#Canned Food Market Volume

[kimuzostar]

YOU CAN'T HIDE ii

⊱ bountyhunter!terry x black fem reader ⊰ ⊱ warnings: 18+, smut, degradation kink, pregnancy scare, mention of clinic visit, slight choking, stalking aspects, slight dom!terry and more i forgot ⊰ ⊱ probably the last part for this, i don't know... writing smut scares me because i'm bad at it ⊰ enjoy

A few weeks have passed of you being on the run. The media coverage of the robbery had died down; yet you were still on edge. 

Not about the robbery but about him.

“When I catch you again, I won’t be as nice.”

 His words replayed over and over in your head. You felt them deep in your stomach, just like his di-

No, no, no. You will not allow a man to be the proprietor of your downfall. 

After he left, you gathered your things and immediately headed for the nearest bus station. You brought a ticket to Arondale, another small town about four hours away. You needed to put distance between the two of you. 

As you boarded the bus, you had an eerie feeling of being watched. You turn and see a truck. His truck. 

Its lights cut on and it rapidly sped off in the opposite direction. 

You let out a sigh of relief. 

Now you could live in peace….. or so you thought. 

You were currently bent over the toilet of your dingy motel room. The entire contents of your stomach emptied out before you. 

For the last 5 or so days, you’ve been unable to hold down any food, certain smells cause you to gag, and you’ve been over emotional about every little thing. 

The tenant next door was not being of any help as he didn’t seem to know how to lower his volume. Constantly playing loud music and talking loudly. Every time you went to complain, he would get quiet and not answer his door. 

The one time you did see him, his back was turned to you as he got in his car. You wish you would’ve saw his face so you could flip it off. 

You were trying not to think the worst, brushing it off to a persistent stomach bug. But your period was late and that wasn’t making anything more comforting. 

“There’s no fucking way!”, you whisper to yourself. 

There’s no way you could possibly be pregnant by a man you don’t even know. A man whose face you’ve never even seen. You didn’t need any of this right now. 

Gathering yourself, you pull up to look in the mirror. Your curly hair wild, eyes shadowed with bags and your plump lips were chapped. You were a mess. 

You needed a pregnancy test. There was a small market across the street. You gathered your jacket and headed out. 

-

The market was stocked; having every essential one might need. 

You grabbed a buggy. You were going to get everything you needed so if you get the worst, you wouldn’t have to come out for a while. 

As you turn down one of the aisles, you bump into someone. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” you say. 

Looking up, you see it’s your loud next door tenant. He’s wearing shades with the biggest shit eating grin on his face. A perfect set of 32s. 

“That’s no bother, just don’t do it again,” he replies. 

Already aggravated, you didn’t have the energy to play into his games. You continue along the aisle, paying him no more attention. 

Scanning the items, you finally find what you’re looking for; a clear blue pregnancy test. You grab it, biting your lower lip out of nervousness. 

Taking a step backwards, you run into what feels like a brick wall. A pair of arms surround you, the hands covering yours over the test. They lift them so the owner can take a closer look. 

“A pregnancy test. Who dis fa?”, the person says. 

You push back, turning to see who it is. 

It’s the tenant again. 

“Don’t fucking touch me and it’s none of your fucking business.”

He laughs, taking off his shades to get a better look at you. 

“I think it’s a lot of my business considering I could be a daddy.”  

Fuck, those eyes. 

It was him. The bounty hunter. 

Terry stood before you, smiling so big that his eyes disappeared. His hair was cut low, his skin bronzed by the sun. 

He was beautiful. 

You were frozen, unable to properly process what was going on. You wanted to run but your body wouldn’t move. You have many questions but your mouth wouldn’t move. 

“You look surprised. What’s wrong?”, he says jokingly. 

You finally get the push to speak. 

“You’re not the only person I’ve been with so you’re probably not the father”, you lie. 

Terry raises one of his eyebrows. “Is that so?”, he says. 

“Yes, so you can go away now”, you reply. 

“Nah, I’m curious about the results. Let's get back to your room”, he says walking towards the registers.

Your shoulders sunk. There was no way of this. 

-

Terry watched every step of you take your test; standing in the bathroom doorway like a bouncer. 

You avoided eye contact, feeling vulnerable about the current situation. 

“What does it say?”, he asks. 

“I don’t know, the instructions say there’s a 20 minute wait,” you reply. 

He sighs, looking up at the ceiling in thought. 

“What should we name it? I’m thinking Junior for a boy and Jasmi for a girl”, he says, smiling. 

You scoff. 

“You have lost your black ass mind if you think I’m having a baby with you. Plus, you don’t even know if this is your baby. The only thing I’m worried about is what clinic I need to go to”, you say. 

You peek at him through your lashes. He stood arms crossed, no longer smiling. You could cut the tension with a knife. 

“I’ve been watching you for weeks. There is no other man”, he says. 

“How did you find me? I left Springville weeks ago, it should’ve been impossible for you to find me here.”

Terry smiles, a laugh erupting deep from within his chest. 

“I never stopped following you, you’re just too fucking stupid to realize it. I followed your bus all the way here. I’ve been staying next door the whole time.”, he chuckles. 

You stood there dumbfounded. The clogs in your brain jammed and you were unable to produce a coherent thought. 

The loud music, the loud talking, the man entering the car. All him. 

“Are you actually insane? Do you not hear how ridiculous you sound? What’s not clicking?”, you say. 

Terry’s brows furrowed in genuine confusion. 

“Why are you so mad? I never told you I was going to leave you alone. I said when I catch you, not if I catch. You’re my problem until I feel you’re sorted out,” he says. “You were warned yet you still can’t hide.”

He stepped towards you. You step back and he follows you until you hit the wall. He leans down, his lips brushing your ear. You shiver at the contact. 

“Do I scare you?”, he asks, tracing a circle on your hip. 

Feigning dominance, you respond, “No, I’m not scared of you.”

You were definitely afraid of him. 

“I’m not afraid of a bubbling moron that goes around stalking people, unable to act like an adult,” you continue. 

You see Terry’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh. He pulls back, trailing the hand on your hip up to your neck. He wraps it around, squeezing slightly. You can feel your nipples harden through your shirt. 

”As long as you’re here, I won’t ever leave you alone. Deal with it”, he says. 

The statement causes you to look down at the floor. The thought of him bothering you forever was too much to bear. 

Terry lifts your chin so you can meet his eyes. You’re stuck, unable to look away; almost like you were being hypnotized. 

He kisses you, his mouth engulfing yours. His lips were so soft, citing a moan from you. His hands slide their way to your butt. He squeezes, pulling you flesh against his body. 

He picks you up, walking you over to the bed. He places you down, still not breaking the kiss. 

Your tongues fight for power, neither of you wanting to fall to the other. 

“Take these off”, he says tugging at your pants. 

You oblige, removing your shirt, pants and underwear. He does the same, allowing you to finally get a good look at his body. 

He was chiseled by the gods. His shoulders were large, coupled with a six pack and a deep v-line leading down to a hung dick. 

Terry hovers over you, settling his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your scent. His fingers begin to rub up and down your pussy, softly grazing over your clit. 

He plunges two fingers in you. He licks from your collarbone to the shell of your ear. He gives it a kiss. 

“Still as tight as last time. There’s no way somebody else been in here,” he teases in your ear. 

“Would’ve been better than you anyways,” you reply. 

Terry freezes. He pulls his fingers out of you, lifting his head up to stare in your eyes. The stoic expression is back. 

Uh oh. 

He sits back, using your hips to flip you on your stomach. His hands find your hair and he pushes your face into the mattress. He straddles you, his other hand on your back.  You can feel his dick resting on your ass. 

“I’ve been being really nice. I don’t appreciate all this back talk,” he says. 

“If you stop talking so much shit then maybe we wouldn’t have that problem,” you reply. 

Terry pushes you further into the mattress, leaning in closer to your face. 

“Apologize and mayb-“, he starts. 

“Fuck you”, you spit, cutting him off. 

With no warning, he slams into you, taking a pause so you can adjust around him. 

His grip loosens from your hair, wrapping it around to cover your mouth. He lowers the rest of his body on you, trapping you between him and the mattress. 

“You don’t know how to shut up and be a good girl. Always got that bitchy attitude. That’s ok, I can fix that”, he says with a smile. 

He begins to thrust into you, hard. The position made it feel like he was poking your lungs. 

“Can’t nobody fuck this pussy like I can.”

He would pull up, only leaving the tip; rolling his hips, before thrusting back in. He kept moving over your spot; it felt like scratching an itch slowly.

“Talking all that big shit, say something now,” he urges, removing his hand. 

All you could respond with was a moan. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t form any words. He was fucking you dumb. 

You began to pant, feeling out of breath; that familiar knot growing in your stomach. 

Terry shifts, the change of angle reaching a new dept within you. 

“Cumming,” you say with an exasperated sigh. He continued to fuck you through it, making it feel like it was going on forever. 

“That’s what I thought”, he says. 

Terry flips over to his side, taking you with him. He grabs the back of your knee, pulling it up to your ear. He slides back into you, feeling even deeper than before. 

“Ah, fuck, that feels so fucking good”, you say. 

“You are mine, this pussy is mine, all MINE. You belong to me,” he growls, planting a kiss on your knee.  

You nodded. The words sounding like music to your ears. If this was the kind of dick you’d get everyday, you thought it wouldn’t be too bad. Besides, you know he wasn’t going to leave you alone anytime soon. Especially if you had a baby on the way. 

“You will be a slut for me, whether you like it or not  

He kept slamming into, never letting up. His free hand grabs your neck, pulling you closer to his face. You felt the warmth of his breath on your skin. 

“I’m gonna cum again”, you say. 

“Let it go, wet that dick up”, he replies. 

With that, you let go, screaming to the heavens. Terry follows closely behind. You feel him tense up as he paints your walls white. 

The two of you are a mess of sweat and deep breaths. Terry pulls out of you, looking down at the art he created. He gives a playful slap to your ass cheek.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”, he says.

You roll your eyes, getting a chuckle out of him. 

He gets up, heading to the bathroom to check on the test. 

“Oh look”, he says flashing it to you, “it’s negative”.

-

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @skvrpion @avoidthings @jimmybutlrr @persethegawd @nayaesworld @mymindisneverhere @theereina @thabiddie23 @planetblaque @megamindsecretlair @melaninpov @madamzola @literallegendicon @blyffe

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

Let's talk about Jump GIGA

Jump GIGA covers, 2016-2024. Volumes are published (left to right per row) as Winter, Spring, Summer, and Autumn releases, with 2018 and 2019 briefly breaking the pattern by having three Winter and three Summer volumes each. 2023 has an Early Spring volume in addition to the standard four.

So, people have pointed out that the 2024 Spring cover is, uh, not like other covers.

But I've only seen comparisons to other MHA GIGA covers and MHA Weekly Shonen Jump covers. Out of curiosity for what GIGA's typical marketing aesthetics might be, I put together a comparison between all of Jump GIGA's covers to date.

And, um. Some things stand out, to say the least.

First, let me clarify what Jump GIGA even is: it is a seasonal magazine from Shonen Jump, published separate from Weekly Shonen Jump. SJ is an absolutely massive brand and they have a number of magazines serialized outside of the most well-known weekly magazine.

The content of Jump GIGA is primarily made up of one-shots and spin-offs. From the beginning, a lot of the appeal has been the cool cover illustrations which showcase special merchandise that comes with the purchase of GIGA. Usually the cover also promotes big things going on related to the WSJ series, like movie events, new games, or special figurines for sale.

The marketing aesthetic has been clear from the start: the cover consists of one core illustration and a number of ads surrounding it. Most often you get a cover illustration of a protagonist, and then ads and merch for other series, e.g. Food Wars protagonist cover with One Piece film promotion and Haikyuu!! merch.

The purpose of this marketing direction is pretty obvious. Spin-offs and one-shots are not likely to generate a ton of interest consistently, so they lure people in with the cool covers and tempting limited edition merchandise of the series they already know and love. In this way, highlighting one series with the cover and different series with the merch makes sense, because maybe somebody doesn't care about Food Wars, but they definitely want those Haikyuu!! stickers, stuff like that.

Starting from 2020's Autumn volume, you can see a shift. For the first time, basically all of the merchandise is for the cover series. The Demon Slayer manga had already ended five months earlier in May, but a two-chapter spin-off was scheduled for release in WSJ during October. This GIGA was released exactly one day before the second chapter was published and it capitalizes on the hype.

After this point, only MHA and Jujutsu Kaisen dominate the cover and the merch in quite this way, with Black Clover getting attention last volume as a way to highlight the fact that it actually switched syndication from WSJ to GIGA.

Anyway, most commonly the cover illustration is a solo shot of a core cast member (usually but not always the protagonist), and if it's not a solo, it's a big cast illustration.

Only a few covers focus on two characters, and usually it's a crossover as opposed to characters from same series sharing the limelight.

Here we've got Food Wars' protagonist with the main characters from Dr. Stone and Act-Age.

The two covers most similar to the Izuku & Kacchan cover are 2022 Winter and 2023 Autumn.

Winter depicts the main trio of Blue Box in a seasonally-appropriate aesthetic. Not gonna lie, this one kinda makes me laugh--Blue Box is a romance and sports manga, and even though Christmas has a romantic air to it in Japan, instead of depicting any sort of like, hesitant but hopeful romantic energy between the heterosexual couple that actually get together later in the series, they focus primarily on the two girls being cute with the guy is a wee footnote? I mean, all right.

Meanwhile, Autumn depicts one of the protagonists with the series antagonist with a typical cool action style. I'm not very familiar with JJK, but I hear these two have got Some Drama going on, so, there's that.

The merch itself has also evolved over the years. Stickers and posters were present early on, but they have since expanded to decorative folders and now acrylic stands and coasters. 2021 Summer sees the first time the cover illustration is marketed as merch, with the Jujutsu Kaisen cover included as a decorative folder.

Right after that, the Kacchan cover of 2021 Autumn is included as a poster alongside earlier covers featuring Todoroki and Izuku.

2023 Summer's cover is a huge, wrap-around MHA cast illustration and it was published three days after chapter 396 came out, strategically timed to highlight the big shift in the final battle as Ochako vs Toga ends and All Might vs. AFO begins. Merch includes a decorative folder of the wrap-around cover and character motif stickers.

And then we get this!?

A duo cover illustration where the cover art itself has been merchandised to hell and back!?!?

Acrylic stand and pin set!?

Double-sided coaster showing bkdk greatest hits!? With volume 29's river scene cover!?

There's also a double-sided poster featuring the Spring cover with the ninth popularity poll art and a decorative bag with the anniversary art. The cover art itself is plastered all over the volume, front, back, and spine, apparently a total of 19 times.

I honestly don't know what to say about this. It feels wild that this is actually what the cover is. Obviously it is a huge marketing push in anticipation of season 7, and Izuku and Katsuki are the most popular characters, but. it just feels... unique.

In the course of Jump GIGA's publication, this direction is kind of unprecedented. Genuinely no one could have expected this. This seems to be the first time there's been this much merch for a cover. And it was a solid fucking move, marketing-wise--it's sold out basically everywhere, everyone is talking about it. And even people who don't follow the series or ship these two can't help but comment on how strikingly romantic it looks!?

I don't know how much say Horikoshi had in what the cover was, but damn it sure feels like he drew this with immense affection. I kind of wonder if he personally pushed for it to be these two, rather than the typical solo shot, cast shot, or even a protagonist vs. antagonist shot.

I'm KO'd, man. idek if this post is useful to anybody I'm just on my hands and knees here.

Everybody knows what we're all here for, and it's these cute boys finally getting their happy ending.

EDIT NOTE: I gathered much of the information and many, many of the images in this post from a fan-made Jump Database. I neglected to say it properly when I first posted this, but special thanks to the very dedicated people who maintain that website!

[painted-flag]

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST - aemond targaryen, (Part 1/3)

Story 3 in Between the Pages: a HOTD x Fairytale Series.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader (no use of y/n) .𖥔 ݁ ˖ wordcount: 5.3k .𖥔 ݁ ˖ notes: is this releasing a month after the cregan story? yes, sorry for the delay.

The sound of running water acted as a backdrop to the environment of a small and quaint village. A stream ran through the village, with little bridges allowing people to cross. Each cottage looked like the other, with shingled roofs and white walls outlined with wood beams. At the centre of the town lay its well, surrounded by small vendor stalls. Travellers passed by the town often as it was situated on a main road, but they seldom stayed longer than two days. The populace was little, as low as a hundred. Everyone knew one another, giving you very little privacy. 

If you had a say, you would be living somewhere else. However, this was the place your father had chosen to settle when he met your mother. His dream was to be a well-known inventor, but so far his biggest success was modifying some farming equipment for some of the villagers. You believed in him, truly, but had hoped he would try and land a more stable job to help support the house. The only spare money you had been able to make was on account of your sewing skills by mending dresses. Customers were few, as not many people lived in your area. However, the occasional wandering traveller was far more generous in compensation for your work.

Despite the suffocation, you had no idea of where else to live. You were caught in a sort of purgatory; incredibly willing to leave your current circumstances but incapable of imagining another life. It was not a life you thought you would lead as a child. Dreams of adventure - of finding more in the world - clouded your memories. More often than not you would be caught daydreaming. Your mind would be lost in the fantasies you would conjure to distract from anything else but your reality. 

Fantasies, eventually, can drown someone. 

You continued in your routine, with your hands brushing the familiar spines of books in the quaint library. There were only a few shelves full and you had read each volume no less than three times, some more than others. It was the only supply of reading for what you expected was a few hundred miles. Nobody in your town shared an interest in reading except for the kind old lady who lends out her collection. 

One of the spines, a blue clothbound tome, caught your attention. You had obviously read it before, but it had been a while since your last go-through. You plucked it from the shelf and added it to your wicker basket full of food from the market. You waved goodbye to the lady and exited her home. The warm breeze brushed through your linen clothes and carried further in the air. It was part of the last vestige of summer, with autumn approaching steadily. Leaves had just a wisp of darkening on their edges, growing gradually daily. 

You made your way down the paths, passing each cottage and waving to the residents. You had just stepped onto the street towards your home when a presence came up behind you. The figure snatched the book from your basket and let out a sigh of disappointment. It startled you for a moment. You turned and were not surprised to see Jason Lannister holding the tome in his hands. 

“Reading again? What a waste of time…” His voice, a tone which sparked a tense annoyance in your body, drolled on. You crossed your arms and gave him an unimpressed look. 

Jason was a man who did not fit the status of a ‘man’. Foul is the one word you are sure perfectly encapsulates his personality. He was a hunter, though you doubted any of his kills were done with honour. He carried around a gaudy-looking spear with an oversized tassel on the end and claimed to be a fierce warrior, yet would never go against any of the strong travellers that passed through. He would pick fights with the men, but devise a surprising excuse as to why he could not fight. 

‘I have honour.’

‘It would be unkind to kill a man.’

‘My skills far surpass yours, a fight is not necessary.’

‘It is not appropriate for the women in this village to see such bloodshed.’

To you, it was all a load of horseshit.

“Give it back, Jason.” You were in no mood to converse with him. For years now, he had tried tirelessly to get your attention. Time after time you had said no, yet it has all fallen on deaf ears. 

“Come to the tavern with me,” he did not ask, but demanded, “My recent hunt has been added to the other trophies. I can tell you all about it.” 

There was no better way to ruin your day than to be trapped in a stuffy tavern with countless mounted heads of hunted animals. You reached out and snatched your book back from his grip. The market stall next to you displayed various shiny pots and pans. An idea of escape came to mind. 

“Could I finish looking at these pans, Jason?” You reached out and grabbed one, flipping it over to the flat side. You saw your reflection in the polished silver metal and you moved it to face him. 

“Does this look good?” You questioned. Jason took the pot in his hands but did not seem to register your words. He held it in one hand and used to other to tousle his hair. 

If there was one trait of Jason’s that could be depended upon, it is his vanity. He got caught up in adjusting his appearance and you used that distraction to quickly move away. You jogged across a small stone bridge and down a dirt path to your home. 

It was only in the safety of your home, with the door shut and locked, that you felt the tension leave your shoulders. You could not keep betting on momentary distractions to continue working. Jason was relentless in his pursuit of your hand. You had lost count of the number of times you had to come up with a plan to get away from his presence, and it was beginning to weigh down on you. 

The sound of falling items, clanking and clashing, startled you from your thinking. You placed your basket on the kitchen table and rushed down the stairs to the basement to see your father picking up miscellaneous fallen items. He was on his knees on the ground, mumbling with frustration. 

“Father?” You questioned.

He was startled and moved with a frantic nature to turn to you, “Ah! Do not worry, everything is alright. I just knocked over some things…” He rubbed his forehead and observed the mess around him. 

“Well,” You began while you reached out to help him stand up, “You seem to be in far better happiness than I today.” 

“What happened, dear?” He gave you his full attention. When he read your face, he could tell it was the same expression you had made many times in the past, “It’s that Jason lad again? Oh, if only I could kick that man in the-”

“Father,” You scolded, but secretly would not mind for him to continue, “We are above that.”

“I only wish for you to be safe in my absence.” He spoke while he fiddled with one of his newer inventions. A weird wooden and metal box that served some function you were not entirely sure of.

You leaned against one of the wooden tables and raised a single eyebrow, “Absence?” 

He sighed and set down a tool he was using. You could see that he closed his eyes and waited patiently for an answer. He turned around and cleaned some grease off of his hands with a discarded rag. 

“There is a fair a few towns over. I will be going over to see what I can sell.” He informed you. You nodded and looked at the ground. While you were proud of his work and encouraged him as much as you could, there was still a big burden on your shoulders. The majority of the financials fell on you, as your meagre funds raised through sewing still surpassed his. Money had never mattered to you, but its burden has. 

“How long will you be gone?” You asked him. 

“A few days at most,” He approached and patted you on the shoulder. You returned a tired smile and dismissed yourself from the room to begin making dinner. 

That night was quieter than usual. Your father and you ate in relative silence, only occasionally muttering short topics between one another. It was awkward and undercut by tension. Your father was largely oblivious to it, his mind too focused on the upcoming fair. You pushed the meat around on your plate with your fork while your other hand was propped up and holding your chin. 

After the two of you ate, you cleaned up while he packed his things onto his wagon and prepped his horse. You exited your home and walked down the steps to your father. In your hands was a basket of food of some baked goods that would keep him fed during his short travel. You placed it up on the bench at the front of the wagon, making sure the cover was on tight. 

Your father had hugged you goodbye and cheerfully gotten on his horse. He waved to you before pulling on the reins to get the horse to move. You stood outside for a while, watching as his figure slowly disappeared in the distance. When he was out of sight and the sun had begun to set, you made your way back inside and got ready for bed. 

Despite the frustration of your father's abrupt leaving, you had managed to go to bed with little strife.

⋅───⊱༺ 📚༻⊰───⋅

 Sunlight streamed in from the windows and hit you as you sat perched in a plush chair in your living space. The morning had been uneventful as you worked on some recent sewing projects and returned fixed clothes to some customers. It earned you a meagre amount of coins, but you supposed it was better than nothing. 

You had taken a break and curled up on the chair with some tea and biscuits. Truthfully, these moments were your only moments of reprieve before you would go back to scouring for more sewing projects from those in the village. You had just reached a pivotal moment in the book, one which you knew well because you had read every book there at least once. It was your favourite moment, yet you had to resist slamming it closed after the echoes of someone pounding on your doors shook through the space. 

The book had been placed on the small table next to you and you shrugged off the blanket you had been under. You got up from the seat and walked across the creaking floorboards. The iron hand on your front door was cool as you gripped it. When you opened the door, the grating presence of Jason greeted you. 

Immediately, you wondered if it was too late to close the door and ignore him, however now he knew you were home and would not stop knocking until he got your attention. You kept the door only slightly open, enough so that you could see him. 

“What is it, Jason?” You did not attempt to disguise your displeasure. A few years ago, when he began making his advances, you had tried to be civil. Yet his relentless pursuit had soured you over the years. Even when being foul, it was as if he did not notice or had some weird case of selective hearing. 

He wore a sleazy smile, “You know, I was up all night thinking.”

“You were thinking?” You did not know he could do that. Jason did not indicate picking up on your casual insult. 

“Of my future. I picture a house, with children running around and my wife taking care of them. I would come home from hunting to dinner and watch the children as they played in front of the hearth. My wife would be there to aid me after a long day.” Jason went on his tangent. You did not look at him and chose to peek past him. It was a wonder how he never noticed how little you cared. Perhaps he did but chose to ignore it. Either way, there was no possible scenario where he was a good hunter with observational skills like that. 

“Sounds like quite the picture.” You spoke with a tone of disbelief. 

“Yes, that is why I am here.” Jason stepped forward and you moved to close the door more but his hand reached up and stopped you. You grunted slightly as your strength was not enough to rival his. 

He left no time to respond, “You are to be my wife.” 

Those words, those dreaded words cut through your ears like a sharp knife. You winced and took a step back. Jason took that as an invitation to come in, so he opened the door more and stepped just past the threshold. You were stuck in a moment of frozen horror. That fear soon melted into anger, largely posed by his sheer audacity. 

“Jason, in what bloody realm does that make sense?” You scolded him. He then finally caught on to your attitude and put a hand up to his chest as if he were the one offended in this situation. 

“Well, obviously, you will be my wife.” He reiterated. 

“Well, obviously you have misread this situation. I mean, for years I have insulted you endlessly, yet I am ceaselessly tormented by your presence.” You were exasperated but also had an inkling of fear. Your father was not here to defend you. This house was positioned further from the other in the village and you worried that nobody would hear and come to your aid. 

“What do you mean?” Jason was still clueless. You did not know if it was intentional, but regardless it managed to anger you further. 

“What do I mean?” You begin to push on his chest, moving his body across the threshold and back outside. “I mean that you are a foul, uncharismatic, and downright vile being with enough patience and perception to fill a thimble!” You grabbed the door and went to slam it, but stopped it to leave a sliver of space. 

“And by the way, there is no force in this realm to ever get me to consider your offer. I’d sooner jump into a boiling cauldron. Now leave me alone before I get the town guard!” You slammed the door in his face and locked it quickly; both the bolt of the handle and a wooden plank to block it. 

Yet Jason did not seem done and yelled through the door, “You worked today and I assume your womanly mind is overwhelmed. I’ll let this slide.” He then stomped away. His words angered you further. If it was not an egregious crime, you would surely open the door, grab the nearest solid metal object, and give his head a good thwack. 

For a long time after he left, you ruminated on your words. You were so caught up in the moment, that you had no control over your speach. You wished you had been harsher, perhaps thrown in a few curses to drive home your points. Nevertheless, you had managed to get him off of your trail for the day. 

This home felt too stifling and you needed to leave. A hill just outside of the village boundaries, with a tree on top, was calling to you. It had been a particularly favourite spot of yours, as most people did not wander there. So you grabbed the book you had been reading, donned a cloak to protect from the approaching cool of the late day, and marched out of your house. 

Through the village, past the baker's house, over a hill and across the stones of a shallow stream was the place you always gravitated towards. It was calm. The light breeze shook the willow branches. The leaves brushed against one another, providing a relaxing soundscape for you to read with. 

You had begun to settle down when the crushing of hooves over grass disrupted your moment of peace. There was underlying worry that it was perhaps Jason, but the horse in the distance had no rider. When it got closer, you realized it was your fathers. A sinking feeling made its way into your stomach. 

The horse was grunting with distress. His head swung back and forth and you had to grab the cheekpiece of the bridle and start humming gently to calm him down. You looked around the expanse of the field for any sight of your father but saw none. There was nothing but worry that coursed through you. 

“What is, bud?” You questioned the horse. You decided to climb onto the saddle and get comfortable. You leaned down to his ears and whispered, “Take me to him.” 

Your father's horse did not wait a second longer before immediately running off in the direction he came from. By the time you made it to the treeline, the sun had begun to set. You hugged the cloak tighter around your form. The horse did not show any signs of fatigue as he trotted carefully and skillfully through the woods. 

Time passed very slowly as worry for your father grew. You were scared that something grave had happened to him. Surely this was a misunderstanding. Perhaps he had set up camp for the night and his horse got free and decided to go home. You had begun to become weary and tired. The horse had eventually slowed down and now you were riding through the woods slowly. 

It was late, incredibly late, and you regret not having stopped at home to pick up food. Your stomach rumbled every few minutes and the exhaustion in your body had picked up. The trees stopped and you entered an open space at the bottom of sharp jagged mountains. You had ridden to a large wrought iron gate that had vines, mostly dead, crawling up the spokes. The ground had turned to a stone brick path that was overgrown with grass and weeds. 

Just a while down the path was a large mansion that looked like a castle. It was built from the same stone as the path and appeared derelict. There was no way people lived here, as it looked as though it had been abandoned for a long time. You hopped off the horse and grabbed the reins to guide him. You walked to the gate and saw that there was no lock on it. You pushed it open and with a horrifying creak, the gate doors moved. 

You walked down the path and towards the castle doors. They were large double wooden doors reinforced by the same style of iron as the gate. A knocker was located on both of the doors where a handle would be. It was iron cast and shaped like the head of a dragon. In its closed jaw sat a ring that you would use to bang against the wood. You grabbed it gingerly and banged it against the wood. The thumping sound reverberated through the door. You wanted to make sure that no person was living here in case you happened to be intruding. 

“Hello? Does anybody live here?” You waited a moment, but no response came. You looked back at your horse that was tied off to a tree before braving it and pushing on the door. Surprisingly, like the iron gate, it opened. 

Like prey falling into a trap, you walked into the dark corridors of the castle.

There was no source of light save the moon as it fluttered in through the stained glass windows. The faint colours of the glass cast a gossamer veil of light over the thick antique rugs that ran the length of the entryway. It was a vast entry space that had two staircases that wrapped around the outer edge of the circle room. The stairs led up to a platform and joined into one and led to the upper levels of the castle. Ahead of you, between the two stairs, was another set of double wooden doors. To the left and right were large archways leading to more areas of the castle.

“Hello?” You asked again but achieved no response. There was, by the door you had entered, a standing storage desk. You walked to it and saw the thick coat of dust that covered the top. To your luck, there was a bronze chamberstick candle holder with a candle. You looked around for anything to light it with and found two pieces of flint and steel. There was no hearth around to transfer the flame, so you struggled for a moment to light the candle with the flint and steel. 

With a few nicks, you were able to light the candle. You put the tools down and picked up the handle. You felt just a little better knowing you had a source of light with you. There was no reason behind where you chose to walk other than a gut feeling. You ascended the stairwell and to the next floor, wandering through corridor after corridor. The entire castle was still decorated with elaborate furniture and interesting paintings and tapestries. 

Your trip had gone across an expanse of the castle and you wondered just how large it was. You reached a tower area and decided to go up the stone steps. The dark was occasionally broken up by a stained glass window; reds, blues, greens, and yellows of all shades would be cast against the stone of the centre winding wall. 

At the top of the stairs was a door. You grabbed the iron handle and pushed it open. Inside was a caged area, but it was too dark to see past it. You inched in and held the candle out in front of you. At the far wall was a figure hunched down and shaking in the cold. They moved their cloak away from their face and you instantly recognized it. 

“Father?”

He looked at you for a moment before moving to the bars of the cell, “Darling, what are you doing here? You must go!” You approached where he was and knelt. The candle was placed beside you. Your hands grasped his that were on the bars. His face was pale and hair sweaty; sickness had taken hold of him.

“What do you mean? Father, why are you here?” You questioned. Your father opened his mouth to speak, but the sudden sound of the door slamming shut disrupted you two. The force from the slam blew the candle out and the room was shrouded in darkness. A small window cast a single ray of white light that hit the centre of the room. You turned around and looked into the shadows, but were unable to find anything except the sound of shuffled movements. 

A voice, deep and imposing, boomed from the shadows, “Who are you? How dare you trespass on these grounds?” It sent a shiver up your spine and swirled at the base of your neck where some sweat had begun to form. You sucked in a breath for a moment and steeled yourself to answer. 

You spoke your name, then hardened your voice, “Why is my father locked up?” In the darkness, you could barely see a wisp of movement, but the figure appeared tall. Their voice came out rough and did not entirely sound human. 

“He trespassed on these grounds.” The figure moved about the darkness and you could hear the sounds they made on the stones. 

“Surely that warrants something other than being locked up? Don't you see that he is sick?” You tried to reason. Your heart rate had shot up and you could feel the fear and adrenaline course through your veins. 

“Then he should not have stepped foot on land that is not his.” The deep tones of the voice could be felt in your bones. 

“But he’ll die. Please, I’ll do anything.” You turned your body away from your father to face the direction of the voice. 

“There is nothing you can do to change his status as my prisoner.” It was a cold response, laced with malice. You know you should not say it, but an idea had come to your head; one that just may grant your father freedom to leave and get help for whatever sickness he contracted. 

“Take me.” You were almost hesitant, but there was an underlying strength in the way you carried yourself. 

The figure did not respond for a moment, letting a lull insert itself into your conversation, “...You would take his place?” They sounded almost surprised at your declaration; caught off guard by the unfettered love and loyalty displayed towards your father. 

“Will you let him go?” You punctuated every word to get the point across. If there was a guarantee for your father’s freedom, you would make the deal in a heartbeat. 

“You must stay here.” The figure affirmed. 

“Come into the light.” You would not swear until you saw who you were speaking to; who would ultimately be your captor. The dark figure moved swiftly, lumbering into the stream of white moonlight. 

The whole time, with the monstrous voice and lurking shadow, you believed it would be a gnarly creature, but became surprised. He was tall and had a lithe but built form shrouded in black and dark greys. His features were as sharp as the cut frames of the stained glass you saw while wandering the castle. He had high cheekbones and a sharp jaw that came down to a point. His lips were pursed into a sort of snarl. 

What frightened you most of all was the jagged scar that cut through the left side of his face. His eye was covered with an eyepatch that sat on the crown of his head and brushed over the long silver hair that glowed in the moonlight. The animosity that reflected in his one eye, strangely violet, made your breath hitch. 

He was not a monster, just a man. 

Though, you supposed there may not have been much of a difference in those two things. 

Now that you have seen your captor, you relinquished your freedom, “I’ll stay here.” At your words, your father began to protest, but you paid no mind. All you were trying to do was memorize what little of your father's face you could see and stop the tears that came running down your face, leaving the skin red and raw. 

The man moved forward and pulled out a metal circle filled with countless different-sized keys. He unlocked the cage with a harsh shudder. Your father surged forward and wrapped you in a hug, both of your bodies sitting on the cold stone floor. 

“Why did you do that? Darling, why?” He held your face between his hands. The man reached forth and seized the collar of your father's shirt and pulled him along. You were subsequently pushed into the cell and forced to hear the door lock. 

“Wait, can’t I say goodbye?” You yelled from behind the bars. Your fingers wrapped around the cool metal and you could do nothing but watch on helplessly as you heard your father be dragged down the steps. At this point, your gentle cries had been reduced to sobs. 

You did not know how much time had passed until the man came back again. You sat in the centre of the cell, barely able to move. That was the last time you would ever see your father, the last time you would be a free woman. The silver haired man came forward with a large candle, though his hand made the holder look small. 

When he approached the cell, you instantly backed away. In your eyes was both apprehension and fear. You did not know what he would do next. Would he hurt you? Mock you in your permanent isolation? Or simply come to the conclusion that it was not worth keeping you and throw you from the top of the tower?

He unlocked the door and gave you an expectant look, “Are you coming or not?” 

“So you could hurt me?” Your voiced was laced with venom. He rolled his eye at your attitude and moved forward to grab your upper arm. His grip was tight as he pulled you out of the cell. His back was to you and you hit it multiple times to try and get him to let you go, but his strength far surpassed yours. You gave up quickly after recognizing there would be no way out. 

He led you back down a familiar path to the front entrance to the castle, but went across the landing of the stairs and to another wing. You looked around and spotted the same decor as the other wing. This time, the wing was lit with candles and looked lived in. The light provided some warmth as well since the rest of the castle retained all the cold air from outside. 

“You will have your own room. You may go wherever you please, but the west wing is strictly off limits.” He informed you. This whole time you had yet to learn his name. Would you ever? He seems too elusive to offer answers to anything and in the short time you had known him, he only ever answered questions with as little words as possible. He forced them out like socializing was a heavy burden or deeply hurt. 

“Why is the west wing off limits?” You asked. He stopped in his tracks and turned to you. His hold squeezed for a moment and he looked to be holding back rage. You shrinked in your spot. The two of you had stopped in front of some doors and he used his free arm to open it. He all but shoved you in. 

The room was large. A four poster bed, carved from dark wood, had a canopy of sheer black silk curtains. The floor was covered in layered antique rugs, all mostly red and black; a colour theme that you had noticed littered the entire castle. A fire was roaring in the hearth, intricate stone carvings decorated the arch of it. The whole room was luxurious, but it was your prison. 

“Dinner will be ready shortly.” He informed you as you stood there. Your gaze then went back to him. He stood by the door and had his forearm resting on the wood of the door and leaned against it. He was regarding you with an inquisitive gaze; analyzing your every move. He seemed content in the information he shared and went to leave. 

“Wait,” You called out and he returned to watching you, “I’ve told you my name.”

“That you have,” He spoke. You nearly huffed, but it was difficult to speak or moved the muscles in your face as the crying you had done no longer hurt, but left a numb tingling feeling behind that was awkward to deal with. 

“What’s yours?” You questioned. Your hands joined behind your back and you did not know why a sudden feeling of bashfullness washed over you. He judged you for a moment, as if contemplating his words. 

With a tone of reluctance, he answered, “Aemond.”

He swiftly left the room and closed the door behind him. Here was where you were left and forced to stomach the reality of your situation. You looked around the room, a place you will likely be in until the moment you died. The place all looked warm and inviting, but you were full of constant fear. 

This room had become the hallowed shell of your new life, but you would not sit and cry anymore; many things can grow strong in darkness. A newfound determination built within you. You would not let Aemond crush your spirit.

⋅───⊱༺ 📚༻⊰───⋅

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[apocalypticvalraven]

Delicious in Dungeon in The Kitchen

So... I was struck by the thought that I kinda wish some food nerd would go through the Dungeon Meshi dishes and analyze them and sort of give a "this is the real world thing they're making" run down.

And then I realized I'm a food nerd that can do research.

So.

We're gonna try this out, starting with Volume 1. I don't promise that I know everything about cooking. I don't promise I'll always be able to make the thing I'm looking at (I am broke, and I don't have my own kitchen). But I can at least look at a dish and figure out what they're doing and how to replicate it, at least sorta.

Dungeon Meshi Volume 1-- Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom Hot Pot

The two main components of this dish are the Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom.

Walking Mushroom

Looking at the images in the manga, Walking Mushroom seems to just... be a mushroom that can walk around. There are no organs, the interior seems pretty uniform in substance...

Like, literally, that's exactly what sliced mushrooms look like. Senshi cuts the mushroom into ~4" strips (judging by their size next to the small cabbage-like vegetable, and comparing those plants to his hand in the image of him gathering them. I am assuming dwarf hands are roughly the same size as human hands).

There's a variety of edible mushroom that is probably as close as we're going to get to the size of a Walking Mushroom, growing a cap up to 3' wide, but it seems to only grow in termite mounds in a very specific part of the African continent (please forgive my USAmerican, White education leading me to not being able to identify the specific region), so... if you can get that at all, it's probably crazy expensive (as it should be, unless you're literally getting it from the mounds or local markets yourself). Portobello or similar large culinary mushrooms are probably just fine. The Mushroom Feet are literally just mushrooms, so no worries there.

Huge Scorpion

Ok, so... there is a difference between arachnids and crustaceans. As a start, arachnids have book lungs and crustaceans have gills. Arachnid guts are different from crustacean guts, just because of environment. Hell, crustacean limbs grow differently from arachnid limbs.

That said, everything I see in Dungeon Meshi implies that, from a culinary standpoint, Huge Scorpion is a crustacean-

So, really, it's just a big lobster. Take a lobster, cut off its legs, antennae, and the tail fluke, and you're going to see something that looks pretty similar to the huge scorpion in Dungeon Meshi.

Seaweed

Next is seaweed, which... is just a thing, but also kind of an imprecise term, I think. Basically, "seaweed" just refers to any marine algae that is multicellular and macroscopic (big enough to see). Arctic Moss seems to be a real thing which refers to a couple things- the aquatic moss Calliergon giganteum and the terrestrial lichen in the genus of Cladonia, which includes Reindeer Lichen.

Reindeer lichen is edible, in a number of ways, but it's also not seaweed. So we look at Calliergon giganteum. I cannot get an answer as to whether this particular variety of moss is edible. So... fuck it, say Senshi used Reindeer Lichen, at least we know that's edible.

"Star Jelly" is... I don't know. The main result I find when googling it is that it's the sort of general term for various slimes that show up on lawns and other vegetation, etc. Which means it could be anything from amphibian spawning jelly to who the fuck knows what.

However, one thing it could be is a cyanobacteria known as Fat Choy, a commonly used "vegetable" in Chinese Cuisine:

Looks like jelly? Yep. Looks weird enough that you might imagine it comes from a star? Yep. Edible? Yes!

(I mean, maybe don't eat a ton of it, or get it from irreputable sources. At least some Fat Choy contains a toxic amino acid which may or may not have negative health effects, but I'm not a doctor, so all I'm saying is "be aware of this." It's an expensive delicacy, which means that it is a particularly lucrative target for counterfeiters, and China does not have strong, or strongly enforced, food safety laws).

The Hard Stuff

So that leaves "Invertatoes" and "Dried Slime."

Neither of which seem to have a good direct analogue to the real world. Well... sorta.

Invertatoes seems to refer to the plants. The name calls to mind potatoes, and potatoes do indeed grow in the ground and are starchy. It's probably fair to just use any kind of starchy tuber as the "invertatoes." Maybe cassava, since those are large enough that it's at least somewhat believable that "Fantasy Land Cassava" could look like that (although that doesn't fit the "these are normal plants that grow upside down" unless we're being really generous).

The problem is that it's sort of implied that the cabbage-like vegetable seen in the hot pot comes from the same plant, and everything from a potato plant other than the potato itself is toxic. They also don't look like that.

I literally don't know what those cabbage/lettuce-like leafy vegetables are. They're not seaweed, because the two varieties called out definitely don't look like that. They're not, so far as I can tell, the greens of any kind of starchy tuber--

EXCEPT.

So, I was taking one last look at tubers to see if I could find something that seemed to match, and I think Invertatoes could be likened to something similar to chicory. Particularly endives. I never knew endives were related to chicory (ie, "that thing that I'm aware is popular as a coffee substitute in the South, but I don't have much desire to try it, and I wonder if it even has caffeine..."), but, apparently, yeah. Endives are a member of the chicory genus.

So, yeah, lets say that Invertatoes are a sort of fantasy plant similar to the various members of the chicory genus. The trunk can be replicated with chicory root, and the leaves with endives.

That leaves Dried Slime. Dried Slime makes up the noodles in the hot pot, which implies that the noodles are gelatinous, and probably low in gluten. Senshi's explanation of the slime makes me want to think of it as a macro-unicellular lifeform, but... I'm not sure that's accurate.

While it's definitely not an accurate way to describe a jellyfish, I could definitely see a non-biologist describing jellyfish in a way similar to the way Senshi describes the slime. I could also see some fantasy terrestrial jellyfish thing hunting in a similar manner to the slime. Moreover, there are edible varieties of jellyfish, and they're processed in a manner very similar to what Senshi describes for processing slimes. And one way of preparing edible jellyfish is to thinly slice it into noodles.

Hot Pots

I... think this is using a very specifically Japanese sense of "hot pot" (which makes sense), because in Japan, hot pot can refer to a dish called nabemono, while in general, hot pot refers to a particular kind of dining in China where you get a pot full of boiling stock/broth and a bunch of raw ingredients, and you put the stuff you want into the broth at the table. Nabemono is more of "put a bunch of stuff in a pot, and cook it. Serve it boiling." Which is to say, it's soup.

Senshi puts the scorpion meat and mushroom into a pot on its own, and lets it start boiling-

Then, while it's boiling, he goes and finds other ingredients, coming back with the invertatoes and the slime. The two are prepared simply-

Seasoning isn't included in the ingredients, but I can understand this as a choice for presentation. We do see Senshi add something to the broth after tasting it, and I think it's fair to assume it's one of soy sauce, mirin, fish sauce, or similar. I think it's actually really interesting that we see Senshi add seasoning, but we're not told what it is-

Because... that's cooking. You can follow a recipe, but ultimately, you need to taste your cooking and make your own decisions. Senshi lets the soup cook, tastes the broth, decides it needs something, and gives it a bit of time to let the flavors meld before serving it up.

Dungeon Meshi Lobster and Mushroom Hot Pot

So, we're looking at something like this for the "Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom Hot Pot"--

Lobster- ~5 lbs or more (a 1 lb lobster yields about 4 oz of actual meat, which is a single serving), cut into large slices

Portobello- 2 mushrooms large diced, 2 left whole with the caps scored

Reindeer Lichen and Fat Choy- to taste

Chicory Roots- ~1 cup, diced

Endive greens- ~2 cups

Jellyfish, thin sliced- as much as you like

Add lobster and mushrooms to water, and allow to boil. While it comes to a boil, prepare the other ingredients, then add to the water. Let the soup come to a full boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 15 minutes to an hour (can simmer longer, but this will affect the texture of the ingredients. Longer simmering will result in more melding of flavors, but also degraded solid parts).

Taste the broth. It will likely need salt and acid, which could come in a variety of forms, such as kosher salt and lemon juice, soy sauce and mirin/rice vinegar, oyster/fish sauce, or something else. Go with your gut and your taste buds..

[ninigummysmile]

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 - 𝐉𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 & 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐚

Summary: You and your girlfriend are having a very intimate moment when you are interrupted

Dom!Jennie x Lisa x Sub!Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Warning: This story contains +18 content. It is not the responsibility of the author if minors read it.

Important: English is not my first language so, please, forgive me if there are any mistakes

Words: 853

With your eyes closed, you feel Jennie push the strap on into your pussy. Her breasts pressed against yours and you wrap your legs around your girlfriend's waist.

“Look at me” she whispers in your ear. When you open your eyes, you can see her pupils dilated with lust.

She further increases the speed making you lose your breath with each thrust. "I want to see you make a mess on that dick”

You're so lost in pleasure that you don't hear the front door open and your girlfriend's flatmate walk in.

If you knew someone else was home, even in a far away room, you would moan softly and try your best to control your volume. But since the two of you haven't heard anything, you continue to make noise without worrying about anything else.

When Jennie hears footsteps through the door she stops for a moment. You look at her confused and understand why she stopped when you hear someone knocking on the door.

“Jennie? Are you there?"

“Yes” she replies. She looks into your eyes and looks for any discomfort, not finding any, she goes back to saying “you can come in”.

You try to hide your face in your girlfriend's neck, but she pulls away and gets on her knees, the plastic cock still inside you.

As embarrassed as you are to be exposed like this, you feel a flame ignite inside you imagining someone else watching you and your girlfriend fucking.

Lisa stops in the doorway with her hand on the doorknob and stares at the two of you. "Are you sure I'm not in the way?"

“No, you can come in” she resumes moving her waist slowly.

Lisa doesn't take her eyes off you, your body. She sits on the edge of the bed and holds back the urge to place one of her hands on your breast.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Jennie says smiling seeing that you don't take your eyes off Lisa and she knows exactly what's going on in your head: that you want to turn Lisa on just by watching the two of you. She always tells you how attractive you are and now is your chance to show it to someone other than her.

“If you want me to go to the market to make dinner or if we are going to order somewhere”

“I think we better order. Where do you want to order, Y/n?” your girlfriend asks as if she is having a normal conversation at a table while she has lunch.

"Chinese food?" you suggest as you feel your pussy contract more and more on the fake cock.

“She can still respond, Lisa. I'm going to have to fuck her more until she can't even remember her own name, what do you think?”

“I think she would love for you to do that” she replies, brushing away some hair that has stuck to your forehead. The way they talk about you like you're not even there just makes you reach the first symptoms of orgasm faster. Your legs begin to shake and your moans become more frequent.

“Do you like Lisa watching you, pretty thing? Are you going to cum just because someone else is watching? What a whore you are”

“I didn't know my best friend's girlfriend was so naughty. Show me how you cum when Jennie fucks you"

Jennie takes one of her hands from your waist and circles your clit with quick movements making you cry and grab your own breasts.

"Just let go. Cum Y/n, cum hard on that fake dick. Show your girlfriend how well she fucks you” Lisa whispers in your ear and you feel the first waves of pleasure wash over you and your body tenses before completely relaxing.

You scream Jennie's name who helps you through your orgasm without stopping her movements once. Just as you're about to complain about being too sensitive, you open your eyes to see your girlfriend cumming just by watching you reach your climax. It's not the first time she's come off just watching you and Lisa almost does the same.

You hear her moan in your ear "God, you look like a goddess when you cum"

You smile at her and hear your girlfriend laughing “Did you like it? Y/n doesn't mind if you want to watch it again, maybe you might even join in” she raises her eyebrow knowing this is one of the fantasies you want to try the most.

“You don't mind, Y/n?”

When you don't respond and just nod your girlfriend laughs again "I think I managed to make her not remember anything"

“Well, I guess there's no way to refuse such an invitation, right Y/n?” Lisa asks stroking your arm. You nod again and sigh, already imagining the next time you'll be able to check one more thing off your list. Sex with someone watching: check. Sex with two people at the same time: coming soon, check.

You couldn't be more grateful to your girlfriend who makes these fantasies come true.

[da-shrimping-station]

Cooking for the House of Lamentation

Let me start this post by saying that over the years I've had plenty of experience cooking for a lot of people. I'm no expert cook whatsoever, just a helping hand in the kitchen during festivals and occasions (which happens multiple times in a year). If you have more experience and insights, please feel free to share!

Let’s start this off by having some sort of baseline so we’re all on the same page.

MC /OC/you/us/we (and what have you) can:

follow a recipe well enough

be in the kitchen and not have it burn down

cook an edible meal at the end of it all

A fairly average cook if you will.

Now, time for chaos.

Cooking for a lot of people is…a lot. A feast for upwards of 10 people can take the whole day. Not to mention buying ingredients beforehand. How many dishes are you gonna cook? Do they go well/compliment each other? What’s the serving size? Are you gonna have desserts too? Do you have the right equipment? Are the ingredients available/accessible? Is there anyone who has a food-specific condition to look out for and make alternatives for? Are there ingredients that need to be marinated/prepped in advanced? Is everything within budget? (These are some questions at the top of my head)

Now the main concern here is volume/quantity. Beelzebub. Need I say more?

Actually, YES. It’s a house full of men. Men eat a lot. Oh, and they’re also demons. So let’s assume they eat/consume significantly more than humans. (You can pitch in your HCs for each brother regarding how much they eat) But let’s say the food has to be for 10-15 people at the very least.

GROCERY RUN!

There’s a whole ass booklet for the groceries, with each brother having their own page/section. Let’s assume there’s no budget constraints (Lucifer can bitch about the cost and budgeting but his brothers need to be fed). Groceries are bought in bulk. Multiple times a week. Emergency trips in the middle of the night or else they starve for breakfast. 

At some point they get their groceries delivered every 3 days or so. The runs are now for necessity/emergency.

But if a brother requests a certain dish, then it’s time to go to the market. Prepare your haggling skills.

THE BATTLEFIELD

Based off of the game (and referencing the floor plan from Wanderer’s Whereabouts), the kitchen is actually pretty spacious. Good. We need all the space we can get for this. I’d like to think Barbatos personally made sure the kitchen is fully kitted out with all the equipment and utensils one needs. (Thanks, Barbs. You’re the best!) No worries on that end.

I headcanon that the kitchen is split into 2 parts: the side where the stoves and appliances are and the side where the dirty kitchen is. That way you have access to stoves/ovens and the fancy appliances as well as being able to cook with coal or in a spit. Increases the capacity for cooking multiple dishes at once. (Please share your HCs for the kitchen!)

PREP TIME

Prepare your hands and arms. Washing, peeling, chopping, dicing, slicing, marinating. Any and every sort of ingredient prep. How many ingredients does this dish have? Are you gonna prep one dish only? Are you gonna prep for two in advance? Mis en place (or whatever the term is im no culinary shrimp)

Also think about the sheer amount of ingredients.

Say, according to the cookbook, this dish serves 5 people and it needs 1 whole onion. Pretty straight forward right? But you’re cooking for 7 demon brothers and one being the Avatar of Gluttony. Let’s go back to the 10-15 people approximation. That means you have to increase the amount (in this case that’ll be 2 or 3 whole onions). That goes for every fucking dish. 3 onions for dish #1. What about dish #2 and #3 and so on? (Honestly, your hands must be well marinated by the time you’re done with all the prep)

Measuring the ingredients too. 1 cup of this, a tablespoon of that, a pinch of this. Please please please let there be enough soy sauce for tonight’s cooking.

Another thing: you’re probably dealing with local Devildom ingredients (which you did not even know existed until then)

Veggies? Sliced

Meats? Washed and cut.

Condiments and seasonings? All measured.

Are we ready to cook? NO.

Please clean up the peels, excesses, undesirables, and packaging.

GET THE FIRE GOING

Finally! The actual cooking part! Take a deep breath and put that pot on the stove. Good luck cuz you’re gonna be juggling between multiple dishes just to be able to get ready for dinnertime.

One dish is boiling so the meat softens? Time to fry. Oh and have you checked the one you were marinating? Please add that to the veggies in dish #2. Don’t overcook the pasta for dish #1! Please adjust the heat, that pot is boiling over. Taste test for dish #3. Hhm needs more salt. Is the meat soft enough? Good, let's season it. Please mind the fire! You’re gonna char the one you’re frying. This one has marinated long enough, we can add it to dish #2. Take dish #1 off the heat. I think it’s done. Do you think this is fried well enough?

It’s hectic. It’s a mess and a half. You make sure nothing is overcooked or undercooked. Taste test to make sure everything tastes fine. (are the dishes safe for human consumption tho)

ALL DONE!(?)

You wish! Now you have to deal with the clean up!

Wash everything you used for cooking. Pots, pans, knives, measuring cups and spoons, plates and bowls you put the ingredients in, the tasting spoons you used, the ladles and spatulas, etc

Please clean the stoves, sinks, countertops/tabletops too.

Oh yea, put away the excess ingredients and return the condiments and seasonings.

You still there? Still got energy to study and do homework later?

Personally, i clean as i go whenever i have the time in between tending to the dishes. I hate hate hate a messy/dirty kitchen while i cook it makes me wanna rage

DINNERTIME

These fuckers better sit down and eat what you cooked. No. Who the fuck cares if someone is being rowdy or moody or being dramatic. NO ONE wastes your efforts in preparing the food. Sit down and EAT.

I mean alright, maybe you can tag team dinner prep but it’s still a lot in terms of quantity and sheer volume. Will that brother be of actual help in the kitchen?

To sum it all up,

May the Universe have mercy on MC when they’re on cooking duty.

[angel-of-the-moons]

I'm back again since it's been about a month since I last requested. I hope you don't mind me asking another story. So I was thinking of another Hobie one. There is honestly not enough stories about him and I love the way you write him. I was thinking of a more fluff type thing or possibly head cannons. You decide. Regardless about living with Hobie or just spending some downtime with him. Just a chill little thing I wanted to put out there. Thank you. I love your works and appreciate you 😘

Ilysm!!! I am sorry these asks have been rotting in my inbox! I'm finally working on them!!!

Ice Cream

Hobie Brown x Reader

TW/CW: Marijuana usage

Hobie is obviously aged-up in this

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

• When Hobie isn't rocking out with his band at pubs, or fighting the regime™ or working to save the multiverse with the Old Man, he's at home with you.

• He often slips into the window because he refuses to use the front door like a normal person (even if you live on the fifth floor)

• Hobie would find you wherever you were, on the couch, in the kitchen, in bed or in the bathroom; and would immediately wrap his lanky arms around you and breathe deep and relax every muscle in his body

• "Where've you been?" You tease, easing his spiked vest off his stiffened shoulders.

• "Dealin' with the Old Man and his nonstop bitchin'." Hobie said, clicking his tongue, leaning over to rest his chin on the top of your head, holding you against him once more as you carefully ease the rest of his punk paraphernalia off of his person.

• You lead him to the bed, and pull him down on top of you, using your remote to turn on the sound system, playing some of his favorite music tracks on a low volume for background noise

• "You're a goddamn angel, y'know that, luv?" Hobie sighed, closing his eyes as he listens to the soft patter of your heartbeat

• "Mmh, I try." You chuckle, your fingers idly fluffing his wicks and toying with them as you feel his breathing even out

• And in no time, he's out like a light, sprawled out over you like a lanky starfish

• Forget moving this man, despite his thin physique he somehow finds the magic in him to weigh as much as his old, beat-up van

• You're stuck in bed, so the only thing left to do is give in and join him for a nap

• When you two wake up, you work on your usual routine.

• Hobie helps cook, making homemade chips while you batter and bake some fresh chicken

• Once your lunch/dinner is finished, you both cuddle on the sofa and watch some shitty movie on your telly

• He 100% has gutter humor, as well as a perverted sense of one

• Is also very big into physical humor. I'm talking shoving tissues into his nose and pretending to be a walrus kind of physical humor. Whatever it takes to hear you laugh

• Totally plays his guitar for you, singing punk versions of almost any kind of song (except American country. That shite is a travesty upon the music industry!)

• Will often split his pot with you, either rolling joints or using a bong, he'll always offer you a hit if you need or want it

• If you can't handle it, he'll FaceTime you while he smokes on the roof. That way, you're still together and he isn't negatively affecting your health/personal preferences with his smoking

• If you're sick, Hobie will full on hit the breaks to whatever he's doing to take care of you (provided it's a possibility that he can do that)

• This includes sending a selfie with a middle finger to Miguel telling him to not bug him til you're better

• 100% a master at making simple comfort foods when you're sick. Cheese toasties, chicken noodle soup, vegetable soup, even homemade ice cream. He does it all for you

• Runs you a nice hot bath with some eucalyptus and Epsom salts to help your sore muscles and clear sinuses

• If you're nauseous, he'll put peppermint oil in the water with you and run to the market for some ginger pop to ease your stomach, maybe some ginger root tea while he's at it

• Will also buy you some of your favorite digestives just to make sure you get something solid in your tummy

• Will totally fake threaten you about blabbing to anyone about his "secret soft side" and "ruining his image"

• Everyone already knows, he's just blind as hell and doesn't notice lmao

• This man is 100% loyal. If any gal/pal/guy flirts with him, he will flat out shoot em down

• "Nah, mate. I already got the best partner in crime a guy like me could ever ask for. Nobody c'n compare to that!"

• Always makes sure he never worries you (or at least tries to)

• If Hobie is sick or hurt, positions are reversed and you become his personal nurse

• Totally doesn't pretend to be sick sometimes just so you'll spoil him

• You know he's full of shit when he does though, but you just humor him because he's cute about it

• Yeah, you both put up with each other's shit, but you'd never have it any other way

• However... Hobie definitely knows when he's in trouble.

• "Hobart Brown!" You'd shout.

• Yeah, Hobie could easily feel his blood chill when you use his government name

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

THINGS I LOVE ABOUT YOU

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Summary:

Bruno found himself panicking and crying due to some mean comment on his persona, you showed him how wrong they were.

Notes:

I hope you'll like this one.

I watched Encanto and immediately fell in love with the sweet Bruno, I had this fic around in my head for days!

I was thinking about writing a second chapter/sequel (maybe very slightly NSFW, I don't know) but only if you liked the first part and ask for more.

Enjoy!

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

Chapter 1

It was a bright day, ten months after la Casita was rebuilt, the chatting of the people in the village could be heard from inside the house, no needs to be Dolores.

It was always like that on the market day, men and women buying food and clothes, children playing in the plaza.

Bruno was still not used to walking among people, first thing because some of them give him strange looks and last because living for 10 years in the walls of his own house, made him a bit rusty.

Noticing that he wanted to help the familia somehow, you sent him to buy some vegetables and fruits for lunch, Julieta handed him a list and a basket and you walked him through the main door of la Casita and when you noticed his hesitation you placed both of your hands on his face, stroking lovingly at his cheeks with your thumbs.

"You can do it, mi Vida" you whispered.

Moving through the marked he replayed that moment in his mind continuously, trying to remain calm when he noticed that some folks changed their path to walk far from him.

He took several deep breaths but he lost it when he hears a group of women gossiping at his back.

"What Y/N found in that man it's such a mystery to me."

"Look at his clothes! And let's talk about his hair, how many years without a proper cut?"

"Y/N can get a better man, isn't he too old for her?"

He started hyperventilating but tried to focus on his list to distract himself, he needed to buy those things, he needed to prove to you he was able to!

He glanced at the selling stalls but his vision started to blur, he was gasping and he was not even aware of it.

The villagers around stop to look at Bruno, someone with a concerning look and others eyeing him from head to toe with apathy, a young boy asked if he needed help but the man flew away, sprinting through the market and heading home as fast as he could.

Bruno was agile and could be a master in stealth if he wanted to, he whispered at Casita to alert no one that he returned, only a floor tile moved in approval and he slipped into your room.

You moved in just a month ago and Bruno was hesitant to let you see his room, knowing that behind his door was not as cosy and comfortable as his sisters' room or cute and tidy as Mirabel's.

His face dropped when he realized that Casita redesigned his room as soon as you entered, the interminable stairs were gone, the same for all that sand everywhere and the creepy stone statues.

The room was way smaller, with a cavern on the left as a bedroom, with a soft king-size bed and a fireplace, there were even some alcoves with candles and small bowls. On the right, a larger space with a doomed roof similar to one of his older rooms, the sands for Bruno to use for his visions was neatly stored in glass jars on wooden shelves and a green crystal-like chandelier hanging from the centre of the doom.

He was so happy that day, unlike that moment, when crying at the lowest volume possible, Bruno laid himself on the bed, curling like a cat.

In the kitchen with Julieta, you wondered how Bruno was doing in the village, while your friend and "almost sister in law" like she liked to call herself around you, was humming and cooking.

You felt that something was off, glancing at Dolores who was making a face your suspects took form.

"Dolores, sweetie, is Bruno home?" You asked her.

The young woman tilted her head on the left and looking in the opposite direction she made a sad expression.

"He is, Y/N...he's in your room, I can hear sobs and the sounds of his tears falling." She whispered.

In a matter of seconds, you were already on the first floor, knocking on Bruno's door and entering without waiting for a reply.

You noticed immediately the empty basket was tossed randomly in the middle of the room, only the crumpled list inside it.

A sound of rustling fabric made you look towards your shared bed and you approach it, Bruno was there sniffing a wiping his eyes.

"Bruno, what happened?" You asked softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He went rigid immediately and peaked at you with a half-closed eye, his face mostly covered by his long curly hair.

"I'm so sorry Y/N, so sorry," he said before starting to sob again.

It shattered your heart to see him that way, your lovely and kind man was a trembling mess.

You took both his hands in yours and pulled him up in a sitting position, his legs hanging from the side of your bed, facing you.

"Tell me what's wrong, mi Amor" trying to make him look at you, you placed your fingers under his chin but he cast his eyes down on the floor.

He took a deep breath and cleared his voice

"I lost control, those women at the t-the market, they were right about me, about us...you should-"

You narrowed your eyebrows trying to understand and he continued

"They said that I'm...not the right man for you, I'm older and way too uglier than every man you can have, you d-deserve so much better..." He starter to sob again "Why do you stay with me?"

"Oh Bruno, my beloved and wonderful Bruno. I stay with you because I love you for who you are, you're kind and funny, sweet and loving, you care for your family and protect them at all costs...and your appearance is surely a bonus."

He snapped his eyes on you, incredulous.

"My...appearance?"

"Of course, quieres saber por qué?" You cooed and he nodded uncertainty looking at you with wide eyes when you crouched down at his feet.

"Let's start then...from the bottom,mh?" You kept your voice low and calm, trying to make him relax.

"What about your legs? Your lean and agile legs, I saw you running around and climbing when you and your familia rebuilt Casita" touching and massaging his calves, you rise to his tighs, feeling the muscles beginning to loosen up.

"Your hips, you know I love them...the way you swing them while dancing or even just walking" at that point you were straddling his thigs, Bruno shifted a bit to accommodate you.

When you placed your hands on his belly you felt him tense, that was like hitting a nerve, he know he's underweight and still struggling to recover, after 10 years of only eating leftovers he could find around.

So you moved up to his arms and chest when a strong and fast-beating loving heart was pounding.

"I like your arms because you give the warmest hugs...and your chest, it's not board but has the most precious gem inside it, your heart. I can feel it beating fast...oh! Even faster now." You whispered in his ear and Bruno hid his face in your neck out of embarrassment, but the right kind.

"I like your hair, every soft curl and greying strand, it frames your sweet face and I adore burying my fingers in it" and you did just so.

Making him face you again and staring lovingly at his big brown eyes you saw the same thing reflected.

Bruno was a trembling mess for all other reasons at that point, he felt like putty in your hands.

"Y/N" he whispered, his voice shaking, but you shush him with a finger on his lips.

"I haven't finished yet, mi Hermoso amor...I was going to talk about your mouth, with which you sing the sweetest songs to me and say your impeccable visions, the mouth I can't get enough of while kissing you"

You removed your finger from his lips while being only a millimetre apart, letting Bruno decide if he wanted to close the gap, which he did.

The kiss was sugar sweet and irradiated pure love and adoration, he hooked his arms around your waist to pull you closer, his hands roaming on your back and slipping under your blouse.

You both came up for air hearing Mirabel's cheerful voice from downstairs, calling everyone for lunch.

"Do you...r-really think those things about me, Y/N?" Bruno asked with his big puppy eyes shining on you.

"Oh, I have a lot more to tell you, but that would implicate skipping lunch and we don't want that for sure" you replied with a wide grin.

Bruno reddened from head to toes and shook his head, curls shifting with the rapid movements.

You raise from his lap and offer a hand to him to stand up.

"How about...you tell me the rest later? He suggested.

"I think I could, mi Vida" you confirmed, opening the door and heading together in the kitchen with the rest of your familia.

[thehopefuljournalist]

weird question, but do you know if regenerative agriculture is growing, and by what rate? it's important to me but looking for articles on my own can trigger a panic attack :[ no worries if not !

Hey! Thank you so much for asking. Honestly, agriculture and sustainable agriculture specifically are very close to my heart as well, so I was glad for the excuse to do some research :) 

Also, thank you for your patience, I know you sent this Ask a bit ago. It’s good that you’re listening to yourself and not going around searching for things that might cause you harm, so thanks again for reaching out!

So, what is regenerative agriculture? 

Regenerative agriculture is a way of farming that focuses on soil health. When soil is healthy, it produces more food and nutrition, stores more carbon and increases biodiversity – the variety of species. Healthy soil supports other water, land and air environments and ecosystems through natural processes including water drainage and pollination – the fertilization of plants.

Regenerative agriculture is a defining term for sustainability in our food system - while there is no one true definition of regenerative agriculture, the concept has been around for centuries, taking root in Indigenous growing practices. Regenerative approaches can bolster soil health and watershed health. They can also add to climate mitigation and potentially tie into regulatory or commercial incentives for a more sustainable diet. 

Regenerative farming methods include minimizing the ploughing of land. This keeps CO2 in the soil, improves its water absorbency and leaves vital fungal communities in the earth undisturbed.

Rotating crops to vary the types of crop planted improves biodiversity, while using animal manure and compost helps to return nutrients to the soil. 

Continuously grazing animals on the same piece of land can also degrade soil, explains the Regenerative agriculture in Europe report from the European Academies’ Science Advisory Council. So regenerative agriculture methods include moving grazing animals to different pastures.

How can it help?

Regenerative farming can improve crop yields – the volume of crops produced – by improving the health of soil and its ability to retain water, as well as reducing soil erosion. If regenerative farming was implemented in Africa, crop yields could rise 13% by 2040 and up to 40% in the future, according to a Regenerative Farming in Africa report by conservation organization the International Union for Conservation of Nature and the UN.

Regenerative farming can also reduce emissions from agriculture and turn the croplands and pastures, which cover up to 40% of Earth’s ice-free land area, into carbon sinks. These are environments that naturally absorb CO2 from the atmosphere, according to climate solutions organization Project Drawdown.

5 ways to scale regenerative agriculture:

1. Agree on common metrics for environmental outcomes. Today, there are many disparate efforts to define and measure environmental outcomes. We must move to a set of metrics adopted by the whole food industry, making it easier for farmers to adjust their practices and for positive changes to be rewarded. 2. Build farmers’ income from environmental outcomes such as carbon reduction and removal. We need a well-functioning market with a credible system of payments for environmental outcomes, trusted by buyers and sellers, that creates a new, durable, income stream for farmers. 3. Create mechanisms to share the cost of transition with farmers. Today, all the risk and cost sits with the farmers. 4. Ensure government policy enables and rewards farmers for transition. Too many government policies are in fact supporting the status quo of farming. The food sector must come together and work jointly with regulators to address this. 5. Develop new sourcing models to spread the cost of transition. We must move from sourcing models that take crops from anywhere to models that involve collaboration between off-takers from different sectors to take crops from areas converting to regenerative farming.

The rise of regenerative agriculture

In 2019, General Mills, the manufacturer of Cheerios, Yoplait and Annie’s Mac and Cheese (among other products), announced it would begin sourcing a portion of its corn, wheat, dairy and sugar from farmers who were engaged in regenerative agriculture practices and committed to advancing the practice of regenerative agriculture on one million acres of land by 2030. In early 2020, Whole Foods announced regenerative agriculture would be the No. 1 food trend and, in spite of the pandemic and the rapid growth of online shopping overshadowing the trend, business interest in the field still spiked by 138%. 

More recently, PepsiCo announced it was adopting regenerative agriculture practices among 7 million acres of its farmland. Cargill declared it intends to do the same on 10 million acres by 2030, and Walmart has committed to advancing the practice on 50 million acres. Other companies pursuing regenerative agriculture include Danone, Unilever, Hormel, Target and Land O’ Lakes.

According to Nielsen, 75% of millennials are altering their buying habits with the environment in mind. This sentiment, of course, does not always materialize into tangible actions on behalf of every consumer. However, it is clear from the actions of PepsiCo, General Mills, Walmart, Unilever and others that they believe consumers’ expectations of what is environmentally friendly are shifting and that they will soon be looking to purchase regeneratively-produced foods because of the many benefits they produce.

The next step in the transition to regenerative agriculture is certification. The goal is to create labeling that will allow the consumer to connect to the full suite of their values. Some companies are partnering with nonprofit conveners and certifiers. The Savory Institute is one such partner, convening producers and brands around regenerative agriculture and more holistic land management practices.

In 2020, the Savory Institute granted its first “Ecological OutCome Verification (EOV) seal to Epic’s latest high protein bars by certifying that its featured beef was raised with regenerative agriculture practices. 

The program was developed to let the land speak for itself by showing improvement through both leading and lagging functions such as plant diversity and water holding capacity. There are now thousands of products that have been Land to Market verified, with over 80 brand partnerships with companies such as Epic Provisions, Eileen Fisher and Applegate.  Daily Harvest is giving growers in that space three-year contracts as well as markets and price premiums for the transitional crop. It's focusing on that transitional organic process as a stepping stone toward a regenerative organic food system.

Daily Harvest’s Almond Project creates an alliance with the Savory Institute and a group of stakeholders - including Simple Mills and Cappello’s - to bring regenerative practices to almonds in the Central Valley of California.

These companies are working with Treehouse California Almonds, their shared almond supplier, to lead soil health research on 160 acres of farmland. Over five years, the Project will focus on measuring outcomes around the ecosystem and soil health of regenerative practices – comparing those side by side with neighboring conventional baselines.

“We need industry partnership; we need pre-competitive collaboration,” says Rebecca Gildiner, Director of Sustainability at Daily Harvest, of the Almond Project. “Sustainability cannot be competitive. We are all sharing suppliers, we are all sharing supply – rising tides truly lift all boats. The industry has to understand our responsibility in investing, where historically investments have disproportionately focused on yields with a sole focus of feeding the world. We know this has been critical in the past but it has overlooked other forms of capital, other than financial. We need to look towards experimenting in holistic systems that have other outcomes than yield and profit - instead of saying organic can’t feed the world, we have to invest in figuring out how organic can feed the world because it’s critical.”

////

In short!!!

Many articles are stating regenerative agriculture as a defining, and rising “buzz word” in the industry. It seems that consumers are becoming more and more aware and are demanding more sustainable approaches to agriculture. 

We, of course, have a way to go, but it seems from the data that I’ve gathered, that regenerative agriculture is, in fact, on the rise. Demand is rising, and many are working on ways to globalize those methods.

Source Source Source Source

[theresattrpgforthat]

My wife's looking for a TTRPG where you run a store. I don't know why she wants this but as her husband I must deliver, hit me up please noble ttrpg purveyors

THEME: Running A Store

Hello! I have quite a few games that I’ve recommended in the past for this, so I’m going to direct you to a few of those first. I have a Markets and Trade rec post that you might want to check out, for example, as well as a post about Tavern Games. There will also be a considerably sizeable list at the end of this post.

Now, let’s see what else we can find. Most of these look like they’re specifically for running a cafe, if not for some kind of food service. That being said, the goals for each of these games are very different!

You Want Fries with That?, by Matthew Landrum

Welcome to our company! We’re sure you will find working at our restaurant rewarding and fulfilling as you deliver meaningful dining experiences, develop marketable employee skills, and enrich company value.  Just trust in the guidance of the General Manager, and remember, we’re all family here! 

In You Want Fries with That? each player takes the role of an employee in a fast-food restaurant, scrambling to meet customer needs and find meagre satisfaction in their work.

This is a cutthroat game of struggling to keep up with customer orders in a fast-food environment. Play happens over a number of rounds, in which players will cover for each-other’s weaknesses, strategically take breaks to conserve your stamina (and your enthusiasm), and battle against wage theft, angry managers, and rapid promotions.

If you want a chance for your characters to interact with each-other and role-play, you’ll want a different game than this. But if you want a survival game that takes place in a hostile environment, consider this one!

Twenty (Stories Tall), by kumada1.

On good days, when the weather is clear, you can see the end of the world from your window. You work in a little coffee shop in the Inner Circle. It's one of many coffee shops and kiosks in the city of Abject, and if there were other cities left in existence, they would probably think the people of Abject have a bit of a coffee problem. There is no food scarcity, no one starves in order for coffee beans to be grown, but the volume of beans produced here is truly extraordinary, and they are ground, brewed, and consumed daily at hundreds of quaint little bistros across the city.

Your shop, with its little bites to eat and its trendy décor, is no different from the others but for one important factor---you.

Ever since you came of working age, there's been a power stirring in your blood. Sometimes, when you get too bored, or too angry, or otherwise too emotional, you grow. You grow from Small to Medium, Medium to Large, Large to Twenty. And at Twenty (stories tall), you're big enough to go toe-to-toe with the monsters that would destroy your city.

Twenty is a 50 page tabletop roleplaying game about fighting monsters and working in food service. Twenty uses things you could find in a coffee shop instead of dice, and it regards relationships as hit points. It's suitable for oneshot or campaign play, and it comes with a starter adventure.

The theme of running a shop is definitely here, but the target of your character abilities look to be aimed more at fighting giant monsters. It’s also a game that encourages you to think about the stresses and horrors of customer service. If you like a game that’s a bit tongue-in-cheek, then this is the game for you!

Whistling Wolf Cafe: Multiplayer Edition, by Lucky Newt Games.

Thank you for joining us at Whistling Wolf Café! Our motto is “You might not always get what you want, but you’ll always get what you need.” Serving customers by giving them what they need to feel better instead of what they prefer can be tricky, but I trust that your amazing tea-brewing skills will win them over. 

There’s a small shop next door with things that might help you, and people looking for a bit of work. Just be sure you use your own tips to purchase them or the owner will be, well, not so happy. Also, I hate to say it, but the more bad reviews you get, the worse it looks for both of us. So do what you can to avoid that.

Whistling Wolf Café is a café sim game for 2-4 players. You are a master brewer who is more focused on what a customer might need rather than what they want, and that can complicate things. All you need per player is a deck of playing cards, a handful of six-sided dice, and something to take notes with. Between a shared Shop and a few different items, player interaction is built into the game.

If you like games that are about taking care of other people, this game might be up your alley. It looks like there’s also a balance component - how many customers can you serve, and how well can you brew your tea? The descriptions for the tea and food offered in the cafe look absolutely scrumptious. Definitely worth checking out!

Coffee & Chaos, by CobblePath Games.

Coffee & Chaos is a comedy tabletop roleplaying game about running a cafe, bar, restaurant or other establishment as everything goes very, very wrong around you.

Coffee & Chaos allows characters to retain all of their quirks from any other games they might be in. Your druid can still wildshape, your street samurai still has their cyber-arm. But when taken out of their element the focus is on how they use those skills and abilities to solve problems (or accidentally make things worse).

I like the idea of transporting your already-created characters into a new setting, and Coffee and Chaos certainly does this. Your character will have three approaches to problems: Knives (direct approaches), Forks (creative approaches), and Spoons (considered approaches). Coffee and Chaos is designed for comedy more than realism. The goal for this game is fun stories more than anything else.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Poutine, by the Kinematic Cafe.

Sweaters by Hedgehog, by Haunted Oak Press

Spirited Cafe, by A Couple of Drakes.

A Diner at the End, by Bammax Games.

Merchant, by Hella Big Claws.

Fox Curio's Floating Bookshop, by lostwaysclub.

[sakuraspages]

sasusaku snippet #13

[Mermaid!Sakura AU - #8]

Sakura feels slightly better the next day, and almost normal, if tired, the following day. Sasuke is happy that the antibiotics worked and that Sakura is awake again.

Tsunade's words are still in his mind but it's very easy to forget them when Sakura smiles at him and her green eyes shimmer like the sunset over the sea. He tells himself that he will think about it later, get to know Sakura when she feels better and try to guess what her intentions are in the coming weeks. She surely would already have attempted something against him if she really had malicious plans, wouldn't she?

Now he is happy just to come home after work and see her up and healing. She floods his bathroom a couple more times, he stops trying to ask her not to. She is still too weak to try to walk again but she regains her appetite and is strong enough to talk to him in the evening.

She now happily tells him what her favorite foods are. Naruto asks him about his exorbitant fish market tabs and Sasuke just says he had guests over. She refuses to eat vegetables but she tries chocolate and makes herself queasy eating too much of it at once.

She reads a lot of books from his dusty shelves and asks him about the human things she reads. He could listen to her for hours, watching her put her hair behind her ear and bite her lip as she looks over a page to read a sentence to him.

At the end of her first week since he found her, she welcomes him home with an unusually suspicious attitude. She moves to the farthest side of the bed when he enters the room and he wonders what changed since the day before, when she was eager to nestle against his chest to be carried to the bathtub.

“Are you ok?...” he asks.

“I know why you're squishy down there,” she says with an accusatory glare at his pants.

His confusion deepens. “... What?”

She waves a book in front of her. “It says everything in there! It says the things males of your species do to females!”

“What book is that–”

He squints at the cover when she stops shaking the book and he understands. It’s the last volume of Icha Icha Paradise, which Kakashi gifted him a few years ago and he was using to wedge his headboard into place.

“How did you find that?” he asks.

“I read all your other books. I do not want you to… to…” she says as she leaves through the pages to find her words, “'thrust your hot flesh sword into my tight moist tunnel'!” she reads.

Part of him wants to laugh but she seems to be genuinely upset and he honestly cannot blame her for distrusting men after reading this rag of a romance novel.

“Noted,” he says calmly. “I'm not sure you should read this book it's not really–”

“You will not convince me with flowers or jewelry!” she adds like she fears it was his next move.

He shakes his head slowly. “I won't try to. It's not a good book, it doesn't show real relationships, it–”

“If you do, I will crush your squishy parts like a crab claw!” she threatens.

He can feel his privates flinch at this thought. “I'd like to avoid that.”

For a long moment she looks at him like she’s trying to judge him. “Really?”

“Sakura, I won't do anything you don't want me to do. I'll stop carrying you around if you don't want me to touch you.”

She seems confused when she realizes she might just have stopped him from doing her favorite thing. “I still want you to carry me in your arms. But I don't want you near my…” she leaves through the book again and reads a sentence, “my 'sensitive love cave'!”

“I will not touch you anywhere you don't want me to but please stop quoting this book.”

“What about when the mating season comes?” she asks with squinted eyes. “You won't try to mate with me if I'm the only female around?”

“No?”

She finally seems to relax. “... Ok.”

“When is mating season?...” he dares to ask.

“Some time next month.”

“So you… You want to go back to the sea to find a mate?”

"No. I just lay my eggs somewhere then I leave. None of these disgusting things happens,” she says as she waves Icha Icha Paradise again.

“You lay eggs,” he repeats, trying not to sound too surprised.

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Not many. Five or ten thousand usually.”

“Cool.” This will be a problem.

“When is mating season for you?” she asks.

“We don’t have that. We do it whenever we want, I mean when both people want to do it.”

“Well, I don’t want to," she says, "so keep your…” another glance at the book, “ ...'velvety love stick' away from me.”

He can’t help a loud sigh as he curses Kakashi for gifting him this.

“Give me this book, I’ll burn it.”

[tryingmy-positivelybest]

Rebels rewatch liveblog: Season 1, Episode 4: “Fighter Flight”

I love how Ezra immediately tries to flirt with Sabine - it’s very realistic for a 15 yo boy. I like that they just ended up as friends/siblings though, it shows both of their character development and maturity

…

Thank god Chopper never met the 501st because his little shit instincts would have overdeveloped

…

Kothal on Lothal? How on earth did they get that?

…

We really don’t give a lot of credit to Hera, she deserves more 😭😭

…

Okay but why does the Empire need meilooruns?

…

Usually when characters speak to themselves it sounds odd and sort of like a video game, but in Rebels they do a good job of making it sound natural

…

Zeb’s insistence that Ezra and him need to be even makes me wonder if the Lasats had a life-debt culture? It’s canon in other cultures such as gungans, so it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch…

…

I love Hera and Sabine’s dynamic

…

“THE KIDS”?? “THE KIDS”?? You are correct sir, you and Hera and the exhausted parents, Zeb is the older brother, Sabine is the cooler older sister that everyone is intimidated by, and Ezra is the disaster youngest who’s the parents favorite and no one can stay mad at. (Honorable mention: Vodka uncle Chopper)

…

Rebels s1 shows the Empires day to day, which I love. Sort of like Andor but with much lower stakes - of course they’re taking farms, of course they’re buying meilooruns at a local market.

…

I love the reference to a new hope ❤️❤️

…

Ezra’s absurdly powerful for someone who’s only trained with the force for like?? a week?? Like he’s already sensing obstacles and pushing buttons. Speaking of, i think that it would have been interesting to explore the idea of Ezra using the force before he met the Ghost crew - not knowing what it is, just knowing that it helps to convince storekeepers to give him food

…

“You did all this for fruit” stormtrooper you will always be famous

…

Ezra it’s YOUR backpack 1. Why do you not know what’s in it?? And 2. Why do you have a WRENCH?

…

Brother brother bonding time by killing stormtroopers and hiding stolen vehicles <3

…

Zeb trying to show that he cares by giving Ezra the helmet, only for Ezra to dismiss it is so sad, but it probably speaks volumes for the social skills that Ezra couldn’t develop on the streets (he took it tho <33)

[ae-neon]

Honestly don't know how to feel

Like I'm trying to carry on but I'm juggling a half operational tablet, a geriatric laptop and a borrowed semi-functional phone.

I can't write because I keep thinking about how much work I just lost

And then I try to read crescent city and sjm dives head first into another racist stereotype of a reptilian Asian woman who rules over a den of thievery, prostitution and drugs and starts it off with specifically talking about "exotic" food that's being delivered to the Meat Market

Then she goes on to talk about Memento Mori and surprise surprise represents it as the exact opposite of what it historically is but she'll get called a subversive genius for that so who cares anyway

I wanna make a comprehensive post but I can only copy text from the tablet and only run Tumblr on the phone. I can't connect my earphones to the tablet or the laptop because they're still connected to my broken phone and it doesn't matter for this phone because it wouldn't run Spotify or YouTube Music anyway

And I'm overstimulated and it's too hot and I hate the sound of the fan cause it's too loud but I need it so I can't even play my asmr on the tablet because the volume has to be so high and the sound quality is shit so everything is sharp and it's giving me a headache and I wanna just cry and bury myself in some cool dark earth and sleep forever

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Twenty-one

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 2.1k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

Cold air swirled through the tunnels, moaning now and then, making the stone sing with an invisible shiver, although it lacked the charm of a candle-lit room where the flames danced and shadows swayed with every whisper. Tom missed working by candlelight. The phone rang, filling the little office with its trill. He picked it up quickly, knowing it could only be one person.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Malfoy is on the way,” she whispered. “Together with that pretty boy.”

Tom looked from the corner of his eye toward the other side of the office where Ambrogio was working. He’d grown more haggard since the Baron expected him to work during the daylight hours. Tom grinned and put the phone down with a whisper of thanks.

His own work was progressing slowly too but steadily and his bin was full of rejected papers torn and thrown out by Ambrogio. Their influx of new books had wavered due to market forces that Tom didn’t bother understanding. More muggle nonsense, as usual. It suited him just fine, gave him time to think of his next steps — an unwelcome necessity now that he found himself, technically, alone. She’d forgiven the roughness of his lovemaking, sure, but she still wasn’t on board with his plan.

“Sir,” he said in his most obsequious voice as he walked slowly toward the vampire. “Could I go on my lunch break now?”

Ambrogio checked his pocket watch — an item which, with its craftsmanship and beauty, betrayed both its age and his — and curled his nose.

“Lazier than a stoat taking a shit you are, Riddle. It isn’t even half past eleven.”

“Yes, sir, exactly. That’s when the restaurants still have tables free and all the food is fresh.”

“Fine. Begone.”

Tom bowed lightly from the hips even though Ambrogio’s back was turned and with a cheerful flourish off he went. The corridor of the undershop was as quiet as usual but as he got closer to the entrance he began to hear the echoing of footsteps. Soon enough, in the dim interspersed light, he caught sight of them.

“Mr. Malfoy.”

“Tom.”

“A pleasure to see you,” he said as he came to a stop. “Again.”

“Indeed,” said Mr. Malfoy with what for him passed as a smile. “And in a circumstance in which we can speak… more or less freely.”

Tom’s lips curled and his eyes slid to the man’s companion. So he wasn’t a wizard…

“Ah, yes. This is Tom Riddle. He attended the same school as my son. Tom, this is Donatien Durand. My secretary.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Riddle,” said Donatien with a lilt that pressed down hard on the last letters of each word. He extended a soft hand adorned with a signet on his pinky finger that seemed a size too large. Of course Malfoy would stick to his own social class, even amongst muggles.

“How do you do, Monsieur Durand,” smiled Tom, shaking his hand firmly. “Have you been in Mr. Malfoy’s employ long?”

“Oh, not at all,” said the boy with a brilliant grin. “He employed me in France only last summer. For my knowledge of Italian.”

“And what of your former master, Tom? Through with Burke, are you?”

“Oh, I’m just here to expand my expertise among… foreign markets,” said Tom with a smile. Donatient’s presence made open conversation difficult, but he could have that work in his favour.

“Here?” Septimus asked with a prickly tone.

“Well, they do have some interesting volumes, sir. As I’m sure you’ll agree,” said Tom pointedly.

“Yes… I come for their auction, of course. The few things worth taking should be taken, and by someone who knows what they’re worth.”

Tom nodded and tried not to smile. His gaze went back to Donatien, looking a little more attentively now. And it didn’t take him long to find what he was seeking.

“Are you hurt?” asked Tom, his eyes fixed on the two puncture marks above his collar.

“What? Oh,” the boy said, bashfully covering the bite.

Mr. Malfoy observed their interaction carefully, a head above them both.

“It’s the hotel we’re staying at,” said Donatien. “It was recommended by a friend, but for certain it is infested with insects. Spiders, perhaps. They bit me.”

“Really?” said Tom with a curl of his lips.

“Well, you know,” said Mr. Malfoy, “these Italians…”

“I can’t say I’ve experienced the same thing. Although sometimes I suspect this place is infested too,” he grinned.

Mr. Malfoy laughed, the deep sound echoing around them. Donatien nodded and smiled a little awkwardly, pretending to understand the inside joke between the other men. He put the strangeness of it down to English humour…

“Well, I shall leave you as I’m sure you’re here on business.”

“Yes,” said Septimus, his eyes still shining. “Here to make a down payment.”

“I see… Well, I wish you a good day, then,” said Tom, and then he turned to Donatien. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“The same,” he smiled. “Good day.”

“I hope to see you again, Tom.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will, Mr. Malfoy,” he grinned, then passed them, walking backwards a few steps before turning and leaving them both in the dark.

II

He found her fretting at the desk. From the way her face lit up, she wasn’t expecting him.

“Tom!”

“I hope you’re hungry because we’re off to lunch.”

She got up and took her jacket from the back of the chair. “When you never said anything…”

“Oso was there,” he said, going to the entrance to pick up her coat and hold it up for her. “Couldn’t let him know you warned me. Thank you, by the way.”

“You’re very welcome,” she smiled, turning to tuck her arms into the coat. “You must have met them on the way out.”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Let’s find somewhere nice to eat and then I’ll tell you all about it,” he smiled. “My treat.”

A frosty air had fallen on the two of them since that conversation in the morning after the doomed opera, and although they’d reconciled almost as quickly as they’d quarrelled they kept their distance from each other afterwards as if afraid of what they’d do, or what they’d say to one another. Where the passion faded a novel friendship took its place, closer and more intimate than what they’d had before. They touched each other more easily now as if no expectation came attached, and talked like an old couple that no longer bothered to impress. Neither of them did anything in particular to return to the sort of love they had before. They simply allowed themselves to fall back into it naturally.

They went to their usual restaurant and in true Italian fashion ordered two glasses of wine to go with lunch. She was quieter than usual but many questions and ideas burned in her eyes as she sat in front of Tom. He smiled to let her know he noticed but refused to speak until after they were served. They had a good view of the fountain from their table by the window, something they rarely got to enjoy when they lunched together at one or two o’clock like most everyone else. Tom considered they should go out early more often.

“So?” she pressed, nearly jumping in her seat once the servers were gone and they were finally alone. “Did he recognise you?”

“Of course,” said Tom as he cut into his cordon bleu. “He recognised me the first time, really.”

She listened carefully and waited for him to continue. It bothered him somewhat that he could not share with her all his thoughts, his ideas, his suspicions… For instance, that Mr. Malfoy was bringing Donatien to Oso on several occasions for the vampire to feed and then Obliviating the poor boy.

“Well, they certainly have some sort of arrangement. But he finds it suspicious that I’m here as well although he’s too polite to make a fuss about it.”

“And what’s Donatien’s role in all this?” she asked, stabbing a small tentacle with her fork in her plate of seafood pasta.

“He’s — wait, I never told you his name.”

“He introduced himself when he came in today,” she smiled. “Seemed like a nice boy…”

Tom hummed, transparently displeased with her gushing over Donatien. Sure, he was good-looking in a common sort of way, but he wasn’t that special, Tom thought. Just an ordinary young man who was bound to wrinkle and grey just like the rest of them in a few years. His suit might fit him nicely now, but after a few more years of French cuisine, he’ll be soft around the edges with flesh sagging all around. That is if he lived for long enough.

“So? What is he?”

“His secretary,” said Tom, and took a bite. “Officially.”

“And unofficially?”

He smiled. “It would be unfair to tell you. Even he doesn’t know what he really is.”

She looked at Tom with large, frightened eyes, the most horrifying scenarios running through her mind.

“Specifically, he’s too attractive for his own good,” said Tom to speed those horrors along. He bit into a piece of chicken breast and chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure Oso finds him absolutely… delicious.”

She just about choked on a tentacle.

III

It was so nice to be on his own. He minded the company of muggles less than he thought he would — or at least of certain muggles — but there were not that many opportunities for Tom to really be himself. To light his room in floating candle flame and cover the windows with ivy, to brew for himself a cup of black tea that hovered just at shoulder level perpetually hot and out of range of being knocked over by his elbows. The rarity of such things made them all the more magical and in his more unguarded moments he felt the same sort of wonder as he did when he first learned he was a wizard. He took a slow, thoughtful sip of his tea before placing it back in the air, just at the periphery of his vision, and continued to scan the sketches before him.

He’d drawn a careful outline of the undershop with all of its corridors and rooms, its dimensions, and matched it against a map of the city. He had to resize his sketch quite a few times to match and he rendered it somewhat transparent. After an hour of playing around this way, he was confident he had what he needed. The next auction was at the end of the upcoming month, and before that, he needed to have everything ready. A chart with timetables from last year’s almanac came in handy, listing the time of sunrises and sunsets for that time of year. In the background, he let the radio play as he waited for the weather forecast.

His plan for the following days was coming together nicely. The only part that was missing was her. He once hoped foolishly in retrospect that she would play a part, abscond with the book for him and eagerly hand it over right before he made his escape — without her, of course. He could always Obliviate her afterwards, a parting gift, and leave her to take the blame in front of the Baron who, due to his muggle and mangled understanding of the metaphysical nature of women, was already predisposed to viewing them as the eternal deceivers of men. Tom could always cover his exit as an urgent recall back to England by Burke.

Unfortunately for Tom, while she enjoyed his… company, his attention, his clumsy attempts at replicating love, and even enjoyed the slightly rougher side of him, she was no pushover when she didn’t want to be. It surprised him, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. He’d read her as a lost and lonely girl, a stranger in a strange land. Neglected by her mother and likely her father too, berated and criticised throughout her childhood and apparently her adulthood now, she envied him for not having a family at all, and even for Tom that was shocking.

And still she resisted him, even when he painted her a picture of the most beautiful escape…

Well, he was determined to not let it get to him. It was not that his charms were insufficient — the thought of which wounded his pride — nor that she did not care about him as much as he had thought, which wounded something else. Instead, Tom chose to view it as —

“And tomorrow, cloudy skies in the morning, followed by a sunny afternoon which should carry on well into the evening,” said the weatherman on the radio.

Tom tilted his head back and sighed, letting a calm smile curl on his lips.

[delyth-thomas-art]

Tired Webcomic Creator Noises

Gags … ah yes lets make art into mindless content spat out by Ai cos we've been literally killing creators with inhumane workloads to spit out as many episodes as possible for mindless consumption.

I make my comics with passion and love of the craft! I have a degree in Comics, I spent years...years learning, practising, experimenting, adapting. I recall the days where you may get a page a week, or a few at the start of the month back in the 2000s era of self hosted webcomics and smackjeeves. (Rant below)

I've had to learn how the whole scrolling format worked to adapt to where all the readers had gone to, having been taught the traditional print page formats. And now cos its suddenly a massive money maker for these few hosts and they've pushed creators to the brink with the sheer volume they want pumped out that of course they want to use AI.

But it will speed up colouring! I have multiple tools available by the software I use and made by the wonderful people who love creating that colouring isn't that much of a chore, Its my fav part honestly. And its also a job sector within comics, colourists are skilled artists and this is another way to trim the fat, to pocket more money and keep churning out the 5th millionth villainess story.

Yes I am in most views a tiny creator, I haven't even broken their 1000 sub goal to even try applying for ad rev in the near 5 ish years on webtoon. But what I make I love, I spend hours researching folklore, scripting, drafting the whole kabudle like many other creators. And other than the kind supporters on my Patreon and Ko-fi I don't make much from the hours, days, weeks I pour into what I make. But at least I know its made with my own hands. That its made with love as corny as that sounds.

Ai is creeping its tentacles into everything, now ethically trained ai tools to help smaller creators would be fine. Most creators already rely on 3d tools to speed up things like backgrounds for webcomics. But when we don't know what its trained on, and is marketed wholesale as something anyone can use to make "content" is where it gets insidious. I am all for anyone with the desire to create and tell a story to go out there and do so, whether a beginner or a master. Part of the joy of a long running webcomic is seeing the artist grow both artistically and literary. But with ai it will be all one homogenous style, a copy of what ever is the hot thing. We already have amazon stuffed to the teeth with ai generated books, videos, merch and more all to be sold in some get rich quick manner. (need I point at the Willy's Wonderland incident). Youtube videos being spat out by faceless accounts stealing and regurgitating content at the speed no human video making team can easily match without cutting out quality or fact checking.

It is tiring. Creatives as a whole are treated poorly for decades, and now with the rapid late stage capitalism, website /social media enshitification and the blind headlong rush into the next big money making thing (watches the nft crash). I can't deny Covid sped this up, as everyone was locked inside and turned to what we creators made for comfort. But that content eating boom, lead to more demand, faster output and tighter budgets. We are seeing journalists being cut, game designers in their thousands and recently Dreamworks cutting a bunch and pushing to make their Robot film come out sooner due to public demands.

Skilled creatives are being treated like disposable fast food restaurant employees. Used til they burn out, get injured and even die! And then are simply replaced.

I've never been a creator with huge ambitions to work at places like DC, Marvel or Top Cow. I simply wished to create and share stories with the world, to bring smiles, to create art that evokes emotions, inspires others to look around themselves and create too.

Art is for everyone. You just need to take that scary jump, there is a whole array of welcoming communities willing to teach and share. I wouldn't have improved so much without the kindness of the webcomic groups I've discovered and learnt from. Everyone is always learning, and there no shame in not knowing how to do a thing. Even I started with the cheesy how to draw books as a kid and made my own pokemon and digimon.

Don't let the world treat your art as content. It is "ART" as much as what's kept in the louvre is seen as art, so is that little stick man doodle on a postit.

So Try something new, try a new material, a new style.

And support the artists you enjoy, tip their Ko-Fi, pledge to their Patreon, buy a sticker or print. Share their posts and tell them what you love about what they make.

Don't let machines steal away the art in HEART.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Chopped

Part Ten of If You Can't Take the Heat

You Got a Minute? | Masterlist | To Market

Pairing: Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto x Reader

Rating: M (though it may have explicit chapters in the future)

Notes: Welcome back! I hope y’all are having a nice week!❣️ Also no worries, there’s another chapter incoming, it just doesn’t have a name yet.

Also also we will return to the land of plot next chapter. This one is just for funsies.

Warnings: Fluff! Chopped! Not beta-read.

Summary: It seems more like something Carmy might make at the shop—a panini spilling over with bright vegetables, chicken, and oozing cheese. There’s a serving of fries there as well, and you know that they’re handcut and baked.

“First baskets are ready to go…Please open your first basket.”

“Babe, it’s starting,” You call out, eyes set on the television as the contestants open their baskets. “Do you want me to come help you?”

“Nah, you’re good. Turn it up!” Carmy calls back. You reach out, grabbing the remote and turning the volume up so that Carmy can hear it from your kitchen. Ted Allen’s voice rings out across your living room: 

“Green tomatoes…” 

“I’m looking at these tomatoes, and I’m just thinking uh, I hate these,” Groans one of the contestants. 

“Venison,” Ted Allen goes on. 

“Ooo,” You frown, brow furrowing. “What even is venison?” 

“Deer meat,” Carmy says, setting two plates down on the coffee table in front of you. You glance down, and do a double-take at the sight of the food there as the scent of it catches your nose. 

“Damn, babe. That looks good,” You reach out, taking your plate up. It seems more like something Carmy might make at the shop—a pannini spilling over with bright vegetables, chicken, and oozing cheese. There’s a serving of fries there as well, and you know that they’re handcut and baked. You reach out, taking your plate and leaning back in your seat, popping a fry into your mouth with a groan. When you look up again, you find that the chefs are already off and running. 

“Wait, what else did they get?” You ask. 

“Water chestnuts and wonton wrappers.” 

“No.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Those wonton wrappers are so dangerous…What would you do?” You ask, glancing at Carmy. 

“Bacon wrapped venison bite. Use the wonton as a little bowl, pan sear the venison ,” He answers without a second thought. “Throw the water chestnuts and the green tomatoes into a puree, add some shallots, garlic, some heavy cream. Give a brighter taste to the bite—cut through the salt, counter the crunch.” 

You blink at Carmy, stunned, watching as he plucks up a couple of fries and pops them into his mouth. 

“...How long did it take you to come up with that?” You ask. Carmy just shrugs nonchalantly, reaching out and taking his beer. You smile, shaking your head and resting your chin on his shoulder. 

“Fricking genius chef.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“Gordon Ramsey’s got nothin’ on you.” 

“Eat your food,” Carmy presses. “It’s getting cold.” 

You can see, though, that his cheeks are pinking with flattery. You’re perfectly content to lean back and watch Chopped, but Carmy mutters to himself every now and again—between bites, after sips—completely unprompted. 

“Plating always makes me the most nervous,” You mutter as you watch the four chefs hurriedly put their food up. “Like, what if you drop something?” 

“What do you do if you drop something when you’re bartending?” Carmy asks, glancing back toward you as the four chefs line up to 

“Laugh it off in person but, like, scream on the inside.” 

“But you keep going, right?” 

“Yeah, ‘cause I have to.” 

“So do they.” 

You scoff, leaning back in your seat. “Alright—Michelin Miyagi.” 

-- 

“Oh my god, are you kidding me!” You crow as one of the contestants leaves. “That’s insane!” 

“No it is not—” 

“The other guy left off a basket ingredient!” 

“Yeah, but raw pork could kill someone.” 

You consider Carmy's argument before you slouch back, grumbling.

“For your main course, we have…”

You half-shove the remainder of your panini into your mouth as Ted Allen begins to introduce the new ingredients. 

“Swordfish…Fennel seeds…” 

You glance toward Carmy as he gives a short nod, and lets out an appreciative hum. 

“Maraschino cherries…And potato chips.” 

“Breading for the swordfish?” You pipe up. 

“Good,” Carmy nods, pointing at you without looking away from the television. “If you grilled it, that would be good. Drain and rinse the cherries, turn that into a salsa.” 

“What about the fennel seeds?”

“Add it to the swordfish. Some paprika, garlic, lemon.” 

“...Hell, I’d eat that.” 

--  

“Wow—” 

“Saw that coming,” You mutter. “You can’t just shove something into a blender with cream and call it a hummus.” 

“Amateur hour,” Carmy agrees. You watch, smiling as Carmy scooches down om the couch, resting his head on your lap. You reach down, tenderly combing your fingers through his hair as Ted Allen proclaims:

“And your dessert must feature…Granny Smith apples…Sweet vermouth…” 

“Curveball,” You mutter.

“Gingerbread…And apricot paste.” 

“Ice cream?” You ask. 

“Mm…With what?” Carmy asks, tipping his head up to look at you.

“The apricot paste and vermouth? Turn the gingerbread crumbs into a crumble…”

“And the apples?” 

“....Okay, I take it back, make a little, like…apple pie?” 

Carmy considers for a moment. 

“I’d make an apricot ice cream, use the vermouth to cook season the apples with, and use the gingerbread as a crumble.” 

“...Yeah, you know what,” You nod. “That’s the move.” 

“Uh-huh…Good jumping-off point, though.” 

“You're too kind, Berzatto.” 

Carmy huffs softly, amused. 

“...You’re pretty good at this,” He comments. 

“You’re a freaking rockstar at this, but like…Knew you would be…I'll do the dishes after this.”

"I got 'em."

"You cooked, it's only fair."  

“...We'll do 'em after the next episode.”

Tag list: @bobawithpomegranate ; @brandyllyn ;  @artemiseamoon  ; @amneris21 ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @backoff-imreading ; @quietpainter ; @milf-trinity ; @distinguishedfilipina ; @peoniarose ; @missredherring ; @estrela-rogers ; @silkiers ; @sammiekay01 ; @velmalav ; @themartiansdaughter ; @eddiemunson4ever  ; @whoahoney​ ; @wittyno ; @winchestershiresauce ; @artaxerxesthegreat ; @blueeyesatnight​