and cube the potatoes, roughly an inch each.

For the lobster tails; Boil a pot of salted water. Keep the shell on. Weigh the largest tail and add 1 minute of cooking time for every ounce of weight.

When done, strain the lobster from the water. Pour the water into your hotpot as the base. Serve the lobster on the side so people can pick the meat out to dip into the hotpot.

Bring the hotpot to a simmer. Add the potato cubes, snow fungus, mushrooms, and noodles.

OPTIONAL: this wasnt in the show, but its fun having sauces on the side :) i had oyster sauce, dry seasoned chili dip, melted butter, and soy sauce available

[rosierin]

ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ hq m.list

suna ; separate from the off-season quartet series

thunderstorms and reheated prawns 

⇨ suna gets food poisoning and his little sister calls you for help

sick day 

⇨ in which suna pays you a visit when you miss out on school

one more night 

⇨ includes; lost keys, 4am McDonald’s, shooting stars and mutual pining

weak dates, roommates, and fanfiction bad takes 

⇨ suna picks you up after a disappointing date and on the way back home you engage in a riveting conversation about fanfiction.

happily ever after 

⇨ you’re put in charge of babysitting suna’s little sister but your period pains cut your evening short. instead, suna lulls you both to sleep by reading you a story as you cosy up in bed

atsumu ; separate from the off-season quartet series

mischief & manner 

⇨ kitsune au. whimsical, fun, innocent, adventure, coming of age

close quarters

⇨ “and there was only one bed”

“mildly inebriated” 

⇨ in which a drunken atsumu shares his thoughts about reader and suna’s past relationship

colors (mix of short imagines)

⇨ an ode to my fav hq boys

(not) him

⇨ a continuation of my suna self ship in which reader realises she’s no longer in love with atsumu but his friend, suna

osamu ; separate from the off-season quartet series

mischief & manner 

⇨ kitsune au. whimsical, fun, innocent, adventure, coming of age

one hell of a cook

⇨ osamu participates in an onigiri-making competition for charity and meets a chaotic cook who he finds oddly endearing despite their lack of culinary skill

other ;

scording a date (is harder than scoring a point) | kageyama tobio

⇨ kageyama’s shy attempt at confessing his feelings to you. feat wingman hinata and the karasuno hype squad

shinsuke de hyōgo | kita shinsuke

⇨ kita is poor with words and his s/o is left underwhelmed by his confession. who does he turn to for advice? the miyas of course! what could possibly go wrong?

studying with you | tsukishima kei

⇨ studying with tsukishima involves lots of eye rolling, backhanded comments and just a hint of attraction

moments like these | nishinoya yuu

⇨ childhood friends to lovers drabble. starring a mediocre football game, a not-so-accident accident and piggybacks

headcanons ;

what they buy you for christmas

⇨ ft.daichi, sugawara, asahi, nishinoya, tanaka, kageyama, hinata, tsukishima, yamaguchi

what they buy you for christmas (part 2)

⇨ ft. oikawa, iwa, mattsun, makki, kyotani, kunimi

what they buy you for christmas (part 3)

⇨ ft. kuroo, kenma, lev, bokuto, akaashi

what they buy you for christmas (part 4)

⇨ ft. ushijima, tendou, semi, atsumu, osamu, suna, aran, terushima, aone

what they smell like

⇨ ft. hinata, kageyama, tsukishima, yamaguchi, tanaka, nishinoya, daichi, suga, asahi, oikawa, iwaizumi, kyotani, atsumu, osamu, kita, suna, bokuto, akaashi, kuroo, kenma, lev, ushijima, tendou

who their favourite disney princesses are

⇨ ft. akaashi, suna, daichi, asahi, tendou, yams, tsukki, kuroo, ushijima, tanaka, iwaizumi

who their favourite disney princesses are (part 2)

⇨ ft. kageyama, kita, oikawa, osamu, nishinoya, kenma, suga, bokuto, atsumu

haikyuu boys as big brothers

⇨ ft. many

haikyuu boys as big brothers (part 2)

⇨ ft. many

what the haikyuu boys wear

⇨ ft. twins, suna, sakusa

what the haikyuu boys wear (part 2)

⇨ ft. oikawa, iwaizumi, kageyama, hinata

what the haikyuu boys wear (part 3)

⇨ ft. kuroo, kenma, bokuto, akaashi

what the haikyuu boys wear (part 4)

⇨ ft. tanaka, nishinoya, tsukki, yamaguchi

random things guys do that are attractive

⇨ ft. many

oddly specific haikyuu headcanons

⇨ ft. atsumu

oddly specific haikyuu headcanons

⇨ ft. suna

being friends w/ the haikyuu boys includes;

⇨ ft. the seijoh 3rd years, the twins + suna, the karasuno 3rd years, tendou (with a hint of ushijima), nishinoya and tanaka, the terushima squad

haikyuu x squid game: who survives?

⇨ ft. 47 characters, so pretty much the whole cast

[iheartsparklingwater]

everything that happens in the deleted house episode 7x01 thunder roadtrip

a summary if you will

The episode begins similar to Now What. It’s the morning after the season 6 finale and the building collapse. House and cuddy are in bed.

Honestly guys, they fr just fuck a lot. Like a lot. The actual sex scenes are omitted from the script pdf, but its allllllll they talk abt.

House is ignoring wilson’s calls.

They drink wine on the couch and ‘happily argue’ (literal exactly how the script describes it), house plays guitar for cuddy. They fuck again.

House convinces to Cuddy to take the day off work to celebrate the fact that she said that she said she loves him. They then makeout.

There is no mention of Lucas or her engagement that she just broke off.

They ride house’s motorbike to a very fancy restaurant, House says he met the head chef during his post rehab cooking classes.

Cuddy’s new assistant alex calls and house speaks in a british accent whilst pretending to be cuddy’s nanny. He says cuddy is sick and can’t come in.

OH MY GOD WE HAVE OTHER CHARACTERS AND A B PLOT! PPTH's head neurosurgeon is sick, and that affects the hospitals status as a level one trauma centre and like bad things will happen if he's not there.

Back at the restaurant, they eat weird science-y food in the kitchen. very avant-garde shit. House sneaks away to call chase and tell him to impersonate a neurosurgeon to the assistant so cuddy doesn’t have to come into work/ sort it on her phone.

The restaurant owner comes in and plot twist: house and cuddy were actually breaking in and not supposed to be there. the owner calls the cops.

House and Cuddy then go up to the top of a bell tower in an elevator. But cuddy is scared of heights, when they get back to the ground a musician gives her a joint to smoke for her nausea.

House plays the piano with the stoner musician.

Chase calls, the new assistant doesn’t believe he is a neurosurgeon. She has been apparently reading up on the ducklings.

House tries and fails to light a bonfire on a beach

House finally answers Wilson’s call, he is panicked that house has relapsed and offers to pick him up. Until Wilson realises that house ‘sounds happy’ and drops the issue. Very 'I'm too in this episode'.

House teaches cuddy to drive his motorcycle.

They ducklings go to the home of the neurosurgeon who was too sick to come to work. they drug him to make him feel well enough to come to the hospital. however he is deeply affected by the drugs. They being him to ppth anyway.

Back @ the beach bonfire, cuddy had accidentally broken House's motorcycle.

House suggests they light the bike on fire. They don’t.

Cuddy suggests going home to fuck again, but then house surprises her – they’re going to bruce springsteen in Asbury!

House exaggerates his disability whilst hitchhiking, an elderly couple drive them to Asbury. They get covered in dog hair.

Thirteen and foreman fight about the huntingtons drug trial.

The guy house is buying the springsteen tickets from is a no-show. Two scalpers approach them.

ONE OF THE SCALPER’S PULL OUT A GUN. HE IS ACTUALLY A MUGGER.

The mugger steals house’s wallet and pants. He then lectures house on seeing the worst in people.

Back @ ppth the sick drugged neurosurgeon gets called out for being sick and drugged. Ducklings in trouble. All the icu patients get transferred to different hospitals.

Drugged neurosurgeon starts stripping in the or. And then wait – this is actually a symptom of somrthing else! This is a medical procedural show afterall!

Chase calls prawns shrimp which kills me as an Australian.

House is now wearing novelty pants with ‘little sailboats’ on them.

House and cuddy are both sad abt not getting tickets. Then they have an idea and sneak in w/ the tech crew.

The drugged neurosurgeon is cured of his ailment! The icu is reponed. Hurrah!

House and Cuddy have a deep and meaningful conversation side stage at bruce spingsteen. They talk about fucking but are interrupted by a security guard who kicks them out.

They are sad about this, but then makeout outside the arena.

The end.

I’m trying to find a way to share the script pdf, but am not sure how to go about it (I’m scared of doxxing myself/ my email accidentally by putting it on google drive lol). Let me know if you have any suggestions :)

[buffetlicious]

I am not sure what gourd or melon mum bought but likelihood is Old Cucumber (老黄瓜). Usually, they are used in soup but mum did a stir-fry with tiger prawns, minced pork and tomato wedges. The Spicy Red Snapper is cooked with plenty of sliced bamboo shoots and tomato for acidity.

[happypartytrain]

(despite my language i cannot stress enough that this is non-ship) (i am on 2-4 and these are my thoughts as of right now. i am so sorry if susato, like, shoots runo in 2-5.)

this is quite the take but i think that (platonically) ryunosuke and susato are soulmates. it’s like they’re destined to be together one way or another. it’s not romantic, hell no — but it’s not exactly familial? they’re friends, but in a more profound way. it’s……. probably a trauma bond, actually, but the point is that they’re sticking together after it all.

what is so important to me is the fact that ryunosuke respects susato to high hell and back. there are times when we remember she is a woman fulfilling a role — like how sholmes and ryunosuke let her and iris handle the cooking while they sit back — but he kept her desk completely clean in her absence. he, a walking tornado, did not put anything else on it. he personally cleaned it and waited for her. he kept the prawns and anemones alive despite disliking their care. he never once went into her room, even when it was empty. she is home to him. she is his culture, but also his friend and assistant.

and susato is brave around him. she isn’t excusing herself in a place she isn’t allowed (1-1). she isn’t “just a lady” around him. they banter, she teases him, she scolds him, she keeps him working, she aids him, but god oh god she does not baby him. she is unafraid to throw him over anything. i don’t think susato will ever marry a man (sorry, yujin! no grandchildren, she like-a da books!) but i can just imagine men having to go through ryunosuke’s (of all people) approval. every other man is going to treat her like she is a woman without much else but service to do.

there will surely come a day when they live apart, but for now they’re raising happy little prawns & bounce off of each other like they’ve known each other for life. they’re each other’s home away from home. ryunosuke probably spoke next to no japanese while she was gone and, to his horror, found he was slowly forgetting words — so i just imagine susato quizzing him with vocab on random whims and looking dangerously ready to throw him when he gets it wrong. she forces him to write kanji the RIGHT way and never lets him forget his roots. (not that he wants to — he wears that same uniform every day!)

(oh, imagine sholmes and iris picking up on a bit of japanese. sholmes greets them like “Konnycheewa!” and then iris says it perfectly. oh, baker street, you make me sick.)

[venussaidso]

A male should cook, clean, plan and make a home feel like home while I continue painting, writing the next chapters of my novel, and producing music (he should regularly come into the room with a tray of something, like a blueberry milkshake and a bowl of creamy prawn salmon pasta for me to eat on break). I'm the one paying the rent but all the labour is for the masculine.

Femininity is spontaneous, free, and boundlessly creative. Taking up mundane tasks and arranging the home and making schedules for us is what the masculine partner should do so that I rest in my fluidity and creativity. I am not that masculine and I will never be. But it's so funny how majority of wives and girlfriends are. You all got it twisted. Femininity was never household labour and how much you can slave away for your stupid man. Rather, it's masculinity that's meant for slaving away to mundane duties and tasks. Males have it so much easier. And it's just so funny to me.

“Men are needed in society otherwise who will build your buildings and bridges for you? 😮‍💨". Your wife has done more labour in the household than you'll ever in your life. Talking about building bridges and shit, bitch make me some pasta and start vacuuming already.

[ying-an-sanren]

"Surp-ricee!!! Guess what we're doing this evening!!"

"That's right. Mommy is teaching me to cook so I can make dinners for San Lnag every day!

I just hope San Lang will like it..."

"So? How is it, San Lang??"

"It's delicious, gege. A but more salt next time, and it will be perfect!!"

Dinner spotlight:

If you'd like to re-create Lianlian's recipe — it'sactually quick and easy!

You'll need long-grain white, garlic, prawns, ginger, salt, pepper, turmeric, coriander powder, cardamom powder, cinnamon powder, cloves powder, lemon juice and plain white yoghurt. (And I think I also used a drizzle of Worchestershire sauce? The whole recipe was kind of an experiment tbh...)

1. Make sure to wash your rice and then place it either to a rice-cooker or to a pot. You're going to prepare rice according to the instructions on the pack (on the rice cooker manual), with a little additional step:

2. Mix the spices together and put half of them in the water with rice. Also add the juice of one lemon before you start cooking it.

3. While your rice is cooking, you're going to fry the prawns in a pan; first of all, put a few sluces of ginger and garlic in the oil. Once you notice they're close to getting burnt, take them out and put them aside. Next, put the prawns into the pan. Then add the rest of the spices. Toss the prawns around on the frying pan for a while until the prawns get nicely coated in all the spices. You can also drizzle a bit of Worcestershire sauce on them.

4. Finally add the yoghurt. That will create a nice sauce. Once both your rice and prawns are ready, you can serve — and optionally, you can add a bit of coriander leaves as garnish ☺️

[undiscovered-horizon]

hello! if you accept requests for one peaceLive action (I hope)

could you write reader x sanji and I have a strange idea

what if with reader flirting.... another cook? and Sanji feels not just jealousy, but double jealousy... it's very strange, I know, but still I think it's quite interesting.

thank you in advance🙏💕

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

The smell of spices, ripe fruit and freshly made food hits your nostrils. It's markets like this that truly show the genius loci of the place. Mobs of people roll through the narrow spaces between stalls that are bending under the weight of displayed products.

You glance at Sanji, who's walking next to you. Judging by the bliss on his face, you'd think you're in heaven and not some unmarked island in the middle of nowhere.

Then a specific aroma reaches you - something you haven't smelled in a long time but could never forget. It's tangy, creamy and herbal...

"Can you smell it?" you turn to Sanji, suddenly stopping in your tracks. Excitement bubbles inside your chest and cherished memories of beautiful days with wonderful people flash before your eyes.

"You'll have to be a little more precise, love," he answers with undeniable fondness in his voice. His thumb is softly rubbing the skin of your hand.

"Lemon tarragon sauce," you say as if it's the most obvious thing. Looking around, you catch a glimpse of a pot filled with yellow-ish, creamy dip. "Right there!"

Tugging at his arm, you pull him in the direction of the stall and the source of the delightful smell. The market stand is managed by a man around your age. He has a head full of black, dense curls that perfectly suit his tanned skin. There's a clean dish towel tied around his neck as if it's an ascot. Skilled, muscular hands move between pans, pots and counters as he's restlessly grilling meat, fish and prawns to put them in cones made from newspaper and layer the tarragon sauce on top.

The street cook looks up from the dishes when he notices customers approaching. As his dark eyes set on you, the man suddenly perks up and a playful smile curves his raspberry-coloured lips.

"Mademoiselle," he says with a certain intensity to his voice. It almost sounds like he's asking you something.

Sanji immediately cringes at the man's tone. This suave, decadent drawl is something he's also used the very first time he saw you. And considering the fact that you're tightly holding his hand, it had worked perfectly. Now just to make sure that this terragon-smelling, ascot-wearing sleazy guy isn't as successful.

"How can I thank you for brightening up my day?"

"I'd love a serving of prawns with tarragon sauce," you say thrilled. It seems that you're either missing the flirtatious aura surrounding the man or you're willfully ignoring them.

Sanji feels his chest tighten and a bitter taste fills his mouth. Why would you be so excited about someone else's cooking? Worse - what if you will prefer that guy's food over his?

The street cook gets to grilling freshly caught prawns. His fingers skilfully dance in the air as he seasons the seafood and mixes it in the pan. Garlic and lemon pepper fragrances overthrow your senses.

The ascot-wearing man gives you a curious look. "What are you looking for at the end of the world, flower?" he asks.

But before you can answer, Sanji cuts in. "We're on a shore leave," he answers coldly. "Won't stay for long."

"That's a shame," the local chef continues unaffected by Sanji's impertinence. His eyes are fixed on you, eating you up like you're the local delicacy and not the seafood in the pan. "At night the island looks even better. Not that it could compare," he says with a wink.

In a swift move, the man moves the prawns from the pan onto a page from a newspaper. He quickly rolls the paper into a cone. Clearly, he's been doing this for a very long time.

"You're from around here, right?" you carry on the conversation.

"Born and raised, ma cherie," he answers with pride. That shouldn't come as a surprise - ever since the Marines built a base on the surrounding archipelago, the islands have been filled with immigrants who couldn't care less about local traditions and customs.

Sanji feels his irritation only growing, hearing how the pet name rolls off the man's tongue naturally, as though he's calling you by your given name. It feels wrong down to the marrow of his bones.

"So, as a local, can you recommend something to pass the time?"

The bitterness Sanji involuntarily tastes on his tongue is mixed with sweetness that only you can bring him. Of course you don't notice the flirtatious tone - you just want the tarragon sauce and something fun to do before tomorrow comes and the Straw Hats are off for another voyage.

Then, another nice thought stirs inside his head. Maybe you're too deep in love with Sanji to even notice another man's interest? The idea makes him giddy like he's a schoolgirl with a crush. He almost misses the next part of the conversation, too busy with his adorable, a little cringy, daydream:

"While the weather is still good and the nights are warm, skinny dipping is quite popular," the local cook answers while pouring tarragon sauce over the grilled prawns. "Much better with good company," he purrs out. "Prawns with tarragon sauce, on the house." The man hands you your order but with only one cocktail stick as though the blond chef next to you doesn't count as a customer.

Excited, you take the paper cone from the street vendor. But before you can try the food, Sanji takes the stick and takes the first bite.

A frown enters his face as he chews the prawn. Then he sighs in disappointment.

"Do you seriously call this cooking?" he asks the ascot-wearing man. His voice is laced with anger and disbelief. "A fishman would make a better sauce. It's missing white wine and anise. And there's too much garlic."

You hiss his name out but Sanji appears unaffected. Forcing a polite smile, you turn to the street vendor, who's glancing between you and your boyfriend with a look of superiority. "Thank you for the food and sorry for Grumpy over here."

Only when you're a few paces away from the vendor and definitely out of earshot, do you confront Sanji about his mordant humor.

"No need to get snappy."

He forces his lips into a thin line. "His food is shit and he keeps making piss poor attempts at flirting when you're clearly," he lifts your intertwined fingers, "not a mademoiselle." Although Sanji quotes the word in mockery, it sounds delicious coming from him. If you weren't already sharing his bed, right now you'd be seriously considering it. Planning it even.

"So that's what this is about?" you ask as laughter forces its way out of your chest. Considering how whipped you are for Sanji, it seems ridiculous that you could think romantically about other men. "You're jealous about a smooth-talking cook. Sounds like someone I know."

"Does it?" he picks up on your banter. That familiar, playful smile returns to his face. His eyes momentarily light up, flashing you a glint of various emotions: desire, amusement, adoration. "How many smooth-talking cooks have you seduced?"

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head dramatically. "Don't know. Never bothered to count. I'm just looking for someone to make me lemon tarragon sauce any time I want."

Sanji's hand again rubs the skin of your palm. His other hand reaches for your face, fingers brushing against your jaw. "For you, little dove, I'd make tarragon sauce every day."

"With white wine and anise?" you ask, leaning in slightly. His scent of cigarette smoke and frying oil fills your lungs. Suddenly, the market around you is nonexistent and there's only Sanji.

"The best lemon tarragon sauce you've ever had," he murmurs against your face. His nose brushes against your cheeks.

"I already have the best."

His lips taste like lemons, butter and herbs when he kisses you. Honestly, this is the best version of the sauce you've ever had.

[sea-lanterns]

oh oh, siren! reader bringing random gifts for the women... but they vary on how much she likes them. beidou, arlecchino, navia and nilou get shiny pearls or sunken treasure chests. lynette, shenhe and layla might get a few exotic and tasty fishes and a prawn while kokomi and eula get pretty clams and conches.

and ningguang gets a sea pickle

NOT THE SEA PICKLE FOR NINGGUANG 😭

It’s not a completely useless gift because you can eat sea cucumbers (I have eaten one before) but compared to what the other women got, Ningguang definitely got the short end of the stick :(

What’s worse is that to the Siren, it probably is a decent gift. While Ningguang has no idea what to do with a sea pickle, the Siren is all like “but you can eat it!” and gets a little upset when Ningguang appears to not like her gift. Not one to make the Siren disappointed, she cooks it up and eats the sea pickle in front of her to make her happy, even though she’s wincing on the inside 🥺

[love-fictional-ppl]

I have a request for One Piece Men (Monster Trio + Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid) having a S/O who is a tiny little lady who has a high metabolism and thusly has an appetite that could rival Luffy’s.

I imagine them sitting in a restaurant eating dinner, and their S/O is eating a steak half the size of the table and comes with a side of prawns and a baked potato, and some uppity “Almond Mom” sitting at the table next to them says out loud that “Women shouldn’t eat such large portions, because it’s unladylike and makes men feel uncomfortable.” And Reader replies to this with “Oh, I’m very sorry if I made YOU uncomfortable ma’am. You see, I have a high metabolism, and I need the energy for later cause I plan on banging my boyfriend here like a screen door in a hurricane later.”

YESSS I personally can relate to this other than being a tiny little lady😭🤞 I decided to make this 2 parts so in the second part will be sabo law and kid. I hope you like this and ty for the request🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Petite!Fem!Reader w/ a high metabolism

Summary: look at the request silly goose🤭

Pairings: Monkey D. Luffy x fem!reader, Roronoa Zoro x fem!reader, Vinsmoke Sanji x fem!reader, Portgas D. Ace x fem!reader,

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, drinking, kinda crack

Monkey D. Luffy:

Honestly seeing you scarf down almost everything Sanji cooked turned him on is what peeked his interest

Food will be one of your few common interests, but food has definitely started arguments

One time you took a potato off his plate without asking… he yelled, borderline barking, at you

Next week the roles were reversed…

If he knows you haven’t eaten in awhile he’ll run to you wherever you are on the ship, handing you a piece of meat

But now to the good stuff😎

After stopping on an island and wandering in the local town for a hour or so you and Luffy decide to stop somewhere to eat.

Upon arrival, you and Luffy sit at a table together and order almost everything in the restaurant’s supply. The face on many of the customers and even workers were shocked to see how much you two ordered. Neither you nor Luffy had a care in the world while you devoured your food.

While taking a moment to wipe your mouth, you hear a woman say, “Girls like her are the reason we use our manners. it’s unlady like and makes men uncomfortable-“

“My boyfriend doesn’t seem uncomfortable. Matter of fact, the only one here who looks uncomfortable is you. See, right now I’m storing as much energy as possible because me and my boyfriend are going to be fucking like rabbits. Teach your daughter to be cunt if you want but don’t bring me into it.”

After hearing you respond the woman sat there shocked for a good minute then, she snatched up her daughter’s arm and dragged her out the restaurant, fuming.

Luffy simply chuckled, “That was hot. Can we go back now?”

Roronoa Zoro:

At first he thought you were just a female Luffy

Honestly he probably only got to know you because he saw you kick a grown man off his feet (Zoro thought it was hot)

After getting to know you and understand why you eat so much, he would start giving you food

Once you two become a couple tho he especiallyyyyy makes sure you eat

Now for the story

After a long day of Zoro getting you both lost, he decided that he needed a drink. Upon that revelation you found a nearby cavern.

Zoro ordered himself a couple rounds of drink while ordering you almost everything on the menu. Zoro every now and then snatched a couple fries but mostly left the food to you.

While you’re both enjoying your company, you hear a shrill voice say, “women like her are the reason we use our table manners, girls aren’t supposed to eat like that, it makes men uncomfortable-“

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Zoro quickly responds.

“The only uncomfortable one is you, miss. Now if you don’t mind me I need as much energy for tonight as I can get, because my very much so not uncomfortable boyfriend is going to rock my world.”

The woman simply kept her mouth shut and went back to eating.

Zoro laughs heartily, “that lady has never seen Luffy eat, that’s actually disturbing compared to you eating. Let’s pay and go home though, so I can ‘rock your world’”

Vinsmoke Sanji:

When he first met you he used his cooking skills to try to win your heart

It worked

He honestly loves to cook for you tho

Brings you with him to shop for food so that you can pick what you want him to cook

Which tbh is how yall would get into the situation

“Woahhhh!” You say mesmerized by all the different products. “Look, Sanji, that would be super yummy.”

Sanji who will do whatever you ask, picks up the item you were looking at. Arms full of food, you’re talking about everything you want Sanji to cook for dinner.

All of a sudden you hear a woman say, “hear what she’s saying? No girl is supposed to eat that much food. It’s unhealthy and men find it disturbing.” The little girl she’s talking to simply nods.

Aggravated by the woman’s words, you respond, “It actually is healthy thank you. Girls can eat however much they want. Men don’t find eating disturbing and I can tell you that, because my boyfriend right here plans to cook this food for me and our crew.”

“Damn straight,” Sanji back you up proudly.

Having nothing more to say, you both walk away from the woman and head toward the docks for the ship.

Portgas D. Ace:

The first thing he said to you was “got quite the appetite, huh?” With a smirk on his face ofc

Like 30 seconds later he accidentally fell asleep

Overall just likes to tease you about your appetite (in a nice way tho🫶)

Has compared the way you eat to Luffy

One time asked if you can unhinge your jaw to eat

Similar to Zoro tho he probably was just going to get a drink with you when some cunt said something

Honestly in your opinion you ordered less food than usual, more than most people would order, but less than you would get.

You and Ace are talking about your latest adventure over some food and drinks, when you hear, “You see how much she’s eating? It’s unnatural and makes men feel uncomfortable.”

“Who’s uncomfortable you?” Ace asks. The woman looks up just to see Ace fell asleep right after speaking.

You decided it was your turn to say something, “it’s not unnatural, I have a high metabolism and I need my energy at that because tonight I plan on taking him for a ride.”

You turn back to your food and continue eating, after a minute or so, Ace woke up. He had asked what happened and you filled him in on what you said.

He laughed, “that’s my girl.”

Part 2

[peppermint-toads]

simon was never into food.

that might sound totally weird but he truly just ate for survival. he’s always eaten a lot, definitely. but he never paid any mind to what it was or how it tasted. never understood why anybody ever elected to go off base for meals when the slop in the mess hall was perfectly good. he didn’t see anything wrong with it.

after him and soap returned to a civilian life, simon started to understand the appeal.

soap turned him into a total foodie. all simon wanted to do was eat, sleep, drink, and spend time with you (and sometimes soap).

his interest in cooking and cuisine was gradual. started with johnny taking him out to nicer pubs, then eventually real restaurants, which took some time for simon to get used to.

he couldn’t believe what he’d been missing out on for so long. you mean he could’ve been eating like this the whole time!?

after a while of dating simon, he finds out you’ve never had a proper british chinese takeaway.

“never?”

you smiled at his incredulous expression.

“never.”

he nearly bulldozed over you on the way to the phone.

you had no idea what he was even talking about as he rattled off his order. what the fuck was a prawn cracker?

when he hangs up he looks completely exasperated. that was such a close call.

half an hour later the two of you were on the couch (the only place a proper chinese takeaway can be eaten), looking over the spread he’d ordered.

no chance you’d finish it all. even with the human vacuum sitting next to you. tasted better the next day anyways, that’s what simon said, at least.

“pass the curry sauce, love.”

you scanned over the table.

curry sauce… could it be this one? no. maybe the red one?

simon huffed, leaning over to grab it himself. he cracked open the lid and god did it smell good. you gravitated towards him, watching as he dumped a hefty amount all over his plate.

you looked up at him, and he instantly knew what you wanted. he poured it onto your own plate, and you smiled. frankly, it wouldn’t have tasted the same if you’d done it yourself.

all that to say, chinese takeaway night soon became a friday tradition in the riley household. sometimes soap would even join in, and you’d rotate which shop you ordered from, ranking each one.

[lisenberry]

I’ll be sailing on your deep blue eyes

1/1 4.99k

E/MDNI/18+

Cw: Mention of dirt and filth, rodents (rats/mice), smut, he’s older (it's up to you by how much). Fish/Fishing. Meet cute. Summer love.

John takes you on a first date aboard his fishing boat.  It isn’t at all what you’d expected.

Ao3

It had taken John three days to say one word to you, but once he finally had, you found it hard to get rid of him.  Not that you wanted to. 

For your first date, he invited you for a ride on his boat for some fishing and a sunset cruise along the Mersey Estuary.  Although he'd say it was actually your second.  You didn't think snogging and necking for what seemed like hours, like a couple of teenagers, in the alley behind the pub you worked at all summer qualified, but he could be very convincing.

You were a teacher who supplemented your income cooking in your family's seaside inn during school holidays, and John really liked your great-granddad's fish batter recipe, enough to eat lunch there every day.  He must've known the havoc a steady diet of fryer oil and potatoes could inflict on one's health, but you were too happy for his company to remind him. 

And he probably didn’t care anyway.

He was massive.  Wide shoulders and a thick chest.  He must've worked in construction or something active.  He was cut not by fancy weight machines, but by hard labor.

And he must've seen something in you, too, because the food really wasn't anything special.  Especially when your cousin forgot to set the timer and disappeared to text his girlfriend, over-cooking the whole batch of fried cod and serving it anyway.

You wondered how the place stayed open or had any customers at all when you weren't there.

John told you to dress comfortably and to meet him at the docks at 6:00pm.  You weren't prepared for what awaited you when you walked up at 5:45, in a pair of cutoff shorts and a light jacket in case it got cold.  A bottle of good wine poking out of your bag.

“This is your boat?” you asked, as he exited the wheelhouse to greet you at the railing.

It was an ancient prawn trawler, probably from the early 80s, named the William John and about ten meters long.  Made for hauling in loads of fish and crustaceans, not pleasure cruising.  Rusted nearly through and decaying before your eyes.  It creaked and groaned above the lazy waves of the River Mersey like a contrary, lumbering goose.

You’d lived along the river your whole life.  You'd thought you’d gone nose blind to the smells of low tide and petrol exhaust, but you couldn’t place the stench that radiated from the relic.  Notes of wet tobacco, mildew, and dead animals, perhaps? 

“What’s the matter?  She’s not pretty enough for you?”  He wiped his grease covered hands on an equally greasy rag, defeating the purpose you thought, and reached up to help you board. 

His grip was warm and firm as he helped the bag from your shoulder and caught you against his chest.  His meaty palms on the backs of your thighs and his hot tongue down your throat was enough to momentarily distract you from your doubts.

You hooked your own arms around his neck, and the dampness of his sweat seeped through his layers.  It left you to wonder if he’d showered in anticipation of your visit, or if it would’ve even mattered in the end.  He was filthy either way, and must’ve been dying of heat in his layers. 

Undershirt, overshirt, coveralls.  Topped off with the boonie hat he only ever took off while he was sitting at his favorite booth while he ate. 

When he finally set you down, you nearly stumbled backwards from the absence of his steadying mouth.  Instead, you let yourself fall forward, further into him as you used his immovable form for balance.

“You look nice.”  His eyes sparked with appreciation as he dragged his gaze from your bare legs back up to your face.  “But are you ready to get a little dirty?”

“What do you mean?”  Suddenly apprehensive that you really did have wildly differing ideas of what constituted a date. 

“You’re going to be my first mate for this trip.  How good are you at following orders?”  His hands had traveled to your hip bones, resting as if they were handles molded just for him. 

“I’m not so sure I trust this thing in the open water.”  Your eyes fell upon a hose pumping some kind of slurry off the side of the boat. 

Best case scenario, it was some sort of waste.  Worst case, it had a leak, and that pump was the only thing keeping it afloat.

“Oh, she’s fine.  You don’t have to worry about her.”  He rocked your hips with his hands, as if gauging your pliancy.  Your soft edges fit perfectly in the crook of his thumbs.

“Then what do I have to worry about?”  You inquired with mock suspicion, as you blew away an annoying whisp of hair from catching to the beading perspiration along your eyebrow.

The humid air, and your closeness to him, already had your pulse up and your pores working overtime to cool you off.  You’d have done anything for a stiff breeze to ease the stickiness between your breasts and thighs.  But there was no respite, not from the sun or the intensity of his hungry stare.

“The tides.  We don’t have much time to waste if we’re going to make it back tonight.”  He slipped a hand behind you to unhook the line from the dock’s cleat, in a smooth motion that brought you closer together.

Trapped between him and the railing behind you.

Being stranded out to sea with him overnight didn’t seem so terrible.  Until you remembered the vessel upon which you were standing.  You did a quick mental check for the last time you’d gotten a tetanus shot.  Primary school, maybe?

“I’ve never worked on a boat before.”  You confessed as you moved out of his way helpfully.  “I just cook the fish, not catch it.”

"Try and relax, yeah?  There's no such thing as a bad crew.  As the Captain, it's my job to take good care of you."

“Is there somewhere I can sit?”  You looked around for a chair, only to find a few grimy plastic buckets and rusted out storage hatches.

“Plenty of time for that later, princess,” he said with a smirking shift to his lips that brought your attention to his thick mustache.  “You’re up here with me.”

An innocent enough reply, as he gestured you to follow him to the wheelhouse, but it brought lewd thoughts to your mind.  The kind of thoughts you’d been having for him since he first walked into your pub a few weeks before. 

There was no going back now, you thought, as he fired up the engine with a start that had you clutching his forearm with a white knuckled grip.  Only to have the nerve to laugh as you tried to compose yourself.

“You don’t trust me?”

“No, I do,” but you didn’t sound very convincing.  So, you tried again, locking your eyes with his.  They were a deep blue that matched the sea and held a certainty that made your stomach flutter a bit too fast.  “I do.”

He only nodded, content with your declaration, and motored effortlessly up the river.  Your nervous belly eased as bit as you passed by the Liver buildings and underneath the Queensway and the Kingsway, until you reached the mouth of the open Irish Sea.  The familiar stagnant smell of rotting seaweed and burning fossil fuels gave way to a fresh and crisp ocean breeze. 

The sun dipped lower towards the horizon line as you continued north past the statues along Crosby Beach, and the still visible vestiges of shipwrecks that dotted the coast between Fornby and Southport.

Your captain dropped anchor near each of them, and you shared knowledge and debated the history of the wrecks as he casted a few poles into the water, with hopes of hooking into the schools of mackerel that liked to feed in the cavernous ruins.  You'd read about them, and even taught the local lore to your students, but it was a treat to see them in person. 

To witness how the sea had claimed them and used them for its own purposes.  Deformed by the tides, and reshaped with mussels, vegetation and barnacles.

And he was right about the fish.  You took turns reeling in over a dozen of the mackerel he was hunting for, and with each catch, you'd gotten bolder.  The smile on your face grew bigger as each of your conquests stacked up into the ice chest.  There was a certain power to it.   In the team effort, between you and him.  A connection to the wild that sent your endorphins rushing and ignited your sense of competition.

He oversaw and advised, with a half-burnt cigar in his mouth and a growling affection for your quick study as he showed you how to measure them and gauge their weight.

"Good fish," he muttered approvingly, after each inspection.

“Good captain,” you flirted back as he caught the bottom of your ass with a firm clap. 

An unrest had begun to brew deep between your thighs, an uprising of desire and sensation with every heated glance and flex of jaw beneath his beard.  He was having as much fun as you were, judging by the flick of his tongue along his teeth, and the crinkle of his eyes as he took in your laughter.  

A twinge of hope perhaps, and the promise of more excitement to come.

"This one feels bigger than the others," you noted with a warning at the last fishing spot before it was time to head back.  The tip of your rod was bent nearly in half and the force of it pulled you tight against the railing.

"Fuck my old boots, you got a big one there," he grated, urgently, as his arms wrapped around yours and his foot propped against the side to give you more leverage.  “Could be a shark or a tope.”  He coached you through it patiently as you reeled in the line as hard as you could.

By the time you wrestled it aboard, you were both soaked, in both the salty sea spray and each other’s perspiration.  Your blouse drenched through, and your denim shorts smeared with fishy slime.

Your prey gaped at you from the chipped and iron-stained deck as John worked the hook free from its lip.  It was a cod fish, bigger than you’d ever seen.  It must’ve gone after the mackerel that had taken your bait and gotten snagged along with it.

"Now that's a beautiful thing, darling."  He held it up easily by the mouth and tail, and it spanned almost as long as his arms.  "About twelve or thirteen kilos, I think."

The sun had just about set around you and it painted the sky a dazzling pink.  The excitement of your catch buzzed in your chest as you stopped to appreciate the colors of it for the first time. 

Your Gran had often spoken of her love for pink skies at night.  A good omen, she’d always said. 

Was that the root of your building delight as you watched him pack the giant cod into the cold storage with the rest of the night's catch?  Or was it something else that had you gawking at his waist and hips, appreciating the efficient and powerful way he moved?

"I hope you don't expect me to cook any of that," you chanced a quip as he pulled two of the bigger mackerels out of the ice.

You were wet and getting chilled, as the evening breeze picked up.  Your jacket long forgotten in the wheelhouse.  A shiver crept from your feet to your neck and rubbed at your arms to brush the goosebumps away.

"You can take a seat now, love.”  He dropped his worn and smelly hat on your head and stripped off his thick flannel shirt to wrap around your shoulders as he disappeared into the wheelhouse.  "I'll take it from here."

His overshirt fell nearly to your knees as you retrieved your bottle of wine from your bag and hopped up atop the whaleback storage hatch.  Thankful that you thought to bring a few plastic cups and an opener, just in case.  This boat didn't have wine glasses, of that much you were certain.  And at that point, it didn't matter.

He hadn't capsized you yet.  You could cut him a break for the shabby state of his fishing boat. 

"Need any help?"  You offered, as he came back out with a small grill, a cutting board, and a sharp knife.

He turned over two buckets and grunted in a purely masculine way as he sank on top of one and set the board on the other like a makeshift table.  He held the knife with purpose, like an extension of his own hand, as he skillfully gutted, scaled and deboned the fish he’d set aside. 

“Thought we’d have a deck-side barbeque.  Enjoy our spoils.”

When he’d finished prepping dinner and set the whole fillets to cook on the grill, he accepted a cup of the offered wine and reclined back against the wall behind him.  You were already ahead by a few glasses, and it made you soften a bit. 

You felt closer to him now that he’d wrapped you in his warmth and his scent.  His shirt didn’t smell bad, necessarily, but it was ripe.  Like musk and spice, and the salt of the earth.  You decided then that you were keeping this one.

The shirt.  And maybe him, too.

Curious to learn more about him than the brief bits he’d let slip so far, you prodded him with conversation, and learned that he’d been in the army, serving for several years before retiring and returning home.  He’d only been back a few months before he’d stumbled into your pub for a pint one afternoon and saw you hustling back and forth between the bar and the kitchen.

“I didn’t realize you could cook.  Thought you only ate my fish and chips,” you asked.

The simply prepared, oily filets sizzled over the fiery coals as he checked and flipped them over with his bare hands.

“You think I was there because I like the food?”  A raised eyebrow giving him a rather dashing edge.

“You don’t like my food?”  You feigned a mild outrage, but you didn’t blame him.  You didn’t even like it most of the time.

“I like you.”  He pulled a fresh cigar from his pocket and took his time lighting the end.  A distraction perhaps, so he didn’t have to follow it up with another declaration.

You felt a girlish heat rise to your cheeks as you sipped more wine.  The culprit surely, not the giddiness of his attention.  There wasn’t much you could say to something like that. 

Thank you?   I like you, too?  How were you so bad at this?

“I meant to ask earlier.  Who’s William John?  The name of your boat, I mean.”

“That’s me.  My father was a bit of a ne’r do well.  So, when I was born, my grandfather commissioned this boat for him in hopes it would give him some purpose in his life.  A livelihood to provide for his family.  Aside from draining the family trust dry.”

“And he named it after you?  What a lovely gift.”  As rough around the edges as he was, the picture of him as a boy, working alongside his father brought a pang of longing to your heart. 

“You can see, by the condition of it, exactly what my father thought of it.”  He filled his mouth with a hot bite of food to test its doneness, and to save himself from revealing more of his secrets.

But he’d said enough, and the weight of what he’d shared made everything about him a bit clearer.  His pride, and his quiet authority.  He ran hot with something to prove, but was more shy when it came to the personal things.  Was he insecure in his ability to be loved?

The pang in your heart deepened, at the thought of him seeing the physical manifestation of the neglect he may have felt all his life.  That it wasn’t his father who taught him to fish, or drive the boat and chart the tides.  That he’d most likely taught himself, out of spite.

You thought of your own family legacy at the pub.  Still reaping the benefits of its name, generations after its greatness had faded.  Desperately in need of repair.  A little love and care.

“She’s not so bad.  Just needs a good cleaning and a coat of paint,” you offered gently, smiling your thanks as he handed you a plate of fish and a few slices of crusty bread.

“You see the vision, do you?”  An inquisitive light of humor in his eyes, surprised maybe that he hadn’t scared you away yet.

“Maybe I spoke too soon.  I haven’t used the bathroom yet.”  There was a brief moment of panic as he looked at you with confusion.  “You do have a toilet, don’t you?  Running water?”

“The head’s down the stairs on the left, but I warn you, it’s a tight fit.”

After dinner, you retreated down below to find that he was right.  The wheelhouse above held the controls and comms equipment, as well as a small galley with a padded bench, a dinette table, and a small cooktop and oven. 

Down a set of steps was the bathroom on one side and a sleeping area on the other.  A lumpy mouse-eaten mattress and a closet full of shelves holding everything from extra rope, bottles of motor oil, and dog-eared books.

A rucksack full of clothes and a few pairs of boots were stuffed haphazardly under the bed.

Somehow, the bathroom was smaller than the closet.  The door was broken and didn’t close, and there was a toilet and a sink, with a detachable shower head hanging above to wash over the drain on the floor.  It was wet and a bit slippery, with a newish bar of soap in the corner, solving the mystery that he had showered at least sometime over the last few days or so.

You settled for just washing your hands, but the faucet levers were stuck with layers of corrosion and scum.  Abandoning the effort entirely, you chanced a look at yourself in the cloudy mirror as the light bulb buzzed like a dying insect above your head.

Before you could take in your appearance, you heard him move behind you.  Felt his shadow take up mass, displacing the air and affecting the atmosphere like a weather system.

“Are you living here?”  You asked, turning around to find him propped against the narrow doorway with his shoulder.  He must have to pivot sideways just to make it through.

“I’ve gotten used to worse, if you can believe it.  This is downright cozy compared to the places I’ve been.”

It didn’t seem like an exaggeration, and you believed him.  You understood then why he’d been such an effective captain.  Why men followed him into hell.  Because he’d probably already seen the worst—and survived.  He could take it, whatever it was. 

He could take care of you.

Nothing about this date could be considered romantic.  You’d spent the first few weeks that you’d known him talking about yourself and your family.  Chatting his ears off while he ate and drank, patiently listening to your life story.

This date was to show you his.  To show you him.  To test whether you could follow him.  Trust him.  No frills.  No putting on airs. 

You could either hide from it, or embrace it.  It’d been too long since you’d kissed him, you came to the conclusion in that dank, stuffy space.  Hours at least, so you made the first move.  And it was if he’d been waiting for it.  Your acceptance.  Acquiescence.

Because once his hands met your waist, he made a sound of possession, feral and slightly unnerving.  One that bridged no argument between what is and what could be.

What was.

Hands and mouths, hips against his cock.  You stripped each other bare and collapsed into the bed with the squeaking of coils and the scurrying of something you hoped was smaller than a rat.

You took off his undershirt and chanced a look at his bare chest.  The tan lines between light and dark were stark around his arms and neck.  They brought a contentedness to your breath as you buried your face into his collarbone.

“What you laughing at, love?”  He pulled your face up to meet his, towards his eyes once more.  You struggled to find your focus in their depths.

“I like you, too.”  You hoped he would understand.  A simple thing, and yet you both had something to loose.

He only smirked, knowingly, and tipped a finger against the brim of the hat you’d forgotten you were still wearing.

“You’re in charge, sugar.  And I’m going to fuck you to until you beg me to stop.” 

“Please. Yes!”  You were right, he was a weather system.  And you were at his whim.  Do your worst, you wanted to scream.  To throw a bottle of empty spirits into his core and watch it be sucked away.

But he wasn’t wild like a storm.  He was steady, like the shore.  He caught the bottle and gave it back to you, quietly.  Gently. 

You felt a breath of fresh air along your bottom as he pulled you pants away.  And the humidity found you quickly while you writhed sticky and needy along his scratchy, hairy dick.

“You’re just one surprise after another, aren’t you?”  You murmured, as he slipped his thick cock past your entrance. 

Tighter than you thought he’d be.  A fit with no margin for error.  Snug and tight and welcome.

It stretched, reached places uncharted within.   You could whimper and shy away, but not with him.  You held steady and open, talking all of it.  As much as he could give.

“I could say the same for you, sweetheart.”  He wadded up your discarded shirt.  His shirt, and placed it under your head.  Its scent masking the moth balls and the dust as he buried your nose into the mattress.

And the remaining hours passed in a dream.  You beneath him, and then atop his face.  Aligned with his hips as you shuttered and rode his length in that tiny cot.  Kicking and screaming and begging for your own release.  Again and again.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news?”  You felt the thin mattress creak and dip as he slipped back down behind you, finally, when it was all over.

“Hmm?”  Your brain was too fucked out to form anything resembling a coherent thought, even if your voice hadn’t been broken.  You were sure they’d heard your screaming in Wales.  Maybe even Ireland.

“We missed the tide window.  About five more hours before we can attempt to go back.”

You whimpered, feeling the crush between your legs and the scratchy fabric at your back as he turned you over and pushed your knees up around your ears.

“The good news is I’ve got plenty of fuel in the tank.  A good captain prepares for all possibilities.”

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”  You couldn’t bring yourself to put any real accusation behind it.

“Yes and no.  I had my hopes.”  At least he was honest.

A relieved gasp escaped you as a warm towel greeted your sore cunt, and not the blunt tip of his cock or the prodding of his thick fingers.  Instead, he cleaned you up in soothing strokes that lulled you into security as you buried your face in the shirt that had become your pillow.

You awoke alone in the tiny bed sometime later, nearly hitting your head as you sat up too quickly.  With the size of his frame, he must not have spent much time in such a cramped space.  Eager to find him, and not be left alone with the chittering sound you could only imagine were mice, you slipped on his shirt and creaked your way up the stairs.

You found him at the helm, sipping a hot tea as he looked out at the lights of the city off in the distance.  Back to civilization.  You curled up on the padded bench beside him and watched in a comfortable silence as the light slowly returned to the sky.

By the time you returned to the dock in the early hours of the morning, you felt rancid.  Your skin itched, hopefully not from bedbugs, and your muscles burned and ached.  But you were smiling, floating with the kind of hopeful feeling that only came after something so new, so different, so crazy, it turned your whole world upside down.

“What’d you think?  Come back again tonight, princess?”  He helped you disembark the boat and folded his arms across his chest expectantly. 

“I’ll have to think about it,” you replied sweetly, knowing you’d see him again at lunch in a few hours.  Already looking forward to it.

And of course you showed up that night at the same time, and the same place.  Bringing with you more wine, an armful of industrial grade cleaning products, air freshener, mouse traps, a few preemptive cranberry pills, pest spray, and a rubber mattress pad cover meant for bedwetting toddlers.

You slipped into an easy routine together, until the end of summer.  Some days you’d leave the dock and sail overnight a little further down the coast.  Others, you’d stay in the port and work on the boat.  He’d do the hard job of making repairs and buffing off the rust with a belt sander, while you’d carefully apply coats of thick, maritime-grade paint.

Below deck, you helped scrub off the nearly forty years of mold and crud from the head and the galley until the true surfaces shined like new.   You finished it off with clean bedding and a decluttered storage area to hold the few things he’d owned.

He lent you his hat to shield your nose from the sun while you worked, and wrapped you in his layers at night when the chilly air crept in.

You brought a bit of life back into your family’s restaurant with fresh and simple grilled mackerel and curried cod recipes that your customers had raved about, and the William John got a makeover worthy of its name. 

And it had been the most fun you’d had in your whole life.  Your favorite summer holiday yet. 

On the last official day before the school year started again, with your classroom set up and your lesson plan laid out, you ended your final shift in the kitchen and found him waiting for you in the alley out back.

A bouquet of flowers in one hand and an enigmatic expression on his face.  His eyes danced with promise and his mouth seemed to twitch excitedly with words unsaid.

“What’s all this, John?  I thought I was meeting you later.”

“I wanted to pick you up,” he said, as if it wasn’t a short walk to the pier.  But his hands found your waist as soon as he’d handed over the blooms, and he set your legs around his hips.  A shocked yelp escaped your lips before being silenced by his.  You could kiss him for days and it wouldn’t be enough, you mused as he pulled away first.  “I have something to show you.”

For a moment, you thought he intended to carry you the entire way, but he set you down gently and instead took your hand.  A silly, romantic thing on the surface, when more accurately he was just too reluctant to let you go. 

His instinct to guide and lead, to pull you along in step beside him.  For your part, your curiosity had you skipping quickly to match his long stride, eager to see what had him so worked up.  Bustling with a nervous energy that contradicted his usually stoic demeanor.

By the time you reached the boat, he’d slowed down, walking forward more deliberately.  Waiting to see if you’d notice his gesture on your own.

He’d finished painting the hull since you’d seen it last.  It no longer read William John in tarnished, fading letters.  In its place was your name.  Elegant and bold.  As if he’d tattooed it on his own chest.

“Oh, love, you shouldn’t have!”  Your hands covered your mouth, and your eyes brimmed with shocked, happy tears. 

“She’s as much yours as she is mine now.  Seemed fitting.  For a fresh start.”  He draped a lazy arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head.  “A new beginning.”

“You’d better take good care of her.”  You smiled up at him, your forehead barely grazing the bottom of his chin. 

“Do you think she’s ready for her maiden voyage?  One of the lads I used to serve with is up in Glasgow.  Wants to meet for some creel fishing for langoustines next week.”

“For how long?”  You’d be busy soon with the new term in full swing, and you’d quietly begun to mourn not seeing him in the restaurant every day, or sharing space in his wheelhouse each night. 

Change was inevitable, and it often came swiftly all at once.

“A month or so.  I wish you could come with me.  Never had a better first mate.” 

“Bring me back a few crates of those prawns, will you?  I’ll put them on the specials menu.” 

Saying goodbye to the haze of summer, and to him, was hard but you knew he’d be back.  Especially when he dropped his cherished boonie hat on your head and told you to keep it warm for him.  And sailed off in a boat he’d named after you. 

All the love to @the-sweet-hibiscus for your early support for this.

[buffetlicious]

In my previous post, I mentioned that we were going out to eat at the newly opened restaurant in Sun Plaza. This is the Nan Yang Dao (南洋岛) restaurant we patronized, and boy was it packed. We were given just one menu so I gave it to mum to let her choose what she wanted. And she picked the Penang Fried Kway Teow (槟城炒粿条) I wanted to eat so I chose something else. My mum had barely eaten it when one random woman asked if the dish was good. She told her that it was indeed yummy. Stir-fried with bean sprouts, plump prawns, slices of fish cake and Chinese sausage, the kway teow were more savoury than sweet and full of wok hei. The noodles were mildly spicy but nothing we can’t handle.

Originally, this Signature Trio Mini Noodles (招牌迷你烫面) consisting of three different mini sized bowls of noodles were intended for mum but she had chosen hers. From right to left, I started off with the Pork Ball Noodle Soup (吊片猪肉丸面汤). Tasted like our fish ball noodle but with two springy pork balls. The yellow noodles, bean sprouts and shredded cabbage is soaked in the flavourful and wholesome broth.

The next bowl, I tried is the Penang Prawn Noodle Soup (槟城虾面) but the prawn is nowhere to be found! Instead, I get slices of pork, fishcake, bean sprouts and a quarter of an egg. Luckily, the yellow noodles were swimming in umami filled broth cooked with the extracted oil from the prawns’ head and shell.

So, this is where the prawn jumped itself into. The Seafood Curry Mee (海鲜咖喱面) had only one seafood and that is the prawn. The other so-called seafood were mainly prawn rolls or other items made from fish or prawn paste. The spicy curry cooked with coconut milk is rich and flavourful which goes well with the yellow noodles. If you are the type who likes to try many different dishes at once, be sure to order this trio of mini noodles.

To finish the meal, I had the Bear Iced Coffee (小熊冰镇咖啡). Came in a small jug and topped with a cute little ice bear. I love the thick bitter yet not too sweet milk coffee. We were seated next to the glass cabinet filled with lovely and yummy looking Puff Pastry Egg Tarts (酥皮蛋挞). Many customers were seen buying but we had to give them a miss as we were just too full at that moment. But we will order it the next time we are here.

[dwellordream]

Rules from a Victorian Housekeeping Guide, Part 2

(Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management, 1861). This is extremely useful if you are: A. interested in Victorian domestic life, or B. writing something set in that era and trying to portray the attitudes and concerns a real Victorian wife and mother would have.

It is important to note that in the 19th and early 20th century, hiring servants was not just the purview of the wealthy- most middle class families had at least one to two people, typically women, to help with cooking and cleaning.

When the housewife’s family moves to a new neighborhood, she should wait for the neighbors to visit her first, rather than seek them out, as that comes off as vulgar.

If the housewife lives in town, she should urge her husband to avoid buying a home near factories or any kind of pollution.

A house with many windows and doors that let in sunlight and air is much healthier than one with very few. If possible, buying a house that faces south or southwest is idea; this will keep the house warmer and drier.

Never rent a house for more than 1/8th of the family’s income.

The housekeeper should be a skilled accountant, and her books should be regularly checked by the housewife.

The lady’s maid, butler, and valet, alongside the housekeeper, should be considered the most elite rank of servants, and should eat separately from the rest of the staff.

Two to four times a year, the housekeeper should conduct a full inventory of the household goods and tools, and ascertain what needs to be replaced or repaired.

Popular Victorian-era soups include: almond soup, apple soup, artichoke soup, asparagus soup, baked soup, barley soup, bread soup, cabbage soup, carrot soup, celery soup, chestnut soup, cocoa-nut soup, cucumber soup, egg soup, leek soup, macaroni soup, onion soup, parsnip soup, pea soup, potato soup, rice soup, tapioca soup, turnip soup, vegetable soup, hare soup, mutton soup, partridge soup, pheasant soup, rabbit soup, turkey soup, turtle soup, crayfish soup, eel soup, lobster soup, oyster soup, and prawn soup.

Popular Victorian-era seafood include: friend anchovies, codfish, baked carp, hot crab, potted crayfish, boiled eels, fish cake, baked haddock, lobster salad, baked mackerel, fried oysters, boiled perch, baked pike, boiled salmon, potted shrimps, buttered prawn, baked sturgeon, and stewed trout.

Popular Victorian-era meat dishes include: baked beef, stewed ox-tails, brisket, boiled tongue, baked minced mutton, breast of lamb, pork cutlets, boiled bacon, baked ham, roast suckling-pig, baked veal, boiled calf’s feet, chicken cutlets, hashed duck, roast goose, roast larks, broiled pigeons, boiled rabbit, roast turkey, roast duck, partridge pie, roast pheasant, and stewed venison.

Popular Victorian-era desserts include: baked almond pudding, apple cheesecakes, apricot tart, bread pudding, carrot pudding, cherry tart, currant dumplings, fig pudding, lemon cheesecakes, baked orange pudding, baked plum pudding, baked raisin pudding, rhubarb tart, baked rice pudding, baked apple custard, blanc-mange, chocolate souffle, meringues, pancakes, lemon biscuits, macaroons, honey cake, gingerbread, and plum cake.

The butler's duties include: serving meals to the family at the table, making sure lamps and candles are always lit and fires are burning in every hearth, locking up doors and windows at night, and keeping the wine cellar in good condition.

The footman's duties include: cleaning the family's shoes, cleaning utensils, polishing furniture, brushing clothes, keeping carriages clean, and delivering mail to the post office.

The valet's duties include: keeping the master's dressing room in order, laying out the master's clothes for him, cutting the master's hair and shaving his face if requested, and carrying notes to friends or merchants.

The lady's maid's duties include: making and repairing the housewife's dresses, cutting and arranging the housewife's hair, applying the housewife's cosmetics, keeping the housewife's dressing room in order, laying out the housewife's clothes for her, and carrying notes to friends or merchants.

The housemaid's duties include: opening all the shutters and curtains in the morning, beating and cleaning the rugs, sweeping up the ashes from the hearths, cleaning the kitchen stove, airing and making the beds, dusting and sweeping every room, washing dirty dishes, and doing needlework for the housewife.

Nurses and mothers should never sleep in a bed with an infant, or bring it into a crowded space full of people, for fear of suffocating the child.

A breastfeeding mother should exercise regularly and keep her mind active by playing or singing music often. She should avoid drinking wine, brandy, or coffee, but malt liquor is acceptable.

A breastfeeding mother should nurse her child for no longer than 9-15 months. She should avoid eating fruits, pickles, and cucumbers, as the acid in them will disrupt the infant.

Infants and toddlers should always be dressed in loose, comfortable clothes, avoiding pins or tight ties.

Parents should vaccinate their children whenever possible, and follow the legal guidelines that babies must be vaccinated against smallpox by their twelfth week.

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

NOTES ON A ROMANCE IN THE MARGINS OF A GROCERY LIST

'You don't like it?' Lucanis' face fell.

'I'm sorry,' said Doe, pouting. 'I know you spent ages making it and everything, but I just... I'm really just not a fan of lamb. And it was slow cooked as well, I...' she sighed. 'Fuck, I feel bad.'

'Some surprise,' he said. 'My fault, Rook. For not asking. So. What do you prefer?'

'Fish,' she said. 'All kinds.'

He nodded. 'Don't feel bad. I'll make you a cherry pie. As an apology.'

'My favourite,' she said, rising to hug him.

Later, Doe wandered to the kitchen for a midnight snack. A new grocery list was tacked to the wall, in Lucanis' neat hand.

--mussels --clams (the little ones) --tiger prawns --octopus? no. i remember her pointing one out, from her room. talking about how they make gardens. it would upset her. --garlic --tea (some for drinking, some for cooking- Doe doesn't drink. no wine) --cherries (black cherries from Orlais, red from Tevinter) --some of those little cakes from the café back home (to share) --coffee beans (the dark chocolate, red berries kind. she is not fond of lighter, more fragrant coffee.) --almonds (for Emmrich) --spearmint (for Harding) --good stock bones (and scraps for Assan) --one of those little puzzle boxes (for Manfred) --blackberries and the deepest red apples I can find (for Davrin) --spun sugar sweets (for Bellara) --those little seaweed snacks Neve likes --chocolate, to drink --perhaps I will teach Doe to make bread. it will calm her. a weekly ritual for us, perhaps?

Underneath, in Emmrich's elegant handwriting:

Lucanis- perhaps you should speak to the poor girl before you plan to propose to her via the medium of bread.