#Chef Training Program

[raksh-writes]

damn it, I should be pouring all my energy and brainpower into studying, since it's exam season already and I have two tests on thursday alone, but of course, my brain suddenly decided to start thinking up Star Wars fic ideas, like--

ughhh, brain, it's not the time!!

[marsuni]

actively learning how real tumblr’s vernacular is and how out of pocket it is to those unfamiliar when you say it out loud

[redrosesshadowwolf]

I just put Shepard pie and chicken pot pie together in the same bowl. Honestly not that bad together. The flavors only clash a little.

Posting this on here instead of other social media because I'm related to a chef, and someone who went through culinary school. And if they saw this I feel like I'd be disowned.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Help me! I'm hypnotized...

The loser roommate I got stuck with did something to my brain. I didn't think it was possible, but that pathetic fag somehow put me in a trance. I don't remember how: with a pendant or spiral; but it doesn't matter! What matters is that at any second he can say a trigger word, and I end up like this: smiling and flexing like a fucking idiot 'till he releases me.

Sure, I look like I'm alright, but I've been stuck in this pose for two hours. My biceps ache and my shoulders are on fire. Add to that a leg cramp that I cant walk off and you'll realize how awful this torture is.

I'd just been trying to finish an essay (his essay to be exact.) I might be on the football team, but this lazy geek is forcing me to do his homework for him! And even though he ordered me to do that, against my will, he calls me up and says my fucking trigger word! It's fucking ridiculous! I used to go out and party with my teammates on nights like this, but now I'm stuck being this dweeb's mannequin-on-command.

I just know he's going to boss me around when he finally gets here. He'll probably make me cook him dinner again. I'd spit in it if I could -hell, I'd probably poison it if I could- but I know I'll be stuck in my own body again. I hate it when he tells me to smile and serve him like a waiter. God, its humiliating...

He makes me workout during my free time, which I have a lot of now that I can't speak to any of my old buddies. I gotta say that my body's never looked better. I guess their is one upside to being under his control: whenever he tells me to train harder, I have to do it.

The gym is the one area of my life where I can at least pretend that I'm not someone's trained monkey. Still, the fact that I can't even shower without his permission is a pretty harsh reminder. Whenever I get back from a workout, my legs march straight to the table where I sit, flex, and smile while I wait for him to tell me what to do. It doesn't matter how tired or hot I am. Sometimes, he doesn't even let me shower. He just tells me to mop the sweat up with my shirt and then put it back on.

I think the nerd has a thing for sweaty jocks or something. The thought of this creep making me do all this to get his little dick hard pisses me off more than anything...

I applied for a job today. It wasn't because I wanted to. My roommate decided that he wants more spending money, so he turned to me and said that I was going to earn it for him. So it wasn't enough for me to be his personal chef, maid, and eye candy! I have to be his fucking ATM now too?!

The tie wasn't my idea either. He told me to go buy some fancy clothes to make sure I impressed my "future employer." He's such a dweeb, and now he's making me dress like a loser too.

Obviously I nailed the interview. It wasn't hard when he programmed me to say things like "I've always wanted to deliver pizzas," or "I want to be the best employee you've ever had!" He made me sound like such a kiss-ass for a stupid minimum-wage job. Even the guy interviewing me thought I was being a bit excessive! I got hired on the spot, and I'm already scheduled every night this week, because my roommate specifically made me ask for as many hours as possible.

Now that I'm done with probably the most humiliating thing I've ever done, I'm stuck flexing with a tie on 'till that asshole gets home...

I got my first paycheck after a long couple of weeks doing his classwork during the day and delivering pizzas at night. My roommate texted and told me to wait by the front door with my paycheck. Apparently, he's going out tonight with some of his loser friends and wants the cash now. I can't believe I'm about to hand it over to him.

"Hey, handsome," he calls, shutting his car door.

"I'm glad your home, sir. How was your day?"

I do not give a shit about his day! He ordered me to say that whenever he gets back. He's also programmed me to get up and hug him like I'm a fucking queer in love!

"Better now," he purrs, squeezing my butt cheek while we hug, "You should come with me and my friends tonight."

The last thing I want to do is be around him and his pansy-assed friends. "Yes, sir," I smile.

"We're going to a gay bar, and I think you would be an excellent wingman."

My stomach drops at the sound of a gay bar. I don't want to be anywhere near that place, and I really don't want the guy with total control over me parading me around that place like I'm his fucking slut! Where is this going? He wouldn't make me do anything gay, right? The terrifying truth is he could. He could order me to act like a stripper there, or...or worse. Fuck! I don't think there's anything he couldn't make me do. He could order me on my knees right now, and I'd do it with this stupid smile still plastered across my face. He could make me blow his tiny cock, and I'd be helpless to do anything other than enthusiastically suck! I don't want to go to that gay bar. I have to escape.

"Yes, sir," I hear my voice gleefully ring out.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

3. protectively watchful (restaurant owner!harry x chef!reader)

(part 1 here) | (part 2 here)

summary: you take up on the mantorship offer, but it creates more tensions and turmoil within you than were before. an incident in the kitchen makes harry go into protective mode, and you can't help but get turned on by this man more and more.

words: 4.8k

warnings: sexual tension (like A LOT), inappropriate behaviour, protective!harry.

***

"You wanted to see me, Chef?"

You gave a light knock on the open door of Harry's office, trying to sound polite and professional. It had been a few weeks since you had that talk with Harry about keeping things strictly business between you two. During that time, he had been a perfect mentor - giving you advice and guidance without any flirting or suggestive comments.

His coaching had really helped improve your cooking skills as you soaked up all his knowledge and experience. You were grateful to have a normal working relationship again, focused solely on culinary training. And yet...you couldn't ignore the faint lingering tension between you, that subtle underlying charge.

Harry looked up from the notebooks on his desk, his eyes crinkling in a warm smile when he saw you. "Ah, there you are. Come on in, have a seat."

You sat down in one of the chairs across from him as Harry neatened up the loose papers into a stack. Up close, you couldn't help noticing how well-fitted his black button-down shirt was, or how his tousled hair looked very touchable.  

Firmly reminding yourself this was just a professional meeting, you averted your eyes politely until Harry cleared his throat.

"So as you know, the big Martin gala fundraiser is coming up in a few weeks," he began, shuffling through some folders. "It's one of the biggest events of the year for underprivileged culinary education programs. I'll be preparing the featured dish for their live auction, and I'd love for you to assist me on it."

Your eyes went wide with surprise at this prestigious opportunity. The Martin gala was a hugely famous event in Chicago's culinary scene, attracting all the wealthiest and most notable diners. For an up-and-coming chef to collaborate on the centerpiece dish was an amazing honor and chance to get exposure.

"Wow, yes of course!" you replied enthusiastically. "I would be absolutely honored, Chef. Thank you for this incredible opportunity."  

Harry's dimples deepened as he smiled approvingly. "Don't thank me yet. We'll be under a huge spotlight to deliver an amazing showstopper dish. I expect you to rise to the challenge."

You quickly nodded. "You can count on me to give it my absolute best effort. I'm ready to do whatever work is needed."

"Excellent," Harry said in a slightly lower, huskier tone. "That's exactly what I like to hear."  

For a moment, his voice had a heated quality that hinted at other situations where your eagerness might be welcome. You ignored the shiver it sent through you, reminding yourself this was strictly business now between you two.

Harry seemed to realize he was skirting the line, as he abruptly straightened up and all hints of flirtation disappeared as he switched fully into mentor mode. "Right, well let me walk you through my basic vision so far..."

You leaned forward attentively as he outlined preliminary ideas for a highly ambitious and avant-garde dish blending molecular gastronomy techniques with classic French cuisine fundamentals. It was wildly cutting-edge, even for a showpiece event like the Martin gala. But the more details Harry provided, the more that same thrill of adrenaline rushed through you whenever presented with a new culinary challenge to conquer.

For the next hour, the two of you bounced ideas back and forth in that unique creative flow state that chefs share. Harry's presence was magnetic, but you refused to get distracted by more physical aspects - like the stretch of his biceps against his crisp sleeves, the hint of toned abs beneath his open collar, or the raspy timbre of his voice dipping into that lower register as he passionately discussed certain techniques.  

And oh, his damn tattoos.

No, you sternly told yourself as the conversation began wrapping up. Those days of getting flustered around him were over. Harry had made it clear where you stood, and you fully accepted those boundaries. Anything else was just self-torture.

"...but of course, those are just preliminary thoughts," Harry was saying as he collected the scattered folders into a neat pile. "We'll have plenty of time to refine the details over the next couple weeks."  

You nodded, filing away the mental notes you'd taken during the discussion. "Absolutely, Chef. Just let me know whatever you need for prep or testing different ideas to get a head start."

"Will do." With an air of finality, Harry gathered up the pile and rose from his seat. You quickly stood up as well, not wanting him to loom over you in the enclosed space. For a beat, you both hovered awkwardly, the air seeming to thicken between you.  

"Well then," Harry said, making no move to step past you towards the door. "I'd say this calls for a drink to celebrate our new collaboration, wouldn't you agree?"

Before you could reply, he turned and went to a small antique cabinet tucked in an alcove you hadn't noticed before. With a practiced hand, Harry selected a heavy glass decanter and two tumblers, placing them on the cabinet and expertly twisting off the stopper.

"Let's go with Lagavulin," he mused aloud, carefully pouring two generous glasses of the amber scotch whisky. "A good Scottish whisky seems appropriate for the occasion."  

"I really shouldn't, Chef," you said reflexively, already picturing your lightweight self getting sloppy and unprofessional after even a single drink.

But Harry just chuckled softly. "Loosen up a little. It's a celebration, after all."

He emphasized this by bringing one of the heavy tumblers over and pressing the cool glass into your hand. You frowned down at the coppery liquid, worrying your lower lip uncertainly. But before you could protest further, Harry gently clinked his glass against yours in a silent toast before taking a sizable sip.

The whisky's smoky, peaty aroma seemed to wrap around you intimately. Despite your hesitation, you couldn't help giving an appreciative inhale before taking a small, tentative sip yourself. Bold, layered flavors of vanilla, caramel, and charred oak underscored by an earthy smokiness burst over your tongue. You let out a soft sigh of indulgent pleasure at the decadent taste.

"Good, isn't it?" Harry's gravelly voice made you start slightly. He was watching you with amusement, whisky glass dangling casually from those large, handsome fingers. "It really hits you in the back of the throat, makes you slow down and savor it fully."

You suddenly realized the suggestive implication behind his phrasing and felt a flush of heat bloom across your face and chest. Harry watched the play of emotions flickering over your features with relish before taking another indulgent sip. This time, you noticed the way his full lips pursed delicately to drink, the tiny furrow of concentration between his brows as he savored the flavor before swallowing.

Unconsciously, your eyes tracked the mesmerizing flex of his throat as he swallowed, the hint of stubble grazing along his chiseled jawline. A twinge low in your abdomen accompanied the thought of feeling that scratchy burn of beard between your thighs, that talented mouth working magic elsewhere on your body.

Mortified, you shut down that wayward trail of thought through sheer willpower. Your cheeks grew even hotter as you realized Harry had caught you staring, his own gaze darkly amused.  

"Easy there," he murmured huskily, stepping a bit deeper into your personal space. "This dish is a marathon, not a sprint. Best to learn to savor every indulgent morsel along the way."

With a pointed look and arched brow, Harry raised his whisky to those plump lips once more, holding your gaze as he placed the rim against that full lower lip and let out an obscenely gratifying groan of pure delight.

Moments after, the tension had subsided, but the flush and blush that had creeped up your cheeks wasn’t going away anytime soon–you were sure of that.

***

You tried to push aside the lingering thoughts about the “Celebration” that were now implaed into your mind, and the way tiny droplets of the drink remained on his lips till he licked them off with his tongue–

You wanted that tongue to be yours.

Shaking your head, you focused on prepping the ingredients for the evening service. The dinner rush would be starting soon and you needed to have everything ready. As you worked, you were vaguely aware of the dining room filling up with patrons being seated. The sounds and aromas of the bustling kitchen surrounded you in a familiar, comforting way.

You were so engrossed in your tasks that you didn't notice the man approach until he cleared his throat loudly. Looking up, you saw a smartly-dressed diner smiling at you in a way that made you instinctively uncomfortable.

"Well, hello there," he said in a syrupy tone. "I was just admiring the delicious-looking fare over here." He raked an obvious look up and down your body. "The menu selections have my mouth watering already."

You stiffened, recognizing the overly familiar leer. This wasn't the first time you'd dealt with an obnoxious patron hitting on you. Keeping your expression neutral, you replied in a polite but firm tone. "I'm afraid you'll need to return to the dining room, sir. The kitchen is off-limits to guests."

Rather than taking the hint, the man leaned nonchalantly against your prep station. "Don't be like that, sweetheart. I was just hoping you could suggest something...special for me to sample tonight." He punctuated this with an exaggerated wink.

Suppressing a grimace, you turned away to continue your work, hoping he would give up and leave. No such luck. The lech sidled closer until he was nearly pressed against you. "What do you say? I'd love for a tasty little thing like you to--" 

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the kitchen area immediately." Harry's firm baritone cut across the man's words like a whip crack.  

You looked up in relief to see your boss standing with arms crossed, jaw clenched as he glared at the offending patron. Even from several feet away, you could sense the potent force of his displeasure rolling off him in waves.

The diner seemed to shrink slightly under Harry's censorious scowl. "Oh, uh, my apologies. I was just trying to get some personal recommendations--"

"The kitchen is off-limits and you're making my staff uncomfortable," Harry interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "I won't ask again. Return to your table or you'll be asked to leave the premises."

Looking sufficiently cowed, the lech swiftly retreated with some mumbled apologies. You exhaled slowly, trying to dispel the anxiety brought on by the unpleasant encounter. Harry stepped closer, his expression softening as he looked you over with concern.

"You okay? That asshole didn't go too far, did he?"

You managed a faint smile, oddly touched by the protective edge in his voice. "I'm fine, Chef. Just another boorish customer thinking the uniform is a dinner invitation."  

His jaw tightened again as he scowled in the direction the man had gone. "That type of behavior is completely unacceptable. You let me know right away if anyone hassles you like that again, understand?"

Nodding, you found yourself blinking rapidly against the unexpected prickle of grateful tears at having Harry firmly in your corner, despite the complicated dynamics between you lately.  

For a long moment, he watched you carefully as if gauging your equilibrium. Then Harry surprised you by reaching out and briefly squeezing your shoulder in a reassuring gesture. The warmth of his large hand seeped through your uniform, leaving a tingly imprint even after he pulled away.

"I've got your back, [Y/N]. You focus on doing your job and let me deal with any assholes who get out of line."

The gruff tenderness in his words made your heart do a traitorous little flip in your chest. You nodded again, not trusting your voice enough to respond properly.

With one final pointed look, Harry turned and headed back out to his front-of-house duties.  As you watched his broad-shouldered form disappear through the swinging doors of the kitchen, you felt a complicated tangle of gratitude, protectiveness, affection...and yes, a lingering undercurrent of attraction that you couldn't seem to fully extinguish despite your best efforts.

You spent the rest of the dinner service determinedly pushing aside any lingering thoughts about Harry or the earlier incident. Focusing fully on your work was the only way to get through these confusing emotions that had you all over the place..

The rhythm of prepping, plating, and coordinating with the other line cooks settled into a familiar, reassuring routine. The constant flurry of chopping, sautéing, and barked orders provided a sort of meditative escape from your muddled headspace.

By the time the last diner had been served and the kitchen was winding down for the night, you felt pleasantly drained in that satisfying way that comes from a job well done. As you began breaking down your station for cleaning, Harry emerged from his office looking satisfied.

"Excellent work tonight, everyone," he called out in that effortlessly commanding tone. "Front-of-house said the new salmon dish was a huge hit. We'll definitely want to keep that one on the seasonal menu." 

A chorus of tired but pleased murmurs went around the kitchen at the praise. Harry's eyes found yours amidst the small crowd, holding your gaze a beat longer than strictly necessary before moving on to the other cooks. You tried not to read too much into it.

With the nightly pep talk concluded, Harry rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white chef's coat, joining everyone in the evening breakdown and cleaning duties. You watched surreptitiously as he expertly broke down one of the grill stations, muscles in his broad forearms flexing enticingly with each efficient movement.  

Get a grip, you scolded yourself, quickly refocusing on scrubbing down your own prep area. This was exactly the kind of distracted, unprofessional behavior you were trying to avoid lately around Harry.

Despite your best efforts, however, you couldn't fully ignore him moving about the kitchen, checking in with each station to oversee their sanitation. At one point, he paused to examine some utensils that hadn't been properly cleaned, tsking in displeasure before batting them aside to be re-scrubbed.  

"That's never going to meet inspection," he chided the sheepish-looking young line cook in his trademark gruff tone. "Do it again, and do it properly this time. We're not running a greasy spoon here."  

As much as his uncompromising attitude could be intimidating, you also found it oddly...thrilling to witness Harry taking charge so authoritatively. Not to mention the visual of those powerful hands deftly at work was sending your thoughts in an unprofessional direction yet again.

Sternly redirecting your focus, you turned your back to give the area behind the grill station a thorough scrubbing. You were so engrossed that you nearly jumped out of your skin when Harry's low voice sounded directly in your ear.

"Everything looking good over here?" 

You whirled around to find him looming directly behind you, near enough that you could smell the spicy notes of his subtle cologne mingling with the lingering kitchen aromas clinging to him. Up this close, you couldn't help noticing how the top buttons of his coat had come undone at some point, offering a teasing glimpse of the toned chest beneath.

Trying not to stare, you quickly averted your eyes as you nodded. "Y-yes, Chef. All clean on this side."

"Hmm." His assessing gaze slowly raked over your work before returning to your flushed face. The tiniest of smirks played about his lips as if he could read the direction of your thoughts.  

"Well, then. Carry on," was all he said before turning and strolling unhurriedly back towards his office, burgundy cargo pants slung enticingly low on those lean hips.

You let out a shaky breath, mentally cursing how easily flustered you still became around this man, no matter how much you tried to enforce boundaries. Resolutely, you refocused on finishing your cleaning tasks, determined to get out of there before any more distracted lapses in professionalism.

By the time the kitchen had been scoured from top to bottom, you were one of the last few staffers remaining. Wearily peeling off your apron, you were just reaching for your bag when Harry reappeared, looking unhurried and relaxed now that the nightly duties were done.

"Heading out?" he asked as you approached, one thick eyebrow raised questioningly.

You stifled a yawn with the back of your hand. "Yeah, I'm beat. Gonna try and get some extra sleep before the morning prep shift tomorrow."

He made a noncommittal sound, falling into step beside you as you headed for the employee exit out back. For a few moments, you walked in silence, oddly aware of the warmth radiating off his body this close to yours.

When he finally spoke, it wasn't at all what you expected. "You did good with that asshole customer earlier."

Your steps faltered slightly at the praise before quickly recovering. "Oh...uh, thanks, Chef. You really didn't need to step in like that."

"The hell I didn't," he countered gruffly. There was an edge to his tone that made the tiny hairs at your nape prickle. "No one treats my staff like piece of meat, especially not in my own goddamn kitchen."

Harry shook his head in disgust at the very idea, causing a lock of mahogany hair to fall rakishly across his furrowed brow in a way that really shouldn't have been as distracting as it was.

Swallowing hard, you refocused on the matter at hand. "I've dealt with guys like that before. Just comes with the territory sometimes, y'know?"

"That doesn't make it acceptable," he insisted, mouth setting into a grim line. You found yourself unable to look away from the sharp angles of his frowning profile, chiseled jaw ticking faintly with irritation, that he tried to mask.

He fixed you with those intense pale eyes, all traces of humor gone. "No one - and I mean no one - gets to treat any of you with disrespect while I'm in charge around here. I won't stand for that shit under my roof."

The ferocity in his tone sent an involuntary shiver rippling through you, though from wariness or...something else entirely, you couldn't say. All you knew was the low, authoritative resonance of Harry's voice carried an unmistakable air of command that raised goosebumps along your arms.

Maybe it was the late hour, or the fact you were walking in such close proximity out of public view. Or hell, maybe it was just the sheer presence of this man who could flip between stern taskmaster and something rawer, more carnal in the blink of an eye.

Whatever it was, you felt that subtle spark between you ignite and suddenly, you desperately needed to be alone to process the yearning that flickered to life low in your belly. Before you could consider the impulse further, you were blurting out the first excuse that came to mind.

"Well, thanks again for that. And for the whole mentorship thing too. I, uh...I actually have some errands to run, so I'll just catch you tomorrow morning, 'kay?" 

You didn't even give Harry a chance to respond before ducking through the exit, muscles taut with confused tension. As the cool night enveloped you, you drew a deep, shuddering breath in an effort to steady yourself.

Whatever weird atmospheric flux had momentarily enveloped you back there was too dangerous, too distracting from the tenuous balance you and Harry had only just reestablished. No, it was better to put some space between you before things got muddied again.

With a fierceness born of sheer force of will, you wrestled your turbulent, wandering thoughts back under control. You were a professional, with goals to work towards. Getting pulled into Harry's electrifying orbit again would only derail you.

Still, as you hurried to your car, his shape-shifting countenance kept flashing unbidden across your memory - the dazzling smile, the brooding intensity, the simmering promise of authority barely restrained. All of it provided an infuriatingly potent combination that had your body humming with repressed longing despite yourself.

This was going to take more effort than you'd anticipated.

***

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur of grueling practice runs and preparation for the Martin gala. You and Harry spent nearly every waking hour in the kitchen, iterating endlessly on his showpiece dish concept.

With the prestigious event date rapidly approaching, any lingering awkwardness or tension between you had been shifted firmly into the background. The shared urgency of perfecting this culinary masterpiece became an all-consuming focus that left little room for anything else.

Still, that didn't stop you from noticing...things.

Like how the sleeves of Harry's whites had an endearing tendency to get shoved up his forearms in a way that displayed those tanned, sinewy muscles to distracting effect as he worked. You definitely didn't linger over the sight of his strong hands deftly wielding a knife, making precise, practiced cuts. And you absolutely did not imagine those dexterous fingers trailing across your skin instead of the cutting board.  

At least, that's what you sternly told yourself in an ongoing effort to maintain focus.

For his part, Harry was all business during these preparation sessions - issuing clipped instructions, evaluating ingredients with a critical eye, pushing both of you relentlessly to get every component just right. Only rarely did you catch hints of something more underneath that professional veneer.

Like the time you were bent over a burner, carefully spooning out the orbs of flavored olive oil onto the waiting plate. Harry stepped up behind you to examine your work, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. As he leaned in closer to inspect the delicate orbs, his low murmur caressed the fine hairs at your nape in a way that made you shiver.

"That's it...go nice and slow with a deft touch," he rumbled in that raspy timbre that never failed to send tingles shooting straight to your core.

Heart pounding, you risked a sidelong glance to find his pale eyes already locked on yours, glittering with an intensity that contrasted sharply with his deceptively neutral expression. A charged moment stretched between you as that underlying spark you'd been determinedly ignoring flared, sudden and molten. 

Just when you thought you might spontaneously combust, Harry blinked and cleared his throat brusquely. "Carry on, then," he instructed in his normal crisp tone before turning away to focus on another component. 

You stood motionless for several heartbeats, fingers clenched around the spoon, skin flushed and tingling in equal measures of arousal and disbelief. Did that really just happen or had the endless hours in the kitchen started affecting your mind?

Too skittish to ponder it further, you dove back into your tasks with even more single-minded focus, the uneasy moment shelved and locked away tight. No matter what fleeting tension arose in isolated pockets, you couldn't afford to unpack it right now - not with the enormity of what was at stake.

The days ticked down in a relentless march until finally, you and Harry stood in the solitude of his spartan office the night before the big event, taking a breather from your marathon final prep session.

An ungodly number of mise en place containers filled every available surface, each holding fussed-over components of the highly elaborate and conceptual dish that would make its debut tomorrow. Harry had pushed you both to your physical and creative limits, drilling the execution repeatedly until he was satisfied you could plate it flawlessly under the anticipated scrutiny.

Now, having quality-checked and prepped every last possible element, there was nothing further to do except rest up and bring your sharpest mental game tomorrow. Harry seemed to deflate slightly as the backdrop of mounting pressure decreased for the first time in weeks.

Propping his hip against the desk with studied nonchalance, he quirked one eyebrow in a sidelong glance. "You ready for this?"

Despite your weariness, you felt that familiar thrill of adrenaline stir at those simple words - as well as a contradictory quiver of nerves. This event was a make-or-break opportunity of the highest magnitude, especially for someone like you just starting out. Either you nailed your responsibilities tomorrow, or it all came crashing down in front of Chicago's most elite gourmands.

Shoving aside the sudden flutters of doubt, you met Harry's inscrutable gaze head-on, straightening your spine. "You know I am. We've put in the work, and this dish is gonna blow them all away."

A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his sculpted mouth as he studied you appraisingly. "That's what I like to hear. Just remember - all the technique practice in the world won't mean a thing if you panic out there."

The subtle warning made you bristle defensively, never one to back down from a challenge. "I'm not going to panic," you scoffed. "I eat massive amounts of public pressure like this for breakfast."

Harry's eyes danced with amusement, and not for the first time, it struck you how effortlessly he could switch between imposing and playful. "Is that so?" he drawled easily. "In that case, would you care to make things a bit more interesting?"

Before you could respond, Harry kicked off from the desk in one sinuous motion to prowl closer. Despite your weariness, you felt your heart rate kick up several notches as he invaded your personal space, long body coiled with a loose, predatory grace.

"Let's say we raise the stakes a little," he proposed in a tone of studied nonchalance that was completely belied by the heated glint in his eyes boring into yours. "If you can prove you've got the chops to keep a cool head under fire tomorrow, I'll take you out afterwards to celebrate. Just you and me, anywhere you want to go."

Your mouth went instantly dry at the implications behind his offer. Were those...the unmistakable undertones of flirtation coloring his invitation? After the weeks of him keeping things strictly professional between you, the sudden shift was dizzying - and left you dangerously intrigued.

"And what if I choke?" you heard yourself countering recklessly before you could reconsider. "What do you get out of it then?"

His answering smile was pure blistering sin. "Oh, sweetheart. If that happens...I get to take you out too - but somewhere a bit more private."

Harry paused to let the suggestive proposition linger, backing it up with a slow, heated raking of his pale eyes over your body that left zero doubt as to his implication. Heat bloomed furiously across your cheeks as forbidden images flooded your mind unbidden - flashes of tangled limbs, straining muscle, sweaty exertion of a far different sort...

Then, just like that, the provoking spell was broken. Rocking back on his heels, Harry shrugged one broad shoulder in an easy, dismissive gesture. "But that's not going to happen, is it? You've got all the skills, you've put in the time - no reason to buckle tomorrow."

He threw one final weighted glance in your direction before pivoting on his heel towards the door. "Get some rest. I'll see you at the venue early to do our final walkthrough before we get this show on the road."

And with that parting comment, Harry strode casually out, leaving you rooted there in dumbfounded silence. What the hell had just happened? One moment, you'd merely been steeling yourselves for tomorrow's high stakes challenge - and then suddenly he was issuing some bizarrely flirtatious...proposition.

Or was that really what it was? As you stood there chasing replays of his words, his tone, his body language - the whole previous interaction kept taking on a slinkier, more salacious cast. Like maybe your presence of mind was slipping already, causing you to read into things that weren't really there.

No...no, you decided as you hefted your bag, determined to put it all out of your head for now. Harry was just his usual aggravating self, trying to rile you by dangling some imagined reward or punishment to keep you on your toes before the big event. This whole...suggestive semiflirtation thing was just the product of your own exhausted mind playing tricks.  

Firmly shoving aside all unsettling thoughts, you focused on the immediate challenge awaiting tomorrow. You would plate Harry's showpiece dish to absolute perfection, prove yourself under the brightest lights, and decisively seize this career-making opportunity. 

Everything else could be dealt with later.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[lancermylove]

Random HCs

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: No pairing. Featuring DB and Royals.

Warning: None

Prompt: Random HCs for chuckles and giggles.

A/N: For all those who are exhausted, having a bad day, and struggling, I hope this makes you laugh.

———————————————

Lucifer

Lucifer has a secret stash of stress balls in his office, each one the color associated with a brother. So, whichever brother causes him stress, he takes his frustration out on that stress ball.

He once tried to join a yoga class to relax at Asmo's request but turned it into a competition to be the most flexible.

Lucifer has a weekly "evil laugh" practice session to maintain his intimidating reputation. He has quite the evil laugh, and no one can beat its evilness.

He sometimes wears sunglasses indoors so no one can see him roll his eyes at his brothers' antics.

Lucifer keeps a detailed diary of all the times Mammon has tried to borrow money and failed. He opens the diary whenever he has a bad day and needs a laugh.

He has a secret collection of cute puppy videos that he watches to de-stress after a long day. Sometimes, he watches them with Cerberus, and the hellhound's three heads tilt side to side curiously, looking at the videos.

Mammon

Mammon once tried to make a pyramid scheme business involving selling rare pebbles he found in the backyard.

He secretly practices his cool guy poses in front of the mirror every morning.

Mammon has a collection of sunglasses, each pair named after a famous celebrity from the human realm.

He’s convinced that adding “The Great” before his name on all his social media profiles will make him go viral. Asmo has told him many times it won't work, but Mammon is determined.

The brothers catch Mammon often talking to inanimate objects, like convincing his wallet to magically refill itself. Asmo even has a few videos of these conversations on his phone. If you want to see it, Asmo is taking a payment of cheek kisses for each video.

Mammon once got stuck in a vending machine while trying to get a snack that got jammed. It turned out the vending machine was a mimic. His brothers still tease him about it.

Mammon thinks he’s a master chef because he can make instant noodles without burning them.

The second brother invented a new dance move called "The Mammon Shuffle," but it looks suspiciously like him tripping over his own feet.

Levi

He once spent a week trying to train Henry to play video games with him. Then, he spent the following week sulking because Henry couldn't play with him.

Levi’s closet is 90% cosplay outfits and 10% regular clothes.

He has a secret shrine dedicated to Ruri Chan that even his brothers don’t know about. Levi refuses to tell you how much money he spent on the merch; he doesn't want Lucifer to find out and toss him to Cerberus as an afternoon snack.

Whenever Levi is losing an argument, he uses gamer lingo to throw the other person into confusion. Then, he takes a chance and runs away.

He has a collection of every limited-edition gaming console ever released.

Levi once tried to program his own virtual assistant but ended up creating an AI that only responds in overly dramatic anime lines.

Satan

Satan secretly watches cheesy soap operas but tells everyone it's for "research purposes."

Satan once tried to teach a cat hidden in his room to fetch his books, but the cat sat on them instead.

He has an extensive collection of cat memes saved on his phone, which he shares during family meetings to lighten the mood.

Satan keeps a journal of prank ideas specifically for pranking Lucifer, but most of the ideas are too elaborate to ever pull off.

He once tried to create a potion to understand cats, but the potion made him meow uncontrollably for a day.

Satan has a habit of correcting grammar and spelling mistakes in grimoires and books.

Satan attempted to join a book club but got kicked out for getting too competitive during discussions.

He has a secret stash of cat toys and treats in his room that he uses to lure stray cats into the House of Lamentation.

Asmo

Asmo has a dedicated “selfie spot” in every room of the House of Lamentation. If you need a spot to take selfies, just ask him.

He once tried to make his own beauty product line, but most of the products ended up being glittery versions of everyday items. Demons complained that Asmo tried to make them look like fairies.

He keeps an emergency beauty kit under his pillow in case he needs a touch-up in the middle of the night. After all, he needs to wake up looking perfect every morning.

Asmo has a habit of leaving love notes for himself around the house. When the brothers find them, they get very confused.

He once tried to teach his brothers a synchronized dance routine for a RAD talent show, but it turned into a hilarious disaster. Diavolo secretly recorded the video and likes to watch it when he needs a good laugh.

Asmo is convinced that wearing different colored socks affects his mood, so he carefully plans which socks to wear every morning.

Beel

Beel once tried to eat a bottomless bag of chips, only to realize it was an illusion created by Satan to keep him busy.

He once tried to enter a competitive eating contest but got disqualified for eating the other contestants' food before the competition started.

Beel has an uncanny ability to identify each ingredient in a dish just by smelling it once. He can even tell the measurement amount, like 1.5 cups of butter.

He once attempted to cook a seven-course meal but ended up eating each course before starting the next.

Beel is banned from most all-you-can-eat restaurants in the human realm. He has even caused some restaurants to go bankrupt.

He sometimes accidentally eats the props in his brothers’ pranks, leading to confusing and hilarious outcomes.

Belphie

He has a secret talent for falling asleep in the most uncomfortable-looking positions, much to the amazement of his brothers. Satan has a log of the different positions Belphie slept in for science purposes.

Belphie likes to prank his brothers by pretending to be asleep and then startling them with sudden movements or comments.

He keeps a list of the best napping spots around the House of Lamentation, constantly updating it based on comfort and noise levels.

Belphie sometimes sleepwalks into his brother's rooms in the middle of the night and steals their blanket. When they wake up feeling cold, they see Belphie sleeping on the floor, curled up under their blanket.

He once tried to convince everyone that sleeping with a specific pillow would give them prophetic dreams. Mammon tried to turn this into a money-making scheme but failed.

Belphie can identify each brother by the sound of their footsteps. This way, he doesn't need to wake up if one of the brothers he doesn't want to deal with is around.

Diavolo

Someone once told Diavolo he looks too cute to be a prince. Diavolo tried to grow a mustache to look more intimidating, but it was too itchy, and he gave up.

He secretly practices villainous monologues in front of a mirror, complete with dramatic gestures, just for fun.

Diavolo has a secret room in the castle filled with all the human realm souvenirs he's collected, including a giant plushie collection. Only Barbatos is allowed in the room to clean it when needed.

The prince once tried to understand human slang by binge-watching teen dramas. This resulted in him using slang phrases in his formal speech and confusing everyone.

Diavolo has a habit of challenging demons in the castle to friendly competitions, like who can build the tallest pancake stack...much to Barbatos’ dismay.

He secretly practices human dance trends in front of a mirror, hoping to impress you and Solomon.

The prince has a habit of giving overly enthusiastic high-fives, sometimes sending the other person stumbling backward. Diavolo forgets how strong he is.

Diavolo loves dad jokes and often tries them out on the brothers but gets collective groans and facepalms in response.

Barbatos

He has a hidden talent for stand-up comedy but only practices in front of his mirror when he’s sure no one’s watching.

Barbatos has a secret collection of novelty aprons with quirky phrases, which he wears while cooking when no one is around.

Barbatos keeps a detailed journal of all the times he’s had to clean up after Diavolo’s “enthusiastic” projects, complete with the commentaries from the peanut gallery.

He also keeps a list of all the times he had to intervene in the brothers’ schemes. That too by rank of how ridiculous they were.

The butler has a secret talent for juggling, which he practices with kitchen utensils while he waits for dishes to finish cooking.

Barbatos has a habit of organizing the pantry alphabetically, and he gets annoyed when someone messes it up.

He once tried to teach a cooking class to the brothers, but it turned into a comedy show with flying ingredients and accidental fires. Then, Solomon showed up the next day asking for cooking lessons, and Barbatos disappeared into thin air. Now, Solomon is permanently banned from entering the royal kitchen.

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Jack Howl - Apprentice Chef Vignette

"Master Chef"

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Jack Version ～Let's Make Macaron 1～

Ghost Chef: Alright, so let's get started on making macarons. Are you ready, Jack-kun?

Jack: Yessir! Ready to go!

Ghost Chef: First, we make the meringue. Chilled egg whites give a more consistent foam, you see. We'll want to work quickly.

Jack: Right. Do I use the eggshells to separate the egg whites from the yolk? I see that done on TV a lot.

Ghost Chef: That's one way to do it, but… This time we'll just crack the eggs into a bowl and remove the yolk with a ladle, just to be safe.

Ghost Chef: If the yolk mixes in with the egg whites, then the meringue won't be able to foam up. Do your best to not break the yolk sac.

Jack: Can't break them… right. So I gotta work fast and delicately.

[tap, tap… crack]

Jack: Nice, a clean break. Next, I'll use the ladle and pull out the egg yolk into a different bowl…

Jack: …

Ghost Chef: Wh-What a scary face… But that just shows how much he's trying to focus. I'll just stay silent watch over him.

Jack: Whew… Somehow I got the yolk out without breaking it. Next I just have to turn the egg whites into foam, right?

Ghost Chef: Yup. Be careful, though, because if you don't get it foamy enough, the batter won't puff up properly when you bake it.

Jack: If it doesn't puff up, then it won't make that little round shape… So this is super important to take care of.

Ghost Chef: Correct! Alright then, use that whisk and whip it up good. Make sure to add granulated sugar as needed, too.

Jack: …It's really starting to get some stiff peaks. Chef, is this good enough for the meringue?

Ghost Chef: Yup, looks perfect for making macarons. Next, we'll start the macaronage process.

Jack: Macronage? That's the first time I've ever heard that word…

Ghost Chef: We'll sieve the ground almonds and powdered sugar together into the meringue, while folding in the peaks.

Jack: We're just gonna destroy the foam after going through all that whisking? Making pastries is weird…

Ghost Chef: If we were making something soft like a cake, then we wouldn't ruin the foam.

Jack: Oh, I see, it depends on what's being made.

Ghost Chef: That being said, I'm not saying we're going to completely ruin it, so be a little gentle. Next, add in about a third of the flour.

Jack: So, to fold in the foam… I guess the best way would be to mix it from the outside in.

Jack: I have to watch my strength, too… Urgh, this really take a lot of focus… But I think the meringue is slowly stiffening up.

Ghost Chef: You're doing great. Now add in the rest of the flour until the batter can stretch out into ribbons.

Jack: Got it. Carefully… Carefully… Don't put too much strength into it…

Jack: Whenever I pull up on the batter, it just falls in globs back into the bow. Guess it's not ready yet.

Jack: Just a little more… But I gotta make sure I don't overdo it…

Jack: …

Ghost Chef: Jack-kun has another scary look on his face… I guess he just gets a mean mug when he's focusing.

Jack: …Whew, I finally finished squeezing out the shells. They look about the same size.

Jack: Chef, we have to leave them to dry now, right?

Ghost Chef: Yup. You looked like you were really working hard there… Are you tired at all?

Jack: This is nothing. I'm always working out, so.

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Jack Version ～Let's Make Macaron 2～

Jack: Great, the white chocolate ganache is done too. Now I just gotta wait for the shells to finish baking.

Ghost Chef: You wanted to take this class so you could make meals that would help with your training regimen, right?

Ghost Chef: Was it disappointing to learn it was going to be a sweets-making program this time around?

Jack: …Honestly, it was.

Jack: But that didn't mean I was going to slack in any class I choose to take.

Jack: And I bet once I learn how to make other kinds of sweets, it'll come in handy for all sorts of things…

Jack: Nothing's lost by learning stuff. Since I signed up for this, I'm going to throw my all into it.

Ghost Chef: You're such a diligent kid… Just from the way you carry yourself, I know you'll take this class seriously!

Ghost Chef: Oh, you know. We have some time, so why don't I teach you some recipes of sweets with protein in them?

Jack: Really? I'd really appreciate that!

Jack: Looks like the macaron shells are done baking. I sure hope they came out good…

Jack: …Most of them all have cracks running through them. What went wrong?

Ghost Chef: It could have been any number of things; maybe the meringue wasn't whisked enough, or there wasn't the right amount of macaronage, or the shells didn't dry long enough…

Ghost Chef: The amount of time the oven had preheated, as well as the temperature of the oven could have affected it as well.

Jack: There's really that many ways it could have gone wrong!?

Ghost Chef: Macarons are a pretty tricky pastry to make, you know. You just have to make them over and over again to learn how to make them right.

Jack: So failure's just a part of the experience, huh. I'll make sure I do it better next time.

Ghost Chef: That's the spirit! But first, we need to finish up this ordered batch.

Jack: Right. This one is too large because I gripped the piping bag too strong… This one just looks terrible.

Jack: Relative to the others, I think the only ones that were actually cooked through and we can use is this one… and this one?

Jack: So then I pipe the white chocolate ganache filling onto one of the shells…

Jack: And I take another macaron shell and sandwich the ganache…

Ghost Chef: Aah, there goes that intense look again!

[Cafeteria – Judging Venue]

Ace: Gah, you're telling me Jack made my order of macarons!?

Jack: You're telling me that Ace of all people is my judge? Looks like I got saddled with an annoying one.

Ace: Totally can't see you making macarons. That's super hilarious.

Jack: Tch, you think you're so funny. Here, have your macarons. Hurry and eat up.

Ace: Woah! These have so many cracks they're falling apart! Are they really macarons!?

Ace: Out of today's possible dishes, this was what I wanted the most, but… Did I make a mistake choosing this…?

Jack: Grr… The way he's saying it pisses me off, but I can't really deny how it looks…

Ace: Well, whatever, guess I'll eat it… Hm? Y'know, one of these actually looks okay.

Jack: Most of them were pretty well cracked… I tried to assemble the ones that still looked okay relative to the others.

Ace: Uh-huh. Then I guess I'll start with this one.

Ace: [chew, chew]… Hm? Oh? It's actually not bad.

Jack: Yeah, yeah… Wait, did you just say it's not bad?

Ace: The pastry is pretty crisp, and the cream sandwiched inside is pretty smooth… I mean, it tastes like I'd expect a macaron to taste, I guess?

Ace: I guess when it comes to this one, you're on the right track? Although you did have to go through way too many macarons to get one success.

Jack: You just gotta say it in an annoying way, huh… But that means I pass, right?

Ghost Chef: Good job. This is the result of all your hard work, Jack-kun!

Jack: Thanks, sir.

Ace: So what's with you looking all happy about that? I'm tellin' ya, only one of them is good.

Jack: I know. But I know what I need to do. I'll make better ones next time.

Jack: I'll definitely make some perfect macarons before I finish this Master Chef course!

Requested by @sakurakudo.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Meghan’s Lies

by request of @britishroyalfamilyvideos​

Not comprehensive - this is just what I’ve tracked and they are not in any order. If I’ve missed any, add to the comments.

Meghan grew up an only child, never had any kind of relationship with Sam or Tom while growing up.

Meghan grew up in near-poverty where the $5 Sizzler buffet was a splurge.

Meghan didn’t know who Diana or the Royal Family was.

Meghan didn’t know that Diana did the Panorama interview.

Meghan told a television production she was union when she actually wasn’t.

Meghan’s character was being written off Suits because she was marrying Harry. (She was actually written off because Patrick Adams wanted out and her character was tied to his storylines.)

Meghan doesn’t have any family except Doria.

Meghan paid for college herself with her own student loans. (Thomas did; has receipts.)

Meghan has degrees in international relations and theatre from Northwestern University. (It’s actually a degree in communications, according to the commencement booklet.)

Meghan hated Britain because they were racists.

The Sussexes were more popular in Australasia than the Cambridges were.

Meghan didn’t want to serve newborn Archie on a silver platter to the British media.

Meghan wasn’t allowed to do a photocall at the hospital after Archie was born.

Meghan never talked to Oprah before Megxit.

Meghan wasn’t working with UK Vogue on a special edition.

Meghan couldn’t wear the same color of clothing as anyone else.

Meghan could only wear neutral-colored clothing.

Meghan was never going to dress her children like Kate’s Victorian ghost dolls.

Meghan was going to get her UK citizenship.

Meghan gave up her Hollywood team.

Meghan didn’t want a big public wedding and was forced into the big public spectacle by the royal family.

Meghan and Harry eloped three days before the Windsor spectacle with the Archbishop of Canterbury in their garden at Kensington Palace.

Meghan loves her engagement ring.

Meghan and Harry received permission from The Queen to name their daughter Lilibet.

Meghan loves Africa.

Meghan is committed and passionate about charity work and philanthropy.

There are no tabloids in the U.S.

All Americans have a rude, demanding, and 5am work ethic.

Paparazzi car chases

(All the times Meghan plagiarized quotes from others in her speeches)

Meghan frequented Korean spas in L.A. as a child.

Meghan didn’t collaborate with Scobie on Finding Freedom.

Meghan didn’t expect Thomas to publish her private letter.

The royals were the family Meghan never had.

The royals never welcomed Meghan into the fold.

The royals never gave Meghan any kind of help or training.

Meghan gave up everything for Harry.

Meghan didn’t announce her pregnancy at Eugenie’s wedding.

Meghan loves kids and couldn’t wait to be a mom.

Meghan’s dog was too old to fly overseas.

Meghan wasn’t allowed to decorate their home with items from the Royal Collection.

Kate made Meghan cry.

Meghan had a warm, friendly relationship with The Queen.

Meghan is the best boss ever.

Meghan made her own banana bread in Australia. (It was the Governor’s House chef.)

Meghan had suicidal thoughts the night of the Cirque du Soleil event and couldn’t stop crying at the event.

The royal family never helped Meghan with her mental health.

Meghan is being advised by the Obamas post-Megxit.

The children were refused titles by the BRF because they were racist.

Meghan refused titles for the children.

Meghan had a fish tacos lunch with Michelle Obama.

Meghan was pen pals with Hillary Clinton. (We know now that Thomas intervened on this.)

Meghan witnessed the LA riots.

Meghan supports independent grassroots journalism.

Meghan was going to hit the ground running in Britain after the wedding.

Her height. (She claims to be 5′6...maybe in heels.)

Meghan worked at the US embassy in Argentina. (She did a summer study program and ended up dropping out.)

Meghan didn’t know she had to curtsy to The Queen.

The BRF took her passport and car keys after the wedding and never let her travel.

Meghan wasn’t allowed to leave Nottingham Cottage or Frogmore Cottage unless it was for a work engagement.

They were evicted from Frogmore Cottage. (Netflix docuseries shows they were moving out June 2022.)

Meghan was concerned for her privacy in London and wanted to move back to L.A. because there were no paparazzi.

Archie was denied 24/7 protection by the royal family because he didn’t have a HRH and wasn’t a prince.

The family gossiped about Archie’s skin color and made racist comments to her about him.

The palace forced Meghan to take her name off Archie’s birth certificate. (Archie’s first birth certificate had his mother as Rachel Meghan, HRH The Duchess of Sussex. This birth certificate was later amended to have his mother as HRH The Duchess of Sussex.)

There was egg in the wedding food.

Meghan wasn’t allowed to have scents in St. George’s Church. (She wasn’t allowed to spray perfumes, but could have candles.)

The palace has Archie’s birth certificate locked under file and won’t give it to Meghan, so she can’t register him for school.

Meghan wasn’t allowed to do hair trials with her wedding tiara by Angela Kelly.

Meghan was the new Bond Girl.

Fire in Archie’s nursery in South Africa.

Meghan said titles are not important - people should be linked, not ranked.

Archie was too young to fly to Balmoral after he was born. (And yet they took him on 4 international private flights with Elton John...)

Meghan lied about her age. (This was while she was a working actress in Hollywood. Her age has been corrected so it’s not really a lie anymore.)

Belly padding during the pregnancy with Archie.

Sussex Royal had organic innate popularity on social media. Absolutely no bots were involved at all!

Circumstances of the miscarriage. (There are four different stories out there.)

Zoom calls with the Cambridge children during COVID lockdowns.

Zoom calls with The Queen during COVID lockdowns.

Flowers on Philip’s casket were from the Sussexes.

The Sussexes were invited to the Beckham wedding.

Lili would have a royal christening with The Queen.

Lili was christened.

The Sussexes were invited to the diplomatic reception held before The Queen’s funeral.

Meghan is best friends with Jennifer Aniston and they walk their dogs together all the time.

The children’s appearances are often edited/Photoshopped in published photographs.

Edit: More from the comments - credit to the blogs

Meghan didn’t have friends in school. (@rosesandmoonstones)

Meghan was prom queen. (@rosesandmoonstones)

Circumstances of the “racist royal” remarks (@scorpiotwentythree)

Meghan received a standing ovation at the UN, led by Ban Ki Moon (@scorpiotwentythree!)

The type of ambassador role Meghan had for the UN pre-Harry.

Meghan met The Queen in Balmoral over tea just after starting to date Harry in mid-2016. (@scorpiotwentythree)

“No one asked me if I’m okay.” (@rosesandmoonstones)

Meghan didn’t know racism till she arrived in the UK. (@jillydillypickles)

South Africans danced in the streets for the Sussex wedding. (@jillydillypickles)

[fanellifest]

Who Was Joe Fanelli?

The Joe-verview

Joe Fanelli (c. April 12, 1954 – June 3, 1993) was an American from Franklin, Massachusetts; an ex-boyfriend of Freddie’s; later, his very dear friend; later still, his nurse/caregiver.

Joe and Freddie met in 1978, and their relationship lasted until they broke up some time in 1979. Afterwards, Joe continued to live in the UK—working as a professional chef in several London restaurants, including September and Provan’s—with his residency arrangements as a non-UK Citizen (likely via a work visa) being secured in effort by Freddie himself.

Likely stemming from the stressful nature of his relationship with Freddie—which included uprooting his entire life to a foreign country—and also the prevalence of drinking in the culture of professional chefs, Joe developed an alcohol dependency as a coping mechanism. According to Peter Freestone, by the time Joe had been hired full time to reside in Garden Lodge in 1985, he had gotten sober and sought new solace in regularly going to the gym. He also was “a dedicated vegan” as written by Brian in Queen in 3-D.

Consider this the Hot Girl Comeback that follows the Bad Bitch Fumble.

In addition to his professional culinary training and workout habits, Joe also found a hobby in computers, teaching himself how they worked, how to write programs (including coding a version of Countdown which could be played at home), and familiarizing himself with the internet during his efforts to research HIV/AIDS information.

Said research was of particular importance as Joe, along with Peter Freestone, became one of Freddie’s caregivers all the while dealing with his own HIV/AIDS diagnosis.

With regards to personality, Joe is described by Peter Freestone as “highly intelligent,” having “a positive nature,” and “prepared to argue anything, stand up for whatever.” Jim Hutton wrote in Mercury and Me that Joe had “a cautious approach to people and life,” and recalled the following event which possibly provides insight to the dynamics of Freddie and Joe’s working relationship/friendship, and definitely gets a laugh:

Joe was standing by the sink in the kitchen and Freddie was sitting at the table looking very stern. ‘And you’re fired, too!’ Freddie snapped at me. ‘Pardon?’ I said. ‘You can’t sack Jim,’ Joe told Freddie with a gloriously smug expression. ‘Why not?’ he snapped. ‘Because he doesn’t work for you!’ he said. ‘Oh, no he doesn’t, does he?’ Freddie replied.

There are several anecdotes about or involving Joe in many of the published memoirs written by those close to Freddie, and we’ll hopefully be able to share some of those here soon.

More in-depth posts about many of these topics—Joe’s relationship with Freddie, his job with Queen on tour, his role at Garden Lodge—will be coming with more specifics!

It says a lot regarding Joe’s character, about the type of person he was, to make several life changes and to also reconnect with an ex after a less-than-ideal falling out, repairing a friendship that lasted the remainder of their lives. As one of the lesser-known people in Freddie’s orbit, we hope this post helped you get to know Joe Fanelli a bit better.

What is remembered lives.

[z-raven]

Might as well post the descriptions of various Timesplitters 2 characters

Viola

The child of a reclusive aristocratic Countessa, Viola assumes the guise of a traveling troubadour as a cover for her true mission- to destroy evil wherever it bares its ugliness.

Ramona Sosa

Ramona came over the border hoping for a peaceful life, but with her fiery temper and quick reflexes she quickly fell into work as a law enforcer. When things began turning sour in Little Prospect she sent a wire out to her old friend Elijah Jones for backup...

Maiden

So innocent and so pure, the Maiden is the perfect sacrifice...

Lady Jane

This hot-blooded socialite skipped Swiss finishing school to set up her own Private Investigation Agency in Chicago. A stickler for fashion you'll never catch her with anything but the latest in haute couture and semi automatic weapons.

Kitten Celeste

Sometimes things get a little too hot under the collar for Harry and he needs some manual assistance from his slinky sidekick, Miss Celeste. Go get 'em tiger! Grrrrrrrr!

Jungle Queen

Raised in the jungle by wolves, the Jungle Queen's sharp intellect is only hampered by her tight thong and lack of language. Captain Ash has promised to make her a duchess if she comes back to Blighty with him.

Ilsa Nadir

The daughter of Dr. Katje Nadir, Ilsa knows no fear and will gladly undertake the most dangerous search and destroy missions. Few men can come close to matching her superb fighting and infiltration skills

Gretel Mk II

Gretel II is a second generation precision killing machine, programmed with stealth and martial arts techniques from around the galaxy. Together with R-109 she has been sent to destroy the Machinist's robot army.

Corporal Hart

Not just an excellent soldier, Corporal Hart is also an expert with all kinds of mechanical and computer technology. She has found her servo-enhanced Tritium Exo-Arm to be a very useful aid in battle situations.

Candi Skyler

Candi graduated from cadet training just two weeks ago. Although there's been cheap talk around the Academy that she failed Astronavigation but got a dispensation because she has a cute butt.

Chinese Chef

Still the best in the business. They say his recipe for slow braised TimeSplitter in black bean sauce is out of this world!

Chasity Detroit

Before becoming a highly decorated officer in the LAPD, Chastity ran with the gangs in the back streets of Neo Tokyo. She has vowed to help Ghost clear his name and regain his honor.

Female Trooper

The Marine Troopers have borne the brunt of the TimeSplitters onslaught against humanity.

[dduane]

Peter and the twenty suits and somehow that story contains tomato aspic? Color me intrigued

No, the aspic was an accidental confluence. But there was definitely tomato juice involved. (Also: not twenty. But a dozen, anyway.)

...So let’s turn our minds back to those thrilling days of yesteryear (i.e. 2008...). The Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators kindly asked me to come be a keynote speaker at their yearly get-together, which that year was being held on the island of Hydra, in Greece. Leaving the honor of even being asked to one side, I’d never been to Greece, so I more or less instantly said “Yes!”

(Inserting a cut here. WARNING: this post contains: business travel, alcohol, and lemon zest.)

...Getting to Athens was going to be just a tiny touch complicated because at that point, none of the major airlines serving Ireland offered a direct DUB-ATH service. I thought about this for a while, and (since I’m on a frequent-flyer program with them) it seemed the most sensible way in and out of Athens was to take a Swiss flight to Zürich, stop there overnight if necessary, and catch the next convenient ZRH-ATH flight onward.

So Peter and I did that, and we went to Athens, and from there via catamaran ferry to Hydra; where I had a fabulous time conferring, confabulating and otherwise hanging out with my fellow wizards writers. And when that was all over, we regretfully started the process of heading home. (During the first leg of which process I cut an unexpected notch on my webmastering belt by actually doing website maintenance using a Nokia phone cabled to a laptop, while in the middle of the Saronic Gulf, on a hydrofoil.)

...Anyway. Back through Athens to the airport, uneventful flight from ATH to ZRH, train from the airport to Zürich Hauptbahnhof (the city’s main train station); did check-in for our morning ZRH-DUB flight there, while also checking our non-carryon bags through to the plane. Then, dinner at Hiltl Vegi, crash-and-burn at the favorite little hotel that’s about three minutes’ walk from Zuri HB, and up early the next morning for the train back to the airport: straight through security, and airside.

This version of “airside” was going to be a little more interesting for us than usual, because we’d been flown business class on this run. As a result we could get into one of the Swiss lounges, which are justly famous for their general poshness. More than that: since we were flying to a non-Schengen country, we would be leaving from the (relatively) new and shiny Terminal E.

So we did the underground people-mover underneath the runways and came out in the new terminal, and headed upstairs for the business lounge.

It was large; it was gorgeous. And the view out across the runways to the Alps was amazing. (Though that view was slightly impeded by what was, it was then said, the longest lounge bar in Europe.)

That was, granted, interesting enough. But our attention wasn’t primarily on that. What we were both most interested in when we first got there was a little something to eat and drink while we waited for the 11 AM-ish departure.

Now, this was long before that lounge had been renovated to contain a live open kitchen with hot and cold running chefs. In 2008 there were, however, free snack stations with assorted junk food—chips/crisps and pretzels and nuts, etc—and (that time of day) casual breakfast makings: cereals and milk, and mueslis and yogurts, and breads and butters and jams and cheeses and cold cuts and so forth.... such as you’d normally find in a central European breakfast buffet. There was also a coffee island nearby...

...and a drinks station with juices and sparkling water and soft drinks and beer and wine. Next to that one was a selection of basic alcohols and mixers. 

...The lounge was pretty full of people that morning: a lot of business folk were apparently getting ready to board pre-lunch or lunchtime flights. A lot of them were up at the bar for coffee or whatever, and the bar staff had their hands full. We’d had our coffee and our breakfast, and then Peter looked over his shoulder at the juice-and-drinks setup, and said, “You know, I might have a Bloody Mary.”

“Okay,” I said. “Make me one too?” Because we were in no rush, and this whole situation was looking rather brunchlike. Why not complete the picture? “...And if they’ve got something like V-8, do mine with that.”

So over to the drinks installation P. went, rolled up his sleeves, scoped out the available supplies, gathered together the necessary ingredients, and started making Bloody Marys with his usual air of proficiency. (If you’ve ever been at a convention where he happened to be doing bartender duty—such as a Minicon or similar—you’ll know what I mean. A careful eye for appropriate ingredient amounts, and great thoughtfulness about seasoning.)

He made mine first, and brought it over to where we’d been sitting. And then he went back and started making his. I wasn’t paying much attention to that: I was mostly drinking mine and gazing at the Alps. (If you put me within sight of mountains, I’ll be staring at them. It’s what I do.) ...And eventually I turned around to see if he was done making his, because I was thinking maybe I might want another one.

Except I couldn’t see him. He was surrounded by suits. (Or, more accurately, people wearing them.)

He was making them all Bloody Marys.

Yeah, okay, the bar was busy. But apparently somebody had seen Peter using the bar measures at the drinks station to get the shot sizes just right, and saw him teaspoon-measuring the Worcestershire sauce, and doing the dash-of-Tabasco thing, and employing the lemon zester, and and and... They got suckered in by the air of expertise, is all I can suggest. Guys in suits (and a couple/few very well-suited ladies) had begun surrounding him and asking him questions, most of them apparently beginning, “Sir, what are you doing? What is that?” and “What are you putting in there?” ...and eventually, “Would you show me how?”, and/or “Would you also make one for me?”

...And so he did. What can I tell you? ...I couldn’t see him well, except when someone in the surrounding group moved aside a little. (They totaled ten or twelve people, finally, as they drifted in and out.) ...But there he was at the core of that group, surrounded by an extremely complex comics-style talk-balloon of queries in several languages (it was Switzerland, after all; just in-country, you’ve got five or more to choose from...). Some of those people were translating for other ones. And celery and tomato juice and Ireland and science fiction and Tabasco and Star Trek were being discussed (and V-8: turned out there wasn’t any...) and God knows what else. And all these nice people in suits, one after another, were being equipped with Bloody Marys.

Eventually the crowd thinned out to nothing, and finally Peter came back with his own Bloody Mary, and sat down, shaking his head. Then he showed me a little sheaf of business cards.

We went through them. Futures traders and a couple of publishing execs and a guy who worked sales at the company that builds Irish pubs for international export and the lady who brokered high-end underground rare-cheese storage and the guy who did logistics on worldwide custom transport of organs for transplant. And a lot of offers to “Call me/us when you’re in town and let me/us buy you a drink to thank you.”

I shook my head. “Networking?” was all I could find to say at last.

Peter shrugged. “With tomato juice.”

[punishing-eden]

So idk if you do smut or taking any request at the moment but if you do can you do Lee where he gets jealous? Like commandant is spending TOO much time with Wanshi being his pillow and all.

Author's Note:

Hi, you can still submit requests,I don't mind doing them from time to time. But rn I am a bit busy irl, so it will take a while for me to finish.

As of right now, I don't write Smut. At most, I could is implications of sexual acts. But not full pornographic details/paragraphs.

But also, a Lee and Wanshi sandwich????!!! 😍😍

I know I said this before, but I will say this again, I really need to get to Echo Aria.😢I have heard about their interaction and, Boi... it's *Chefs kiss*

Edit: aksjakjskaka, I made a huge mistake, it has now been fixed.😭😭

---------------------------------------------------

"Our" (Grey Raven's) Commandant...

Lee (Entropy) x Commandant/reader (ft. Wanshi)

Summary:

Lately, Lee has been experiencing a unique emotion whenever he sees you with another construct, Wanshi. Although, he was convinced it was just some malfunctioning of his M. I. N. D programming. His actions spoke other wise.

Needless to say, Wanshi seems know what was going on.

Tags: Tw: Jealousy, gatekeeping behaviour, request, mild fluff, one shot, a triangle

It started at thirty centimetres. By the time you came back to Babylonia from an earth mission, the proximity, between you and Wanshi shrank by ten.

A week later, it reduced to five, four, three, two, one, all the way to zero. Lee counted the units, whenever he saw you and Wanshi together.

He had been counting, the units on full display in his inner device. Recording the number of times that proximity unit reached to zero. According to his data, it happened more than a 'good' amount.

"I am sorry, but this is 'our' (Grey Raven's) Commandant," he once warned Wanshi, who only looked at Lee with a nonchalant expression. Eyes heavy with fatigue, Wanshi, whom, with a more mature way of thinking, only nodded and ignore Lee's statement. Keeping things civil, Hypnos hummed and walked away.

Without a doubt, it infuriated Lee. Holing up in his room, the construct ruminated in thought, while dismantling his gears. In his mind, you have been spending more time with Strike Hawk. At first, as Lee thought, it was all professional and work related. That was until, he noticed how close you and Wanshi were. A little too close for Lee's comfort.

Needless to say, he began to device preventative measures to bring an end to this madness. Doing everything he could to stop the proximity reaching to Zero. He went as far as to slot himself between you and Wanshi, accompany you everywhere, turning down opportunities of contact on your behalf.

Despite the efforts, he was disheartened. Upset, having spotted you sleeping with Wanshi in the training room.

You were fast asleep against Wanshi's chest cushions, all the while, the construct 'slept' in leisure. The fire arms were laying on the ground, unsupervised, and the scent of gunpowder lingered in the air.

There was a heavy feeling in Lee's chest, a set of emotions ruptured from his M. I. N. D., triggering his physical symptoms.

In denial, Entropy questioned himself. Back tracking through his schedule to see if it was something he did or damaged. Did the construct engineering team replaced the wrong gear? Replenished too much vital fluid?

'I must be overloading', Lee thought to himself.

He didn't say anything but went to carefully picked you up in his arms. It would be better to sleep in a bed.

Without a word, Lee carried you back to your quarters. Only to find you, once again, asleep with Wanshi the following night in the training room. Same again on the next following night again and again.

Gritting his teeth by how maddening this occurance was, Lee picked you up for the final time. You were still fast asleep, exhausted from the training.

The same set of emotions swirled in his M. I.N.D. Lingering his gaze as Hypnos, Lee clicked his tougne out of frustration.

"This is our Commandant," he mumbled, "go get your own..."

"... That's not how Strike Hawk works, you surely know that."

Taking a step back, Lee glared at Wanshi. Shifting in his sleeping position, with his eyes still closed, Hypnos gave a yawn before slowly, very slowly, opened his tired eyes.

Lee scoffed at his last sentence. Clearly hiding the embrassment, of his biased opinion being heard.

"Of course I know that," Lee replied, "But what are you doing, always approaching our Commandant?"

Wanshi only look back at Lee with an indifference gaze. Disinterested in engaging an argument, the construct began stretching before laying back down. Shifting, in a more comfortable position.

He closed his eyes and said, "We just so happen to fall asleep here. Commandant just wants to practise aiming."

There was a scene of you mentioning about your shooting skills played in Lee's memory data. During that time, he wasn't in for a small talk, and didn't put your concerns at heart. Thus, it was his own doing for pushing you to seek others for help. Maybe that's why you went to Wanshi instead.

"... Rest assure, I am not stealing your Commandant. I was just trying to help..." Wanshi quickly fell silent, entering into a slumber, he left Lee reflecting on his emotions.

After a long paused, Wanshi spoke up again, "... it's okay to be jealous"

For a split second there was an impulse urge for Lee to point a gun against Wanshi's head. But, Entropy quickly recovered. He gave Wanshi's sleeping form one last look before heading back to your quarters with his teeth gritted together.

******

To recieve a notice on the following morning, Wanshi realised he'd just recieved an offical complaint. Placing the tablet down on the coffee table, the construct just resumed his slumber on sofa.

"Wanshi," Chrome's voice snapped Wanshi awake, "Care to explain why we got an offical complaint?"

"It was just some misunderstanding..." Wanshi replied.

"Is that all you are going to say?" Chrome pressed further.

"It's not much of a big deal," Wanshi said, "just about jealousy."

Looking up at the ceiling, Wanshi gave a small smile before yawning and fall back asleep.

(C) Punishing-eden

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Meet the Kitchen Kens!

That's right! Your favorite life-sized playthings are available in packs of two now! That means you can get two Kens for the price of one, and boy are these guys worth the money!

Are you tired of slaving away in the kitchen all night just to end up with a mediocre meal? Do you wish you had one big strong man to cook you the finest dinners and another to clean up the mess? Well, look no further than Chef Ken and Dishwasher Alan! We promise these guys will meet your every need in the kitchen, and they'll do it all with a smile on their handsome faces.

These men belong in the kitchen. Ken knows his place is at the stovetop, spatula in hand, and Alan will always be waiting at the sink with a sponge and a can-do attitude. It doesn't matter if it's a midnight snack or a midmorning brunch, they'll be primed and ready for your order. The knowledge of several five-star chefs has been programmed into Ken's head, and Alan is trained to scrub your dishes until you can see your face sparkling in its reflection!

Buy Ken and Alan now! You'll never find two men more dedicated to serving you in the kitchen, but stayed tuned...

This is just the first set in our new line of Ken and Alan combos. Get ready for these pals to take on even more fun and useful careers...

[bibliosims]

camilla moretti for @mangosimoothie's the familiar

mildly nsfw content below the cut

Camilla Moretti (she/her) | 29 | Bisexual | AB+ genius · romantic · neat What do you want to know about Camilla Moretti? That she graduated top of her class at Foxbury Institute and was on track to earning her doctorates in psychology before mysteriously dropping out of the program? That none of her friends or family have heard a peep from her since? If you ask her herself, she'll just smile and say that none of that really matters. None of it has–not since she learned what was really at the top of the food chain. The thought of vampires hunting during the night and claiming innocent victims should have scared her, but instead, imagining these apex predators claiming her for themselves sent a thrill through her body. Because despite her professional exterior, there is nothing that gets Camilla going more than submitting to and serving every whim of her master. Her past romantic and sexual experiences had never truly been enough to sate her desires. But being at the complete mercy of a vampire (or two)? How could Camilla not drop everything for the opportunity of a lifetime? Oozing sexual desire and seldom muttering a complaint when given a task, Camilla lives to serve. If she may say so herself, she’d make the perfect familiar. Though despite her submissive nature, Camilla still packs a punch and isn’t shy to throw some sass and attitude your way. After all, that just makes it all the more fun. Just be careful how you punish her–she might just enjoy it a little too much.

Camilla is a talented pianist, having been classically trained since she was four. Sexually, she's indiscriminate as long as you can give her what she wants. She frequented underground BDSM clubs in college but could never quite find the perfect partner(s). Having performed multiple dissections and other gory tasks during her studies, there isn't much that grosses Camilla out. She has little regard for those she doesn't wish to serve and is motivated by sexual gratification. She's a mediocre chef but would gladly sharpen her skills if her masters required it of her. She enjoyes teasing her masters in hopes of eliciting a punishment, but knows which lines she shouldn't cross.

private dl !

[mira-annabelles-poke-kitchen]

DISCLAIMER: Any discussion of meat on here should be assumed to be synthetic meat or ethically sourced (E.G.: Slowpoke Tails, which fall off naturally without harming the Pokemon). I do not support unnecessary hunting or unethical factory farming.

Hello! I’m Mira Annabelle, a twenty-seven year old travelling chef! I was born in Lumiose City, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to explore the entire world’s culture! Not that I dislike Kalosian food. In fact, I think the abundance of amazing food I got to try growing up was what inspired me to seek out more! Every region has so much amazing food and culture, and my goal is to experience it all!

I am currently working on a cookbook that will focus on fusing various regional foods together, primarily Kalosian and Paldean, as well as some classics from the regions. Please send in suggestions, as learning what you all enjoy will help me narrow my focus.

Currently, I’m enrolled in the Adult Student Program at Uva-Naranja Academy. My project for the Treasure Hunt is, of course, experiencing the cuisine of Paldea! I’m so grateful for the program, as it gives me an opportunity to save on money when it comes to housing. While I’m fine with camping out, I do prefer to have a warm bed available, and hotels can be expensive! I’ve also travelled in Hoenn, Alola, and Galar, and I learned so much about cooking from all of those regions.

Anyway, I’m excited to join Rotomblr and share my culinary journey with all of you!

OOC and Team Under the Cut!

//ooc: Hiya, I'm Xander, 23! I'm a foodie in real life, so I made a blog where I could live vicariously travelling the world and eating tons of good food. Feel free to message me about anything Pokemon or food related, I like making friends!

//Pelliper Mail is on! No magic/mean anons, though!

//Keep it light! No NSFW, nothing heavy, etc.

//Avatar is from this Picrew: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1500446

//Information/Headcanon Document Here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/13BRFIWJgT_i8Vj22Rx1VOMCuwwg6e3xm9xsGuVxINZQ/edit?usp=drivesdk

Team:

Coconuts - A Ludicolo who loves to dance along to music while I cook! She's been especially enjoying all the street musicians we've heard in Paldea!

Pie - An Appletun who's one of the laziest dragons I've ever seen! Maybe I spoiled her with snacks as a baby, because good Xerneas, she eats so much!

Vanilla - A Rainbow-Swirl Alcremie that I evolved using a Love Sweet. I was so dizzy when evolving her, but it was work it! She's beautiful and fiesty!

Honey - A Fidough who's been a riot to train! She has so much energy, I swear, she was born to battle!

Oil - A Smoliv, and she's my newest addition to the team. She's such a sleepy girl.