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sasa-gay-yo · 3 years

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Just Us (Chapter 1: His Eyes)

Sometime before The Fall of Wall Maria

The hum of customers seemed louder that day. Normally four or five regulars were sitting in the corner, drinking coffee and sharing baguettes, but today, it seemed most of the tables were filled. Newspapers were being passed back and forth between people and if I cared much about the news, I might have taken myself away from kneading bread to glance at the pages. Just by hearing the customers, I filled myself in on the town gossip without having to be confronted by the old ladies trying to make me marry their sons.

“I can’t get married right now, Miss. Schmidt. There’s too much to do with the shop that I have no time to give my attention to anyone else.” Those excuses and a smile seemed to hold them off for a few days.

“Eva! Can we get a refill of coffee here?” I looked up to the three Garrison soldiers who were hiding away from their morning watch duties. At least they weren’t drinking whiskey. Nodding, I put the dough in the oven to prove and wiped my hands. Now, I would have to talk to some people. If it made them want to come to the café more, I guess I would sacrifice a little of my sanity.

“Here you go,” I held up my hand as they tried to slide a few more coins my way, “You already have had three, this one is on the house.” The Captain looked up and smiled at me before putting them back in his pocket. The, too, had a newspaper laid out in the center of the table.

“Have you heard about the Survey Corps recently, Eva?” I shook my head and he held up the paper.

“Apparently they’ve gained some recruits worth our tax dollars! They didn’t lose half of their people on the last expedition. It’s front-page news for some reason.” One of the subordinates pointed at the portrait on the front page of what I assumed to be the new commander of the Scouts. Last week's news was the retirement of Keith Shadis and the promotion of various Corps peoples. Perhaps with the promotion also came the recent success.

“I think anyone who goes out to fight titans on our behalf is worth my tax dollars. If I recall, soldiers only pay a fraction of our taxes. In fact, I’m paying for you to sit here in my café and drink away my coffee supply. It’s hard on me to travel to the capital markets every month.” I raised an eyebrow at them and it seems the pleasant conversation they wanted to have had ended, especially with the other customers listening in. They made it a point to stand up, leave the coins on the table, and walk out of the café.

“Finally doing their job.” I picked up the untouched pitcher of coffee and wiped down the table. They didn’t even have the decency to put their cups in the dish bin. I rolled my eyes and cleaned up after them, going back to kneading more bread dough and warming up their coffee for the next customer.

Maybe the success of the Scouts will make the Garrison and MPs care about the people inside the walls. You can only be self-serving for a little bit before it comes to bite you in the ass.

“Delivery!” Again, I’m distracted from my bread making. This is why I should have prepped last night. I wiped off my hands, noticing how dry they’d become, and turned to get what I assumed to be my portion of flour.

“Hi Jonas, just put it on the table here.”

“Eva, did you hear the news?” I poured him a cup of juice and handed it to him, nodding.

“The Survey Corps?” He nodded hard and drank it all in one big gulp.

“You should’ve seen it when the scouts came through the city a few days ago. I don’t think I’ve ever seen people cheer for them, but this time they did. Did you watch them come by?” I took his cup and put it in the sink before turning back to him.

“No, I was stuck in here. I did see the tops of some of their heads though, but the crowd around the window was pretty thick.” I decided to lean against the front counter and take a break from baking to talk to Jonas, one of the only people my age who seemed to come around here and stay. If you were young in Trost, you were always working. They would come in and right out of the café, never staying to talk or look out the windows. I only know a few of their names, but all of their drink orders by heart. The only ones who seemed to talk a bit when they came in were, in fact, Scouts who got a few days off. No conversation ever really amounted to anything and I didn’t take time to memorize their orders as they would always stop coming a few weeks after they first arrived.

“How is Reeve’s doing on orders? I heard that there might be a shortage of meat soon.” He shrugged at me and I signed his papers.

“I don’t have a clue about that. I just go where they tell me to. I mean, I haven’t been delivering a lot of meat lately. You don’t need it though, do you?”

“No, I just need flour, coffee, and sometimes tea. I go to the capital for the last two. If anything, I’d just stop being a bakery.” Jonas pouted and pointed to the croissants in the glass case.

“I’d fight to get those if there was a shortage. You have the best bread in Trost!” I smiled and waved my hand.

“No, I don’t, Jonas. I kn-”

“Tea, please.” Jonas jumped and turned around to see the man behind him. His grey eyes bore holes into Jonas who was in his way. I’d seen him before, but it was his first time into the café.

“C-Captain Levi!” Jonas even bowed to him, slightly shaking. I tilted my head, looking at the man, no taller than me. Why was this shorty making Jonas shake in his shoes? And Captain? He didn’t seem like the type to be in the Garrison.

When I was done looking at his form, I looked back up to his eyes which seemed annoyed that he was having to wait for his tea. They were a pretty grey but were almost overshadowed by the dark circles under his eyes. I’d seen those type of eyes...tired from death, not from lack of sleep. He was definitely a Scout.

I stood up and wiped my hands again, slightly wincing at their dryness.

“What type of tea, Cap’n?” He didn’t seem to be amused at my abbreviation of his title and I lost my customer-friendly smile. Guess I didn’t have to play pretend around his negative attitude.

“Black.” I raised an eyebrow and looked at his form again. Tired, strained, busted, sad even… He needed something less… anxiety-inducing than straight black tea. He needed something soothing.

“May I make a suggestion?” He looked up again having already put the money for plain black tea on the counter. I didn’t fail to notice how when he looked up, so did everyone else in the café. Was he radiating some form of intimidating energy to everyone in this place? He didn’t look scary, just tired and stressed. I guess the darkness of his features didn’t help his cause.

“What?” Every answer was short and low. He did have an impressive voice for being short, but it also sounded like he had a scratchy throat. A mental note to add honey.

“Mint?” He looked at me for a few seconds, probably deciding whether or not I could ruin his tea routine, “No extra cost. You just seem like you don’t need any more caffeine at the moment. Perhaps a few more hours of sleep.” The last sentence was mumbled, but I’m sure he had to hear it. Hopefully, he heard it and took me up on it.

“Sure.” He waved his hand and walked over to the corner table where the Garrison was sitting, staring out the window. It seemed that he was far away enough for everyone to start gossiping about him. I stared at him for a few more seconds before taking out one of the few teacups I owned. No one wants to drink tea anymore… such old taste.

“E-Eva? How did you talk to him like that?!” I glanced over at Jonas who was crouched over the counter and whispering to me.

“What do you mean? Why is everyone so afraid of him? He’s no taller than me, Jonas.”

“He’s Captain Levi! Humanity’s strongest soldier. It’s said that he’s killed over 100 titans by himself! And, and, and he just joined the Corps this past year. He used to be a…” He leaned in even more and put a hand in front of his mouth like that was going to help block out this secret, “a famous gangster in the underground.” I looked back at him again and met his eyes. He quickly looked away, but I did notice he was still staring at me from his peripheral. It was the way he was sitting that made it possible to spy on me unsuspectingly.

“He does look a bit mean, but I don’t see danger...I think he just intimidates you and you don’t like it because he’s shorter than you.” Jonas was exasperated at my comment and looked back and forth between the Captain and me.

“But he’s from the underground! You know how dangerous those people are! Kenny the Ripper and The Sniper… he’s one of them!” I rolled my eyes again and watched the tea as it brewed.

“You forget I was born in the underground too, Jonas.” It was a low whisper to keep gossip down to a minimum and he shook his head fast, tapping on the counter.

“But you’re different, Eva. You didn’t live there for very long either and you were adopted by Mister Flynn. I know he’s murdered like so many people.” I held the honey jar up, debating how much I should put in. He didn’t seem like the type of person who would like something overly sweet, but his throat sounded like it needed a bit more honey.

“So, if I wasn’t adopted and you met me on the streets, would you be treating me like you’re treating him?” He groaned again and tried to grab my hand to get me to understand his point better. I moved my arm so he fell a bit farther on the counter.

“I’m happy that someone who knows how to kill is now killing titans. You read the newspapers. What if he’s the reason the Scouts are doing better now?” I put the teacup on the tray along with a small bowl of honey. I couldn’t decide.

Everyone in the café watched as I walked over to his table and put the tea down.

“Peppermint tea. I don’t know how you like your tea so there’s some honey. You should put it in.” I pointed to the tiny bowl and he looked down at it too, grunting. I guess that was his way of saying thank you.

Something made it so I didn’t move from standing in front of him. Maybe I was just curious why everyone was afraid to meet his eye or why they thought he was so intimidating. I mean, Jonas was shitting his pants talking about him and here I stood, not feeling anything like that. I was grateful, if anything, for his service in the Corps and just how many titans he’s rumored to have killed.

“Do you have a question?” It was harsh and it woke me out of the trance while looking at him. I had to recover quickly, or it’d be a bit embarrassing to just admit I was staring at him. He really… wasn’t so bad looking either. Just short.

“I’m waiting for you to put the honey in your tea.” A good recovery with a hard tone behind it. Hopefully, he didn’t see through it. He groaned again, taking one spoonful and making a grand gesture about putting it into the tea and stirring. I smiled when he followed my fake orders, but it was funny. The titan serial killing maniac gangster had done something that I told him. I nodded once before walking away from his table, noticing, again, everyone's eyes. It was easier to face his grey ones than it was to look at all of theirs. Annoying.

“Jonas, get off my counter! You’re making it dirty!”

Orders and people kept flowing in as the hour passed by, but as it reached lunchtime, everything slowed down. No one would want pastries until later in the day for an after-work snack and coffee and tea had lost their use as everyone was now knees deep in work. The only people left in my café were three older women gossiping, two men playing chess, and the Captain himself.

He was still in the same position, staring out the window, and he slowly sipped his tea as if he was savoring it. I noted that as a victory for my tea-making skills and also noticed that he had used up all the honey I had given him. Interesting. He did like his tea sweet. Maybe he is scary and I’m just not good at judging someone’s character.

All there was left to do was keep the bread and pastries rotating in and out of the oven and tend to the customers who came every fifteen minutes or so. When I was on downtime, I would debate on whether to go talk to him again or just let him be. Maybe me talking to him would make him more tired and a waste of the peppermint tea I gave him. Just a bag of that tea costs a fortune in the capital, but I was now glad for my decision to buy it.

Maybe he's sitting there, try to get me to notice him and go talk to him. I can feel it when he looks at me while my back is turned. Is that a call to come over? Has my wit and good looks made him interested in me? Or, my last hypothesis, he can’t read me like I can’t read him. He is a Scout, so maybe he’s surveying me as they do. I was definitely trying to study him behind the pastry glass.

Around one, almost four hours after he stepped foot into my café, he stood up and walked the teacup and plate to the counter next to me. The dish tray wasn’t empty, so he either hadn’t seen it, or my second hypothesis was right and he had finally gotten annoyed that I didn’t approach him.

“I don’t know where this goes.” His voice was still as stiff as ever, but perhaps it sounded a bit less scratchy. Up close again, I got to study his features. He was handsome, but not your average Trost brown-hair-brown-eyes boy. His eyes told stories the longer you looked at them. Stories of titans and death and the underground. I wish I could stare at them for longer, but he lowered his head again, pushing the cup forward. I got to see his side profile from the other side and it was the same. He was perfect and symmetrical. Sharp jaw and nose hide under strands of raven hair. Everything about him was so… not dark, but I guess the right word would be intimidating or... hard. He just seemed to be hard. Nothing would break his shell, not even small talk, but damn, did I want to try.

“I can take that for you, Captain.” He nodded and stood there as I put the dish in the sink. He was studying me like I had when I delivered the tea. I decided to use this against him.

“Did you have a question?” He opened his mouth to say something, probably a quick remark, but it didn’t come out. I turned, smiling, looking at his stance. He still had a blank expression, hiding any emotion, but I knew deep down that my question affected him.

“How much is that?” He pointed to the baguette in the glass display which conveniently already had the price marked. Humanity’s strongest wasn’t very perceptive if he missed two things. First, the dish tray, now the price tag. Jonas couldn’t have been right about him… it was just a mirage for people inside the walls. For someone to kill that many titans, they had to be some sort of killing machine. They needed him to fit the narrative and his past and facial expression helped him to mold into it seamlessly. The narrative I broke out of as a child.

“For Humanity’s Strongest? Free. Thank you for fighting the titans, Captain.” Without a word, I put the bread in a paper wrap and handed it to him. I had hoped he would say something back so I could talk to him more, but like every Scout, he just turned to walk out of the doors and probably back to the outside of Trost.

“How long till you don’t come back, Captain?”

Chapter Two →

Chapter Masterlist

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi x oc #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x oc #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan levi #original character #aot #levi aot #levi heichou

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

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Okayyyy chappy seven 🤩 Here we goooo 🥳

Lord, Katniss always had nightmares 😭 even before the games, between her father’s death, her mother’s abandonment and the other traumatizing things she saw in her life, my girl never slept peacefully a day in her life 🥺.

She even indicates that she sometimes has nightmares about past hunger games 😭😭😭. Someone protect my smol child. Please. Someone.... Someone? Anyone? No? Okay 🥺

“I bolt up screaming for my father to run as the mine explodes into a million deadly bits of light.” This is such a powerful image and it really does show that Katniss has literally envisioned all the gory details of her father’s death for the last four years. This is so sad 😞

Also though. Katniss really doesn’t talk much about her father’s death after the first book and definitely doesn’t describe nightmares about it. So .... like basically, the games traumatized her so badly that, her father failing to escape the mines as the collapsed in on him, crushing him into the pits of despair, the possibility of rescuing his corpse deemed unimaginable, pales in comparison? Yes I just tried and failed to phrase that long run on sentence the way Katniss phrases her nightmares about her dad dying, yes that was over the top but you know what? So. Is. Katniss.

“Dawn is breaking through the windows” Twilight reference 😬😬😬. I couldn’t stop myself, y’all. Forgive for please.

“The Capitol has a misty, haunted air.” Katniss, you’re from the butthole of Kentucky, the air you’re used to is probably humid as all get out 😓😓💦😅😅

“I must have bitten into the side of my cheek in the night. My tongue probes the ragged flesh and I taste blood.” 😒😒😒😒 this feeling ..... is .... v v v .... distinct .... and .... familiar 😕🙁☹️

“I end up hopping from foot to foot as alternating jets of icy cold and steaming hot water assault me.” Why is this so funny omg 😂🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂😂😅😅😅😅😅 Katniss is just like pressing buttons like, “Ah! Too cold! 🥶 Ah! Too hot! 🥵 Ah!!!!!” All while jumping like a .... cat 🐱🥁

Lemon foam? 🍋 Whatever. I guess there’s weirder flavors of soap we have today but like where’s the Philosophy flavors that give recipes on the bottles??? Surely they’d survive an apocalypse??? Everyone uses those???

I’m so glad Katniss didn’t forget to moisturize, even as she prepares for a death match 😅😅😅😅 even if it’s just as simple as pressing a single button, why is she even taking the time to press it?

I know, I know. She just wants to make sure her skin is so smooth for the arena that the knives and arrows just slide right off 🤣🤣🤣🤣

“This is the first time since the morning of the reaping that I resemble myself.” Lolololol which means Mr. Romantic is gonna be even more turned on by the sight of ya, since he’s crushed on you looking like this for the last decade of his life 🥳😎🤗💁🏼‍♀️. Peeta ain’t even here yet and I’m already making the shipper comments Samantha calm down 🙄😶😑🤐🤐🤐🤐🤐🤐

Seriously there where is Peeta? Did he also have to figure out the temperature controls in the shower? Did he also moisturize? I miss him I wanna know about his morning too 😔. Katty, is it too much to ask for you to go take a lil ... sneak peek into his room for me? 😏😏😏

Twenty dishes seems like a lot for like four people eating? Eh, maybe six people, if we count the stylists who magically pick and choose when they’re coming to a meal... Hmm, I’ll calculate just so no one else has to. 🤓😬🤗 No one else cares, Samantha. 🤐🥱😴😶 Twenty dishes amounts out to about five plates without the stylists and three and a half-ish with so.... idk it’s not that much food I guess but it seems like a lot for one meal, esp if people in the Capitol intend to keep their trim figures. This is why that one prep team girl is chubby. 🤐🤐🤐

Awww Katniss copying Peeta’s weird lil eating quirks 🤗😎🥳. She’s already taking interest in him, she just don’t realize it yet 💁🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️ shipper comment alert 🚨🚨

But also has anyone actually tried dipping bread on hot chocolate and was it good or does it taste as repulsive as it sounds to me? I hate it when my food even so much as dares to touch though 🤢😡😤😓

Oooo I always forget Prim has to be utilizing her goat, milking the thing every day until it’s dry I’m not a farmer idk how milking animals works ... so she contributes more than I give her credit I suppose.... I’m making an effort for you, Primmers. You seem useless and immature but I’m trying. 😪😶 Taylor Swift voice 🎶 *this is me trying* 🎶

Oh wow it was only two mornings ago? Man. The first book is slow moving. 😅😭 six chapters in and we’ve gotten through one point five days 🤣

“It makes me irritated that Peeta is wearing exactly the same outfit I am.” “Listen, Peeta, one of us has to change, this is getting embarrassing, you have to stop borrowing my clothes!”

“This twins act is going to blow up in out faces once the Games begin.” Ahhaahahahaha blow up 💥 💣 🔥. Get it, get it. 🥁 Because she represents fire. And she also blows things up in Every. Single. Book.

But seriously, did Cinna and Portia and Haymitch all plan on presenting Katniss and Peeta are like, tight friends or whatever, and then Peeta is like “oh b-tee-dubs, I have a massive crush on K-dog” and they just decided it perfectly fit into their plans?

I’m so jealous that their breakfast has bread baskets 😩😩😩 I know they’re headed to the slaughter but still. Bread.

if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now." "Why would you coach us separately?" In case one of you ... not naming names .... Peeta .... wants to reveal your lifelong crush on live television 😎😎😎

Also Haymitch is like “make an important decision but take zero time to consider it, I’m tired and hungover, kids, idc for your drama 😒”

Which as an auntie to a wonderful little two year old ... is v relatable 😅🥲🙃🤭

“And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels." I wanna make a dirty joke here so badly but the lord himself is saying no.

“Town families usually eat expensive butcher meat. Beef and chicken and horse.” Ohhh this is interesting. Katniss believing Peeta and the other merchants live high on the hog while Peeta is later is like “I eat expired bread for every meal, Katniss” I mean, better than starving like her, but also not how she’s painting the picture in her mind. 😶😭

Also Katniss never mentions horses in Twelve, where’s the butcher getting horses from to slaughter and sell? That’s why Katniss never sees them, Samantha, duh 🙄

“I can't do anything. Unless you count baking bread.” "Sorry, I don't.” This was such a quick and matter of fact brush off, poor Peeta 😭😭😭 my baby I’m still rooting for you don’t worry you got this

Also. Lowkey, highkey, that tiny exchange triggered me. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭. Those awkward moments where people brush me off or glance over me live in my head. Rent free. For life.

I wonder sometimes often times if Katniss’ father and Gale’s father knew each other? Both hunted and worked in the mines. Just a random sidebar 😅🤭🤐🙃

“She’s excellent” He’s so proud of his wife 🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧

So uh.... is it safe to say Mr. Mellark is an Everlark fan? If he likes and admires Katniss and Peeta and him apparently have some kind of close-ish bond (okay, maybe not but maybe) then perhaps he is carrying the shipper banner back in Twelve for them 🥳🥳😎😎

Katniss, you dingaling, of course he noticed you 🙄🙄🙄

Peeta compliments her and her instant reaction is “what are you doing, weirdo?” 😅😭

“Don’t underrate yourself” Peeta, love of my life, take your own advise. Stupid. 😪😪😪

“I've seen you in the market. You can lift hundred-pound bags of flour” Katniss in the market, staring across the way at Peeta, 👁👄👁, watching him lift flour over his shoulder.

“He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother." This is criminally undiscussed. Peeta being a wrestler alone is undiscussed but also.... did you go to his matches, Katniss? Miss Anti-Social, Hunting-First-Everything-Else-Later? 😏😏😏 If this ain’t proof of her lil crush idk what is

“All you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance.” “You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows.” Does no one else realize that Katniss and Peeta literally took the other’s advise for the first part of the games? How did Peeta get in with the Careers? The way she just said. Where is Katniss when Peeta and the Careers discover her? High up in a tree. Okay, this maybe didn’t compute right but I had a thought here so I said it

Peeta’s mother is just a monster. Who says that crap? 😔😔😔 don’t worry, baby, I’m rooting for you

“She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' She is” Yeah, she is, no thanks to you, Mrs. Mellark 😤. Stingy ho.

Peeta’s got pain in his eyes 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Awww, Katniss accrediting her survival to Peeta’s help 😭😭😭😭. This is so pure. Also kiss now, you little freaks.

“She has no idea. The effect she can have.” This is such an iconic line... but the can has always had me laughing. She can have an effect, if she really wants to. Or not, depending on the day.

Katniss is so stupid, how did she construe that as an insult??? 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️ y’all ever just wanna smack her into a wall?

“In public, I want you by each other's side every minute” If Peeta didn’t have a long life crush, what was the ultimate plan with all this friendship act they’re being forced into? 🤔🤔🤔

Even Peeta’s trying to object to it 😭😭😭😭

“You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other.” You will fall in love. 🤩🥳😎

“I bite my lip and stalk back to my room, making sure Peeta can hear the door slam.” Okay, now imagine how much she’s hurting his feelings right now 😖😣 what a little brat

“But that didn't mean I wanted to do everything with Peeta. Who, by the way, clearly doesn't want to be partnering up with me, either.” Lolololololololol this is so funny in hindsight 🤣🤣🤣. Also if you showed a little enthusiasm, Peeta would probably be happy to partner with you.

“But a tiny part of me wonders if this was a compliment. That he meant I was appealing in some way.” No, really, Katniss? A compliment? Who’d give you one of those? 🙄🙄🙄

“It's weird, how much he's noticed me. Like the attention he's paid to my hunting.” A normal person at this point would put together a crush 😅

“And apparently, I have not been as oblivious to him as I imagined, either. [...] I have kept track of the boy with the bread.” Anddd a normal person would figure out their own crush at this point 😅😅.

“I do a quick assessment. Peeta and I are the only two dressed alike.” We stan a matching couple in this house 😎😏

“Almost all of the boys and at least half of the girls are bigger than I am” That means 18 out of 24 tributes tower over my girl here. Smol Katniss. The movies did such erasure on this front I’m still bitter 🤐😒😤😩

“I may be smaller naturally, but overall my family's resourcefulness has given me an edge in that area.” Just a tiny muscular thing standing next to a bunch of tall, lanky kids. 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Awww “Each [Career tribute] must have fifty to a hundred pounds on me.” I mean ... let’s calculate. A muscular girl would probably weigh like 150 pounds... so basically Katniss is at most, 100 pounds. Tiny Katty.

“I'm thinking that it's lucky I'm a fast runner when Peeta nudges my arm and I jump.” This is a random, cute interaction 😍😍😍. Shipper blinders are on and tight.

“Suppose we tie some knots.” “Right you are.” I legitimately just scratched my face, who says right you are? An 87 year old man, that’s who 😅😅😅. Not turning your girl on very well, Peeta baby.

Although it does sound a bit like a backwoods southern thing soooo.... hillbilly Everlark nation rise. 🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️

“We concentrate on this one skill for an hour until both of us have mastered it.” Awww, so Peeta knows how to tie a snare? He’s not as clueless as half the fandom acts.

How exactly is frosting cakes equating to amazing camouflager in a death match? Books crack me up with these connections. “I’m an amazing artist because I write birthday cards!”

Lolololol Prim admiring her future brother-in-law’s handiwork 🥰🥰🥰🥰 too bad she dies before they can get together for real for real.

“Somehow the whole thing - his skill, those inaccessible cakes, the praise of the camouflage expert - annoys me.” Dude, you get praised by everyone and their brother while Peeta gets overlooked, give him a moment to shine. 😑🙄 jealous wife much?

Also she’s already picking up on Peeta’s eye for beauty 😅😅😅

“It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death.” "Don't be so superior. You can never tell what you'll find in the arena. Say it's actually a gigantic cake-“ "Say we move on.” She’s such a little snot. 😒😒😒

But also I love that already in this point of their relationship, Peeta is noticing when she’s being a brat 😭😂😅. “Don’t be so superior.”

“Despite Haymitch's order to appear mediocre, Peeta excels in hand-to-hand combat, and I sweep the edible plants test without blinking an eye.” Lolololol their mentor’s advise went into one ear and right out the other 😂😅🤣.

But also why did the movie make a point in adding an extra scene of Peeta looking weak and the Careers staring at him? That literally took up time and served no purpose at all. 😤😤😤 I’m coming for you, Gary Ross

Awww, everyone but the careers eat alone. But Katniss and Peeta eat together 🥺🥺🥺. It’s like a forced first date 🥳🥳🥳

I like how Katniss says they include bread from every district but she then proceeds to only mention the two districts that later have relevant tributes. 😅😅😅

Lolololol their fake friendship “laugh ... now! Okay, I’ll smile, try to say something interesting”

“Ever since I slammed my door, there's been a chill in the air between us.” Well yeah, you probably hurt his feelings 🥺🥺🥺

Umm, Katniss just casually drops that she was chased by a bear.... how did homegirl live? 😬😳

Peeta knowing Rue’s name and being the one to take notice of her first 🥺🥺🥺. If the games had come down to Katniss, Peeta and Rue, y’all know Everlark would have swallowed the berries and gotten Rue home. 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

“Don't. Don't let's pretend when there's no one around.” "All right, Katniss.” He made a single comment to you, ding dong. He didn’t ask for a goodnight kiss 🙄🙄🙄.

Also anyone ever think of how lonely Peeta’s life must be? He’s not close to his family that we can see, Delly’s his only real friend, after he wins he lives in that huge house all alone... I feel sad now. I did this to myself. 😬😭🥺

Katniss’ “Oh! The weapons!” When she sees the bows and arrows is so cute 🥰🥰🥰

Katniss has such a rage built up inside of her. Let it out, girlfriend

See, I’d have done this too but in my rage, I’d probably have shot a real person and not the pig ... goodbye, Plutarch 👋🏻

Andddd I think that’s all for this chapter! Sorry my comments weren’t as interesting as usual 😬.

#thgagain

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hot-wiings · 3 years

Text

The One Where After Your Grandfathers Death, Breakdowns Happen And Christmas Tradition Dies.

Edited: 12-3-2020

Hitoshi Shinsou walked into your dorm room. He hadn't knocked but opted to use the key you had given him. Normally he would have been forbidden from going into the girl's dorms, or at the very least scolded, but being Christmas eve, most of the teachers had left home for the holidays, as well as the students. Those who hadn't left would be leaving today.

“Ready to go?”

You zipped up your bag that held Christmas gifts and a Christmas dress that you recently acquired from the mall. You were going home for Christmas so you didn't need to pack any clothes. You looked over at Hitoshi who stood in your doorway in a sweater, holding a bigger bag. You weren't ready to go, not today. You didn't want to go, not this year. Not when he wouldn't be there with you. You tried your best to smile at Hitoshi, to smile and not give away what you were feeling. A smile that hid your pain.

“I was thinkin’ what if we went to your house for Christmas instead?”

“Kitty, we always go to your house for Christmas, it's a tradition at this point.”

“I know, but doesn't your mom get lonely on her own?”

Hitoshi walked over to your bed and picked up your bag for you. He hoisted it onto his arm with his bag and pressed a chaste kiss to your temple to sway your concerning worries about his mother.

“My mom will drop by for Christmas dinner anyway, so really, it's pointless to go to my home. Besides, we already told your mom we were coming.”

You let out a little sigh as you latched your hand onto Hitoshi's hand. You leaned against him as he led you out of the dorm rooms and out of the dorm building. You buried your face into part of his coat as the cold winter air hit your body. With your body leaned into him, he couldn't see your frown. He couldn't see the look of monumental disappointment and unhappiness, but how could he see what you were trying your best to hide. How could see your negative feelings when you tried your best to make yourself look positive. How could he know when you did your best to hide your cries at night. How could he know when you did your best to cover it all up.

Once you approached Hitoshi's car he headed to the back to put your bags in and you headed to the front. You plugged Hitoshi's keys in and turned the heat on, making sure to turn Hitoshi's seat warmer on, then you turned the radio to a Christmas station. Something happy, something for the holidays, something you no longer found comfort or joy in but something you had to listen to keep up your facade of happiness.

“All set?”

"Yup."

Hitoshi buckled himself up and looked over at you briefly to see you nod at him with a smile before adjusting his mirrors. He didn't see, he didn't notice that you looked out the window and watched the passing roads with a numb expression on your face. He couldn't feel how much you were hurting with the passing of every street you could remember going with him. Every grocery run, video store trip, walk to the candy store. He didn't see, he didn't notice how you were hurting. His quirk was mind manipulation, not reading.

Hitoshi nearly drove past your house. It was dark and bleak, no lights were up, not even the sidewalk was shoveled. He was so used to seeing your house lit up over the holidays. Solar-powered candy canes, glass color-coded bulbs on the roof, the railings, the fence, the door, the trees, and god did you have so many wreaths. Hitoshi parked the car in the driveway with a frown and you helped him fetched your bags from the back to help him escape the cold faster.

“I almost didn't recognize your house. It looks sad without lights.”

“I don't know why no one put them up...”

You bit your lip as you kept your focus on your hands. Once you and Hitoshi grabbed your bags you slammed the door shut and walked up the front lawn with your hand in his. You leaned against each other to help create warmth until you reached the door and briefly broke away so you could pull out your house keys and unlock the doorknob. You pushed the door open and walked in but not before stomping to get the snow off of your boots. The house was bare and empty, like the lawn, the lights were dimmed and no decorations were put up. You and Hitoshi kicked your wet boots off, leaving your bags by the door. With your hand in Hitoshi's, you went in to search for the kitchen.

“Mom?”

“Oh, hey sweetie. You're here early.”

“Well, Toshi’ wanted to get here early, he likes coming here for Christmas, likes to eat our cookies.”

"Oh I..."

Your eyes glazed over the counter and observed the cans and dishes your mother was prepping for Christmas eve dinner. It was mostly store-bought and canned goods. Your heart panged as you watched her throw away the storebought containers and platters, trying to pass off this dinner as her own. Usually, she and your grandma made everything homemade. From bread to pie, to the stuffing and meat, it was homemade. You had an inkling feeling in the back of your head that she wasn't going to put the effort in.

As you saw the alcohol bottles on the counter your chest hurt. Your mother was constantly drunk when you were a child. He was the only reason she stayed sober, constantly encouraging her to stay sober, sober for family, sober for her kids. With him gone you supposed, she fell off the wagon. He was the only reason she stayed sober, making her bearable. He was the only reason your siblings came around for the holidays. You wouldn't be surprised if they didn't show up this year.

"I'd hate to disappoint Hitoshi, but I didn't make any cookies."

“No cookies, great. Why didn't anybody put the Christmas lights up?”

“All the lights are in the basement in your grandfather's workroom. I didn't want to go in and look for them. Quite frankly, I'm too busy to put the lights up anyway.”

With one simple sentence, a small explanation, your heart broke. You knew this year was going to be different. No one put lights up, no one made cookies, your mother, slightly dunk, was serving a store-bought meal and your siblings probably weren't going to show up. Your grandpa held the family together. He kept everyone coming home for the holidays, he went all out with decorations and dinner, but he was gone now. You couldn't do it anymore. It was like all your emotions came crashing down in one swinging motion.

“You didn't put Christmas lights up because you couldn't handle going into his workroom? That's fucking bullshit! You're a grown adult, you have to do things you don't like!"

"Grandpa's gone and you need to accept that, hows that for doing things you don't like? I'm sorry to disappoint you, [Y/N], but grandpa is gone. Your sisters texted and said they weren't coming, I figured you'd bail too, so I didn't bother with a homecooked dinner and lights."

You ran your hands through your hair roughly as the tears made way down your cheeks in hot salty streaks. Hitoshi, from behind you brought his hand up and grabbed your shoulder, thumbs rubbing comforting circles. He had been to the funeral with you, he had been there while you grieved. He went through it all with you. Slowly, your nightmares and crying seemed to lessen, he thought you were handling it better, processing and healing, he hadn't realized you were hiding your pain.

"Grandpa would be so fucking disappointed in you. He would have hated this, he would hate this so much!"

"He would be so disappointed in the fact that you can't grow up. How are you going to be a hero if you can't face his death? I'm going to work, like an adult, with a practical adult job. I'll see you later, if you decide to a stick around."

Your mother grabbed her bag and stormed out of the house without another word. You knew it was the alcohol talking, but it hurt so much. Hitoshi came in front of you and pulled your body against his. He was worried about you. He didn't know you had been hiding your feelings, hiding your pain for so long. If he had known he would've tried to help you through it.

"Your mom's hurting too. She's just reacting to grief differently."

You couldn't stay and listen to Hitoshi, instead, you took off upstairs but Hitoshi ran after you. Even when you slammed the door, he didn't let it deter his determination to get to you. He walked into the room and pulled you against his chest. He didn't care that you were sobbing, he didn't care that you were soaking his sweater. He didn't care. You were hurting. You were hurting and he wasn't there for you. You were hurting and he didn't notice. You were drowning in a sea of pain and he couldn't see. He should've seen. He should've seen through the facade, saw through the fake smiles and laughs.

"[Y/N], it's okay to cry."

"No, it's not, it's not! He's gone Toshi'! He's gone. If I grieve I'll get better, if I get better and I'm happy, it'll be like he's really gone."

"Grieving doesn't mean he's gone. Getting to a place where your happy doesn't mean he's gone. He will always be in your heart, he'll always be watching you."

"He would be ashamed. This is his favorite holiday. Every year we'd put up lights and we'd have a Christmas party. We'd have homemade food and cookies. It wasn't about presents for him, it was about family and my fucking siblings aren't even coming."

Hitoshi pulled you tighter against his chest as a sob escapes your lips. It hurt him to see you in such pain, it hurt him to not be able to relieve you of your pain. He felt like he should've noticed everything you were experiencing and going through earlier. He should've gotten you help. He should've been there to help you through this.

"We can still do some of those things if you want, we can bake and cook, I'll go to the store, find what we need."

"He's gone Toshi' it's not the same. My siblings aren't here, he's not here. Tradition is ruined, Christmas is ruined. I- I don’t want to do anything, I just wanna lie down... Will you lie down with me?”

Hitoshi kissed the top of your head and led you over to your bed. He pulled the covers back and tucked you in the bed before climbing in himself. He let you lay your head against him as you closed your eyes and tried to keep the tears in. The sudden outburst of emotions was taking a toll on you, but you needed to grieve. You needed to grieve rather than just shutting it all down as you had originally. You needed to let yourself cry it out, you needed to let yourself finally process he was gone. That's what you did. You let the tears out as Hitoshi ran his hands through your hair. He let you cry, weep, and sob. He let you be emotional until you didn't have the energy to. He held you with no judgment, but comfort and love. A word you had yet to say to each other.

"Don't leave me Toshi'."

“I’ll be here when you wake up, I'll always be here.”

You had only been asleep for a couple of hours when you felt your body being shook awake. The feel of the hands on you were familiar, familiar, and comforting. All you could bring yourself to do was keep your eyes closed as you nuzzled into the pillow you had your head resting on.

"Wake up. [Y/N], wake up. It's important."

"What is it?"

You rolled over to the edge of the bed and peeked your eyes open to peer up at Hitoshi. You blinked your eyes a couple of times until they were able to fully handle the bright lights. Your eyes felt heavy, heavy, and sore from crying. You were glad to finally get some of it out in the open. Hitoshi was right, grieving felt good, crying it out felt good. You felt light, but that part of you that deeply missed your grandfather felt guilty for trying to process it and move on.

"Put your shoes on, I wanna take you somewhere."

With a light huff, you complied with your boyfriend's wishes. You pulled yourself up out of the bed and grabbed your socks which you must have kicked off in the middle of your sleep. Hitoshi quickly grabbed your hand and tugged you to the front door where your boots were. You let go of his hand and slipped your feet inside of the shoes. Deciding you were taking too long with tying up the laces, Hitoshi started tying your other shoe. You gave out a little laugh, a genuine one.

"You're so impatient. Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

You huff again, but none the less you button up your coat and let Hitoshi wrap his scarf around your neck tightly before he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards his car. You noticed that the sidewalk had been shoveled, and it looked like someone put the solar-powered candy canes up. It was dark out, making them glow prominently and making you wonder how long you had been asleep. You supposed Hitoshi put them up because you mentioned how it bothered you during your outburst. A small smile fronted your face, the lack of other lights meant he must have gotten tired and quit, but he still tried. It made you feel partially guilty for hiding your feelings for so long. He just wanted to help you. Hitoshi only ever wanted what was best for you.

"Can I put some Christmas music on?"

"Go for it."

You fiddled with the channel knob until you found the right station, the Christmas station your grandpa always listened to. The car ride was slow and long, filled with awkward silence. You wanted to go back, go back, and not let yourself break down and cry in front of him. You hadn't let Hitoshi see you cry in your relationship. As heroes, not crying equaled strength. Crying and showing weakness meant you were weak. While no one taught you this, it seemed to be a rule every pro and hero in training followed. You hated the idea of being so sad and weak in front of Hitoshi, it made you feel like a bad hero. It made you feel so weak, but Hitoshi never made you feel bad for it.

"I put a lot of thought into what you said earlier. I know nothing but time is gonna make you feel better, nothing I say can help your pain. I can't heal your pain, not completely, but I'm gonna try to lessen it."

Hitoshi pulled the car into a parking lot and you looked out of the window to see where you were. It was dark out and the parking lot was practically empty but the mall was still lit up and open. You furrowed your brows and turned to look at Hitoshi, confusion was written on your face.

"Why are we here?"

"I'll show you, c'mon."

You got out of the car with Hitoshi and entered the mall through the target entrance. A decent amount of the store was sold out and there seemed to be no people. Everyone had finished their last-minute Christmas shopping and were sitting at home with their families. You grabbed onto Hitoshi's hand unsure of what you were doing here with him.

"What are we doing?"

"Last year, your grandpa told me that when you were younger he would take you and your siblings out to donate a gift, take a picture with Santa, and go get a treat. He said you always did that until you and your siblings stopped going."

Hitoshi pulled you further in the store, leading you by your hand, he took you down by the dolls and toys so you could pick one out. Your eyes glazed over with tears, remembering the tradition you had been doing ever since you were born. You had been doing that up until a couple of years ago when his health started to decline, your mother wouldn't let you go under the pretense you were too old, out of fear that it would make his health decline worse by going out in such bad weather. She told you it was too strenuous on him, and while you understood her worries for her father, it just made you hate her for taking away the time you barely got with him.

"You said moving on meant your grandpa would be gone, but that's not true. He wants you to be happy, but happy doesn't mean forgetting him. That's what we're doing here. we're gonna remember him [Y/N], we're gonna do everything he used to do with you."

You grabbed onto a Ken doll and grabbed some extra Ken clothes. Your grandpa would buy extra clothes because he was always peeved when he played dolls with you. Your Ken dolls clothes would go missing. Ken wasn't like Barbie who came with a dozen outfits, Ken only ever came with a pair of shorts and if you were lucky a shirt.

"If you're getting Ken, I'm getting Barbie."

Hitoshi leads you to the cash register and places all the items on the counter. The cashier scanned the items and placed them in a bag for you. Before you even had a chance to pull out your phone to use google scan and pay, Hitoshi was handing cash over to the cashier. With the now paid for bags in his hand, Hitoshi leads you to out of the store and towards the giant donation, dropbox painted like a huge present.

"You want to drop it in?"

Your face flooded red, embarrassment rode your skin like a disease as you nodded your head left and right for a no.

"I can't."

"[Y/N], this is good for you. Think of it as letting go of the pain, and remembering the good memories. I-"

"Toshi' I want to, but I really can't. I want to grieve properly. I want to grieve and get better and be happy. You're right, it doesn't mean he's gone, he's just not here... I can't reach it. I never have, I don't think I ever will."

"Shit, here."

Hitoshi grabbed your hips from behind and lifted you up. You could supposed the extra lessons he was receiving from Mr. Aizawa were paying off. With an extra foot off the ground, you tossed the plastic bag inside the container with a smile on your face. He wasn't gone forever, he was still in your heart.

"Thanks, Toshi'. I- I shouldn't have hidden how I was feeling. You're right, he would want me to be happy. He's was the reason I decided to be a hero, my mom discouraged it, but he... He said I could do it. Death doesn't change anything. I want to be the kind of hero that shows people it's okay to be weak, that it's okay to cry and still be strong."

"He'd be so proud of you [Y/N]. He's probably waiting up in heaven, watching you grow into the hero he knows you can be."

"Thanks, Toshi'. I'd like to say he'd be proud of you too. You were my only boyfriend he ever liked."

A smile crossed Hitoshi and filled him with pride as he took your hand again.

"Let's go get a picture with Santa."

"Can we find matching sweaters first?"

"Definitely. They've gotta have cats on it, and we'll get rootbeer floats afterwards."

Holding Hitoshi's hand you knew it was going to be okay. Your grandpa was up there watching you, and his death was just going to push you to be a better hero. A more inspiring one. Someone a kid could look up to and say, 'I can be emotional because [Y/N] does and she's strong'. Someone who could show people it wasn't a weakness. As Hitoshi pulled you along with him, you knew it would be okay. He'd never leave you, he was going to be there encouraging and pushing you along as your grandfather did.

"Hey, Hitoshi?"

"Yeah?"

It was going to be okay. It would be okay. You'd be okay. Hitoshi was with you. He never made you feel bad once in all your tears or outbursts. He held you tightly at the funeral and he hadn't left your side since. Even if he didn't see you hiding your emotions, he wasn't leaving or shaming you, he was trying to help you. You stopped your walking for a moment to smile up at him.

"Thanks for dealing with my emotional ass. I- I love you Toshi'."

Hitoshi let go of your hands and cupped your cheeks. A smile was grinning on his lips. It was the first time you said those words to each other. It wasn't the most romantic setting, but he wouldn't rather have it any other way. His thumbs skimmed the skin under your eyes. Smooth clear eyes compared to his.

"I love you too. You might be an emotional mess, but your my emotional mess."

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bi-the-way-i-love-bunnies · 4 years

Text

(In which Draco can’t cook to save his life au along with a dash of Christmas spirit)

Drarry drabble ~ 10/19 ~ about 3.5k

“Pansy.” Smoke was starting to crowd the room. Said girl remained oblivious as she scrolled through her phone.

“Pansy.” The flame on the stove got bigger than Draco would have liked. He debated on using an Aguamenti, but wait, didn’t that weird muggle cookbook warn something about using water with an open flame? Regardless he wasn’t taking any chances. Pansy, the cow, only gave a small hmm and continued on with whatever she was doing.

“PANSY!” Ok that was it, he put a protective bubble around the stove just in a nick of time. He looked at the pot that started to burn inside the blazing inferno. And it has been a housewarming gift from Mrs. Weasley too. Regardless, he allowed himself a small moment of relief for dealing with one of the many problems that happened in the kitchen today. Small mercies he supposed. And that’s when the fire alarm started beeping persistently.

In a frenzy, he tried putting up a silencio charm, but it kept wavering and wearing off. His spells never did work well when he was worked up in a mood. The smoke was fogging up the kitchen more than ever now too, much to Draco’s dismay. Harry was not going to be happy about the lingering smell later.

The timer on the counter started going off signaling that the roast in the oven was done. At the same time the small pot next to the bubble charm of heat started to over boil due to his neglect when dealing with everything else.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Draco,” Pansy finally looked up from her phone. She quickly casted her own silencing spell and vanished the smoke in the air. Right...now that his main problems were dealt with he quickly got to attending the roast. He put on those ridiculous Chudley Cannon mitts gifted by Ron from last Christmas (why they never got to replacing these hideously bright orange mitts he’ll never know) and got to work. He was pleasantly surprised to see that the roast looked exactly like it was supposed to in the muggle cookbook, a large victory in his disastrous attempts at cooking.

He lifted it out of the oven planning to get it onto the counter quickly when the large pan collided with the edge of the oven door. It all happened too quickly, but one moment everything was perfectly fine and the next the pan shifted way too far right and his perfectly cooked roast stumbled onto the floor!

“Shit!” Draco cursed and ran to the counter to grab a napkin when he slipped onto the floor, his arse landing in the sauce used to marinate the meat.

“You know when I asked you to help me I didn't mean for you to just sit on your arse scrolling through that muggle device of yours,” Draco glared.

Pansy rolled her eyes but took pity on him as she waved her wand to clean up the mess on the floor minus the roast.

“Should we try Scourgifying it?”

Like that would help save dinner, he sighed. Not to mention it was unhygienic and Harry would throw a fit if he found out.

“Just vanish it, it’s useless anyways.” She nodded and a second later the roast was gone.

“At least you’ll have the creme brulee. And the potatoes,” she spared a glance at the pot that was overboiling a minute prior before grimacing. “Ok, maybe not the potatoes but who needs dinner when you have dessert anyways.”

“Watch it turn out just as well as everything else,” he remarked and got up from the floor to check what was left of his cooking attempts.

He went to the fridge to check on the little ramekins. Earlier they looked fine, but knowing his luck he’d have to test it before serving.

Pansy handed him a spoon as he dug in and took a bite. A moment later was all it took and he quickly rushed over to the sink and spat it out.

“Pansy, did you use salt instead of the sugar earlier?” It was one of the only times Pansy decided to help in the kitchen. She reasoned earlier that if she was going to help, at least it would be on the dish that requires the least amount of effort.

She shrugged and took a bite of Draco’s neglected creme brulee before making a face. “Well...they did both look the same. And they’re in matching containers, Draco, what did you expect!”

“I just wanted to make a good dinner this year,” he sighed in defeat. Each year their friend group always got together and drew straws to see who’s house they were going to for Christmas dinner. Everytime he and Potter hosted, the Gryffindor prat would always suggest going to that all night buffet around Ron and Hermione’s place.

“Hey, it’s all you can eat, saves the hassle of cooking, and they give war veterans discounts.”

Draco couldn’t really argue against that and so they all went last year. He had to admit that the food was pretty good, but there was something about a nice home cooked meal on Christmas night that you just couldn’t replicate.

Draco learned long ago that Harry simply did not cook. Not that Draco was judging, since he couldn’t cook as well. He’d rather leave that to the house elves, thank you very much. However, the difference between the two was that Draco was willing to try on the occasions where they had free time. Also, he was rather curious about the recipes Pansy was always going on about. Harry just usually shook his head each time and suggested they order take out. And in the three years that they have been together, two since they moved into a rather spacious flat at the heart of muggle London, he just accepted his boyfriend’s answer without ever looking into it. He just couldn’t be arsed about doing all the prep work and washing up afterwards.

This Christmas though, they got picked again, and he’ll be damned if Potter thought they could just go to that buffet place again. So the night beforehand when he told Harry he was making dinner this year, the git just laughed and wished him good luck.

“You had house elves your whole life, Draco. And cooking isn’t as easy as it appears on the telly.”

So Draco set to work that morning to prove Harry wrong, starting even before the git left for work. But hours later and now he was here with a nearly burnt flat, no food to show, and a really smelly kitchen. Oh yeah, and there was Pansy being no help at all.

He supposed if he hurried, he could use magic to make the food instead of relying on the muggle way. But apparently magic took away the flavor, according to Potter and after the day he had, he just wanted to give up. Suddenly the buffet idea was starting to sound appealing again. But screw him, he just wanted a nice dinner this year and at least he tried! The same couldn’t be said about his arse of a boyfriend, no matter how much he loved him.

He looked at the mess he made before grabbing his wand. No need for the flat to stay in this state before Harry got home.

“Right. Help me start cleaning Pans.” Reluctantly, she did what she was told.

The two set to work for an hour or two before the floo flared up and Harry entered their flat.

“Hey,” he greeted Draco with a quick kiss before turning to Pansy and giving her a small peck on the cheek.

“How was he today?” he asked her as he started to take off the outer layer of his auror robes.

She rolled her eyes, “As great as you’d expect a Malfoy to be in the kitchen.”

“Hey! I’ll have to remind you two that I was brilliant at potions. My skills are not that abominable.”

Pansy gave him a look before moving on. “Don’t mind him being such a twat, Potter. He’s just sad that everything he made didn’t turn out to be on the same scale as Mrs. Weasley’s.” She took her coat off the coat rack before making her way towards the floo.

“Ta dears. See you in two days,” she took a handful of floo powder before giving the couple one last glance. “And Draco darling. The day hasn’t been a total bust. It was just as entertaining as I thought it’d be.” She gave him a wink and then she was gone.

“Tosser,” he muttered, a tad too fondly if the look Harry was giving him was to go by.

“Are you sure you don’t want to order from a deli or something,” Harry wrapped his arms around Draco. “It could even be from that expensive place on Bulbadox Avenue that you like so much. I checked and they’ll be open.”

Draco rolled his eyes before returning Harry’s hug and relaxing in his lover’s embrace.

“We could save that as a backup plan or something, but I’m planning to make a better meal tomorrow.” Not that he’d think he’d do any better.

Harry snorted. “We found out you’re shit at cooking, just like the majority of us knew. Why don’t we spend the next day doing something relaxing. We could go and visit the market place near Diagon Alley. When it’s dark all the lights would be really pretty, and Hannah says they have a spectacular light display this year.”

“Alright,” he agreed, “We could go later after I get our flat ready for our guests.”

Harry pulled back a bit and made a face. “Are you sure? No offense Draco, but judging from what Pansy said I really don’t think you should waste your breath.”

“I’m quite sure, Potter.” And they left it at that.

The next day’s attempts were as disastrous as the first one’s. However, Harry definitely knew a lot more than Pansy and tried containing the damage as best as he could.

“Wait! Draco, put that on simmer.”

“Hold on! Don’t peel like that! You don’t want to take off a chunk of skin.”

“Draco! Oh God, where is the baking soda!”

And so the fire department came after their neighbors called. That was a fun exchange to watch as he saw Harry stumble through explanations on what happened, his face rivaling Ron’s hair.

By the end of the afternoon they were both exhausted. But since it was Christmas Eve they decided to go to the marketplace just like they planned. Draco was glad they decided to go, as he found out that Hannah wasn’t exaggerating. The light display was truly spectacular this year.

He walked with Potter hand in hand as they made their way around different booths. They ended up buying an assortment of jams, cheese, and bread seeing how that one bread booth had some quite delicious samples.

They were making the last of their rounds around the giant fountain at the center of the square when he overheard a family talking about their plans to make a special Christmas dinner the next day. He felt the tiniest sense of disappointment as he remembered his failed attempts earlier.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Harry asked as they passed by a ginormous Christmas tree lit up with streams of garland and fairy lights. If you looked closely you could see some actual fairies dancing around the branches. The sight put a smile on Draco’s face.

“Just thinking about Christmas dinner. I really wanted to make something special this year.”

“Oh,” he could hear the frown in Potter’s tone, “But I thought you’d rather not deal with the hassle. Not to mention all our friends are coming by and I know how much you hate it when the flat’s a mess. Specifically since we know how Ron gets when he starts with the firewhiskey.” Draco shrugged.

“I think I’m just being nostalgic about it,” he mused. “I know you don’t talk about your childhood all that much, but during Christmas time at the manor, mother and father would always gather all their Pureblood friends and all the elves would prepare the best meal to impress all the guests. There’s just something special about having a meal like that, despite some people insisting that buffet food is just fine.”

Harry let out a small grin. “Yeah, sorry about that. Last year was the last time, promise.”

The teasing tone was familiar between the two of them, yet it didn’t last long before Harry drifted deep in thought.

“It’s not that I don’t like cooking, it’s just- well. I’m rather shit at talking about these things,” he untangled his hand from Draco’s and shoved it in his pockets. Draco let him, knowing his posture meant that he’s working his way to saying something important.

“My aunt and uncle had meals like that too. They’d invite their friends and leave the children to play outside with Dudley while the adults talked. And Aunt Petunia...she always made sure I knew how to prepare for dinners like that. Sometimes I’d watch from the kitchen window and envy the kids playing in the yard.”

It was much more than Harry told Draco beforehand that was for sure. They had their talks about the war and the effects it had on the both of them, but whenever they touched upon Harry’s childhood, he’d just explained that they were not the nice people who took them in as the public portrayed. He’d always left it at that saying that it was in the past. But now Harry was working up the courage to tell him specifics. It left a warm fuzzy feeling inside Draco’s chest and he extended an arm to touch Harry as a silent appreciation of trust.

Slowly, Harry relaxed and intertwined their fingers again.

“I choose not to cook mainly because I don’t have fond memories of doing it. My aunt would always have something to say, even though eventually I got pretty good at making food. She just did it out of habit, I think.”

“Your family sounds like they were an arse.” They stopped walking and Draco turned to face Harry. “It’s alright if you’re not going to cook in the future. Just know that I love you and appreciate it that you’re choosing to share this with me.”

He leaned in and the pair shared a nice slow kiss before parting and heading back.

The next day, Harry was in charge of taking care of dinner, since Pansy flooed earlier asking for Draco’s help in some last minute shopping.

“I swear Pans! Didn’t you learn anything from Christmas last year?” he huffed at the busy streets of Diagon Alley, “Melin, I’m not even sure if most of the shops are open!”

So for the next few hours they went from shop to shop looking for Salazar knows what. Pansy was a very selective gift giver and everytime Draco made a suggestion she shot him down.

“This is made with opals from Australia Pansy! I don’t understand how your friend would not like that!”

“Hmm,” she browsed through the display cases in the shop, “I think she’d rather have a nice rock honestly. It doesn’t have to be Australian, but stones and crystals are rather in right now…”

When it was time to go home he was feeling quite exacerbated with his friend. Pansy, in all their hours of shopping, only bought one object.

“You still realize that I have a flat to set up right? And I’ll have to place a break proof charm on everything, knowing all the Gryffindors in our group.” Why couldn’t Harry be in Slytherin like the sorting hat wanted, honestly! Pansy just gave him a small salute as they parted ways. Tosser.

When he returned home, however, a delicious smell was coming from the kitchen.

“Harry?” He made his way into the room and was greeted with the sight of his lover pulling out a roasting pan, fresh from the oven. His eyes widened as he looked over all the dishes on the countertop. The assortment of appetizers and side dishes made his mouth water. He honestly thought that Harry was going to order from the deli just like he planned, but this was by far a thousand times better. Suddenly he knew why Pansy dragged him out all afternoon.

“I seriously can’t believe I didn’t see this sooner! Plotting with my best friend behind my back Potter? How Slytherin of you.”

Harry laughed as he placed the roasting pan on the counter before taking away the aluminum foil on top revealing a nice baked ham. “Yeah, when I told her I wanted to surprise you she went for it straight away. She said she felt sorry for you the other day, and you should be glad she took pity upon you because now you have that dinner you wanted.”

“That sounds like Pansy alright,” Draco rolled his eyes but let out a fond smile. He knew Harry revealed that he already had some culinary experience, but he hadn't anticipated this. Although now that he thought about it, if he had to go back to school and was told to recreate a calming draught potion, his muscle memory would guide him through it. It seemed like Harry hadn't lost his touch on cooking either.

“Would you like a walk through the menu tonight?” Harry smiled as he set his oven mitts aside.

Draco nodded as Harry pulled up the first appetizer. “So these are drunken peaches with bits of goat cheese and prosciutto tucked in phyllo pastry.”

He presented another dish that looked like mini sandwiches with tiny toothpicks speared through. “Here’s some grilled peach caprese with mozzarella and basil topped with a basic balsamic.”

He pulled up the salad bowl, “Fig salad with greens, goat cheese, and walnuts marinated with oil, vinegar, and honey.”

He moved on, “And here’s some roasted asparagus wrapped in prosciutto served with a hint of parmesan and drizzled with olive oil.”

Draco couldn’t resist taking one and plopping it in his mouth. “You know that asparagus is my favorite.”

Harry smiled fondly, “I know.”

He pulled up another plate, “That’s why I had to use it in another dish as well.”

It was a smaller dish than the ones Harry showed him beforehand, yet it still looked amazing. “Smoked salmon with poached eggs, roasted asparagus, basil pesto, and dill topped with olive oil.”

He pushed another plate forward. At the center was a type of bread surrounded with an assortment of crackers on the plate. “Baked brie and apricot preserves wrapped with puff pastry and a hint of honey.”

Another dish, “Golden roasted potatoes with chopped garlic, rosemary, and other spices.”

“Your classic mashed potatoes and gravy boat.” Harry winked, and Draco laughed. Harry really liked his potatoes, so it was no surprise that he’d prepare two types.

“Then all we have left is the honey baked ham and dessert for later on.” He shrugged like he didn’t just make enough food to feed the whole Weasley clan.

“Oh?” Draco prompted as he slid closer to his lover, “And what’s for dessert?” He gave him a heated look.

Harry easily accepted Draco’s embrace as he leaned in.

“You could choose between a mini chocolate lava cake paired with a raspberry sorbet,” Harry teased the shell of his ear causing Draco to shiver before moving downwards, “or a vanilla chiffon cake with a fresh berry puree topped with a blueberry cream cheese frosting,” Harry muttered against his lips as he pulled Draco closer. Sweet Salazar, that shouldn’t have sounded better than the earlier dishes, but it did.

Draco smirked, “And if I choose you?”

Harry grinned, “That can be arranged.”

Draco teasingly dragged his lips across Harry’s before connecting them sweet and slow. Things were just getting more heated when their floo flared.

“Eww mate. I will never get used to that, ever,” Ron grimaced as Hermione came through behind him. Draco was really regretting their open floor plan right now, but accepted one last kiss from Harry before making their way over to greet their friends.

“Honestly Ron. It’s been years,” she accepted a hug from her best friend. “Dinner smells lovely by the way.”

“Yeah! Did Harry finally get to cooking or did you two find a new catering place or something,” the four of them moved into the kitchen.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You guys knew that Potter cooked?”

“Well, there was that whole year we spent together in a tent,” Hermione replied, “Someone had to be the designated cooker, otherwise Ron would’ve gone insane.”

“Hey!” Ron protested but didn’t disagree.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I finally got to cooking. But you should’ve seen when Draco attempted it at first!”

“A Malfoy cooking? What, has the world finally come to an end or something,” Ron joked and earned a small nudge from Draco.

“It really wasn’t that bad,” he protested but in truth, he knew it was.

Harry smirked at him. “Did I tell you how the fire department came the other day? The neighbors were seriously concerned about Draco burning the apartment complex down.”

“Shut up Potter!”

Harry grinned and couldn’t help but challenge him. “Make me,” he moved closer.

Ron let out a groan, “Ok Mione. Time to move back to the living room yeah?”

Harry let out a laugh as he watched Hermione lecture Ron about letting them have their moment.

He and Draco remained in the kitchen as they started to set up a bit more, waiting for their other guests to arrive, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Harry,” Draco prompted after a while.

“Yes Draco?” He looked up from the napkins he was just setting down.

Draco smiled before placing the silverware down to join him. “Thanks for cooking for me.” He gave him a chaste kiss.

When he pulled back Harry couldn’t help his reply, “Always.”

#drarry #drarry fics #hp drarry #drarry fic #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #harry x draco #who writes a christmas fic in the middle of october? lol #this is just be wanting food basically #enjoy me being self indulgent while i try satisfying my cravings #harry's a good cook #draco sucks at cooking #established relationship #hp fanfic #hp fic #haha who doesn't like food #my fic

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wickedlyqueer · 4 years

Text

Wherever the wind may carry us

Nearing their graduation at Shiz, Glinda prepares for her final event as president of the university’s LGBT+ Network. Completely unaware that Elphaba has a surprise for her planned...

(Final one-shot in the Dutch High School Universe. Can be read separately).

READ ON AO3

Glinda woke up to the smell of freshly baked bread in the oven. It had only been a couple of months since she and Elphaba had found an affordable apartment, but the long wait had been worth it—no matter how many times her old roommates had set off the fire alarm. Not that Glinda had exactly deserved a ‘best roommate award’, being the girl who always had her partner over and was prone to leave her pile of dishes out for days.

But none of that mattered anymore. After a year long search they finally managed to snatch an one-bedroom apartment in the centre of Shiz. It was all they could afford for now, and though the space was a bit crammed, Glinda thought it suitable. They were just starting out after all! Only last week had Glinda gotten her final grade for her thesis and officially gotten enough credit to graduate. Meanwhile, Elphaba had been accepted as a PhD candidate at the university and would be working alongside researchers like Dr. Dillamond. Glinda had never seen them beaming as much as when they received the news.

A soft knock came from the door and Elphaba peeked their head around. “Oh good, you’re awake. Breakfast’s ready.”

“I noticed,” Glinda smiled and nestled deeper into her blankets. “Hmm, so is there a special occassion or am I just lucky?”

“Well, it’s your last day as president. I thought you deserved something nice,” Elphaba said and crouched down next to her to give her a kiss. “Morning, by the way. Did you sleep well?”

“I did. You?”

“Oh you know me,” Elphaba said as they played with Glinda’s messy and curly hair. “I fall asleep at three and wake up at seven and somehow that’s enough fuel for me to get through the day.”

“How you do it is beyond me.”

Elphaba chuckled. “Well, if you’re ready to leave your comfortable cocoon, I made us a fancy breakfast. Got freshly squeezed orange juice and warm, tiny breads waiting for you.”

“Oz, that sounds good. I’ll be there in a few, okay?”

After Elphaba left the room she checked her messages on her phone and then put on her slippers and Elphaba’s comfortable sweater that was too big for her. In the kitchen, Elphaba was still prepping some food.

“Need help?”

“Nah, I got it.”

“Probably for the best,” Glinda joked and Elphaba let out a laugh. It was no secret that her cooking skills were abysmal.

A bit of free counter space was left and Glinda decided to hop on it. Elphaba was rolling up slices of cheese and put them on a plate and added a cut stem of parsley as decoration.

“Oh, it’s a fancy fancy breakfast. You’re really going out of your way here.”

Elphaba looked up to her and smiled. “Anything for my girl. I actually thought I’d pamper you this entire day, since it's the closing of a big chapter.”

“That’s true.”

Though her initial hesitation stopped her from going to any LGBT+ meetings the first semester at Shiz, after her gender reassignment surgery, Elphaba had persuaded her to go to one of their lectures about the differences in trans identities across the globe. It had been so fascinating that Glinda kept going to every lecture or borrel she could attend. In her second year, she became part of the board and was in charge of organizing the events. She continued this during her final year of her bachelor, and when applying for a master’s programme, she got asked to become president.

“I can’t believe this is my final day with the Network.”

“Hey.” Elphaba stopped what they were doing and placed their hand against her cheek. “Don’t forget the amount of good you’ve put into the world. You created this welcoming space for every queer person on campus. You’ll go down in the books as a great president.”

“And the first trans woman,” Glinda was quick to add.

“That too,” Elphaba grinned and went back to cutting little cubes of cheese. “Oz, can you even imagine what high school Glinda would think of you?”

“She’d freak out and run back into the closet.”

Elphaba laughed. “Oh yeah, she would. You used to be so terrified of coming out and look at you now. Here, try this,” they said and fed her a cube of cheese.

“Hm, this is good.”

“Yeah? It’s added with buttermilk and some cumin seeds.”

“Nice. Also, what was that about pampering me all day?”

A dark blush spread across their cheeks and Elphaba busied themself with whatever was on the cutting board. “Well, I thought we ought to celebrate today. So after the meeting I reserved us a table at Peach and Kidney’s. Maybe go for a walk afterwards, watch the sun go down at that little park you like.”

Glinda was touched. “Really? That’s so sweet!”

“I thought so too. This day is all about you. I still need to go to the lab for a bit, but I should be in time for the event.”

“Dr. Dillamond called you in?”

“Yeah, he messaged me if I could come down for an hour or two.” Their eyes glazed, but it was for such a brief moment, Glinda thought she must have imagined it.

“As long as you can make it to my final event as president. I may or may not mention you in my goodbye speech.”

Elphaba smirked. “Uh oh. Should I be scared?”

Glinda hoped off the counter and drabbed her arms around their neck. She left a lingering kiss on their lips. “Never.”

That afternoon, Elphaba sprinted into the humanities faculty building, out of breath. They located the lecture hall where the event would take place and saw the doors were still open.

“Oh, thank Oz,” they breathed out heavily. They promised Glinda to meet her beforehand and almost didn’t make it in time. The lecture hall was already packed and a few students were still searching for a seat. Next to the lectern, Glinda was in light conversation with the vice president of the LGBT+ Network. Elphaba took two flight of steps at a time as they rushed down the stairs. Before they were down, Glinda had already spotted them and let out a sigh of relieve.

“Hey,” Elphaba said and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s okay, we’re running a bit late ourselves. You got hold up at the lab?”

“I did, yes,” they agreed, knowing they wouldn’t come up with a more convincing lie themself.

“Okay, well, you better go grab a seat. I don’t think many more will be coming.”

Elphaba nodded. “Sure, and hey—you got this.”

“Thanks babe,” Glinda smiled.

They quickly took a seat in the second row and nervously patted their pocket to feel if it was still there. Not long after, the doors closed and the room quieted down as Glinda stepped towards the lectern.

“Thank you all for coming to our last event of this school year. Before I’ll introduce our guest speaker for today, I’d like to take a moment to say a few words. As some of you may know, this will be my last day as president of the LGBT+ Network. After this event, Jeremy will take my place, and I’m certain he’ll be able to lead this wonderful network with much care and great enthusiasm.”

She looked away from her notes and gave Jeremy a smile. “Upon meeting me, most people have reacted surprised that I am president of the LGBT+ Network. As a trans woman, I cannot help but feel flattered by this. It means I pass, it means I can live my life unnoticed,” Glinda took a breath. “But I’ve learnt more than once that this right of passing can be stripped away from you the moment people find out. This is how I got taught to hide myself and be quiet. I never took pride in my identity. It felt like a dirty secret. I was a dirty secret.”

Her gaze fell upon Elphaba and a soft smile tugged at her lips. “If not for my rock, my datemate Elphaba, I would still feel the need to hide. If they had not pushed me to go to one of these events in my first year, I would not be standing here in front of you. They taught me that, yes, queer acceptance still has a long way to go. But that spaces such as these help us be ourselves. And they were right, because it helped me become myself.”

Her voice started to crack, and Glinda paused for a moment before pushing through. “So to Elphaba, to all the wonderful board members of this network, and to each and every person who has come to these events, I want to thank you for creating this safe space for me. I hope in my two years as president, I have been able to return that favour.”

Applause rung through the audience. Elphaba whooped in support and Glinda’s cheeks coloured with embarrassment. Not that she minded, Elphaba knew that too. And why wouldn't they show how proud they are of her? If Glinda could make them turn into a pile of mush, then the least they could do was do the same for her.

“Okay, sentimental stuff out of the way,” Glinda laughed nervously as the applause died down. She switched to a different piece of paper. “Now, it is my absolutely honour to introduce professor Wertl who visits us from Qhoyre University. Her research in…”

Everything but Glinda faded to the background. It took all of Elphaba's willpower not to jump out of their seat and declare the love that was bursting out of them right in front of all these people. They dug their hand in their pocket and smiled as they felt the little box against their hand. A chapter would be closing today, that much was certain, but Elphaba was not done with their story yet.

Dr. Dillamond hadn’t asked them to come to the lab at all. Elphaba had to come up with a white lie, so they could run across town and pick up the ring they’d chosen out for Glinda weeks ago. Tonight, as they’d sit at a park bench while the sun would be dipping under the horizon, they’d ask the question they always knew they’d ask one day.

Nearly five years ago, they had been sitting on a different bench and told her they could not imagine spending the rest of their life without her. Those words had stuck true all these years through college, and now, at the verge of a brand new adventure, it was time to commit to that promise.

Life had thrown its fair share of curveballs at Elphaba, and they were sure many more were to come. But they knew they’d be strong enough to smash them right back with Glinda on their team. Nothing in life had been easier than loving Glinda. And with the ring hiding in their pocket, Elphaba would ask her if they could continue to love her. Today, and for the rest of their life.

#wicked #wicked the musical #gelphie #wicked fanfiction #gelphie fanfiction #dutch hsau #elphaba thropp #glinda upland #here. some gross domestic fluff

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jonnmurphy · 4 years

Note

Memori +29. Sorry, I send you an ask with "memori +26" but I meant 29 lol.

so i just reinstalled xkit and uh, this ask is from four years ago, fun facts. this fill in canon compliant ish with s7

Disclaimer: I’m just going through my inbox to write some drabbles and try to get back into doing fan fic. I think I know which prompt lists most of these were from, but I might be wrong. All of these are several years old tho, so idk. All drabbles are unedited and prone to many typos, sorry my dudes

29. Cooking Together

Emori wakes up alone in the bed she shares with Murphy, which isn’t that strange these days. He’s woken up before her for as long as she’s known him, even though Emori doesn’t exactly sleep in. But it used to be that even though he was awake, he would spend indulgent hours curled up against her, and Emori would wake up with him stroking her hair, staring off into the distance, awake but still content to relax.

Nowadays, he doesn’t seem to relax very much at all.

Emori sighs to herself, slowly rolling out of bed and throwing on some soft clothes to go track down her lover. Chances are, whatever he’s doing, he could use her help. Or, at the very least, her company. He never likes to ask for it, never wants to disturb her, but there’s honestly nowhere she’d rather be in their new world than by his side.

The farmhouse is quiet, the sun just barely having risen, most of their kru still asleep or just starting to rise. Emori passes a bleary eyed Raven, given her a brief nod and a smile that the mechanic vaguely grunts in response to. Hard to tell if she’s getting up early in order to work on a new project, or if she’s just heading to sleep after staying up all night.

Indra is, of course, already awake and sitting sternly in the living room, looking out the window. Emori isn’t exactly sure when she sleeps, if she does at all. It certainly seems like she’s always around, hovering and ready to shut down any less that perfect ideas. Which Emori doesn’t mind, honestly. Sometimes it can be hard to remember, in their idyllic little oasis, how real the dangers of their new world are.

She doesn’t try to strike up a conversation with her, simply passing by without comment on her search. She hears vague noises of habitation coming from the kitchen, makes her way there with soft footsteps to investigate.

The early morning sun streams through the windows, pale gold, painting everything like a fantasy. Emori pauses just inside the kitchen and drinks in the scene, storing it carefully in her mind. Because there’s Murphy, smiling softly to himself as he pours something in a pan, a pot of coffee sitting on the counter, the smell of breakfast weaving through the air. It’s beautiful, a balm on any unease she might have felt when waking up alone.

She realizes, as she steps into the kitchen properly, it’s been a long time since she’s seen him cook. There were other priorities, of course, and when they were working with the Primes they were served truly delicious food, but watching him cook stirs memories of Earth within her. Of the first night he cooked for her, how he lit up when she complimented him, of her showing him more herbs than he had learned about on the Ark, how he took to it all and every time he fed her it was more delicious than the last. How she got to brag about him when Clarke was surprised at how good his cooking was. All those days, when they were on their own, and she would sit and sharpen their weapons while he roasted something over the fire, and there was laughter and smiles and peace.

Emori can’t help but smile, sneaking across the room as quietly as she can, spotting dishes he’s already finished cooking, set on towels and just waiting for people to eat them. There’s some kind of meat frying in thin strips, what looks like fresh baked bread in a basket, the aforementioned pot of coffee, along with a carafe of juice, and a few other covered bowls. Emori hums happily, announcing herself subtly right before she reaches Murphy, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle embrace.

“Good morning.” She hooks her chin over his shoulder to look down at what looks like an omelette he’s tending to. Murphy turns his head slightly to look at her, and his smile only grows. He doesn’t look as haunted today as he did yesterday, and while she knows that might not hold, it still blooms a warm joy in her chest.

“Morning,” he replies easily, pressing a soft kiss to her temple briefly.

“Need any help?” Emori offers, even though her help is usually limited to moral support. She supposes she can also pass him ingredients, but they both agreed long ago that it’s better for everyone if she’s a more hands off kind of person when it comes to cooking.

“Set out plates and cutlery?” Murphy asks, and Emori can do that. She nods, kissing the back of his shoulder before releasing him to rummage through the cupboards. It only takes a minutes or two to set out stacks for everyone, and when that’s done she decides to clean some of the prep dishes Murphy used.

It’s quiet, just the two of them, the sizzling of food in pans, and the soft sounds of water and scrubbing. Vaguely, Emori can hear doors elsewhere in the house open and close, and she can hear at least one shower running. But for the moment, as far as she’s concerned, it’s just her and Murphy, and she can’t stop stealing glances at him, watching him solemnly focusing on folding his omelette perfectly.

This is it, this is what she’s always wanted with him. No matter what they’ve been through, what mistakes they - well, to be honest, far more Murphy than her - have made. Every battle fought at his side, every fight, every struggle, it’s all for this. For the smell of coffee and eggs, and the golden morning light, and him stretching slowly after he sets the last piece of the meal on the table.

Emori sets aside her washing for the moment to stand beside him as Murphy looks over his meal with obvious pride. He casually puts and arm around her shoulder, and it’s right. This is how it should be, and even though she knows it won’t last forever, Emori indulges in it for now.

There’s nothing that needs to be said, because she knows he feels it to. That they should have this forever, that this is the very the least the universe owes them for all they’ve been through. And even though it doesn’t need to be said, she says it anyway.

“I love you.” It’s a quiet statement, a breath into the perfect moment. The arm around her shoulders tightens, and Murphy rests his head against hers.

“I love you too.”

It goes without saying, but still, it’s nice to hear. And then Indra comes in to get her coffee, and Raven heaps a plate with food, becoming more animated as she devours it, and soon all of their family is there and it is all the more sweeter for it. Emori is happy, and next to her, for the first time in a long time, she’s pretty sure she feels Murphy relax.

#memori #john murphy #emori #the 100 #fan fic #i just want some wholesome domestic fluff okay #daisytachi

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lespetitesmortsde · 5 years

Note

Any chance of a continuation of the Banana bread FF because I need more like right now? it was so freaking cute omfg pretty please with a cherry on top?!🙈

I’m sorry it took so long, but here it is:

Chloe’s been in her house for a week and has spent every evening texting Beca after she gets home from work. The day she’d first met Beca, she texted herself from Beca’s phone so that she’d have her number.

Ever since, Chloe’s been using it liberally. She can’t use it during the day because she doesn’t want her students picking up bad habits from her. They’re at the age of ten, highly influential, and she wants them to know she’s 100% there during their time together.

Trying to be a good role model can be difficult.

She doesn’t text Beca directly after school either. Usually she has a meeting of some kind, either with a parent, a colleague, or a student. Then, instead of bringing her work home with her, she stays at her desk marking or prepping future lesson plans.

When she gets home, though, after she’s showered, Beca’s phone is open season.

Sometimes she starts by saying hello to her favourite baker. Other times she asks Beca about her day. Most often, though, she just launches into a story about one of her kids from that day.

Chloe: So I gave them a word association test today

Beca: I thought you needed informed consent before you could run psychological experiments on kids?

Chloe: Not for that reason!

Beca: lol

Chloe: You’re the worst.

Beca: Alright, I’m sorry. You were saying?

Chloe: Okay so

Beca: Wait how long is this story?

Chloe: BECA!

Beca: What?! We live next door. If it’s a long story you might as well just come over and tell it to me in person.

Chloe: I’m in the middle of making dinner.

Beca: Cool. I haven’t eaten yet. Be right over.

Chloe looks down at the takeout menu in her hand. “Crap.” Someone knocks at the door. Chloe looks at the pile of takeout menus on the counter. “Coming!” she shouts, tossing the one she was holding on top and sweeping the lot into a random drawer.

When she opens the door, Beca is on her doorstep with a bottle of wine in each hand. “I didn’t know if you preferred red or white,” she shrugged. “So I brought both.” Chloe steps to the side, blushing a little in embarrassment because Beca’s going to find out really soon that she can’t really cook.

Beca walks past her into the house and slips off her shoes. Finally she actually looks at Chloe. Concern hits her eyes immediately. “Hey, is something wrong? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I totally just invited myself over without even asking and, ugh, I’m sorry I’m such a dick,” she chastises herself, putting the bottles down on the table Chloe’s placed in the hall and leaning down to put her shoes back on.

Chloe’s too enamoured at how cute and awkward Beca’s being; it takes three seconds too long for her to put a hand on Beca’s arm. “No!” Chloe denies strongly. “Don’t go,” she continues and Beca at least pauses. “You don’t have to leave,” Chloe adds.

“Dude, no, I should, I was like super rude-”

“Stay please! I’m just embarrassed,” Chloe admits, shifting her weight on her feet.

Beca looks up, at the moment seemingly convinced not to leave. “Why?”

Chloe’s cheeks turn red. “I, uh, wasn’t technically cooking…”

Beca nods. “I was gonna say, for someone in the middle of dinner prep it does not at all smell of food in here.”

Chloe covers her face with her hands as Beca chuckles softly. “I know! I was going through takeout menus.”

Beca brushes Chloe’s hands off of her face. “So why not just say that?”

Vaguely, Chloe gestures at Beca’s whole body. Beca just stares back, confused.

“What, is there something on my shirt?” Beca asks, as she looks down at herself and starts twisting around to try and find a stain.

Chloe fights the urge to roll her eyes. “No, you look great, of course you do, it’s just that you’re, like, a super talented baker and I can barely make mac and cheese from a box,” Chloe says, eyes downcast.

Beca nudges her. “Relax, Chlo, the great thing about modernity is that cooking is not a required skill.” A little unsure, Beca pats Chloe on the arm. “Honestly? Without a recipe, I am at a loss with cooking. Baking and cooking are not the same thing, like at all.” She nods at the menu in Chloe’s hands. “I should show you my own collection.”

Smiling shyly, Chloe grabs a couple more menus from beside the fridge and offers them to Beca. “What are you in the mood for tonight?”

Sorting through them, Beca adopts a comically unsure expression, breaking a little into a smile when Chloe giggles. After another shuffle through, Beca raises an eyebrow and declares, “Do you trust me?”

Chloe laughs. “I trusted you even before I knew you,” she says, referring to the banana bread that still sometimes stars in her daydreams.

“Okay,” Beca says easily. “No food allergies?”

Chloe shakes her head.

“No peeking, Beale,” Beca instructs as she pulls out her phone and then she wanders into Chloe’s living room.

Beca dials up her favourite delivery restaurant in town, and waits for Linda to pick up.

“Fortune City Inn, how can I help you?”

“Hey Linda,” Beca says, looking back to check Chloe’s location. She moves farther away from her friend.

“Beca! The usual?” Linda asks, real elation entering her voice.

“Actually no, I’m going to branch out a bit. M goy ngau naam wonton mein, suk mi guy tong, yeung jow chow faan, hoyow gai lan, and jeeu pai chow mein.”

“You’re going to have leftovers!” Linda laughs. “Alright, it’ll be there in 35 minutes.”

“Oh, can you actually deliver it to the house beside mine?” Beca asks, then rattles off Chloe’s address.

“No problem,” Linda says. “Will you need the machine?”

“Yeah, please.”

“Okay, enjoy your evening!”

“You, too!” Beca hangs up and goes back into the kitchen. “Okay, food will be here in about half an hour. What should we do until then?”

Chloe grins, “Netflix?”

Beca laughs. “I still can’t believe that that was the first thing you set up for your new place, right after your Internet.”

“What can I say, TV is important to me!”

Beca smiles indulgently. “What are we watching, then?”

Chloe happily claps a little as she goes to grab her laptop from her office and sets it up on the coffee table. “I’ll set it up if you get the drinks?”

“Sure thing,” Beca agrees. She walks over to Chloe’s random utensil drawer and pulls out the wine opener. She uncorks the bottle of white and grabs two glasses from beside the sink.

When she gets back to the couch, Chloe has her portable speaker set up and the Netflix intro screen up.

“So you never answered what we’re watching…”

“You’ll find out! It’s a comedy though.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Yup, that narrows it down for sure.”

Chloe glares playfully. “Watch it, Mitchell, I could still throw on a rom-com movie instead.”

Hastily, Beca hits the spacebar and sits back against the couch while the intro plays. Chloe smiles triumphantly and settles against Beca’s side.

“I’m assuming you haven’t seen any of this so we’re starting at the beginning. The new season comes out tomorrow.”

“Great, Chlo,” Beca says. “Still haven’t got a clue what it is.”

“Wait for it…” Chloe warns and after another few scenes,” One Day at a Time” appears on the side of the building.

“Isn’t this from the fifties or something?”

Chloe shakes her head. “It’s a remake and it’s awesome. Now shush.” And she devotes her attention to the screen in front of them in such a way that Beca has to follow suit.

Beca has to admit, it’s pretty funny. And even though knowing someone as overdramatic as Lydia in real life would suck, she might be Beca’s favourite character.

Halfway through the second episode, Chloe’s doorbell rings, and Beca immediately jumps for the door. Chloe takes the time to pause the show before following Beca out to her hallway.

Beca’s already got her card in the machine. The man at the door waves to Chloe and then he tears off Beca’s receipt.

“Do zeh,” she calls after him and then closes the door. She turns around to see Chloe behind her.

“What language is that?” Chloe asks, holding her arms out to help Beca carry the bags of food.

“Uh, Cantonese,” Beca says, and then walks right by Chloe to the kitchen.

“Where did you learn Cantonese?” Chloe asks, sounding both surprised and impressed.

“Oh, my mom and I used to go there a lot. The owner, Linda, taught us how to say some of the things we like in Canto, so now we can always impress, or maybe entertain is the better word, the ladies at different Chinese restaurants,” Beca answers as she pulls containers out of the bags and sets them on Chloe’s counter.

“Can I hear some?” Chloe asks as she pulls plates from a cupboard and digs around for napkins.

Beca laughs, “Maybe some other time, Beale, I have such a white person accent it’s not even funny.” She tosses a package of chopsticks on each plate.

“Still, it’s cool that you try,” Chloe says. She looks at Beca for a moment. Beca’s not sure what crosses Chloe’s face before she’s turning away to grab some serving utensils.

“Thanks.” Beca’s not sure why she blushes either.

“It smells delicious, but what am I eating?” Chloe asks, inspecting the various dishes. “I mean, clearly this is some sort of fried rice, this is a soup with corn? And this is wonton soup with noodles and some kind of meat, but anything more specific than that, I’m lost.”

“Oh right,” Beca says, and then steps closer to Chloe to differentiate the dishes with her pointer finger. “So I got us some house special fried rice, beef brisket and wonton noodle soup, creamy chicken and corn egg drop soup, and house special chow mein. Oh, and some oyster sauce gai lan.”

“Cool, let me grab a couple of bowls for the soup and some spoons, and then we can either migrate our Netflix set-up to the kitchen table or we can eat on the couch.”

“I don’t want to accidentally ruin your couch with sauce or soup or something, so we should probably move to the table,” Beca said, going over to move the computer onto the table.

“If you grab the shoebox from beside the couch, we can prop the laptop up for better ergonomics,” Chloe suggests as she closes a cupboard and places bowls beside the plates on the counter. She slips a spoon onto each plate too.

Beca finds the shoebox and does as she’s told and then joins Chloe back at the food. She serves them both some of each soup while Chloe fills her plate with little piles of everything else. Beca takes their bowls of soups over to the table before going back to load up her own plate.

After sitting down, Chloe breaks her chopsticks and then hits play just as Beca slides into the chair beside her. She’s brought a couple of little plastic containers with her, and opens them.

“So by all means try the soup without this stuff,” Beca says as the One Day at a Time intro plays through. “But if you want a little extra flavour, Linda sent some white pepper and soy sauce.” And then Beca proceeds to dump a small mound of white pepper into her soup, circling it with a couple rings of soy sauce.

Chloe nods and tries the soup. It’s good, but it’s also kind of basic, so she follows Beca’s lead and adds the flavouring agents, albeit in smaller doses than Beca did. Then she heaps some noodles, rice, and gai lan onto her plate.

“Want some of the wonton soup?” Beca asks as Elena and Alex bicker on screen.

“Oh, sure, thanks,” Chloe says, throwing a brief smile in Beca’s direction.

They watch two episodes, both of them managing to put away impressive mounds of food. Beca helps wrap up some leftover noodles and rice and tucks them into the back corner of Chloe’s fridge. Meanwhile, Chloe refills their wine glasses, draining the last of the bottle into Beca’s glass and opening a new one for her own.

“Back to the couch?” Chloe asks, calling through to the kitchen. Beca’s head pops out of the doorway.

“Sounds great, I’m just wrapping things up,” Beca says, making a face at her unexpected pun. Chloe laughs at her and then goes about moving their Netflix setup back to the couch.

They settle in with their wine and watch another three episodes, Chloe leaning against Beca’s side as Elena and Alex share a moment followed by a hug.

Completely ignoring the show still going on, Chloe moves her face closer to Beca’s. “Hey, are you okay?”

Beca’s eyes make a watery glance toward Chloe. “You said this was a comedy, Beale.” Her voice sounds a little choked up. The episode fades to the credits and Chloe quickly reaches over to prevent it from going to the next. When she looks back, Beca is gazing at her softly, the watery quality to her eyes seemingly dissipating. Chloe leans in closer to Beca, and she swears Beca leans in closer too.

At the last second, Beca pulls back slightly. “I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for the evening and should probably head home.

And just like that, reality comes rushing back to Chloe. She smiles, a little tightly, “Not embarrassed, Becs, but yeah, I can see you out.” She gets up off the couch and Beca follows, taking a moment to take her empty wine glass to the kitchen before meeting Chloe at the door.

“Next time, you gotta prepare me for the feels, okay?” Beca says, sliding on her shoes.

“You should probably just always be ready for the feels in that show,” Chloe advises.

They hesitate in the doorway once Beca’s shoes are on and there’s nothing left to chat about. Before Chloe can bring up the elephant in the room, Beca squeaks out, “Okay, well, see you around, Chlo,” and opens the door before disappearing to her own house.

She closes the door, locks it, and goes back to throw herself upon the couch, already replaying the evening and asking where she went wrong reading the signals.

#ask #anon #bechloe #fic request #lespetitesmortsde #fanfic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #baker beca au #ficlet

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orbemnews · 3 years

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How Food Trucks Endured and Succeeded During the Pandemic This article is part of Owning the Future, a series on how small businesses across the country have been effected by the pandemic. The Covid pandemic hit California hard. It has seen well over 3.5 million cases and over 60,000 deaths. Scores of businesses have closed. But for Ana Jimenez the owner of Tacos El Jerry, a small fleet of food trucks in Santa Cruz County, it provided an opportunity to bring her business into the 21st century. Ms. Jimenez’s four trucks began taking orders through an app and a website, delivering directly to customers, and cultivating a customer base through a new social media presence. All of that added up to a significant increase in sales. “Our business grew,” said Ms. Jimenez, 50. “We even added a new truck. Credit goes to my son, Jerry, who is 23. We didn’t have anything on social media. He said, ‘we’re going digital on all of this, Mom.’” Half of her orders are now placed online, she said. Ms. Jimenez’s son created Facebook and Instagram pages for the food trucks, a social media advertising campaign and began accepting credit card purchases. “Each truck is now serving around 300 people per day, which translates to roughly $5,000 in sales daily,” Ms. Jimenez said. Food trucks — kitchens on wheels, essentially — are flexible by design and quickly became a substitute during the pandemic for customers who couldn’t dine indoors and coveted something different than their mainstream carryout options. That, in turn, has delivered a new client base to add on to an existing cadre of loyal followers. In a very real sense, food trucks are vehicles for equality in the post-pandemic world. “While the pandemic has certainly hurt the majority of small businesses, it has also pushed many to be more innovative by looking for new revenue streams and ways to reach customers,” said Kimberly A. Eddleston, a professor of entrepreneurship and innovation at Northeastern University. Like Ms. Jimenez, some businesses have “focused on ways to maintain their customer base by, for example, delivering products directly to customers,” Prof. Eddleston said. “While others have created products and services that attract new customers.” Luke Cypher, 34, for instance, expanded the already eclectic selections at his Blue Sparrow food trucks in Pittsburgh, adding pizza, four-packs of local beer, gift cards and five-ounce bottles of housemade hot sauce. Mr. Cypher’s main fare since he hit the streets in 2016 has been global street food. His menu carries a heavy Asian inspiration. There’s made-from-scratch kimchi on the menu daily. Dishes can include rice bowls, Vietnamese banh mi, falafel burritos, and a burger made with a ramen bun. During the pandemic, Mr. Cypher’s business took a hit when 24 festivals and over a dozen weddings where he was booked were canceled. “I switched gears to keep things as lean as possible,” Mr. Cypher said. He temporarily shut down a second food truck — a retrofitted 35-foot, 1956 Greyhound bus that he used for the big parties — and introduced a website to interact with his customers and an online ordering system for his smaller truck, which he usually parked at a neighborhood brewery. “I switched the menu to focus on soups, noodles, burritos and pressed sandwiches, so that the things that we were handing our customers would make it home and still be a good experience after they opened up the bag and took it out,” he said. Today in Business Updated May 21, 2021, 3:55 p.m. ET And he began to make and sell pizza one day a week at the kitchen where he used to do his prep work for the trucks before the pandemic. (The pizza, too, has an international flair: a banh mi pie, for example, made with pork or tofu, miso garlic sauce, mozzarella, pickled carrots, cucumbers, and cilantro.) Customers can order and pay online or by phone and schedule a time to pick up; they receive a text or an email when their order is ready. The kitchen “was already in place, so we turned around and said, well, what can we offer our customers in this unknown time that would be comforting,” Mr. Cypher said. “We had a wood-fired oven there that we use for bread baking, but basically it wasn’t being utilized.” Before the pandemic, Mr. Cypher was serving roughly 1,500 customers a week from his food truck. A weekly festival on weekends, with 5,000 people stopping by the bus, of course, ramped up that number. “The cool part is I was able to stay afloat because, unlike a restaurant with traditional seating, it was just myself, my sous-chef and his wife, who worked part-time,” he said. “We ended up serving roughly a hundred people a day, four or five days a week. So it wasn’t the numbers that we did before, but our lights were able to stay on because we had reduced a lot of costs that we had involved in running multiple rigs.” Mr. Cypher, however, opted not to use delivery apps like Uber Eats or Grub Hub. “I don’t want to hand my food off to somebody else,” he said. “If we weren’t going to have the one-on-one conversations with our customers, we were at least going to give it to them directly.” And like Tacos El Jerry, social media became a huge part of his marketing platform. “The pictures that we take and post on Instagram and Facebook let people feel like they’re a part of our truck family,” Mr. Cypher said. “Food trucks were well-equipped to withstand pandemic restrictions, as they’re naturally to-go and socially distanced businesses,” said Luz Urrutia, chief executive of Accion Opportunity Fund, a nonprofit organization providing small-business owners with access to capital, networks and coaching. “Many food truck owners stepped forward to seize opportunity during a time of great uncertainty,” she said. As Pittsburgh emerges from the pandemic, Mr. Cypher is adding a twist at his kitchen location. “We have licensing to offer beer on draft from our local breweries, so we’re going to have a small beer garden,” he said. “And that’s a revenue stream that we’re going to kind of lean into that we probably never would have done if not for Covid.” In 2020, Mr. Cypher’s food trucks had $200,000 in gross sales, down about 40 percent from the previous year, he said. “But with the new offerings, more efficiency and only running one rig, we were actually able to net enough to keep the business moving forward,” he said. “This year we’re already up about 30 percent from where we were at last year at this time.” For Ronicca Whaley, the chef behind the St. Petersburg, Fla.-based truck Shiso Crispy, timing was much tricker: she opened her first truck in November 2019, just a few months before the pandemic. And yet Ms. Whaley, 35, who offers handmade gyozas, bao buns and their signature dish, dirty rice, now has two trucks because of a strategy of regularly parking in certain neighborhoods and offering discounted and free meals outside a nearby Ronald McDonald House. (She added the second truck in January.) One challenge: “The internet here is shoddy. And cellphone service in different areas out here just doesn’t work,” she said. “During the height of the pandemic, I was consistently losing two or more transactions at my point of sale every shift.” Luckily, she was offered a special initiative for small business owners by Verizon Business: a year of complimentary connectivity and a 5G iPhone, as well as tools such as the Clover Flex point of sale program for touchless transactions. “It has digitally transformed my business,” Ms. Whaley said. She also signed on to an app, called Best Food Trucks, that allows customers near her to pre-order once they know her location for the day. “The inextricably connected stories of food trucks and Covid are a perfect microcosm of the undeniable reality that women, immigrants and people of color, historically relegated to the edges of the economy, are actually the foundation upon which the next economy must be built,” said Nathalie Molina Niño, author of “Leapfrog: The New Revolution for Women Entrepreneurs.” But the silver lining from the pandemic for some operators is more personal — including bringing families together. “I have a ton of wisdom about how to operate food trucks and cooking,” Ms. Jimenez said. “It’s the coming together of the generations that made the business stronger now and for the future.” Source link Orbem News #Endured #Food #Pandemic #Succeeded #trucks

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365-money-diary · 3 years

Text

DAYS 15-21

DAY FIFTEEN [JAN 15]

8:40 AM - Wake up feeling sore AF. I should’ve stretched after playing, but I obviously didn’t. I also feel like my stomach didn’t eat itself from the inside out while I was sleeping so that’s nice too. Make a chemex and get to work.

10:00 AM - eat plant yogurt.

11:00 AM - eat a few carrots and a clementine.

12:30 PM - make a greek salad for lunch with a La Croix - this is the last of the salad ingredients until Thursday essentially. Shed a singular tear.

3:00 PM - I am a tiny bit hungry. Eat a piece of rye toast.

4:14 PM - I wanted to start working out 45 minutes ago ugh. OK here we go. The hour goes by a lot faster than I expected which is nice. Rinse off and cook an early dinner – Reubens and potatoes.

8:00 PM - I wanted to drink alcohol but I’m too full from dinner to even enjoy it. Heat up chamomile tea instead. I want to work on my blog but K wants to hang instead and I’m in no position to deny the closeness. We play some Mario Kart, watch 30 for 30 about BC and the mob, and turn in early.

DAY FIFTEEN TOTAL: $0

DAY SIXTEEN

8:30 AM - Make chemex and eat a clementine. My sister (S) asked me and my brother (B) to listen to a 20 minute session on the app Mined about codependency. I take a stab at it and get some good notes.

10:00 AM - Landscaper is going to show up any second so I move my car and pick up dog poop. Text with S more about my cousin’s virtual baby shower tomorrow and go in on some cute stuff from PBKids. Total is $64.05 and she venmos me $32. $32.05

11:15 AM - I actually have a lot of stuff I need to do this weekend though right now I’m too annoyed at my neighbor to focus. Long story short – he has been wanting our dead grapefruit tree for like 6 months and keeps asking if he can cut it down. I said sure. But then he asked our landscaper to do it for him? It’s weird. I mostly don’t care because it’s gone, but the nerve he had to insert himself is wild. $120

12:00 PM - Make Tofu tacos for breakfast and make a to-do list of stuff I want to accomplish today. (post cauliflower leek soup, put away records, barre throw away things my mom has forced me to take out of her house over the years, wipe doors)

6:00 PM - Eat 2 rice cakes. I only manage to get the cauliflower leek soup up, put away the records, and throw away the stuff mom gave me. I think today ended up being a little bit overwhelming emotionally with the landscaper plus the codependency session so I’m kind of burnt.

7:00 PM - Make pad thai for dinner. Can’t stop snacking on Swedish fish. Drink an old fashioned while K and I watch Night Stalker. Realize part way through that the reason I keep eating Swedish Fish is because something feels off. I fall asleep around 11:30 knowing it’s my blood pressure and that if it doesn’t fix over night I’ll get right to it in the morning.

DAY SIXTEEN TOTAL: $152.35

DAY SEVENTEEN

8:00 AM - Wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus. Ugh. I’ve been struggling with an iron deficiency for a while and have it mostly fixed but I still have occasional days where my blood pressure really gives me issues.

9:00 AM - Peel myself out of bed and drink some soy sauce. Sounds disgusting but sodium is the only thing that truly helps AND it works fast. Drink a chemex and a boat load of water. Work on posting the cauliflower leek soup

10:00 AM - S calls and I take a walk to chat. I’m still feeling really down from the blood pressure but I know walking will help. It’s actually really nice to get outside. I should do this again later tonight.

11:00 AM - More soy sauce, more water, more coffee. Have a good direction for where I want to go today. Just taking it one task at a time based on how I feel and granting myself the grace.

12:30 PM - Feel good enough to start moving which is great because once I can get over the initial fog with this blood pressure stuff, moving is what keeps me feeling better. Wipe down the doors and then attend a virtual baby shower for my cousin E.

3:00 PM - Make broccoli fried rice for lunch. I prefer the cauliflower but the store was out of it. I feel like this broccoli stuff would taste great with some kind of cilantro hummus situation but that’ll be for another day I suppose.

3:30 PM - Back to cleaning! The bathrooms are always terrible and today is no exception. It’s always hard to tell if I even make progress because everything is white and the grout is stained orange. Give up after an hour and a half.

6:30 PM - Tag team folding a couple loads of laundry with K while we watch NBA. This week ends bittersweet for my fantasy team. He beat me in one but I’m in first place in the other. Officially 3-1 and 4-0.

8:00 PM - Eat leftover pad thai for dinner.

DAY SEVENTEEN TOTAL: $0

DAY EIGHTEEN

8:30 AM - Wake up feeling like I was hit by a smartcar, so a little better! Today is MLK day and I’m grateful for the extra day off. Make a Chemex, drink some soy sauce, and watch an episode of The Challenge. Pure barre charge comes thru. $15

9:30 AM - Get started on dusting the entire house. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve done this due to lack of Swiffer 360 dusters. It takes forever but honestly our house hasn’t looked this good in years. Swap out the lightbulbs in the bathrooms and the bedroom, shower, and eat a plant yogurt.

11:30 AM - Have a sibling zoom call with S&B I walk while we chat and it’s honestly really nice to get outside.

1:30 PM - Start shooting my recipe for lasagna rollups. Eat a cup of cauliflower leek soup and a few pretzel rods while I cook. It takes a while but I think they turn out great.

4:00 PM - Eat a lasagna roll and watch an episode of The Challenge. I haven’t worked out in 400 years (read: yesterday and the day before.) and it’s low key killing me, so I suit up and do the thing.

6:00 PM - That was mildly painful. Low cal burn, couldn’t focus to save my life - new moves so lots of pausing during transitions. Oh well. At least I did it.

7:00 PM - Eat two more lasagna rolls for dinner. K and I watch Terrorism Close Calls and I drink a vodka + vanilla seltzer + orange peel.

DAY EIGHTEEN TOTAL: $15

DAY NINETEEN

8:30 AM - It’s appraisal day. Ugh. So excited to get this over with. Make a chemex and open my work stuff. I have a lot to do but have a feeling I won’t be able to concentrate very well until after the appraisal is over. On a nice note - I am feeling leaps and bounds better from yesterday and the day before.

10:00 AM - Eat a plant yogurt and finish out the rest of my coffee. Meet with my teammates about an outstanding task and then do the random stuff around the house to prep for my appointment.

12:00 PM - Here goes nothing! K and I leave the house with KP and walk her around the block a few times until the appraisal is done. As much as I feel like my anxiety should be gone, it’s not. I think particularly because today is really busy with work. K and I hang out outside on our laptops for a bit to let the house air out before going back inside.

1:00 PM - Eat broccoli fried rice for lunch with a Polar seltzer. Snack on a pretzel rod and some Swedish Fish while it heats.

3:00 PM - Eat the last of the cauliflower leek soup and a few carrots.

5:30 PM - Make a nuun and do a barre live stream. My focus today is so much better but my cal burn is abysmal again. Rinse off and heat up lasagna rolls for dinner. Snack on Swedish Fish while they heat. I really wish I had wine right now because I can feel my body could use the extra help blood pressure-wise but I won’t get my alcohol delivery until Thursday. Sigh.

8:00 PM - Idk whats up but my body is asking for more food so I eat tortilla crumbs and salsa and some dark chocolate. Make vegan ham brine for seitan. Realize I’m out of liquid smoke and buy a 6 pack from Amazon. $15.37

9:30 PM - It’s official, this iron thing is killing me. Ugh. Now I know. I’ll be more conscientious of my supplements, I promise! Finish editing photos of Thousand Island Dressing, watch The Challenge and call it a day.

DAY NINETEEN TOTAL: $15.37

DAY TWENTY

8:30 AM - Still feeling off from iron. This is seriously the worst it’s been in MONTHS. Worst part - it takes 4 weeks for you to produce new blood cells so I can only assume this will happen again since there was a substantial gap in my supplementing.

9:00 AM - Make a chemex, prep the seitan ham dough and bake. I chat with Google support for an account I’m having problems with. The person’s name is Swastika. Feels like a bad omen for inauguration day. Eat 2 clementines and pretzel rod.

12:20 PM - Starving. Decide on Lasagna roll ups for lunch with a Polar.

2:00 PM - Finish my work for the day. I have on my list of things to do that I want to test this orange spice bread for the blog.

3:00 PM - Spice bread in the oven. Do a round of dishes to prep for tonight’s grocery run. It doesn’t come out great and I eat two slices.

5:15 PM - Do a barre live stream and it goes really well. Super focused, super strong, super sweaty. One more class to go for the challenge this month! Rinse off and continue prepping the kitchen and do the final bake on the ham.

7:05 PM - Ensue grocery madness. Incoming of onions, bananas, lemons, limes, bell peppers, cucumbers, cheese, cheeze, tortilla chips, tomatoes, dark chocolate, green beans, broccoli, jalapeños, low carb tortillas, bread, oranges, potatoes, cilantro, chickpeas, romaine, celery, clementines, spring mix, frozen burritos, apples, oat milk, tofu, soyrizo, brussels sprouts, eggs, grapes, frozen peas, vegan sour cream, taco seasoning, tomato paste, chipotle peppers in adobo sauce, corn, black beans, avocados, mushrooms, snap peas, pineapple, vegan mayo, carrots, rice noodles, seltzer, beets, cauliflower, parsley, pumpkin seeds, thyme, plant yogurt, garlic, riced broccoli, white rice, gf pretzels, micro arugula, & black olives. $327.69

8:15 PM It takes over an hour, but everything is washed and put away! Make air fried broccoli with miso butter and veggie sandwiches for dinner.

9:00 PM - Make a crappy drink with flavored vodka. The only thing I have in my house is shooters left over from my sister’s bachelorette party. She’s now divorced if that gives you any idea of how long this stuff has been sitting around. More alcohol comes tomorrow at least! Eat a few Swedish fish.

9:30 PM - Play Mario Kart, watch The Challenge, and call it a night.

DAY TWENTY TOTAL: $327.69

DAY TWENTY-ONE

8:30 AM - Chemex and work. Alcohol is coming sometime this AM from my friend J who has a wholesale hookup. Much like everything else in the pandemic, I just buy in bulk. It’s easier that way!

10:30 AM - Eat a slice of orange spice bread for breakfast. It’s definitely growing on me but I think I need to adjust a few things before shooting/posting. J drops off my booze order. I got 2 crates of wine (24 bottles total), a bottle of bourbon, rye, mezcal, rum, and st. germaine. She says it was $400 but I pay her more. $450

11:00 AM - Start prepping chile de arbol salsa & stuff for this week’s salad - spring mix, roasted tofu with taco seasoning, avo, chipotle ranch dressing, cilantro, green onion, black beans, tomatoes and corn. YUM. Eat salad with a La Croix.

3:00 PM - I get the appraisal back! My house came in at $390k. (I bought it for $245k) OMG! Eat a celebratory slice of orange bread.

6:45 PM - Finish class 15/15 for the barre challenge. 11 more months to go. hah! Rinse off, roast potatoes for veggie sandwiches. Pour a celebratory glass of wine.

8:30 PM - Pour another half glass. What a week! End up going on a walk with K & KP which was really nice. I need to get out more. This weekend I will. Stay tuned. ~*~*~

DAY TWENTY-ONE TOTAL: $450

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minikarolina · 4 years

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Throw everything leftover into one bowl.

Wooohoooo! It's been a week today since I've got off furlough and fully gone back to work. Am I happy? Yes and no. The past week was hard work for me as I was struggling with coming back. The routine I had developed in a past couple of months has been long gone, got hurting fingers and fingertips from all the chemicals and scrubbing. Even my feet did feel a bit harsh. But now I can be on board and put all of my experience I've got during the lockdown into my shifts right now.

In the past couple of months I've come a long way to start to love food again. Started this whole lockdown period with ready pasta dishes, frozen pizzas and garlic bread. Food that's easy to deal with is ideal for a person that works 40+ hours a week. The only time I actually cooked something on my own used to be my days off, which I only had one a week. Those days where I cooked something healthier than a frozen pizza were rare but really precious and proud days. But suddenly those working hours were gone and I had to force stop my brain from going at full speed constantly. For the first couple of weeks of this lockdown, my brain couldn't think of a way of how to start a new forced break. During the hours I was meant to work, I did eat or snack a lot. During the work breaks I was meant to have, I did take naps. My whole day consisted of snacky eating and napping all day long. My coping mechanism of my little brain told me to eat. And I did, but I've never looked at what I was eating. Until sudden motivation burst inside of me and my brain went full 360° and said "from today you is cooking something new, healthy and delicious every day" as I had enough of this boredom of eating same food all over again. It was a little challenge that kept me just a little bit more sane and less bored.

During this past time, I've managed to do my first sushi, cheesecake, Lithuanian potato pie and more! (And kid me not, my first sushi was amazing and I'm going to tell you all about it in my next post soon coming up!) I'm a person who barely cooks anything unless it's my day off. Me cooking a proper something is rare. And that was a challenge of mine. I had to come up with a routine and a new something I could do that I barely did before. So, here we are. Me was challenged to fight against the impatient myself. Cooking is something that takes time and it was something I had to learn to love.

As I'm going back to work, I know I'll be having less time for cooking. BUT, I've set myself a challenge again to keep on going. Cooking for a couple of days in advance is a way to go. I usually cook without a recipe, unless it's something new I've never cooked or baked before. This week I keep finishing my last bits of food I have got, emptying my fridge. As my goal is to set up a food prep sessions for the week and I'll need to do a full bulk shopping for this.

So, what I did this time was to chuck every little of leftover things I've got and cook something quick and easy. I don't even know what kind of creation this is, but it's really filling and the mixture of a cold and warm, sour and refreshing did good. And I want to talk about it! I've had one bag of long grain rice, as well as couple of already cooked chicken sausages left. Rice pack of 10 bags and sausages, a pack of 10, were from Lidl and both full packs did not even cost me £4 in total. Super cheap! Also, I know that already cooked sausages are not the best but there is a better option for you to chose from. I'm a person that tries to avoid the red meat and tried to eat chicken or white fish only (such as scampi or cod) due to my own health reasons. But if you dislike already cooked sausages you can swap them for a vegetarian option, such as vegetarian sausage range from Linda McCartney Foods, which you can find at Tesco, Lidl or Sainsbury's. These are the places I've seen them so far. The Linda McCartney sausages are between £2-£2.20 and they are the best vegetarian/vegan option for foods like this. The pack consists of 6 frozen sausages and some of you might think of it as pricey, but believe me, they are sooo filling you won't need more than 2 sausages per meal and the taste of them ohhhhh GURRRLLLLL! They are literally the best vegetarian/vegan sausages I had ever tried. And for someone like me, who can't really eat red meat or try to avoid eating the red meat, is definitely the option you can find on a retail market. If you are vegetarian or even vegan - go for Linda McCartney Foods! I can't even praise them enough.

The only thing in this I had to wait for it to cook was rice. I usually buy rice in bags as it's an easier option for myself. Recently, I've been enjoying adding rice vinegar into my rice after cooking it. It keeps your rice firm and stops it from being loose. Especially the long grain rice. Also, it adds a bit of a flavour as I don't use any kind of seasoning or salt, while I'm cooking. The thing I did was to cut my last couple of chicken sausages and mix it with chopped cherry tomatoes, which had to go today or be thrown away. I mixed chicken sausages, cherry tomatoes, spring onions, mixed herbs (just a little sprinkle), soya sauce (1 table spoon) and olive oil (1 tea spoon) all together and boom, I had this sour and refreshing mixture that did go well with rice. Also, I added some sesame seeds and little bit more spring onions on a top to make it looks pretty and boom! We have a creation of a leftover thingies I needed to use before the due date. Add something you live if your own? Yes! Add some red onion instead or even some rocket or baby salad. Even some herbs of your own liking! I recon some parsley or coriander would go miles with this all!

It's definitely healthier and takes as long to cook as a frozen pizza with garlic bread.

I've tried doing maths for for this bowl and believe me not, it costs just a bit up to £1 for this one. It would be just a little bit over a £1, if you would be choosing different sausages or rice option.

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justlookfrightened · 7 years

Text

Second part of Neighbors AU, Chapter 9

Read it on AO3

Or, read chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 or 8

Eric pitched in to help Dex fill orders and took turns with Dex making the rounds to wipe the handful of tables and shuttle used dishes to the back.

Finally, at about 1 p.m., the line began to dwindle and and the tables started to empty. Eric looked at the pastry cases with a critical eye.

There were only two quiches left, and half a dozen mini-pies. The muffins looked like they would hold out for the rest of the day, but they were sold out of maple-crusted apple pie. Eric would have to add to what he planned to bake in the morning, and who knew if tomorrow was going to be just as busy? Still, it was a good problem to have..

“I’m not sure what happened today,” Eric said. “Do you think it was all that selfie Derek took with Bob Zimmermann?”

“I don’t know, Bits,” Chowder said, untying is apron. “Who would have thought a picture with our logo in the background would make that much difference? Do you need me to stay and help?”

“No, that’s OK, Chris,” Eric said. “You’ve already stayed late. We’ll take care of it.”

He patted his pocket for his phone -- Bob had said something about getting in touch with the Falconers about that strange tweet -- when he heard it ringing in the kitchen. He must have put it down during the rush. He hustled in to grab it before his voicemail picked up.

“Hello? Matthew? What’s up?”

“Eric -- what’s happening down there? You’re all over Twitter, and you didn’t answer my texts. I didn’t want to call during the rush in case you were busy.”

“Oh, Lord, was there a rush,” Eric said. “It was already busy, then Jack Zimmermann and Alexei Mashkov stopped in, and I guess someone must have posted that, because then it just got crazy.”

“Was Bad Bob there too?” Matthew asked, “Because I think that’s him showing up on Twitter. Was he there over the weekend? Whatever, good job. Keep it up.”

“Uh, thanks, Matthew. I’m gonna have to take a look at what’s going on. I hope it’s nothing, well, nothing that makes anyone look bad?”

“Well, it certainly makes the bakery look good,” Matthew said.

Eric ended the call, then headed back to the register.

“Dex, sweetheart, can you get the dishwasher going?” Eric asked. “I need to take a look at something.”

Then he opened the Twitter app on his phone, closed his eyes, took a breath, opened his eyes and looked at his notifications.

Bless his regulars, several had weighed in on the tweet from @FalcsFanRI, some in praise of the maple-crusted apple pie Eric had suggested, others suggesting their own favorites.

Then @FalcsFanRI had tweeted again, this time with a picture of Eric locking up Sunday afternoon, Bob standing next to him. This one included Eric’s own Twitter handle.

Looks like @bbzimmermann got a private look from @sugarnspice baker @omgcheckplease.

Eric couldn’t help walking to the door and looking out. Where was that picture taken from? And who would care anyway?

Then there were a whole series of tweets about Jack and Tater being there -- several including selfies with Tater -- and at least one picture of Jack coming out of the kitchen carrying his sandwich bag.

@FalcsFanRI had retweeted that with the note, Wonder what Jack Z wanted to talk with @omgcheckplease about?

Eric took screenshots of the new tweets from @FalcsFanRI and texted Jamie.

I don’t know if you’ve seen these, or if you know who this is, but I’m not sure what’s going on. Bob Zimmermann suggested I let you, or someone in PR, know about them.

His phone rang a moment later.

“These just started today?” Jamie was asking as soon as he answered.

“Yes, Jamie, and how are you today?”

“I’m fine, Eric, and I’m sorry,” Jamie said. “We’re not sure who this is -- it looks like they just made their account last week and started following us -- or what they want to accomplish. None of the pictures are from any real private areas, and they don’t show anything except that you know the Zimmermanns. Bob already said he liked your food, so I don’t really get the point. But the tone does feel nasty. Does Jack know?”

“About the first one,” Eric said. “Not about the rest. But don’t tell him before the game tonight. He’s still not on Twitter -- after this, I’m not sure he’s going to want to be.”

**************************

Jack carried his sandwich to the player lounge, poured a cup of water and settled at a table.

He pulled his phone out to text Eric, who was probably up from his own nap now, either headed out for a run or over to Meehan.

Thanks for the sandwich. They always taste better when you make them.

Eric sent back a blushing emoji, then This isn’t just a ploy to get me to make all of them, is it? then a winky face.

I don’t know. Is it working? Jack typed back.

Good luck tonight! Eric texted. I’ll be watching. Call me later if you get a chance.

Jack finished his sandwich with a smile, tucked the note that had been attached into his pocket and cleared the wrapper and cup from the table.

He was still smiling when he pushed the door to the dressing room open. Marty and Guy, who had been looking at something on Marty’s phone, looked up.

“Hey, Jack,” Guy said. “Ready for tonight?”

“Absolutely,” Jack said.

Marty locked his phone and put it on the shelf of his stall.

“Look at you smile,” he said. “I’m guessing Eric made your sandwich? I saw you and Tater were there today.”

Jack thought that might be a chirp, but Marty didn’t seem like he was trying to get a rise out of him, so he just said, “Ouais. The bread from the bakery is good, and he always has the best jam. You saw? From all the selfies Tater took?”

“There were a lot,” Marty agreed.

Jack shook his head.

“He honestly seems to enjoy it,” Jack said.

“What did he get?” Marty asked. “We’re on the road until Saturday. Don’t tell me he went home and ate an entire pie.”

“I don’t think so,” Jack said. “I think he just got a couple of those little mini-pies they make. You ready?”

“Of course,” Marty said.

If Marty stuck close by Jack while the team finished dressing, well, that was nothing unusual. Jack might wear the C, but Marty had appointed himself Jack’s mentor and guardian when Jack came into the league, and he was still a close friend. They went out for warmups, came back for final strategy and took the ice for the anthem.

The game was hard-fought and fast, but mostly clean, and ended in a 4-2 win over the Sabres. Jack thought he played pretty well, saw the ice and could envision the play developing. Even so, he couldn’t help but think that there was something going on just beyond the edges of his awareness.

Jack showered and dressed and grabbed his bag, planning to call Eric before he boarded the team bus for the airport. He’d just left the dressing room when Poots appeared at his shoulder.

“Is Eric OK?” he asked.

Jack stopped walking.

“He was when I saw him after morning skate,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“There’s just this stuff on Twitter,” Poots said. “With him and your dad? I guess they hit it off. Anyway, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Show me,” Jack said.

Poots opened his phone and pulled up the tweets involving Eric and Bob. He saw the first one, the one Eric had sent him, and Eric’s thoroughly professional response. Then the picture of Eric and Bob leaving the bakery, which somehow, he thought, made it look like they’d been doing something clandestine instead of prep work for a whole lot of baked goods.

That had been retweeted along with lots of snide remarks about Bob and getting his sugar fix and kneading buns. Jack felt his stomach twist a little. Not because he thought there was anything … untoward between Eric and his dad, not for a second. It was just so unfair that both of them, honestly two of the best men he knew, should be the subject of such speculation.

“Thanks,” he said, thrusting the phone back into Poots’ hands and stalking off to find a quiet corner.

As soon as he thought he was out of earshot of anyone, he touched Eric’s contact button and waited for him to pick up.

“Hi, honey! Great game!” Eric said in a slightly too bright tone.

“Eric, what’s going on?” Jack asked.

***************

Eric took a deep breath.

“I'm not sure, exactly,” Eric said. “With the posts I mean. It's like someone is determined to make something out of nothing, and I can't for the life of me figure out why.”

“But my dad?” Jack sounded kind of strangled.

“Oh, honey, you know that there’s nothing going on between me and your dad, besides him being nice and trying to get to know his son’s boyfriend, right?” Eric couldn’t believe he had to even say the words. The whole thing was ludicrous. How could Jack think such a thing about either one of them?

“No, no, no,” Jack was saying, like his mind had just caught up with Eric’s words. “Not that. Mon dieu, not that. But we’ve spent time together in public. We’ve gone for runs, we’ve gone to restaurants, we’ve gone grocery shopping. Why pick up on you being seen with my dad? If it had to be someone, why not, I don’t know, Tater? He’s at the bakery almost as much as me, and he’s not married.”

“I don’t know,” Eric said. “What does your dad think? I guess if anyone has a right to be angry, it would be him and your mom.”

“You too,” Jack said. “Some of the things they were implying about you --”

“What, that I’m some kind of sugar baby?” Eric snorted. “I think most of them were just playing on me being a baker. I mean, your dad’s kind of old for me, I know, but if he wasn’t married and I wasn’t dating the attractive Zimmermann, I’d at least meet him for a cup of coffee.”

Jack groaned.

“OK, OK, I’m kidding,” Eric said. “And we both know your dad would never have looked at me twice if I wasn’t dating you.”

“Well, maybe to get a recipe,” Jack acknowledged, the beginnings of a grin quirking his lips.

“How long before you have to leave?” Eric asked.

“They’re starting to get on the bus now,” Jack said.

“Then let me call your dad and find out what he thinks,” Eric said. “Call me when you land and I’ll tell you if we’ve come up with anything.”

“Eric, that’ll be after midnight,” Jack said. “You have to sleep. Go ahead and call my dad if you want, but tell him I’ll call him when we get in to Charlotte. Then I’ll call you when I get up, OK? But please get some rest. You’re already up late.”

“Aww, you worry about me,” Eric said.

“I just know proper rest is important,” Jack said. “Talk to you in the morning?”

Eric ended the call and scrolled through his contacts to find Bob’s number.

Bob answered on the first ring.

“Eric! You’re still up,” he said. “I didn’t want to call during the game, and then I was afraid I’d wake you.”

“No, sir,” Eric said. “I just got off the phone with Jack. He, uh, might be calling you after they land in Charlotte? He didn’t want to call me then because he said I should be sleeping.”

Bob sighed.

“That’s Jack,” he said. “And he’s right, of course.”

“Of course,” Eric said. “Have you been following all this?”

“Well, I stopped looking at my mentions a while ago, but in general, yes,” Bob said.

“So what do we do?” Eric said.

“For now, ignore it,” Bob said. “I don’t know why anyone would find it interesting that we know each other; it seems to be pretty common knowledge that the Falconers like your bakery. There’s nothing we can really do, anyway -- the photos are pretty public and no one’s making any threats and any reaction looks like overreaction to the innuendo. How’s Jack taking it?”

“Not as badly as I thought he might,” Eric said. “But he’s upset about the disrespect to you and Alicia.”

“And you, too, I’d think,” Bob said. “We’re fine, really. Compared to when Alicia and I first got together? This is nothing. But I suppose Jack doesn’t really know about that. It had mostly blown over by the time he came along, and we didn’t talk about it much afterward. When he had his problems --”

“He told me about his overdose.”

“Yes, well, that was a different kind of thing. I mean, it was nothing we could laugh at, and in a way, this is, because we all know the truth. What does PR say?”

“Pretty much the same thing: ‘Don’t feed the trolls,’” Eric said. “Jamie did say she’d find out what she could about the account that started it all.”

“Then relax, Eric,” Bob said. “Jack’s right. Go to bed. Go to sleep. See what tomorrow brings.”

***************************************

“Salut, Jack.”

“Were you waiting up for me to call?” Jack said. “We just got into the hotel.”

“Well, yes,” Bob said. “I was going to give you another half-hour before I turned in. Eric seemed to think you were worried that this would be a problem for me and your mother.”

“It’s just not fair,” Jack said. “Eric’s my boyfriend --”

“I think we -- by which I mean, everyone who knows both you and Eric -- is pretty clear on that,” Bob said mildly.

“No, not like that, it’s just unfair that you and Maman get dragged into it,” Jack said. “That people would imply that you’re having an affair with a 23-year-old kid --”

“Don’t let Eric hear you say that,” Bob said.

“I’m 28. Not 60,” Jack said.

“I feel like I should be wounded,” Bob said. “But you’re right, of course. I would feel like a creep if I was looking to date someone that much younger. As it happens, though, it’s not the first time people bent on malicious gossip have cast aspersions on my relationship with your mother. A lot of people -- mostly her fans, to be honest -- couldn’t believe that she’d date a lowly hockey player and thought it was all a stunt. But there were a few people who couldn’t believe I was interested in her, either.”

“How’d you get through it?”

“Ignored it, mostly,” Bob said. “There were a couple of really persistent people that we had to get lawyers involved for, but for most people, once it became clear that we were really together, they gave up or moved on. I know that even when you were growing up, we -- all of us -- got more attention than maybe was healthy, but I guess it didn’t seem so bad to me because it was better than what happened when we were dating.”

“So I don’t do -- what do you call it, Twitter -- but Eric seems to think this is strange, but mostly harmless,” Jack said.

“What I’ve seen would fall into that category,” Bob said. “Eric and I could probably go after some of the people who were tweeting for defamation, but that would just blow it up, and the tweets that started it all skirt the line. The question is where it goes from here. If Deadspin or TMZ get hold of it, well, it could get nasty. But I’m not sure they care about a retired hockey player and a baker from Providence, no matter how cute he is.”

Jack snorted. “Retired hockey player, right.”

He paused for a moment.

“Is this what it’s going to be like when people find out about me and Eric?” he said.

“No,” Bob said. “As much as I’d like to make you feel better, it will be worse. Because everyone -- from TMZ and Deadspin to more reputable outlets like ESPN and Outsports -- are going to have something to say about the first out player in the NHL, and they’re all going to want a piece of the story, and for a good while, it’s going to feel like they want a piece of you.”

“And a piece of Eric.”

“Yes, and a piece of Eric.”

Jack took a moment to focus on his breathing, and his father spoke again.

“For what it’s worth, he really is a remarkable young man,” Bob said. “I know you’re just getting used to each other, and maybe this isn’t something you would be thinking about yet if it wasn’t for this little tempest in a teapot, but don’t get ahead of yourself, and talk to Eric. That’s the biggest thing. You aren’t going through this alone, so don’t act like you are.”

“But Eric wouldn’t be involved in this at all if it wasn’t for me,” Jack said.

“And you wouldn’t be involved in it if it wasn’t for him, mon fils,” Bob replied.

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Jack said.

“No, of course you aren’t,” Bob said. “And you don’t have to convince anyone of that. Now, it’s very late, and even though I don’t have a game tomorrow, I need to sleep. I imagine you need to sleep even more. Will you be able to rest?”

“I think so,” Jack said. “Je t’aime, Papa.”

“Je t’aime aussi,” Bob said. “Tell Eric I said hello when you talk to him in the morning.”

*****************************

Eric made it through the morning rush with the help of three strong cups of coffee and determination that he wasn’t going to let a Twitter troll affect his job.

He’d found it hard to sleep, and woke to check his Twitter accounts at midnight and again at 2 a.m. There wasn’t much more than there had been the day before: a few jokes about Bad Bob Zimmermann robbing the cradle (he was an adult, thank you very much!) but nothing too threatening or mean-spirited. There were also lots of tweets from customers of Sugar ‘n’ Spice defending both his character and his baked goods.

@bbzimmermann has probably just fallen in love with the mini pies, one said. I did!

Another said, Why wouldn’t @bbzimmermann go to the best bakery in Providence when he’s in town? And @omgcheckplease would be fun to watch a game with!

Those made Eric smile. The ones that were a little more, well, personal (I’d make a play for @omgcheckplease if he swung my way! He looks delicious!) made him squirm a bit, but it was hard to think of a way to respond that wouldn’t seem encouraging, or overreacting, or something. So he ignored them.

On the upside, Sugar ‘n’ Spice had gained over a hundred new followers; @omgcheckplease had a few dozen more. So there was that.

The morning rush was busier than usual, but nothing like lunch had been the day before. Jack texted when he got up that he’d call after morning skate, when he had more time and the bakery should be quieter. Jamie called shortly after nine, and Eric called her back once he had the dishes washing and he could sit in the back and talk.

“We still don’t know who FalcsFanRI is,” she said, “but it looks like their IP address is in Boston.”

“Boston?”

“Yeah, go figure,” she said. “Anyway, like I said, the account’s relatively new, and they hadn’t put much of anything up until yesterday. They liked and retweeted some of our stuff, a couple of other tweets about the team, but nothing personal. They follow you too, both omgcheckplease and the bakery.”

“OK,” Eric said. “I don’t know who it could be. I’ll think about it. Any advice about responding?”

“I don’t think we should respond directly, but I was thinking about maybe posting a pic of you and both Zimmermanns from the game, something about how the Falcs enjoy it when their families can come and support them? I don’t think we’d have to identify you at this point. But would you mind if we did, if someone asks?”

“No, that’s fine,” Eric said. “After this whole thing I’d think anyone who was paying attention knows who I am. I’ll tweet like usual -- the lunch special, stuff like that. Nothing about hockey.”

“OK. I’ll run that by George, but expect us to do that,” Jamie said. “I’ll check in with you again tomorrow about this time, if nothing blows up today. And you can call me anytime if you need to. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, thanks for all your help, Jamie,” Eric said. “I guess I don’t understand why anyone cares.”

Eric had finished restocking the cases for lunchtime -- and noting that the bakery hadn’t been empty at all during the morning -- when his phone rang again.

“I’m going to take this in the back, Chowder,” Eric said before answering.

He waited until he was through the kitchen door before connecting the call.

“Jack! You doing OK?”

“Ouais, I’m fine, Eric,” Jack said. “The question is, how are you? No more weird tweets?”

“Not yet,” Eric said. “Nothing new, at least. Jamie said she’s going to post a picture of me with both your parents from the game, as long as it’s OK with your dad. But it’s been quiet so far. I was just about to tweet something about our specials before lunchtime.”

“And you’re really OK?” Jack said. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, really, Jack, I’m fine,” Eric said. “I mean, I told my vlog subscribers I was gay before I told anyone else, so maybe I’m used to communicating with people I don’t know in real life.”

“You seemed upset yesterday,” Jack said.

Good Lord, Eric thought. Why was he being so persistent?

“I was, a bit,” he allowed. “It was just strange, having people say things -- or at least speculate about things -- about that weren’t true. When I came out on my vlog, I only had a couple of hundred subscribers, and I’m sure most of them already assumed I was gay before I said anything, and no one else who might have seen it really cared at all whether I was gay or not. What was different, I guess, was having strangers act like they had an interest, and to have them doing it at your dad’s expense, well, that rubbed me the wrong way. But your dad seemed pretty calm about it last night.”

“Yeah, when I talked to him he said he’d been through worse,” Jack said. “But he also said that if people find out about us, it’s going to be worse.”

“But it’ll at least be true,” Eric said.

Jack snorted. “Depends on what they say.”

“Jack, honey, I can’t pretend that I’m looking forward to all the talk,” Eric said. “And I know if we keep spending so much time together, there will be talk. But let’s not borrow trouble before we have to.”

“Maybe it’s good that I’m on the road now, eh?” Jack said. “Give things time to calm down?”

“Hush,” Eric said. “I’d always rather be able to see you.”

#my fic #zimbits #omgcheckplease #omg check please #neighbors au

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mandimormon-blog · 7 years

Text

Seaweed and Dirty Filters

Typically, as I type a blog, I have bullet points or a keyword list stored as a note, on my phone. Not because I forget everything, but I forget everything UNLESS someone offends me. In the case, I remember the exact year, day, weather, time, location, minute, what clothing we both were wearing, and whether or not I was having a good hair day.

Last week, as I pecked away at the keyboard, I forgot a little gem. It’s probably because my mind shifts focus dozens of times and when I remember where I was originally going with something, it’s too late. It’s posted.

Picture this. We go about the same weekly, school routine, day-by-day. We arise and shine forth, extra early or most of the time not a minute before 7:00 a.m. expecting to be arriving at school sometime between 7:55-8:05. A long time ago, (like last school year), I used to be up before the sun, getting five miles in and starting morning chores long before 7:00 a.m. rolled around. This year, however, my son began all-day Kindergarten meaning, I have about seven hours a day to get household chores underway, a run in, weights in, and all of the errand running done (because let’s face it – it’s easier to fly solo when purchasing the weekly groceries). I require my sleep. I even get lots of stars on my FitBit for getting enough sleep per night. Yep, that feels like a participation trophy but it’s a good feeling to get enough sleep not to mention healthy, so I’m not ashamed.

Back to rolling out of bed at 7:00, dragging my feet down the stairs, “inspiring” my children to get dressed in the clothing they laid out for school, the evening before. Mamma-pedia’s Definitition of “inspiring” means bribing; repeating up to, but not more than 12 times; announcement of privileges; threats of privilege-removal; threats of calling the parent (in the restroom upstairs) into the conversation; and shouting, as a final resort.

Then a breakfast compromise, naturally, because no two children enjoy the same thing at the same time. Then hair. Oh hair. Have you met my middle child? Undoubtedly, everywhere we go this little chicky receives a minimum of three compliments on her naturally curly loose locks. Caring for these gorgeous locks isn’t a beautiful process. This little girl is very independent and stubborn. Every. Single. Day. Is a battle over the hair. Every. Day. If I choose to pull it into a ponytail or bun, she’ll remove it immediately because it wasn’t her choice. After the effort to catch her running around the couch, bar, up the stairs, around the table, and spray detangling all over her, the floor, sometimes even my husband if she has to be lovingly restrained, hair styled and then it’s removed, in the blink of an eye, you can only imagine how frustrated I become. Actually, not that frustrated anymore. I can’t be fazed. I just look like the Kermit memes or the emoji with its mouth closed straight across and eyes shut.

Hair, eventually check, usually minutes before 8:00. Then it’s teeth brushing, book bag gathering, shoe placement or shouting about shoe placement, and running out the front door.

As parental blood pressures return to stable, we call on someone to give a morning family prayer, (yes, on the way to school in the truck, the whole family), and discuss the children’s agenda for the day. On this given day, it was Friday, and as we slowly inched our way closer and closer to the drop-off location. I remembered it was Friday and Jude’s show-n-tell day. I said to him, “Jude, is today show-n-tell?” His response, “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

I looked to my left and to my right. “Well, maybe we can find something in dad’s truck you can take in.” He held up a paint-stir stick, “I can take this!”

I opened the glove box and pulled out the contents. Without thinking and laughing a little, “Here’s a Book of Mormon, you could take that.” He began hopping in his seat, “Yes, Yes! I want to take that!”

I looked at my husband, who tried convincing him it probably wasn’t a good idea to take that to show-n-tell. But Jude was insistent now. He was so excited, so we couldn’t take it from him. We just hoped for the best. After dropping the children off, my husband and I conversed about how this was going to go down. I laughed and said there would probably be a note sent home with him. But, honestly, I wish I had the faith this kid has to be bold and absolutely satisfied with things I choose to do.

The day went by, that was the day we went to the temple last week, so my mother picked up the kids from school. She told us this story when we returned from our day-date. Note, she usually waits in the carline. Today, a few classes were out to recess while she waited.

She said as she was sitting in the carline she was looking around at all of the children playing on the playground. She noticed one little boy, but thought it couldn’t possibly be Jude because that child had no hat and no gloves on, this day was chilly. But then she realized that little boy absolutely had to be Jude because he was running around the blacktop, carrying a Book of Mormon in his hands.

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at this. I even pulled Jude into the conversation my mother, husband, and I had, to ask about taking his show-n-tell to recess. Sure enough, he let us know he did have it, it took it outside for both recesses.

Jude seems to be on a roll and has been for a couple of years now. I’ve always heard the baby of the family is the comedian.

On Wednesday, I was terribly busy. I know you’re probably thinking ‘Yeah right’. Valid. Truly valid. But I dabble in a lot of extracurricular activities. For one, I run. I like to 5-6x a week. So maybe an hour, hour and a half a day. Weightlifting. That’s 20-40 minutes. On this particular day, I had to run, weightlift, runner-bathe… ‘Mamma-pedia’s Definition of “runner-bathe” – wash face, blow-dry sweat into hair, wipe off body with a damp towel and a little bit of soap, air dry, dress for the day.’

Then my mother and I ran over to Crawfordsville and hit up Kroger. Have I mentioned how much I love their organics and gluten-free selections? Wow, I do. Then since Wednesdays are early release, I ran inside, make a salad, inhaled it, and went to the school for pick-up. I hadn’t really been home all day. I didn’t realize how much of an impact this would make on my children until we all walked through the front door and Reis, stopped dead in her tracks, “Mom, why is the house a mess?”

Job Security. That’s what I wanted to say. I clean, clean, clean, every day. A normal day those three kiddies walk in and everything is put away, the counters are clean, all articles of clothing clean and put away, the house is fragrant of essential oils from mopping or the diffuser, and even sometimes dinner is in the crockpot or ready to be prepped. This particular day, not so much… the cereal bowls were still on the counter from the morning, a hair brush on the table, detangler out, hair cream. Sink with several dishes, the counters weren’t wiped down a couple of pairs of shoes appeared sporadically on the floor, the couch was looking crazy. The zipper is broken, so sometimes the guts of the couch hang out, you know what I mean? The white stuffing. Toys on the living room floor. A hamper full of clothing next to the washer and dryer. Barstools disheveled.

As she said this I didn’t take offense, past the job security tidbit, I was like, “You are right. I have to clean it now.” I’m not OCD. Not even a little bit. My sink had blue clay residue for a couple of days around the bowl and like I mentioned my couch is undressed half of the time. If I were OCD that brown couch would be curbside. I just have a routine I go about day-by-day, thinking no one noticed, but now I know they do.

So, here I am straightening things up, Jude’s following me around at this point, discussing something with me. We usually have very adult conversations together. I opened up the utility closet door to place the vacuum back. While it was open I hung another bag up on its hook, the furnace filter caught my eye. It was still dust-covered.

To my son, I commented, “I want to text your dad and ask him to get a furnace filter, but I’m afraid to, since I’ve already asked him, nine times.”

Jude replied, “Maybe he’s getting it for your birthday.”

Backing it up, on Monday my girls (plural) had 4-H meetings. Remi is now old enough for Mini 4-H. Reis has done 4-H since 3rd grade, but not Mini. I, however, did Mini 4-H in second grade. In second grade when times were simpler. For example, you could bake cookies or build a birdhouse.

In 2017, you can pick from a slew of projects, similar to the bigger kiddos, and this year you can even get a mentor and show a smaller livestock animal. No cows.

Reis had her first meeting of the year, too. It was very successful and she’s stoked a friend of hers is taking a project this year.

Tuesday was Valentine’s Day. That day was crazier than the Wednesday, I’d described. But only because I choose for it to be crazy and I was crazy-proud of that.

I set my alarm a little bit earlier than normal. It wasn’t 7 a.m. prying myself out of bed like a zombie. I had a hop in my step, because I had big plans for the fam.

While they were sleeping, I made gluten-free blueberry muffins, homemade gluten-free fresh strawberry and chocolate chip pancakes, and fresh strawberries cut into hearts, with “pink milk” (aka Strawberry Milk – we don’t even do regular milk in our home, we usually opt for almond everything but this was a special day).

I gave my husband a box of one of his favorite kinds of a candy with a cheesy message on it and later in the day, I made him a loaf of gluten-free banana bread. He said it was good. But to me, the texture appeared very dry. I couldn’t try it, AIP still going strong. Speaking of AIP, I read the guide to reintroduction, a few days ago, and laughed out loud. It said as you reintroduce a food group, you should take a small nibble of the food, wait 15 minutes, consume it and then don’t reintroduce anything else new for five days to note your reactions. AIP Founders must not understand my life. If I’m trying a food I’ve been forced to avoid for 30 days and my meals consist of vegetables with the exception of nightshades, no grains, no seeds, no nuts, no dairy, no soy, no processed foods – do you think I can just take a little nibble of something? The answer is no. No, I inhale that food and then eat more of it. I did try an egg yolk a few days ago, so I’m going to venture to say it didn’t affect me in a bad way, and I should probably hard-boil more eggs. Oh, the sacrifice!

I ran, tossed around some weights, and got ready. I went by the flower shop to send an arrangement to someone and noticed I was the only female, aside from the staff, all men on Valentine’s Day. I was planning Miss Remi’s Valentine’s Party. Of course, I had been for the past couple of weeks. I delegated almost everything, but I still took in my insulated bag of backups, in case they were needed and a gluten-free party mix.

That morning, I decided to attend Jude’s party, too, since it was a half hour before Remi’s party. After his was over, I rushed to Remi’s, and feeling great about that one, because the moms did an exceptional job with their delegations. Did I mention Remi and I both wore our matching Mommy and Me LuLaRoe Valentine Leggings? We so did. She even wanted me to wear them to match her. I had so many compliments because of how “festive” my leggings were.

I began to walk down the hallway, headed out of the building after her party, but noticed my oldest daughter in gym class. I tried discreetly tapping on the window but it was probably super loud in there, so I just let myself in and yelled her name. I’m sure she wasn’t embarrassed at all.

She and her friend came quickly to me, probably hoping I didn’t yell her name, again. I asked if she’d had her party and they told me it was in the next ten minutes. I told them, I would probably come then.

Classroom parties must be my weakness, because I know I described previously how proud I was at the beginning of the school year when I only signed up for one party per child so I wasn’t so stressed going to three parties and making three contributions or more for each holiday.

I ran outside and moved my vehicle away from the bus lane, and went in for round three. I unloaded a few things that wouldn’t be needed and reloaded my Mary Poppins insulated bag. I was able to contribute a gluten-free party mix to this one, for my little Celiac Lady.

After school, I rolled out gluten-free (do you wish you had a quarter for every time I said gluten-free?) pizza dough, I made from scratch. I was crossing my fingers it would taste good to my children. This variety, how about I say GF now? GF anything carby – like breads, buns, donuts – are rarely yummy. They usually have a funky texture and grainy taste. I always speculate it’s because it’s crushed up almonds or some other kind of nut. It lacks fluff.

I made a huge heart shaped pizza for the children. My husband isn’t a pizza fan. (Which I’ve heard means Telestial Kingdom for him.) So I made one of his favorite meals (that my children don’t like); Chicken Tetrazzini.

Chorus for Reis, Kettlebell Tabata for me, and Ballet for Remi – by the end of the day, I was about to die from exhaustion. The pep in my step had long gone away. And I felt like that zombie I described I usually feel like when waking up of a morning.

On Friday night of this week (not to be confused with last week, since I did talk about that, too), we went on a double date to Fujiyama – the new hibachi restaurant in Danville. What a neat experience! We were seated at a grill and the chef entertained us while cooking our table’s food. Lots of fire and laughter, the food everyone got looked out of this world. My husband was particularly fond of the rice, which was surprising. My GF food had to be prepped in the kitchen. Boring, I know.

My friends and husband even made fun of me because I got a seaweed salad and sashimi. Even more funny, when I tried to tell the waitress I couldn’t have gluten, she asked me what I was saying 4x in a row. Then finally she was like, “Oh, gluten-free?” I guess the “free” on the end clues people in.

When I was asking about the details of the seaweed salad, she told me none of the people she’s ever waited on had ever gotten it. Danville doesn’t eat seaweed, I guess.

I am really excited to take our children there to have this food experience! After we finished up, we choose to bowl. We also agreed Covington was a good idea. Called, they said there was open bowling so we arrived. The parking lot seemed swamped. When we went in we were told it would be hours because the school was there. Sure enough, high-schoolers, high-schoolers everywhere.

Bummed because we were just in Danville, mind you ¾ of us are Mormon, we decided to go into the bar, where no one was, and play pool. We drank gigantic ice waters and played pool. The most stressed out I’d been all week, trying to figure out which pocket to aim for. ;-)

Reis had a couple of friends spend the night, so they were quite busy being social butterflies. On Saturday, Remi had another basketball game, where she made three baskets and had a few assists, too. Jude was able to attend baseball camp, where he hit the ball multiple times and loved that. Then Allen took him out for a Daddy-Son Date, Lazer Tag and lunch.

Saturday was a busy, busy day, too, but it was gorgeous out. Today, piggybacked the busy-ness. We had a Youth Fireside after church. I think I’ve said before, we have a three hour block for church. I have a meeting beforehand, unless my husband is out of the building, then I go on time. Throughout the year, our youth ages 12-17, have Firesides or meetings they select the topic and speaker and we eat lunch together and listen before going home.

Today, was the Standards Fireside. Our Young Women had submitted questions and scenarios they’ve encountered and the panel (they choose) of ‘cool and trendy’ adults, answered them with life experience and the “why”. The meal was my task. So, I had to prep everything for ‘Walking Tacos’ or ‘Tacos in a Bag’. I made a few up and they smelled awesome. I’d heard from several people, too, they were awesome. I pretended my lettuce with mushrooms and cucumber in oil and vinegar and apple was actually a Walking Taco. You’re killin’ me, AIP. Sundays are usually a binge eating day for me, since I’m gone for so many hours, I like my body reacts as if it’s important I refuel and tank up, just in case I’m gone away from the fridge for that period of time, again.

Here I sit, it’s now dark outside, and I need to go to my happy place. My bed.

#LDS #mormon #mommyblog

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365elephantsoap · 4 years

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IN THIS COUNTRY, HOUSE OWNS YOU

There are things about home ownership that I wish I had known before buying a house. I’ve been told by every adult “Buy a house! You’re throwing money away by renting!”. When I bought my house, my monthly payment dropped by almost $400 and I was all “RENTING IS A SCAM!” Then the sewer backed up in the basement and I realized my landlord was not going to fix this because I was the landlord. I didn’t know how to snake a drain. Calling a plumber sounded like something only suckers did. So I poured a bunch of chemicals down the drain.

Then I called a plumber.

Michael has done a fairly good job of fixing things around the house. It does come with its fair share of handyman’s Tourettes though and I’ve learned to stay out of his way in these moments. Soon after he moved in, the springy thingy system on the garage door broke on one side. We were all really lucky no one was in the garage when it happened because apparently wire ricochets all around. But now the garage door weighed fifty million pounds. Michael, with some blood, sweat and a sailor’s vocabulary managed to lift the door enough to get a carjack under it. Then he was able to use the carjack to lift the garage door enough to replace the springy thingy. I stayed well out of his way for all of this and this was the beginning of an unsaid agreement between us. I would just let him do what needed to be done. No matter how much he yelled, grunted, sweated or cursed. I would just leave him to it. The only times I did not just hand the whatever needs to be fixed to him was when the tiles started falling off the bathroom walls and when the basement flooded. Both of those times I stepped in because I knew the job surmounted our physical abilities (to not kill each other).

A few weeks ago, the furnace stopped working. It sounded like it was going to kick on, but then would not kick on. Michael did his research and discovered that there was some sensor that he needed to pull out and clean or rub with sandpaper. He did this, put the sensor back in and voila! The furnace kicked into action. He strutted around the house for days because he had fixed the furnace. He told someone he works with about it and the woman responded with “oh yeah. Sensor. You have to clean it.” Then he was shocked that this was something he had never heard of before. Why isn’t this common knowledge?!? I wouldn’t have known to do this. I’m not even sure I know how to remove the furnace panel. Then Friday afternoon, Michael calls me. He tells me to NOT touch the thermostat when I get home. He was in the process of rushing out to the only repair store that carried a certain part for the furnace. This time it was the ignitor that went out. He made it to the store just as they were closing, retrieved the part, came home and then replaced the part. We had heat! He fixed the furnace!

Except the new part was not exactly like the old one.

I woke up around 7 AM Sunday morning and the house was cold. I sighed and then decided not to wake Michael. There really wasn’t anything he could do at that time on a Sunday morning any way. I had prepped dough for another (failed) attempt at making sourdough bread. This required the oven temperature to be set to 500 degrees, which heated up the house well enough. Michael got up a few hours later, came out of his room and then stuck his ear to the floor vent outside his room. I said “Yeah, the furnace isn’t working.” He took his flashlight and headed down to the basement. Then he came back up and called a service repair guy. He looked at me and said “Get your big credit card out because we might be replacing the furnace today.” Then we both sat on the couch with queasy guts waiting on the service repair guy. Our service guy, Jerry, showed up and took a look at the furnace. He pulled out the ignitor that Michael had installed on Friday and it had shorted out because it wasn’t exactly like the old one. Jerry put in a new ignitor (a universal one that is easier to replace), told us when the best deals were for buying an AC and to not let them tell us we needed new duct work when they install the AC because what we have is just fine. It cost us around $300, which is a whole lot cheaper than a new furnace.

Later on Michael and I were making enchiladas, both of us standing near the stove waiting on the oil for the tortillas to heat up. Michael uses tongs to dunk a corn tortilla in the hot oil and then places it my baking dish for me to fill and roll. He started playing around, snapping at me with the metal tongs. I put up karate hands in defense and then told him he better stop because if he hurt me, I’d have to kick him out. Michael gasped and said “But I fixed the furnace!” I immediately responded with “Jerry fixed the furnace!” This caused him to double over with laughter, but when he had regained his breath he said “but I called Jerry.” I had to give him that because I was never more shocked when I heard him call the repair guy in the first place. I thought for sure his next step was going to be taking the furnace completely apart and that this was the winter we would die.

This will not be the winter we die… from furnace failure.

#home ownership #handyman #Michael

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oaklandcw-blog · 6 years

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Soup

Historians will say that the history of soup is probably as old as the history of cooking. Meaning, people have been cooking various meat and vegetables together in some sort of broth since as far back as about 20,000 BC. Throughout history, soups have been the meal choice of everybody. Whether rich or poor, stationary villages or nomadic group, health nuts or regular people, there is a type of soup that pleases the masses. The reason for this is the diversity of ingredients and types of soup. Royals would have the finest herbs and spices in their soups while commoners could have soup made out of their homegrown potatoes. Its versatility has made it one of the most popular dishes, and something that has remained part of people’s diets throughout time.

For Thanksgiving, my fifth grade class made an art project out of beans. All of the parents donated different kinds of beans, we put them in a bowl, and glued them to an outline of a turkey on card-stock. For some reason, we spent weeks working on this project, and it was easily my favorite thing I did that whole year. The different patterns on the beans made really good feathers, and the different shades of browns, greens, and reds were the perfect fall colors for a turkey. Something about gluing the beans on to a piece of paper was extremely relaxing to me and I looked forward to it every day. When my turkey was finished, I was very happy with how it turned out, and my parents displayed it on every Thanksgiving after that. The thing I remember most about the bean-turkey project though, was what happened afterwards. A boy in my class’s mother was French, and she had a old family recipe for bean soup. She took all of our left over beans, washed them (they had to be full of germs after 26 of 10 year olds spent the last few weeks digging through them to find what the needed.) and made the most delicious bean soup I have ever eaten.

Recipe for the best butternut squash soup you will ever eat (according to Pinterest user Home Stories A to Z.) Prep time: two hours. Number of servings: six. Ingredients: two butternut squashes, halved and seeded; one honey crisp or pink lady apple, peeled cored, and sliced; two tablespoons of olive oil; salt and pepper to taste; half a teaspoon of nutmeg; half a teaspoon of cinnamon; four tablespoons of butter; one cup of finely diced red onion; one cup of finely diced leeks; one teaspoon of fresh ginger (or half a teaspoon of dry ginger); five cups of chicken or vegetable stock; half a cup of heavy whipping cream. The first step is to roast the squash and the apple. Preheat your oven to 375 degrees. Peel and slice the apple and cut the squash in half, making sure to get all of the seeds out too. Put both the squash and apple on a cookie tray, with the squash cut side down, and brush with olive oil and season with salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Bake for 90 minutes. This is the most time consuming step, and may be done the night before. Once the squash is tender, take out of the oven and let cool. You will then be able to scrape the squash off of the skin. It should peel off easily. Next, you must puree the cooked squash and apple. This can be done in a food processor, a blender, or with a hand blender. Set this mixture aside while you prepare the rest of the ingredients. Dice the onions, leeks, and ginger. Stir them over low heat in the pot you want to use for the soup along with the butter. Do not let the vegetables brown, cook them until the onions are clear and tender. Finally add in the rest of the ingredients. After adding in the squash mixture, the cinnamon, and whichever stock you choose, bring it to a boil and then let it simmer for 15-20 minutes. After it has simmered, remove from the heat and whisk in the heavy whipping cream. This will add the extra thickness it needs. Serve immediately and garnish with rosemary if desired.

In medieval times, one of the most popular ways to eat soup was in a bread bowl. This practice is still seen today, but was a status wealth and power back then. The bread bowls were called “trenchers” and were also sometimes flat like a plate. At the end of the meal, the bread would sometimes be eaten with the leftover soup or dipped in a sauce, but oftentimes given as alms to the poor. Over time stone and ceramic plates and bowls became more commonly used, but the bread bowl is still a fun reminder of medieval times today.

My father, being the interesting middle-aged man that he is, has many distinct quirks and traits that stem from none other than his father himself. We often tease my brother that this is what he has to look forward to when we watch my father and grandfather over season their food or zone out and not pay any attention to the conversation. One of the most distinct quirks though is his strange, short-lived obsessions. My dad has done everything. From wood working to learning to play guitar, if he wants to learn how to do something, he will spend months at a time doing so. Recently his obsessions have been more culinary based. He likes to learn new recipes and perfect them until the rest of my family is sick of eating them. The past few winters, his obsession has been with making the best soups and stews he can find. He started by buying a pressure cooker, and every Sunday when he goes grocery shopping, he picks out ingredients for the latest soup he wants to try. This means that all winter long, our Sunday evening family dinners consist of soup. Not that I’m complaining though, he has found some pretty good recipes in the process. And we can no longer go out to dinner without him ordering a soup and then saying “Jillie, take a bite of this. It’s so good! I need to find a recipe and make it myself.”

“The foods we eat do say a lot about who we are as people,” says Brian Wansink, who in late 2000, did a study to see if a person’s soup choices reflect their personality traits. His hypothesis turned out to be correct, and he found many links between soup preferences and personality traits. He surveyed adults over telephone and asked their opinions on 12 common soups. From the 12 types of soup he was able to create “soup personality traits” that everyone who liked the soups had. For example, Wansink found that if you like chicken noodle the best, you are more likely to be stubborn and less like to be outdoorsy. And if you said tomato was your favorite, you would most likely be an adventurous, outgoing, and very social person. He came to the conclusion that soup affects personality traits because it is a comfort food and has the power to remind people of certain childhood memories.

It is 8:00 PM on a Thursday evening. You are just getting back to your dorm room after a long day of class. You feel your stomach start to rumble, but you don’t feel like going somewhere and paying for your food. So you go to your pantry and pull out the quickest and easiest meal you can think of, ramen noodles. Ramen is one of the most cliche meals for college students today, but its origin is actually much deeper than one would think. There are three main theories on how ramen became such a staple in Japanese culture. The first, and least likely, states that a feudal lord, Tokugawa Mitsukuni, was the first person to eat ramen. According to the story, he was given advice from a Chinese refugee on what to put in his soup to make it tastier. And hence, ramen was born. The second theory, and what most say what actually happened, is that ramen was brought to Japan from China in the nineteenth century. It was more just broth and noodles then, not filled with the extras that people add today, but ramen none the less. The last theory is very similar to the first, in that it is an old wise tale. It is a story claiming that a single shop owner, Osaka Kenichi, started selling the ramen that is widely seen today at his small restaurant in Tokyo. Nobody knows for sure exactly how ramen became such an iconic staple food of Japan, but everyone who has tasted it can agree that its invention was a good one.

My mother’s family is fairly small. My grandparents immigrated to Metro-Detroit from Italy, after getting married in the mid 1960s. They left their big Italian families at home to start a new life in the states. Even after having four children, they remained a very tight knit family and created new traditions of their own. One of those traditions is our Christmas Eve dinner every year where the shining star is my grandmother’s home made pasatini soup. It is an interesting soup that is hard to acquire a taste for. It is a beef broth with homemade noodles made out of parmesan cheese and breadcrumbs. When we were children, my cousins and I refused to eat it because we said the noodles looked like caterpillars, but as we got older we realized its unique flavor and have started to enjoy it much more. It is one of the few secret family recipes my grandmother knows and one of my favorite Christmas traditions.

Until recent years, soup was a meal that was typically eaten at home. It was something warm to eat on a cold winter night, and easily made since it is typically sold in a can. However, what if you were looking for a good soup on the go? That is where Panera Bread came into the picture. Especially since around 2014, Panera has become one of the top fast food restaurants, because of the fact that it is a quick and easy place to get soup. Their menu features a wide variety of soups and salads, ranging from fan favorites like the broccoli cheddar, to seasonal treats like the autumn squash soup. Panera really stepped up their game, and gave customers a place to get the comfort food they want, but in a quick and manageable fashion. They also started to compete with other fast food restaurants by adding more technology features, like a rewards app and kiosks in stores. In 2016 they also began deliveries, putting them to rivalries with pizzerias as well. Panera has built itself into one of America’s favorite places to get soup, and have changed the way people think about eating the soothing foods they want.

#featured

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