#//Ah well

[silverjetsystm]

For Marc, Stephen, and Jake, a nice little box of fresh vanilla bean macarons. It took him a long time to get the feet, but he's very pleased with these. Especially because they look like little moons nestled against the dark tissue paper he lined the box with. Frenchie hands the small box over and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Pour toi. They are pretty good, I think."

In their [his] hideout of the moment – a one bed, one bath in the theater district rented under a wild dog day’s name – Marc hunches at the table, staring down the burbling coffee maker on the counter. Eight cups rising towards to the ten cup line. “Full carafe kind of day,” he mutters to Frenchie in the corner of his eye. Uncertain if Frenchie stayed the night, if one of the others let him in. He yawns, bed headed despite only getting one to two winks. “Take some coffee with you. We don’t need all of it.”

Small gift box set before him, he finally looks down. Pauses, rapid blinking in confusion, breaking up his flat expression. Did anyone order anything from Frenchie? Did he slip again?

He flips open the box, examining the contents like he’s never been gifted food before. “Merci,” accent closer to Frenchman than American, finger combing his hair, an uptick in the corner of his mouth, tongue glued to the roof, glancing between Frenchie’s lips, eyes, and the macarons. His sign.

Coffee maker beeps, ending his new staring contest. “How’y’ like your eggs?” listening intently to a reply. Bare feet pass skinny fridge to tiny stove; pale yellow battered wood holds its breath.

Eggs never take long. Golden toast joins them on mismatched plates. Large mugs of coffee are poured, set on the table. Milk and sugar offered. Guest is offered first plate.

Finally, he sits on the blue plastic cushioned chair, boxer hand swiping one of the gifts. He chews delicately, face relaxing, piece by piece devoured. “Bon,” escapes his mouth, crumbs wiping off on his shirtsleeve.

[dutybcrne]

Okay, saw the summer event preview and aaaaaaAAAAA

[fioletowyfacet]

//Stupid cursed idiot.

[insertpinkchiphere]

//Drawing Lambda with his boobs squished against another guy’s chest would fix me I think.

[mechahero]

This is fine.

[desperatepleasures]

one time I used the ben affleck smoking reaction image in the family group chat and my mom replied with the funniest possible response which was: "mommy doesn't know who the guy is???" and that phrase has not left my brain since. I'll see blorbos on my dash that I don't recognize and I'll be like well it seems mommy doesn't know who the guy is.

[last-lorekeeper]

From the drafts of @/last-lorekeeper

[yesokayiknow]

i hope that sometimes fifteen's psychic paper shorts out and shows what fourteen's thinking back on earth. he tries to sneak in somewhere and the guard's like this just says 'need to pick up cat food'? and fifteen's like 🥺 they got a cat

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The squad of all time has arrived on scene.

[tuherrus]

a kiss

[pebblume]

pots n picks week day 6: bartender au

based on this wonderful fic by saeo on ao3! go support them!!

[futuristichedge]

[dutybcrne]

@dcndrohime replied to your post:

:O betrayal

Shit I’ve been spotted

S C A T T E R-

[theangrycomet]

are you really ratchet's love interest if you don't have a sword?

It's a trend i hope to see continue.

[hrokkall]

I call to you, Lord...

[bumblebeebats]

As much as i love Dungeon Meshi, i do think that given Ryoko Kui's attention to realistic worldbuilding there ought to be a companion series called Dishes Meshi where they spend 2hrs washing and drying and packing away. Alll the goddamnfuck dishes they just made