We had an eggplant and it needed to be cooked. I was also in the mood to try something different-Welcome the birth of the Eggplant Lasagna Tower.
*1 Eggplant, Peeled and Sliced about ¼ inch thick
*4 eggs Beat
*Grated Parmesan Cheese
*2 Tablespoons each of Oregano, Onion Powder, Salt, Red Pepper Flakes, Italian Seasonings, Adobo Light, and Black Pepper
*Trader Joes Rustico Sauce, or other low carb Marinara
*2 Tablespoons Butter
*½ Cup Heavy Cream
*3 Cloves Garlic, Minced
*2 Cups Half and Half
*1 Cup Shredded Mozzarella
*Preheat Oven to 375F.
*In a bowl place the beaten eggs. In another bowl add the parmesan and all spices.
*Take an eggplant slice and cover with the parmesan cheese, then dip it in the eggs, then back in the parmesan cheese.
*Place that slice on a baking sheet covered in parchment paper.
*Repeat for all the slices.
*Bake the eggplant for 20 minutes, if needed flip halfway through.
*While the eggplant is cooking make the cheese sauce.
*In a large saucepan on med-high heat, place 2 tablespoons butter and minced garlic and melt.
*Add In half and half and heavy cream and bring to a soft boil.
*Add In Mozzarella cheese, lower to medium-high heat and stir constantly. Once the cheese is melted turn to medium heat and let it simmer, stirring every few minutes.
*While the cheese sauce is simmering heat up the tomato sauce.
*Once the eggplant is done take a large slice and place it on a plate. Add a spoonful of marinara, and then a spoonful of cheese sauce. Repeat for how high you want it. End with some more marinara and cheese sauce on top.
*Repeat for how ever many towers you need.
Kevin really enjoyed this recipe and I enjoyed that it was lower in carbs. Please be aware that Eggplant isn’t completely low carb, just lowER carb, so I made my tower smaller with the smaller pieces.
Thanks for reading and please send me photos of your tower pictures!
This is Heimdall, my pretty little angel bear. She has lots of ear hair and furry feet. She likes snuggling, yogurt, eggs, and milk from my cereal bowl. She is good at catchin’ mice and throwing all my stuff off the tables.
not combat rations, thats for sure. ive had enough of those for a lifetime.
but my latest food hit has been pretzel bites. pretzels are an awesome food but rarely available fresh when i want to eat them, which is usually when i’ve woken up in the middle of the night. they’re relatively labor-intensive to make, which is good once the insomnia sets in. keeps me busy. plus, pretzels are sweet on the inside, salty on the outside, just like me. except im also salty on the inside. dont listen to steve.
when i make pretzels, it’s by the metric ton, so the recipe i have makes approximately a million of them.probably you will not want this many, because you don’t have thor or steve to help you eat them. or clint. probably you could just shove some into a vaccum cleaner instead, thatd be about the same. so divide the recipe in half or quarters for normal human consumption. take 11 cups of flour, 1 cup of brown sugar, ½ cup of oil and mix. 4 cups of warm water gets 11 teaspoons of yeast and sits for a bit, then goes in the flour mix. then mix it and let it rise for about an hour. the dough should be sticky to the touch and absolutely awful to get out of your metal fingers. while you wait, wander your living area for some poor sucker to rope into helping you, because stage 2 is easier with help. or you can sit down and wonder why you talk yourself into doing things like this. consider your choices. it’s already too late to go back to sleep; youve got dough rising.
get a deep fry pan or sauce pan and fill with about two inches of water. bring it to a rolling boil on the stove and add in three or so tablespoons of baking soda. you really can’t do too much of that, as long as the water’s not getting super cloudy. preheat the oven to 400 degrees. wake steve up and tell him he has to help.
get a couple egg yolks in a bowl with a basting brush, and find some kosher salt or sea salt. grease up a few pans.
flour a surface and roll the dough out until it’s between ½ and ¼ in thick. get your poor unsuspecting minion to cut out bite sized bits. i use an inch and a half circle cookie cutter, but you can use whatever you want, really. tony used a laser cutter last time i let him help, which was…not ideal.
drop the cut outs into the boiling soda water, and let them sit for a few seconds, then fish them out. you can use your robot hand for that, but again, you’ll be getting dough out of it for days. i let them drip dry on a cookie drying sheet, but you could also drop them on a clean dishtowel i guess. you just dont want them to be wet when you put them on the cookie sheet.
they’re not gonna expand a ton, so just stuff em up close to each other on the sheet. paint the tops with egg yolks and sprinkle with salt. pop em in the oven for 10-15 min or until golden brown.
repeat the boiling-and-baking until you want to die, then keep going until you run out of dough. while the last batch is baking, take a half a stick of butter, a quarter cup of flour and make a roux in a saucepan. add two cups of milk and two cups of cheddar cheese, some salt and pepper to taste, and a quarter cup of mustard, give or take. im showing you how much to use with my hands but you cant see it. sorry, i dont really measure stuff most of the time. heat and stir till it’s melty and amazing, and dip pretzels on in there.
by the time you have completed this process and eaten as many pretzel bites as you want–and there will be enough. it’s a dang big recipe–you will want to enter a food coma and sleep forever. or for 70 years or so.
He reaches for his grace to find that it’s gone, but his hands are still there, so he reaches out with those, instead. He claws his way up and out of the cold and damp and crushing weight, holding his breath, chest aching.
As soon as he breaks the surface, he lies there, still half buried, and gasps in lungful after lungful of cold, fresh air.
It’s only when his breathing finally calms that he pulls himself the rest of the way out of the ground. He tries to stand but winds up falling to all fours, fabric of his damp clothes chafing against his knees, his elbows. He settles for kneeling, instead, as he tries in vain to shake the sand from his hair and clothes, wipe it from his skin.
As the sun finally peeks over the mountains, he twists his head, looks over his shoulder.
They buried him where he fell. In the early morning light, he can make out the shape of his own damaged wings seared onto the ground, stretching out on either side of where he lay. There is no cross marking his grave, no cairn, just a small circle of carefully placed rocks and a pair of familiar bootprints not yet washed away by the elements.
Castiel turns back around. He rises slowly to his feet and stumbles into the house.
It’s Kirby’s 25th anniversary! The perfect way to celebrate is to bake him a cake! However, we are not going to bake just any cake! We will be baking the famous strawberry shortcake that you see in many of Kirby’s adventures!
INGREDIENTS: Makes 9-inch Cake 4 eggs 1 ½ cup sugar 1 ½ cake flour 4 tablespoons melted butter 5 tablespoons milk Mint Cookies
Bunch of Strawberries 2 cup heavy cream 4 tablespoons powdered sugar
Preheat oven to 340F. Whisk eggs in bowl then add sugar and mix until incorporated Over boiling hot water put the bowl of egg mixture over the hot water and mix until sugar is dissolved and is warm to touch. Beat mixture on high for 3-4 mins then lower speed and beat for 1 more minute.
Japanese strawberry shortcake is a genoise cake, made by beating air into the eggs to make it rise rather than using a chemical leavening agent like baking soda or baking powder.
Add flour into the batter and mix in ¼ths and mix until incorporated. Add melted butter and milk. Fold them in until blended. Pour into cake pan and bake for 30-35 minutes. Cool cake before frosting. Cut off the top of the cake to make it level. Cut into 3 slices. Combine heavy cream and sugar in bowl and whip until soft peaks form. On each layer of cake dab the simple syrup and cover with cream then place sliced strawberries on top of the cream. Then spread another layer of cream. Repeat again with next layer but don’t add strawberries Place the second layer of cake on top with jam side down. Frost the entire cake with the whipped cream. Decorate the top of the cake
warnings: this doesn’t have any warnings because i’m a clean girl lmao but I did mention boobs once and there are a few swear words so yeah i guess that counts?? all of this is just pure fluff.
pairing: tom holland x reader
summary: You have your own way of telling Tom you love him. It started off in high school and as your relationship went through ups and downs you never failed to remind him how much you adored him ― in your own way of course.
word count: 3.8k+
author’s note: hiii guys this is the first time i’m ever posting a full writing thing? i literally wanna thank anyone who gets through all of this i love you from the bottom of my heart :( (if u leave me feedback i will love u even more). btw i wrote this at like 3 am when i was half asleep and this might be the only thing i ever post bc i threw all my ideas into one cause i never have time to write. ok thats it i love you sm bye !!!
“Would you stop fixing your hair, Y/N? He’s gonna be here any minute.”
You sighed, rolling your eyes at your best friend. “That’s the whole point, Sabrina. He’s almost here and my hair looks like this!”
“He’s crazy about you,” she said. “He’s doesn’t care about what you look like.”
She was right. You were being silly and you didn’t know why. It wasn’t like this was your first date with Tom, but it sure as hell felt like it. Your hands were shaking from how nervous you were and you couldn’t stop nitpicking every little thing wrong with your attire.
It drove you crazy how much you still wanted to impress him.
“That’s him,” you picked up your phone, reading his text. “I gotta go.”
All your nerves had died down the second you walked out and saw him, leaning against his car. His dad had bought him the car as an early birthday/graduation present and you could still remember how excited he was when he saw it. Once you got close to him, he wrapped his fingers around your jacket, pulled you close to him and said,
“You look beautiful, love.”
His comment made you blush. It made you blush so much that you hide your face in his neck, making him laugh. He loved making you blush just for that reason, it made you all cute and flustered and if he was lucky enough, you would kiss his neck.
That was the first blush of the night.
The rest of the them were spontaneous. They happened at random times like when you would gaze out the car window or grab his free hand while he drove. Those small moments were when he wanted to remind you how beautiful you were and you didn’t realize you adored this aspect of him so much until you were sitting in a cafe.
It was the same cafe you two would visit after school to work on your assignments. Honestly, the place didn’t help you stay focused, you just loved their hot chocolate and spending time with Tom.
It’s where he decided to bring you tonight, for your fifth date as an official couple, but who’s counting?
“I don’t like british tea, Tom, you know this.” you pouted, looking at the cup in front of you.
He laughed, shaking his head because you always complained about his tea. In fact, you’ve been complaining about it since freshman year, saying there was too much sugar and milk. Being the American that you are, you liked your tea plain.
“Try it for me, Y/N. Please.”
“Fine, but you have to try this for me.” you pushed over your plain tea to him.
“Yes way”, you continued. “It’s the least you could do and- Tom!” you shouted when he picked up the sugar.
(from Irish Cooking by Publications International Ltd.)
This recipe is great with whatever berries are in season near you. I like to use the honey instead of sugar to represent the fruits of our labor as well as the honey the bees make after pollinated the food. Its a very sun representative food to me as well.
4 cups plus 1 TBLS divided
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup steel-cut oats
½ tsp cinnamon
½ tsp ground nutmeg
1/3 cup half and half ( or cream or dairy substitute)
¼ cup of brown sugar or molasses
1 cup fresh strawberries hulled and quartered
6 oz fresh blueberries
6 oz fresh blackberries
3 tsp granulated sugar or honey
Boil the water with a pinch of salt, then sprinkle in the oats and cinnamon and nutmeg as its boiling. Stir until it begins to thicken, then reduce to simmer for 35-40 min. Add in the cream/non-dairy and molasses/brown sugar.
Combine berries and water in small sauce pan, add in sugar or molasses. Bring to a simmer on medium heat. Cook 8 - 9 min or until tender and the berries still hold their shape.
Decide porridge among 4 bowls and top with the berry compote.
Honey Scones -
Sounds delicious and from the same book as above. Great for Imbolc as well.
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 TBLS brown sugar (packed)
1 TBLS baking powder
6 TBLS butter, melted
½ cup old fashioned oats
1 TBLS granulated sugar
½ tsp salt
¼ cup whipping cream
¼ cup milk
1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees. While heating line the baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. Combine flour, brown sugar, granulated sugar, baking powder, and salt. Stir in the oats. Whisk the milk, cream, melted butter and egg in a separate bowl. Stir wet ingredients into dry until the dough just comes together.
Turn dough onto a floured surface and pat dough into a ¾ in thick circle. Cut the circle into eight triangles.
Arrange triangles onto the baking sheet and bake for 12 - 15 min or until golden brown. Let cool 15 and serve warm, with butter and honey.
Feast Dishes -
Here are some side dishes that I thought up or read for your feast. These will be in less recipe format then the ones above.
Savory Strawberry Salad -
½ purple onion
1 container strawberries, rinsed and sliced into ¼ inch slices
6 - 8 roma tomatoes sliced into ¼ inch slices
2 TBLS balsamic vinegar
salt to taste
Slice onions into ¼ inch quarter rings. Add to a non-reactive bowl. Add the strawberries and tomatoes.
Add balsamic vinegar and a pinch of salt.
Place into the fridge overnight, or the freezer for 1 hour.
Remove the bowl and let come to room temperature. Serve.
Spring Salad Mix -
Add a fresh made dressing to a bag of salad mix!
Try these -
honey, lime, oilive oil and dill
raspberries, balsamic vinegar, olive oil and salt and pepper
rice wine vinegar, cilantro, lime, and canola oil
lemon, dijon mustard, clove of garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper
Simple Sides -
Irish Cheddar and fresh fruit
Fire Roasted Corn on the cob
Fire Roasted Bell Peppers dipped into a creamy dressing (Ranch)
Carrots and Celery dipped into hummus
Local fresh produce, raw and ready to eat!
Red cabbage and sliced apple slaw
Main Course -
The main dish should be something that reflects the season, and your celebration. If you are having a bon fire, hot dogs, sausages and other food roasted over the fire are appropriate.
Or fire up the barbecue and grill up some some meat! Carne asada, which is a popular summer meat to grill in SoCal, it is marinated strip steak in lime and other seasonings, and great for this holiday. Also try lime and tequila marinated chicken, grilled salmon, or hamburgers.
Not going to be outside? Try roasting or broiling in the oven. A good beef roast is great, or maybe some broiled fish.
Vegatarian? try boca burgers, or other veggie burgers, grilled portabellos with cheese on top, or some seasonal veggies on the grill! I love roasted zucchini on the barbecue or in the broiler.
Do what is good to you and appropriate for your diet/nutritional needs and what is in season. Just because the ancient Irish folk ate something at this holiday, it doesn’t mean we can’t eat what we have available or even the modern equivalent of it!
Gewurztraminer with Elderberry Syrup and fresh strawberries and blackberries
May Wine - ½ cup of dried sweet woodruff leaves, 1 bottle of Riesling wine, 1 bottle of Sekt (German sparkling wine) or champagne, ¾ cups organic strawberries, chopped. And a pinch of fresh sweet woodruff flowers for garnish
Meyer Lemonade infused with lavender and mint
Fresh brewed floral tea, such as chamomile, with honey or infused 3 flower sugar, from my other post.
Desserts - I am going to make a whole separate post for Bealtaine desserts!
I hope you enjoyed my post on the foods and recipes I put together for this year’s Beltane!
when I get rich I’m gonna pay Ngozi to reprint Check, Please! and draw me into every single frame of the comic. Every. Single. One. An Epikegster? I’m by the couch dancing b/w Olly and Wicks. Bitty and Jacks first kiss? There I am looking in the window. At breakfast I’m in an egg costume sitting snugly in Holsters bowl. My face is on the coin that decided Dex and Nurseys fate. Sometimes I can only be seen in the reflection in Jacks pupils, but you better believe I’m there.
I’ve had someone ask me why it made me happy to learn that they’d cried while reading something I wrote, which brings us back to the familiar topic of Why In Heck Are Comments Important To Fic Writers.
Listen. We’re not needy or annoying when we ask readers to leave a comment. We are only being human.
Ever since you were a kid, you’ve needed praise and encouragements to strive on, you’ve needed advice to go on, you’ve needed to share things that made you happy with other people.
You drew your family for the first time? Quick, let’s run to Mama to show her the drawing and hope she likes it. You finally got the hang of how to crack an egg in order to bake that cake your brother is fond of? Damn, now you’re gonna crack all the eggs and smile at each victory, and then cry when the egg shell falls in the bowl and hope dad isn’t going to be mad at you for failing.
You think you finally did good on this math test? You did. The 10/10 in the corner of your sheet and the teacher’s smile prove that you did a good job, that you are capable, that you can do more. You hurry home and proudly show the test to your parents, or whoever else you hold dear to your heart, and bask in the praise. You are disappointed if it never comes.
You need them to acknowledge what you did. You need them to tell you that you did well, and then you need them to repeat it again. And it will motivate you to study harder, to make them prouder by doing even better on the next test.
Why? Because of simple encouragements. Because of feedback. Positive feedback makes you want to do more. It makes you want to go further, take yourself higher because now you know that you can do it.
It’s always gonna be the same in life. High school, college - you work hard on stuff, and when you do you expect to be praised for it. Hours of pouring over that essay have to become a good report card. Getting out of bed early every morning to run have to result in admiration from others. Working late hours have to make your boss notice you and offer you a raise. Because you deserve it, because you worked hard, because you need to know that your work is appreciated.
Now you’re a fanfiction writer.
You don’t get paid for writing this story. You never will. You know you will likely get very little feedback, even if you know your story is good. Yet you still sit down and write the thing. You take hours of your free time to go over what you wrote, again and again, losing sleep and gaining anxiety over it because what if no one likes it? What if I did all this for nothing? What if?
You still write it, because despite it all you like doing it, just like you loved trying to draw your family as a kid to show it to mom.
But when you post it - you need people to see it. You need people to tell you that you did a good job. You need someone to encourage you. You’re here, throwing hours of work into the Internet void for anonymous faces to read and hopefully enjoy. Unlike original stories, you don’t mention it to friends or family because of the fanfiction stigma, because fanfiction is considered less than original stories. So, really, the only way you have to know if your writing is worth it is the comments.
And kudos, even though they are appreciated, will never tell you how a reader feels. They’ll never tell you how someone, a real person, felt while reading your story. Did they like it? Did it make them happy? Sad? What did they go through? Was it worth it? Did you convey what you wanted? Was it worth it? Is this story worth it? Is my writing worth it? Do I keep going?
What do you think?
We only want to know if we did well. Because we are simply, painfully human.
There are no words to describe the feeling a writer gets when they see the mail notification telling them they received a comment on this or that fic. No words.
When you see that “please tell me what you think ! <3” in the chapter notes, please know that what we actually mean is “I would sell my entire body and suck Satan’s d*ck if it meant you could click that little comment button and actually write something down”.
Leave comments on fics, people. It’s not hard, and it means you will get more fic in the future if you so much as encourage the writer. That’s how people work.
He laid atop his blankets, clutching to his sides. The pain ripping through his abdomen was enough to make him feel like he was shot. He’d much rather be shot. Anger was heavy in his chest as he thought about the events from earlier in the day:
He stood at the head of his table, narrowed eyed and heavy handed like he always was as he screamed at the men who sat lazily around him. He had almost finished informing his men of the large shipment of weapons that they were going to have to some how discreetly remove from the now police swarmed dock when the pain in his side started.
He blinked, not wanting to give any sign of weakness in front of the men who itched for the position his father had left for him.
‘That will be all. Get out of my house.’ He spit as a chorus of 'yes sir’s’ rang through the room.
He turned quickly when the last one had left to pour him self something, anything to take the pain away but before he could even reach out for a bottle, the glass in his hand fell out as he clutched to his side.
“Fuck!’ He yelled. Soon, two of his right hand men were by his side and lifting him up. Jackson supported him, his knees now shaking with the pain while Jinyoung ran his hands over his body, checking just incase someone somehow did something.
'Mr. Im, all your symptoms will disintegrate if you please just listen to me.’ Chulsoo, the groups personal and trusted doctor said with pleading eyes.
’'He’s not saying you have to become a grass eating hippie, for fucks sake.’ Jinyoung barked from the corner of the room where he sat with his arms crossed.
"Shut up.” he said, clutching to his still aching side.
“Look, Mr. Im. Theres a family, the head is a close friend of mine and they do personal catering. Here,’ He started while reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He pulled a small grey embossed card out and started to hand it to him before deciding against it and handing the card over to Jinyoung. 'Their quiet, they’ll come, cook and leave. You need to start taking care of yourself before others or you won’t be with us much longer.’
That was all he said before collecting his things and standing to make his way out of the room, Jinyoung following him.
He laid there, eyes still bore as the pain kicked up again, though now it was muted by the pain killers Chulsoo had given him. He scoffed at himself. '22 fucking years old and I’m bed ridden for my eating habits.’ he thought to himself, getting even more angry.
'Jaebum, I called them. There will be someone here tomorrow morning.’
"Y/n! We have a house call tomorrow morning. One of Chulsoo’s patients who needs a controlled diet. I figured since you finished with the Parks you would like to take on this family.” Your dad said, walking into the kitchen to see you already prepping for the family dinner you were about to have in your childhood home.
“Sure, why not.” You mumbled, dusting your hands from the chopped onion that had made its way from your knife to your hand.
“Only if you want to though. We can always give it to the company.” He said sitting down in front of you, the same time you mom walked into the kitchen.
“No I can do it, I need the money anyways.” You said smiling before turning your back to him to dump the onion in the already hot pan.
Dressed and ready the next morning you threw your favorite apron over your shoulder and tucked the knives your dad had gotten you for your last birthday under your arm before locking the door to your apartment and heading down to the first floor of your apartment building. The man you had communicated with after dinner told you they would send a car. You figured it’d be a taxi- Uber at best, but when a large black SUV rolled up your eyebrows rose.
A lanky, but very well dressed man stepped out of the vehicle, his flaming red hair slightly blowing out of place by the sudden wind.
“You must be y/n.” He said, his plump lips curving to form a child like grin. You nodded and stepped forward, accepting his help as he took your things from your hands.
“You can call me BamBam.” He said holding a hand out for you to enter the car.
“BamBam?” You smirked. “Thats an interesting name, why do they call you that?” You asked, not being able to put a lid on your loud mouth was something you had a problem with.
“You don’t want to know.” He winked before hooking his seatbelt.
The drive was pretty much quiet. You signed deeply and twiddled your thumbs wishing that you could have a better view of the scenery that was passing by quickly, but due to the dark tint of the windows there was no point in straining your eyes. Every once in a while you’d turn your head to look at BamBam who’s goofy smile that greeted you had faded into a stern smolder. You sighed again.
“Were here.” BamBam said clicking his seatbelt before picking up your knives and sliding out of the car. You hadn’t even realized you had turned down a long straight driveway that was lined with thick trees. That would have been so pretty to drive through. You thought to yourself, still a little sour about the whole tinted windows thing.
You turned from looking at the driveway to looking at the house. It was very impressive, rich red brick that had a thin blanket of ivy running up one corner. There must have been at least fourteen windows across the top floor which, if every room had two windows, would mean in the front of the house alone there were seven rooms.
“How many am I cooking for anyways?” You said. You clearly heard your father say ONE of Chulsoo’s patients.
“There are seven of us in the house. Were all big boys though we can make our own food. You’re only responsible for cooking for one of us.” BamBam said as he led you through the front doors that the driver had opened for you.
The house was bright and homey inside with a modern twist. It was almost like walking into a museum the way art hugged every wall and statues were nestled in every corner. You couldn’t help but admire the open floor of the foyer. On either side of the large room was a stair case that met in the middle, and standing at the very top was a man.
His gaze on you made a chill run up your spine, but you couldn’t look away. His head was tilted slightly to the side as he watched you, his hair that had a slight wave to it parted in the middle to create a heart shape around his sharp features. His plump red lips were where your eyes stopped though, the way they twitched slightly in attempt to smile made you shift your weight. He bowed slightly after the few seconds that felt like hours passed, just as BamBam called your name.
“This way, lets go.” He said pulling his head to one side, indicating you to follow him through the hallway that formed under the staircase.
You’re eyes widened at the kitchen. Having cooked your entire life and with the few years of being able to call yourself a professional chef under your belt you had been in a lot of kitchens, a lot of really nice kitchens. But this one… This one was different. You hardly had time to take in the large granite island that formed in the center of the kitchen before BamBam was demanding your attention again.
“So, what were you thinking for breakfast?” He said just as another man walked in.
“He requested an omelette.” He said sternly causing BamBam to press his lips together, trying to stifle a laugh. The new man seemed less than impressed with BamBams efforts. You watched him as he took a deep long breath.
“Everything you need is in the fridge and or cupboards. BamBam will stay here with you for most of the day until you have a hang of where everything is. One of the others will bring you meal orders as the time come and goes.” He said before bowing slightly and turning to walk back out of the room.
“What’s up his ass?” You said reaching for the fridge. BamBam snorted slightly causing you to smile while placing four eggs on the counter.
“So are you all brothers in here?” You asked after thanking him for pointing out the cabinet the pans were in
“Basically.” He said resting his chin on his fists.
“Basically? So your not?” You stated turning back to the fridge where you unloaded spring onions, pancetta and a sharp cheddar for the omelette.
“Basically.” He said again.
“So is this just like a fraternity house where you all walk around in suits all day?” You asks raising one eyebrow as you began to dice the onions.
“That’s one way to put it.” He said.
You sighed at the fact the conversation wasn’t going anywhere and quickly cracked the eggs into a bowl, scrambled them, added a touch of milk and poured it into the hot pan. It didn’t take long for the kitchen to fill with the smell of melting cheese and hot pancetta, the combination of meat and cheese, as BamBam informed you, was already making his mouth water.
“I can make you one too, might as well since your stuck in here with me all day.” You smiled flipping the omelette once more before plating it.
“Um yes?” BamBam asked sitting up straighter as he watched you garnish the plate with sliced oranges.
Picking up the plate you walked it around the large island but before you were able to reach BamBam two boys walked in, stepping in your way.
“What is that!” The shorter one said pointing to the plate.
“Bosses breakfast.” BamBam said meeting you and taking the plate. “Outta here.” He said moving his head to the door.
“I want an omelet!” The taller said holding a hand out to you. BamBam looked back to you and watched you shrug. He whispered something for just them to hear before saying he’d be right back. You watched the two take a seat behind the island where BamBam once was and you nodded turning back to the fridge to pull out 12 eggs this time. The feeling of the two unnamed boys watching you chop made you a little uncomfortable, but thankfully BamBam returned quickly.
“That one better be for me.” BamBam said coming around to sit on the counter behind you, his long legs hanging off haphazardly. You nodded and smiled at him as you added the extras.
“No! I’m so hungry I haven’t been able to eat anything since yesterday!” The shorter one raised his voice.
“Hyung! She offered it to me first so shut it!” BamBam said, the same goofy grin meeting his lips.
They spent so much energy fighting over who was going to get the first omelette they didn’t even notice you plate the cooked egg, cut another orange up and place it I front of the quiet tall one.
“Ah! Thank you so much.” He said giving you a toothy grin.
“Thank you for behaving in my kitchen.” You smiled.
“Y/n, really!?” BamBam said pouting.
“Now I’m never gonna eat.” The other said.
“Let me show you a secret.” You said bending back over to the cabinet the pans were in. You pulled out another small pan and placed it on the burner.
“Problem solved!” The shorter one said with a smile.
“Just make sure to give me mine before Jackson’s.” BamBam said causing Jackson to groan.
“So we have BamBam, Jackson, Mr. Stick up his ass… what’s your name?” You asked the taller one as he piled another bite into his mouth. He looked wide eyed at Jackson before looking at BamBam.
“She met Jinyoung.” He said laughing. Jackson joined him. But the taller one just raised his eyebrows and turned back to his omelet.
“I’m Yugyeom.” He said with another sweet smile. “And this is incredible.” He said pointing at the half gone omelette.
By the time you plated BamBam and Jacksons breakfast and made sure BamBam had his in his hands before Jackson two more boys had entered the kitchen. Introducing themselves as Mark and Youngjae they placed a dirty plate on the counter before eyeing everyone else eating as well.
“Boss wanted us to tell you that he enjoyed the breakfast.” Mark said.
“Would you two also like an omelette?” You asked with a chuckle. With how quickly their eyes snapped towards you, you took that as a yes and went to work.
“How about stick up-” you paused when BamBam gave you a wide eyed look. “I mean Jinyoung? Would he like one?”
“If he’s not in here probably not.” Yugyeom said sitting back in his chair.
Lunch was just just the same, as soon as you plated the seasoned chicken over a strawberry spinach salad and BamBam left to deliver the food, everyone else flooded into the kitchen.
The only difference with dinner was this time Jinyoung joined them. You wouldn’t be able to help yourself, every time he spoke you’d look at BamBam who’d give you a side eye and the two of you tried to fight off a laugh, usually by busying yourself with cleaning something up.
“Boss really liked your food. He wouldn’t admit it cause he’s proud but he was definitely looking forward to his next meal.” BamBam said in the now empty kitchen, he had offered to help you wash things and now was sheething your knifes.
“Will I ever meet this Mr. Boss person?” You asked, thinking back to the man on the stairs and wondering if that was him.
“Hes a really privet person. It doesn’t help that he’d nose deep in work 24/7” He said handing you your bundle of knives just as his name was called.
“Get her home. We have a.. a meeting.” Mark said sternly before bowing at you slightly and smoothing his suit as he walked away.
The car ride home was a little bit more fun as you and BamBam spit balled ideas for meals the following day. It seemed like every other idea he sent your way either involved lots of sugar or lots of bloody meat.
“BamBam Im supposed to be keeping the boss man healthy.” You said making him chuckle again.
“He seemed to already be feeling better by the end of the day.” He said scratching his arm.
“Then Im doing my job,” You started smiling. Just then the car pulled up to the curb infant of your apartment and you started to collect your things. “See you tomorrow?”
If you have time (omg I'm sorry but this prompt in my head forever) It's 3am and they are in a community kitchen in college and one is making brownies.
Percy had just wanted to get a glass of water.
When he enters the communal kitchen, blearily rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he realises what had woken him up in the first place. One of his roommates is standing with her back to him at the countertop, cracking eggs into a large mixing bowl. The kitchen looks devastated. Shared by six people, it never looks pristine, but right now a bomb could have gone off for the state it’s in.
“Um,” he says, still disorientated from the light and noise and explosion aftermath.
She turns and swears quietly. “Sorry, I thought I was being quiet.”
She was not, but Percy won’t begrudge her that. Partially because he’s a little bit in love with her (alright, mostly, but that’s not important right now), partially because he knows he’s woken her up at least half a dozen times since they moved into the dorms three months ago.
“S’alright. Just gettin some water.”
Annabeth smiles. “Alright.”
Percy opens the mug cupboard and after several seconds of staring at its contents and coming to terms with the fact that they don’t own any glasses not made of plastic, he grabs a mug with Walt Whitman’s face on it and fills it with water from the faucet. Instead of taking it back to his room with him, he leans back against the sink and watches Annabeth squint at her phone as she holds it three inches from her face.
“You alright there?” he asks.
She doesn’t look away from her phone. “My glasses are somewhere deep within my bag and I have neither the energy or determination to find them.”
She looks at him. “Do you want to read this recipe for me or keep delivering these brilliant insights?”
He shrugs. “I feel like I could manage both.”
Annabeth hands her phone over with a roll of her eyes. Percy puts down his glass of water and shoves some of the debris aside so that he can sit on the counter top. Then he takes Annabeth’s phone and reads the title of the page.
“You need to google a recipe for brownies?”
“Alright, Martha Stewart. Just tell me what to do to make this delicious.”