#FUCK IMAGINE IF I JUST USED KETCHUP AS ONE OF THE INGREDIENTS

[leo-regulus]

I saw you wanted asks, so I shall deliver!

Hi, how’s it going?

Instead of going to bed at 11pm, or fighting the Balance Elemental and finishing off While Guthix Sleeps in Runescape, I went downstairs to ask my parents if the last cookie was claimed already and ended up playing Crazy Bartender.

The rules of Crazy Bartender are simple. There are from one to many Victims, and one Crazy Bartender. There are four to seven rounds. Each round, a Victim surrenders their double shot glass to the Crazy Bartender, who attempts to make a shot of 2/3 X, 1/3 Y, and a dash of Z that is vaguely palatable, with full access to every bottle of alcohol in the house.

The shots are given back to the Victims, who throw it back all at once, and then guess what was in their glass. Then, they tell the Crazy Bartender if they would willingly drink this again. After that, the Crazy Bartender (while mixing up the next round) cries of laughter and tells them what they drank.

Off of memory, here's what I subjected my poor father and brother to tonight:

Mint mocha Bailey's, peppermint schnapps, and a dash of fireball (interesting but very confusing, bad aftertaste)

Rum chata, pineapple Captain Morgan's, and a dash of Austrian cherry liqueur (sure clears the sinuses)

Cranberry-orange-apple Smirnoff, orange Grand Marnier, and lemon drop schnapps (actually pretty all right)

Peach liqueur, white rum, and standard Canadian whiskey (judged Bad)

Blueberry mead, bourbon whiskey, with a dash of blue agave gold tequila (judged a form of torture)

Smores Baileys, chocolate vodka, and caramel kahlua (acceptable)

So as we can see, Crazy Bartender is not a game for the faint of heart. Also, I forgot I had both banana and strawberry cream moonshine in the fridge, and very carefully did not touch my mother's pickled moonshine. And I have no idea where the Kraken went.

The game ends when you have no more bottles of liquor to open and you have sampled everything, or when your Victims tap out. According to them, I got progressively more evil. To which I argue that next time I'm giving them strawberry cream moonshine, smores Bailey's, and worcestershire sauce. I was going for semi-matching flavours based on what we had, this was the best I can do.

Suggestions for the next game of Crazy Bartender are welcome. I'm really sad we didn't have any more blackberry Crown, that would've gone good with the cherry liqueur.

[ilostthewar]

When it comes to our 141 boys, who’s the best at cooking? No trigger warnings for this one.

You know it’s Kyle, YOU KNOW ITS KYLE. LOOK AT THIS MAN. He learned to cook growing up and his skills kinda just naturally grew. He definitely used it as a flirting tactic in his fuck boy era, but I imagine he really does enjoy cooking. He gets to play music and vibe around the kitchen, it’s relaxing in a unique way he often isn’t allowed. He can be a little boujie when he wants to be, and he enjoys making different cultural and ethnic dishes he doesn’t get to have on base. He also enjoys the plating and picking good drinks to go with them. Definitely posts pictures of his meals when they turn out the way he wants. Soap will inevitably comment “I’m on my way”, and then an hour later Soap posts a picture of him in Gaz’s house eating his food, way too excited about it and Gaz is in the background glaring at him cause Gaz gave him specific instructions on what drink to bring, and Soap comes over with the same bottle of scotch he always does.

Next, surprisingly, Simon. I imagine when he was younger he didn’t care at all. He would probably steal MREs and just horck em down because sustenance was sustenance, whatever was cheapest and easiest. Very much a bottle of ketchup, 3 beers, and a gun in his fridge type guy. As he gets older, and after therapy that he swore he didn’t need, he probably succumbs to it and tries. Realizes he needs to put effort into the whole “being alive” thing, and cooking just happened to be the thing he tried, especially since as he gets older he realizes he can’t force down half a pizza at 2am and not get heartburn. It’s medative for him, honestly. It’s a low stakes task for him to accomplish, keeps his mind and hands busy. There are clear steps to follow, maybe a video if he’s really confused. And at the end, he’s made something good that he gets to eat. It doesn’t always look the best but he always feels oddly proud about it. He’ll complain if anyone is in the kitchen with him, he hates that shit, actually. But he does like presenting something he made and watching other people enjoy his work. He will stare at people while they eat, and forget to eat himself at first, cause he’s trying to figure out if they actually like it or they’re lying. Unfortunately, it just looks like he’s glaring at you… he will pack you left overs to take with you.

Next is John, what can I say. He’s pretty okay at cooking. He’s not fucking anything up horrendously and most of his food comes out good enough. It simply wasn’t a skill he put a lot of effort into when he was younger. However, there are a few dishes that are his speciality that he nails every time and if his goal is to impress, he pulls them out. Also, he’s out here barbecuing. He’s such a fucking guy about it, too. Stands by the grill, has a whole marinade/seasoning situation that he insists is secret, he stole it off the back of a bbq bottle. Does NOT want anyone to mess with his meats, he’s in control of the grill, don’t touch, his control freak comes out. However, if you linger nearby too long you get dragged into a conversation about “protecting the integrity of the meat” whatever the fuck that means.

And at the bottom is poor Johnny. To be fair, it’s not exactly his fault. One of his issues is that he gets distracted easily, especially with cooking that requires wait times between steps. When he’s at home and his brain is allowed to relax he’ll walk away and then get caught up with something else and come back and remember he was supposed to be toasting the nuts, not burning them. He always wants to experiment with cooking and unfortunately it doesn’t always work. He takes the instructions as a suggestion and ingredients as suggestions, throws in seasonings where they aren’t needed or decides to pull something from the cabinet and toss it in. I think he’s the king of “I don’t know why but it works” combinations, and others will try to turn their nose up at it until they try it, and then they have to admit he was right. I do believe he is GREAT at being a kitchen partner. Give him a little task to do and he’s having a great time, does have a habit of always being in the way, but part of that is because he’s so fucking bulky. The funniest part is he is hilariously great at baking, cause that’s just chemistry and art and he’s great at both of those.

[h2bakugou]

Hello :) I really like your work and I was wondering if you could write about mha Shoto, Katsuki and Izuku having a girlfriend whos a badass while fighting but who's also bff with denki because they can act dumb together and are huuuuge weeb? (Also if you don't mind I would love to see denki's reaction to his gf being badass but also as crazy as him bc my pikachu deserves all the love) ? I hope it makes sense x)

a/n: hey love! awe thank you so much! this request is really cute, kaminari is such a sweetheart and i love him so much omg. thank you for the request hun!

headcanon: them with a s/o who is badass when they fight but also denki’s crazy bff

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing

»»————-　★　————-««

shoto todoroki

»»————-　★　————-««

Shoto probably doesn’t understand how you can go from being super badass to somehow short-circuiting yourself when hanging out with Kaminari.

If you don’t have an electricity-related quirk, he’s super confused, like how does that happen?

If you do happen to have an electricity-related quirk, he’s also confused because you aren’t even using it. Just being with Kaminari the two of you goof off enough to go all wheheyyyyy.

Todoroki enjoys watching you fight. You don’t take shit from anyone. Period.

Watching you take down bad guys is like a guilty pleasure past-time of Todoroki’s. You’re so skilled, and there’s so much he could learn from you in terms of combat.

You’ve done your training and you’ve learned and studied on your own alongside all your peers.

But as soon as you step off the battlefield, you’re somehow another person. Or at least you seem to be another person.

If there’s one thing you never stop hearing in the common rooms, it’s your laughter and Kaminari’s wheezing.

Todoroki is concerned when he hears it late at night, especially when you’re supposed to be asleep, and even more so when you’re trying to be quiet so you don’t wake anyone up.

“(Y/n). You should be resting, it’s late.”

“I know, I know!” You shush Kaminari who is rolling on the ground beside you, trying to stop the tears induced by laughter falling from his eyes.

“Kaminari just whipped out his Beyblades and challenged me. I beat him. 18 times.” You were losing your shit.

“It’s almost one am.” 

“Okay okay, Kaminari, I’ll beat you again tomorrow.” You stand and walk back to your dorm with Todoroki, sad to say goodnight to your best friend.

I don’t feel like Todoroki would get jealous because I think he genuinely understands that you and Kaminari are friends.

Kaminari also respects that you and Todoroki are in a relationship and has stopped hitting on you.

But he jokingly states that if you and Todoroki are to break up he might not be able to hold back.

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

Bakugou is jealous 100%

“Stop paying attention to that loser!” Bakugou will hug you and drag you back to your dorm at one am to get you to go to bed all because you’re having fun with Denki.

He doesn’t understand how you can change from being a badass to a quote on quote ‘dunceface idiot’ like Kaminari.

He loves you a lot and loves seeing you in action. It’s mesmerizing to see you take down bad guys and be all tough.

You’re a tough cookie and Bakugou enjoys watching you intimidate all the villains.

But watching you goof off with Kaminari strikes a nerve in him.

You joke around with Bakugou, but there’s something about joking off with a best friend that is different than with your romantic partner.

You decided that your library of fart jokes was probably a little inappropriate for Bakugou’s ears, not that the curses came out of his mouth were all appropriate in the first place.

No one understands your jokes quite like Kaminari. He’s the one you're getting scolded with at four am for being too loud by Mr. Aizawa.

But who else was going to laugh at you trying to knit Bakugou a sweater and failing horribly?

“What is that supposed to be?”

“Bakugou!”

“That just looks like an angry porcupine!”

“Isn’t that what Bakugou is?”

Kaminari has officially lost it.

You and Kaminari have begun writing down every single roast the other drops to use later on and it’s even better when you both pull the same line in your little roast battles.

Everyone is silent and then you both just burst out into laughter.

Bakugou gets over his jealousy after Kaminari has a somewhat serious talk with him.

“(Y/n) wanted me to talk to you.” Kaminari starts, and Bakugou is already frustrated, is this how you tell him it’s over?

“I don’t see her romantically at all. I know you two are together, and as her best friend, I respect that. I know you’ll treat her well, so I expect you too. That’s my best friend you’re dating after all.”

Bakugou is speechless. For the first time, Denki Kaminari has said something that he understood.

“Did she tell you to say that? Did she write that down for you to say?” Bakugou is on edge.

“No! I came up with it myself because it’s the truth. She was just worried you were getting angry with her for hanging out with me so much.”

Bakugou cools down and eventually heads back to hang out with you.

Bakugou’s loud and obnoxious, so for the sake of you he tries to understand your humor, but sometimes you have to help him out.

It’s all in good fun though.

»»————-　★　————-««

izuku midoriya

»»————-　★　————-««

Izuku is probably super confused at first too.

He tries his hand at humor so he understands some jokes, and he himself can go from being all cute and adorable to fucking badass.

But when it comes to someone else, he’s a little lost.

Especially when that someone is his own girlfriend.

You’ve gone from tearing shit up on the battlefield to wheezing over a meme that is just a picture that says ‘top text bottom text.’

He surely doesn’t understand.

I feel like Izuku might get a little jealous at first. He’s unsure of why you’re always spending lots of time with Denki and having a good time.

“Izuku he’s just my friend.”

“But you never laugh like that with me.”

It’s an eye-opener.

Izuku is jealous of how you're happy around Denki.

You try your best to explain to Deku but you might need a bit of help from Kaminari.

Kaminari assures Deku that nothing is going on between the two of you and that you’re just his best friend.

“I promise you, she’s just my best friend, I respect the boundaries of your relationship.” Kaminari has a bright smile on his face while you hug Izuku.

“Thank you for telling me this.” Izuku feels better about the situation but still worries sometimes.

You begin to include Izuku some, but he may not understand your humor sometimes so you’ll have to explain it to him.

Overall, Izuku is happy to see you happy. You learn to balance your time for both your friends and Izuku.

Izuku still doesn’t quite grasp how you can be such a badass at times then lose your mind with Kaminari at two am for making a pizza with ketchup instead of pizza sauce.

“Isn’t ketchup essentially tomato sauce?” Kaminari examines the ingredients list.

“I think it has vinegar in it. It’s gonna taste weird.”

“Well I can’t find the pizza sauce.”

“Ketchup it is then.” You take the bottle and squeeze it out over the dough. Kaminari helps add the cheese and any other toppings.

Deku is concerned.

“I don’t think that’s going to taste very good.” He’s tired too but insisted on staying up with you so he could bring you to bed after you eat.

And Deku's right.

It tasted horrible.

But at least he was able to walk you back to your room and tuck you in after that terrible experience.

»»————-　★　————-«« 

denki kaminari

»»————-　★　————-««

The duality that y’all have. This relationship is POWERFUL.

Badass gf on the battlefield but goofy as shit when it comes to hanging out together?

Kaminari couldn’t have asked for a better partner. 

Watching you in action feels like a fucking movie. He’s drawn in constantly, admiring you every chance he gets.

Watching you fight, hell even watching you train is amazing. You’re incredibly skilled and your training pays off immensely.

Kaminari would like to say that training with you is amazing too, but the two of you can barely compose yourselves for that long.

You’re almost always laughing on the ground at like the one hour mark.

You can look at each other and just burst into laughter.

As much as I kind of hate the whole ‘marry your best friend’ saying, this relationship radiates that energy. You guys are endgame.

Kaminari couldn’t think of another person to share the love he has for you, let alone the plethora of jokes, puns, and roasts the two of you can make up on the spot.

Kaminari doesn’t want to imagine a world without you. And you couldn’t fathom being in one without him.

You guys are bound together, and are almost never apart for too long.

Granted you guys do have your days and you do make time for yourselves as any healthy relationship needs its boundaries.

You guys have shirts with memes on them, or phrases that you say constantly.

MATCHING PIKACHU ONESIES

You’re constantly yelled out for being too loud in the middle of the night, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kirishima, Mina, and Sero finding you guys sound asleep cuddling on the common room couch because y’all just passed out after goofing off for so long is a common occurrence.

If you have another best friend, I don’t feel like Kaminari would get crazy jealous because you only ever act like a goofy dumbass around him, and you’re crazy for him so he’s not too worried.

Might ask you about it but you’re in love with Kaminari’s dumbass and only his dumbass.

Who else are you going to watch cooking videos with a one am and try and recreate them on the spot?

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[rvmmm21]

Omegaverse hcs 👀👀👀 which tank do you think each rv member fits

 the fact i did more research for this than for my exam. thank you reaadvelvet.

sfw stuff, although it’s definitely implied.

this is my first a/b/o so i might’ve missed a few marks. don’t exactly know.

. joohyun .

joohyun’s an alpha (like 99.9% of the time).

dominant, protective and that inescapable jealousy makes her a straight up alpha. 

scents; she’s scent-driven. anything that appeals to her incredibly sensitive sense of smell has her foot on the gas. and if she’s driving you’re in for one hell of a ride. it is of utmost importance that her omega smells their best at all times. it’s only fair, after all. she prides herself on her grooming.

her ability to keep her jealousy in check varies. no one but her omega is aware of her hand surreptitiously resting on their upper thigh while they’re at the dinner table, but it’s a whole different ball game when they’re out in public. 

joohyun’s possessive nature flares in the presence of any other living, breathing creature. even from a distance, joohyun makes sure she has one ear open at all times. if someone so much as looks at her omega in a way she thinks they shouldn’t, expect her to be storming over in an instant, pheromones ablaze, ‘politely’ cutting the conversation short and escorting them away.

punishments are rare, but not above joohyun, if she deems it necessary. and she views them as firm reminders more than punishments.

joohyun knows how to work a silence damn well. cross her and she’ll have you suffocating on nothing but her endearing little death glare.

behind closed doors, another aspect of joohyun’s personality comes to play, however. 

a far softer, gentler and (dare i say it) playful joohyun surfaces when it’s just her and her omega. as gentle as her favourite bottle of freshly-scented fabric conditioner.

this is what i mean by the 99.9%. 

she does tire, so sometimes joohyun allows herself a little leeway to lean back. plus, it’s just the two of them, so her mind isn’t clogged with apprehension. (quick tip: a big-softie joohyun is a joohyun worth exploiting).

still though, exploit within your means. don’t push your luck. tease her about it just that bit too much and you’ll find yourself flat on your back, pinned under a growly baby beast, more than just her scent overpowering you.

joohyun is protective, motherly; she doesn’t shy away from tasks that may be slightly too intimidating for the average person to handle. a lovely homemade meal, fending off the threat of other foul alphas ogling what’s hers, or asking the waiter for another dollop of ketchup for her embarrassed omega. that’s joohyun wrapped in a pretty bow. 

. seulgi .

seulgi’s a beta.

bubbly, charming with the friendliest of scents. soft lavender, if i were to pick.

she’d really excel at being a professional cuddler (yes, they’re a real thing), because there’s nothing more soothing than being engulfed in a heap of seulgi as she whispers in your ear, fizzling those senseless worries away with the tone of her voice.

there is no sexual intent, simply a friend to lift your spirits or to lend an ear. or a snuggle.

seulgi thanks her predictable gland secretion, granting her more control over her pheromones. which is what everyone else is presented with: a neutral, approachable personality.

her easygoing nature has and can draw anyone in. and i do mean anyone; she has an ever-expanding list of four-legged/winged/slithery friends to prove it.

terribly innocent and trusting; sometimes dangerously so. seulgi will offer to do someone a favour or work on something for them when she finds yerim or sooyoung stepping in before she can make that commitment with a firm ‘i’m afraid that’s not happening’. she’s confused, but allows herself to be ushered away, glancing back over her shoulder in a quick ‘sorry’.

she’s clumsy, ask any of her members, but she works it in well with her charm. popped balloons, tripping on air and the inability to discern a ‘push’ from a ‘pull’ door makes seulgi jump as high as whoever is around to witness them.

mating or catching doesn’t cross seulgi’s mind much, not for now, anyway. she’s far more content in the company of her members and the friends she makes along the way.

. seungwan .

seungwan the omega (this was actually so hard to decide).

demure, caring and domestic beyond belief.

kind to a fault; like seulgi, her other (more assertive) members will oftentimes step in and answer for her, if she’s in a potentially iffy situation where she could be taken advantage of. seungwan, a little hurt, will ask them about it later on, and they’ll sit her down and explain. slowly, she begins to understand why they did what they did and eventually thanks them. 

baking, baking, baking; the house constantly smells like aunty anne and the pillsbury doughboy are going at it in a bed of flour with a rolling pin, goddamn. 

seungwan’s a treat, but so are all the things crafted from her little bake station in the kitchen. the other girls sometimes can’t imagine how such delicious things can come from such bland looking ingredients. i mean flour? get real... oh, hand them another brownie, though. yep, thank you seungwan unnie! 

don’t get it twisted, hey. what seungwan lacks in brawn, she more than makes up for in brains and good old-fashioned academia. sure, she may not be the one handing seulgi the broom to hold against the bottom of the glass on the ceiling, but who had reminded yerim to pull all the chairs away beforehand? the brains behind the operation indeed. 

seungwan is crafty as her mind is intricate. 

she knows how to get what she wants; every power-bottom move there is to know. she may be an omega, seemingly unassertive by nature, but her personality when she wants something is anything but.

she’ll pout and tease till she has her alpha weak and tending to her every whim, her complacency masked under prettily batted eyelashes and the longest, most gratuitous ‘thank youuuu’. 

blessed is anyone who gets the chance to make seungwan scream their name. (let’s pretend for a minute that we don’t already know who that is). she knows how to lay back and take it alright, gracing them with a perfect demonstration of her powerhouse lungs in action. front row seats, might i add.

so powerful, that sometimes, she needs to be ‘reminded’ that she isn’t the only one on earth, and that other people need to be left to live, too. omega seungwan prefers those reminders to push her deep into the mattress, pin her there by her shoulders, ribs, throat. any and every part of her is willing to be quieted down and shown who really calls the shots between the two of them.

what? she can at least show her appreciation. after all, it’s the way the hierarchy works, and seungwan isn’t one to question nature. 

. sooyoung .

alpha sooyoung through and through.

can’t imagine her being anything but, if i’m honest. 

and yes, the height helps strides, but there’s more to sooyoung than lank alone. 

her sense of duty is like no other, and if she has to put others in uncomfortable positions to preserve it, then its a sacrifice well made. just ask yerim, who now feels obliged to apologise for her presence at the cafe every time she goes to get a latte because of that one time sooyoung had thought the barista was flirting with her when he asked her for her ‘digits’ before handing her her drink, not realising that that was how the store operated.

the poor omega barista very nearly filled his trousers and dropped to his knees at the sheer sight of sooyoung’s lips curled up in a possessive growl and alpha waves emitting like she’d had her mind set on murdering him.

“what? he could’ve just used your initials or your order like a normal person!” . “unnie, he doesn’t make enough to go against an entire establishment. and besides, there’s nothing wrong with that. you’re just mad because you thought he was asking for my phone number when my ‘digits’ were actually ‘#026′, idiot.” . “... okay fine. but did he really have to say ‘digits’ like that? seriously, curb your flirt... fucking nerd.”

yerim; the only one allowed to call sooyoung names and not find her own esophagus handed to her with a lovely thank you note attached.

if sooyoung can make alphas of much higher ranks make it a point to acknowledge her presence in a room, then anyone who finds themselves at the wrong end of her stick can kiss their hopes of a steady blood-pressure bye bye.

sooyoung knows her way around a good jest, as hard to believe as that may be. ask joohyun, where it has become almost knee-jerk reaction to tell sooyoung she ‘doesn’t have a daughter like her’ whenever the latter calls her ‘mother’.

a mistress in the streets, a bloody mistress in the sheets as well. and don’t you forget it.

. yerim .

yerim the omega (the term fits her rather loosely).

and golden maknae, with a slightly satanic aftertaste, of course.

she may be tiny, as fellow omega seungwan absolutely adores reminding her (catch the hypocrisy, gift wrap it and send it back where it came from), but she can be a real hard-arse when needs be. real crass and rarely thinks twice before giving you what for. 

it usually doesn’t get her in trouble, except for when it does. snarky and playful by nature, yerim sometimes forgets her place and ends up challenging other, random alphas. her unnies are quick to react, having to pull her away and diffuse the situation before someone ends up with an ear chewed off. she gets a good telling off on the way back and for hours later.

her unnies are far more tolerant when it comes to her bratty behaviour. sooyoung’s soft spot for the girl plays a huge role in that, of course, but even alpha joohyun has learnt to take it all in stride. they all know yerim doesn’t mean to come off the way she does most of the time, so they let it slide. they’re much less possessive when it comes to her too, always allowing her the last tteokbokki on the plate or the first sip of juice.

bratty omega alert: yerim is calm and quiet most of the time, but if she wants something, it’d better be delivered. be that food, attention, or a good *cough* seeing to *cough*, give her what she wants and you have yourself a pacified, passive little girl. 

don’t doubt yourself when you’re around yerim. she’ll hype you up the best way she knows: violently. as seungwan will concur, when she got an earful of ‘don’t live like a coward!’ over a game of musical chairs.

and she wont stop until she’s hammered self-love into you.

it is lovely, though, when yerim’s basking in that after-glow, all raspy and looking like something of an angel. her aura has a deep pulling force, and you’d be a fool to resist. not that anyone could resist a sleepy, satisfied yerim.

[nokomiss]

deadtedkord replied to your post “taking prompts!”

more excellent jaysteph bonding please you're stuff for them is amazing!!

Even in Gotham, it’s hard to get takeout at 4am.  

So after a particularly grueling night fighting crime -- not Arkham-escape bad, but involving the Condiment King teaming up with Mad Hatter for easily one of the grossest in every imaginable way nights Steph could remember -- the troops all ended up at the Cave, fighting over who got into the showers first. The troops in question being Bruce, Damian, Tim, Jason and herself. Steph saw the writing on the wall immediately and booked it up stairs to shower in luxury before Bruce could complain about ketchup in his fancypants rich people showers.

After convincing herself that she couldn’t, actually, just live in the bathroom at Wayne Manor for the rest of her life, Steph reluctantly got out, wondering if she could convince Bruce that installing the same shower at her decidedly less luxurious home was actually a necessary crime fighting expense. The water pressure alone had relieved a few lingering muscle aches she’d been nursing a few days.  

She ransacked various rooms for a new, mustard-free outfit -- she had clothes stashed away somewhere, but everyone knew other people’s clothes are far superior, especially when they were Selina’s yoga pants, which she was never returning because damn they were amazing, Cass’ fuzzy socks and Tim’s softest hoodie.

By the time she returned to the cave, smelling like coconut and feeling like a champ, the boys had managed to clean themselves up and were bickering about food.

“I got Stromboli’s to deliver at 3 last week,” Damian was insisting, even though the Batcomputer clearly showed that they were closed.

“Maybe we could bribe someone at Batburger? They’re open all night,” Tim suggested, sounding doubtful about the prospect.

“There’s food here,” Steph suggested, because she, too, was starving.

Silence for a moment, then Bruce said, in a voice that almost sounded sheepish, “Alfred isn’t here.”

Steph felt a little bad about the smears of ketchup she’d undoubtedly left in the bathroom. “Did he… did he take the kitchen with him?”

“Pennyworth is the only one permitted to use the kitchen,” Damian said loftily while also not looking at anyone directly.

“Yeah, but… we’re hungry,” Steph pointed out.

“They don’t know how to cook,” Tim said, gesturing towards Bruce and Damian. “They’re really bad at it.”

“Like you’re any better,” Damian snapped. “Remember when you set the microwave on fire?”

“I didn’t realize there was still a spoon in the bowl!” The tops of Tim’s ears were turning bright red.

Steph looked at the only person in the room not howling about their own ineptitude in the kitchen. “Please tell me you’re not as useless as they are.”

“I’m insulted that you would think I am,” Jason replied. “I certainly didn’t grow up with a butler.”

Steph sighed, and said, “Wanna go make some food?”

Jason looked at the other three, who were suddenly very focused on writing the night’s mission report. “If it means we’re done with the paperwork, yeah.”

So she climbed the steps to up to the manor for the second time that night, and when she entered the kitchen she suddenly understood the silence and sheepish looks.

“I have seen active crime scenes less disastrous than this kitchen,” Jason said with an awed tone.

“How long has Alfred been gone? A year?” Steph said, staring. “And the question is, is he ever gonna return if he knows this is waiting on him?”

 “Probably he will, but he’ll finally snap and murder them all in a dishes-fueled rage,” Jason said, poking at the mountain of dirty china piled haphazardly in and around the sink.  He poked at a dish. “I’m pretty sure someone ate Spaghetti-Os out of fine china. Is this a real silver spoon?”

The spoon in question had curdled milk clinging to it.

“Okay so ten minutes ago, I would have told you there was no way anything could be grosser than Mad Hatter flopping around in a pool of mayonnaise,” Steph said, “but oh, how I have been proven wrong.”

“How do they even function as human beings?” Jason wondered. “Was it always this bad? I mean, I lived here. I know Bruce is an absolute moron in the kitchen. But…”  He looked around. “Wow.”

“Do you suddenly feel so much better about yourself as a person?” Steph said. “Because I gotta say. Really feeling good about myself right now.”

Jason offered a hand to high five, and Steph did, happily. They rummaged through the pantry side-by-side and found that the staples were still intact, though anything ready-made had been ransacked.  The fridge offered up similar bounty -- takeout leftovers of questionable providence, some wilting produce, and basics.  

“Pancakes?” Steph suggested once she saw the state of the waffle iron -- had someone tried to make a grilled cheese on it? -- and pulled out the dry ingredients. “I’m not willing to eat anything that requires a condiment right now.”  Thankfully maple syrup had not been one of Condiment King’s weapons of choice.

“I’ll make eggs,” Jason said, pulling out a carton. “And there’s some fake bacon of Damian’s.”

“We are a breakfast-making machine,” Steph said. It was true, too -- away from the chaos of crime fighting, she found that working alongside Jason in the kitchen was surprisingly easy. Steph stared at the sink again, and said, “I think that it’s time that certain vigilantes learned the domestic arts.”

“Yeah, we can’t let Alfred come back to this,” Jason said. “He’s too valuable. If he quit--”

“We’d never have his cookies ever again,” Steph said in horror. 

“Maybe we could steal Alfred,” Jason said after a pause. “Like, let nature take its course, then swoop in and take Alfred for our own.”

“Share custody of him,” Steph said, nodding. “We could put him on a rotating schedule, and give him days off, and… I don’t know. Let him join a book club, instead of spending all his time with these disasters.”

They spent a few moments in quiet contemplation of a life where Alfred showed up and made creme brulee at any hour of the day.  Then Steph sighed, giving the pancake batter one last stir before letting it sit and moving to the stove, clearing off several crystal goblets with what looked like coffee dregs in them before finding a griddle.  “There’s only one flaw with our plan.”

“The thing where Alfred loves Bruce like a son and would never abandon him to die alone and hungry in his filthy mansion?” Jason flipped the fake bacon.

“That’s the one,” Steph said, deciding the griddle was hot enough and spooning pancake batter onto it in cute little shapes. She thought that Damian’s should be hearts, and she experimented with bat-shapes for Bruce. 

Jason peered over and saw what she was doing. “I want stars.”

“Of course you do,” Steph said, though she tried to make one as soon as Damian’s hearts were done. It turned out a little wonky, but still recognizable. She was awesome. “Gotta be difficult, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jason replied, cracking eggs into a bowl.  He glanced at the kitchen door. “Are they hiding in the cave in shame?”

“Like, it’s wrong, but the fact that I think they are makes me really happy,” Steph said. “Like, kind of makes up for all those times they acted like I was a moron for not knowing something.”

“Right?” Jason said. 

“I mean, how do you master dozens of different kinds of kung fu, but never once master the grilled cheese? I was making my own grilled cheese in kindergarten!”

“There are only three ingredients,” Jason agreed. “It’s a true embarrassment.”

“We should nominate him for Worst Cooks In America,” Steph said. “I really want to see Bruce on reality television, and that would be comedy gold.”

“Just seeing him get an invitation to be one of the worst of anything would be fucking amazing,” Jason said. “Like, congratulations, sir, you suck at this.”

“You suck so hard we want to feature you on television,” Steph snickered.  She flipped the last of Bruce’s pancakes onto a plate before they burned, and began making Tim’s. She tried to make a coffee mug shape, but it turned out looking like a blob, so she made teddy bears instead.  

“I mean, I kind of get why they’re so terrible at it,” Steph said, “given their upbringings. But I would have literally starved if I hadn’t figured out how to cook early on. Takeout was not an option.”

“Right? Only for special occasions,” Jason said. “The rest of the time, you had to make shit yourself.”

“Exactly,” Steph nodded. They didn’t really talk much about how they were the ones in the family who’d grown up poor, who’d spent a lot of time raising themselves because their parents hadn’t been capable of it. She knew it was why Bruce had compared them so much -- there was a startling amount of similarities between their childhoods, from their mothers’ drug problems to their fathers’ criminal inclinations -- and for once, it felt nice to be the ones with the necessary skills while everyone else floundered. 

They grinned at each other, then put the last of the food onto the plates.  Steph grabbed the maple syrup, and stopped short, staring at the calendar on the fridge. “Four days!”

“What?” Jason said through a mouthful of fake bacon.

“Alfred has only been gone four days,” Steph said, pointing to the note on the fridge, “and he left prepared meals.”  

They gazed in wonder at the chaos around them. 

“He’s going to be back tomorrow,” Jason said suddenly, pointing.  

“Okay, so we feed the troops, then we start Mission: Learn to Do the Damn Dishes,” Steph said. Sleep was for the weak. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Jason said, and followed her to the breakfast nook, setting down Tim and Damian’s plates and going back for the rest. “Wanna tell them now?”

“Let them have a final meal first,” Steph said. “Then we’ll light a fire under them.”

Jason grinned. By the time Bruce, Tim and Damian came out of the Cave, she and Jason had polished off half of their meal, and Steph had to admit that delivering a lecture to Batman about chores was one of the highlights of her week.  Possibly the entire month.

It took until dawn, but Alfred came home to a kitchen that no longer looked like it had witnessed the collapse of civilization.

[eldritchsurveys]

476.

Would you rather lose your best friend or your boyfriend? >> --- Do you think people who pay hundreds of dollars on perfume are ridiculous? >> If you have hundreds of dollars to spend on perfume, then you might as well. I imagine high-end perfume probably smells better than the shit they sell in Meijer. What is the last thing you tried on in a store? >> Jeans, probably. Do you know who Georgia Nicholson is? >> No. Do you ever sleep through your alarm? >> I use an alarm so infrequently and I sleep so lightly that there’s probably no way I’d ever sleep through one.

What is the dominant color in the room you’re in? >> Beige. Do you think Sophia Bush is a good actress? >> I don’t know anything about her. When did you realize you are no longer a child? >> I suppose my father refusing to be the person the hospital released me to was the point where I realised I was legally an adult and therefore had to find my own way. I never had any rite of passage that marked a transition from childhood to adulthood for me, it was just “okay, now do adult things because the calendar says so, even though you’re functionally and emotionally unprepared for any of these things”. Is sleeping naked more comfortable then in clothes? >> No, I can’t have my skin sticking to itself. Also, I generally don’t feel comfortable nude because of, you know, dysphoria. Are you comfortable enough around your friends to change in front of them? >> --- Does your best friend wear makeup? >> --- Who is someone you do not understand at all? >> I’m reasonably sure I could understand something about a person, even if we have nothing in common. What is your morning routine? >> I don’t have a routine -- I’m kind of allergic to doing the same thing every single day unless I’m so stressed that it’s the only way I can stabilise -- but I tend to read a bit and then journal, then do bio stuff and eat breakfast. Have you already met your true love? >> “True love” isn’t a thing for me. Have you ever had a dream in which you were making out, or more, with someone? >> I’ve had a lot of dreams like that, for some reason. Do you prefer to fix the problems or just end the relationship? >> It depends on the problems. I used to be more inclined to try and fix things, but I’ve noticed that I kept trying to do that in unfixable situations and just made an ass of myself. Have you ever accidentally stepped on a cat tail? >> Yeah. Did they meow really loud? >> More like a yelp. Do you ever go to Plyrics.com? >> I think I have in the past. Did you know that when a worm is cut in two both pieces grow again and continue living? >> Yeah. Do veggies gross you out? >> No. Do you know what Bluekaffee is? >> No. Chicken burger, fish burger or ham burger? >> Hamburger. What is the best brand of ketchup? >> I don’t know, I’ve never compared them. Would you run down the street completely naked for 1,000$? >> No. Have you ever dated someone in secret? >> No. How do you get splinters out? >> I don’t even remember the last time I had a splinter. But I assume I’d just use tweezers. What is something all relationships need to be healthy? >> Still not sure I’m the person to ask. Do you know who sings ‘Lover I don’t have to love’? >> I didn’t, but I googled it because the title sounded familiar. Don’t think I’ve ever actually heard that song, though. Do you bring pillows and blankets on road trips? >> --- If a stranger adds you on facebook, do you add them back? >> --- Does walking by yourself make you nervous? >> No. When dog’s bark, do you think it actually sounds like ‘ruff’? >> Some barks do. What about when cows moo? >> Yeah. How far is the airport from your house? >> Like, 20 minutes or something. CSI or Crimnal Minds? >> --- Can you make cookies from scratch? >> Maybe if I had a recipe to follow. Do you ever send people good morning texts? >> No. Is there someone who makes you blush when you just say hi to them? >> No. Do you kiss your pets? >> --- Have you ever forgotten where you parked your car? >> --- Does your leg itch right now? >> No. What’s worse then a stomach flu? >> I don’t know. Can you fall asleep in cars? >> Yeah, if I’m sleepy. Why did you go to church the last time you went? >> It was Easter. Who made you supper last night? >> Sparrow. It was pesto tortellini from the Dinnerly box. Really fucking good. Do you say mag or magazine? >> Magazine. Would you rather marry someone repulsive or be alone forever? >> I’d definitely never marry someone I thought was repulsive. That idea is repulsive. Would your parents approve of you dating someone of a different race? >> --- Whose the richest person you know? >> I don’t know a whole lot of people, and the ones I do are mostly just working-class folks or professionals who probably don’t make as much as they should. So the richest people I know are Sparrow’s parents, who are upper middle class. How old is the oldest person you know? >> Early sixties. Do you think Americans are pigs? >> I don’t think anyone is a pig. What was on the last sandwich you ate? >> Turkey, pepper jack, coleslaw, and pickles. Whose the last person who asked your name? >> I don’t remember. Remember the loot bags you used to get at birthdays? Weren’t they awesome? >> --- When is the last time you saw a monkey on TV? >> I have no idea. Do you buy scratch tickets? >> No. Who has it easier: adults or teenagers? Why? >> You can’t say one age bracket has it “easier” because that’s a subjective value, not to mention that calculating ease of living would require considering a lot of variables that change from person to person. What’s the last thing you spent over twenty dollars on? >> I spent exactly twenty dollars on another bottle of CBD capsules. Would you be sad if you were 50 and still not married? >> Well, that’s not going to happen. But I doubt it’d make me sad if that was how my life went instead. Have you ever been so drunk you couldn’t even talk right? >> Maybe? I’ve been so high I couldn’t talk right, but I rarely have problems speaking when I’m drunk. Do you know anyone with a million middle names? >> No. Are brand name food items really better then store brand ones? >> Sometimes, but if the ingredients list is pretty much the same then they’ll probably taste alike. Is ceaser salad the best kind of salad? >> Not for me, it isn’t. Is it dark out yet? >> No, it’s morning. Do you believe that love is just an excuse to get hurt? >> That’s a new one. Is there a Booster Juice in your city? >> No. If its called INTERNATIONAL house of pancakes, why isnt there one in Canada? >> Heh. Do hugs help when you’re sad? >> Outworld hugs do not help. Inworld hugs do. How did you meet the last person you kissed? >> --- Do you buy more things online or in stores? >> In stores. What is the best thing to eat with fish? >> There are a lot of things that are good to eat with fish. It also depends on what kind of fish it is, and how it’s cooked. Isn’t it annoying when people treat music like a trend? >> I don’t really know what that means. Do online dating sites ever work? >> I had a relationship that started on an online dating site. So yes, the site worked. The fact that our relationship didn’t isn’t because we met online, lol. 

[tomatosaucek]

The Archive

My friends and I have kept a record of our favorite quotes we've texted to our group chat since high school and I feel they must be shared so enjoy.

everything is wrong in the world but adam sandler makes it right when he dies there will be no god for he was the closest thing we had to one

we have full control over our youth

why the fuck r u on my wet wipes

in the end he has a lot of good qualities he just doesn't show them off/wear them well its like a guy with a bunch of fancy watches and stuff yeah those r nice things but why the fuck r u wearing 20 watches

except his shit hol is one shitty vacant manone beautiful shitty vacant man

how long was your child hair

I hope d.o is gay and his massive cock goes to waste cause all he does is take it up the ass

AND YOKO IS BY HIS SIDE WHILE HE SHIFTS REALITY

my theory that you dont really love someone until you catch a glimpse and see that they look exactly like a fucking foot

maybe it's just u small titted freaks that need to be trapped in a polyester prison

no I want to be spun the fuck around like a rotisserie chicken

now my throat is even tighter thanks putin

whisper me to sleep rap monster fuck you

you'd be shocked by the capabilities of a Farm Fresh Boy

THERE ARE RULES TO THIS DADDY SHIT AND THAT BITCH IS WALKING A FINE LINE

the thin layer of my sanity peeling away like cheap wallpaper

DO U WANNA SEE AN ONLINE TEMPER TANTRUM

sm is the constrictive cotton around their cocks not letting them erect their own dreams

my pussy did a backflip and participated in olympic swimming

who needs snail secretion cleansers when you can use the birth juices

I like how naruto wears bright fucking orange so everyone can know to get the fuck outta the way

gucci is a fucking mad man

on a lighter note i think asahi is addicted to crack

that is not a leg that is a 90 degree angle

OH YOU'RE SO GOD DAMN EDGY DOUBLE FUCKING DENIM

we've created the best things -

sliced bread

the wheel

the car

skeleton porn

negative asses have turned into bouncy houses

the stars were not ready nor could never foretell the likely-hood of this manslaughter this pure unadulterated mass suicide in the form of a venomous snake bite that latches to the soul of anyone unfortunate and pitiful enough to consume it and like the apple to eve it is that which corrupts the mind and snatches the body a dark empty thing that leaves nothing but putrid filth in its wake promising the sweetest of fruits only to deliver more and more misfortune

your dad is on the brink of destruction

socrates is a bitch, descartes is a bitch, plato is a bitch, aristotle..... a bitch. let me read facts, these men are an embarrassment. a scientist was like "atoms and stuff" and socrates was like "no. there are only 4 elements ;)" and people were like "source?" and he was like "i know everything" YOURE WRONG YOU ASS! socrates was useless. he shouldnt be studied.

ELMO ADVANCED

FUCK THE KETCHUP KIDS

KISS KISS FALL IN CUNT

S͊̍ͧ̕҉̧̟̰̲̰̥ͅU̞̥͈ͨ̎ͣ͋̚C͓̞̿ͩͬ̇ͪͫͨͫ͊Ķ̛̜͍̹̣̯̘̖͖͗̍ͥ̾̾͗͋̓̚L̞̥͖̹̙̲͓̯ͧ̆̾͆̈̏ͯ̔̀E̤̞͂ͣ̀̇̎ͮ̂͂̀̚͞ ̥͇̙͖͉̞͎ͥ͗ͣT̨͊͂ͦ͏̪͇Iͦ̿͋ͭ̽ͥͭ̊͏͏̤̻̮̬ͅM̲̭̲͇̟ͯͪ̽̄̽ͬ̍E̾̆͑͒̈ͫ́ͭ͜͏̲͎

why cant people milk their own babies

my god is so cute and he makes it look so good 😊

I need to find some teeth

Pre rubber boy stabbing himself under the eye ball hole

flavor boy at ur service

I finally used my natural essence on a whole pizza

I see chemistry between kookies jungle balls and my nile river delta

Twin dads

Gastric exorcism at 30,000 feet

Bungle up, squire

HOW CAN U WASH UR HAIR WITH INGREDIENTS MEANT FOR ASS

what if little baby naruto turns into a terrorist

THEYRE GROUPING GOOD LITERATURE AND SCAT IN THE SAME CATEGORY

FUCK ME UP MANTIE MAN

[joon voice] big tit exclusive

combined sweat sympathy

we made it. we're a feminist

ROAD RASSSSHHHHH

Scramble club: the moment everyone arrives everyone scrams away at full speed

not safe, freddie’s watching (freddie from icarly)

I HATE THIS SCAT MONSTER . THIS CASTRATION CATASTROPHE

is this what you want Patrick Star?

DONT FUCK OKAMI

my dad shits in the crystal clear florida ocean

imagine taeil growing a full bear

IM LOOKIN FOR YOU, HITLER.

B L E N D T H E

L U M B R I C O I D E S

MY LOAD IS GONNA TRIGGER THE NEXT BIG BANG

lobotio: lobotomy personified

YEETUS THAT FETUS

erectile poopage

wheel!!

of!!

foreskin!!

kanye columbus handing out yeezys with meezys to the ugandans

he took the last scoop of grammy’s mash potaties . kill him...

STICK SHIFT ON MY DICK TIP UH

Stroller was only 27 when he got suckled on by icejjfish. Feel Old Yet?

because there are always pregnant people, the average number of skeletons in the human body is higher than one

Allow Me Access To Your Groin,Gunt.

Itachi mariachi

THE MIX OF ANIME AND MOUSE IS FORBIDDEN IN THIS HOUSE

Little mik NEEDS sasuke's rod

the whistling quintuplets

garden trotting conundrum

Jazzercize at 1 am

hangin in the splash zone

festering jersey

hanging eric nam from the rafters

boney eats a whole tree

pein in the pet shop

the thrusting sailors

screamin' sicilian

deep whoy

completely vincent

drake josh cock pop

jay parp fucks a bistro

constant zenith

harlequin jazz

Jealous of my Father's Leg Hair

biological hazard

bobby marayo (baby mario)

PYLON PETE IN TERMINAL 5

rick suffers

Incomprehensible adhesive

mega wasp in the common room

Sculptures, but Worse.

Jay park fucks a moth

it ain’t about christ anymore it’s about SYNTHESIZERS

jesus vs. the synthesizer

[tea-and-toblerones]

What's For Tea, Darling? | A Unison One Shot

This one shot spins off of Chapter 6 but you don’t need to have read it to enjoy this one. So grab your tea and some toast and settle in for a sweet moment between Adi and Ed.

Heinz Baked Beans- The Who (PS do yourself a favor and listen to this 1 minute demonstration of why I love the Brits so so much)

I wandered around the supermarket, searching for all the items on my list. Ever since Ed had mentioned he missed having a proper fry up, I had been itching to try and bring a little piece of home to him. This was the first weekend I actually felt up to using the stove for more than just a glorified microwave. I had googled all the foods that came with the breakfast and set off to market. I felt like a college student, shopping for the perfect hangover cure. Sausage, Rashers, Eggs. Okay, that's normal. Tomatoes. Okay, we've got fried green tomatoes, that's not that odd. Wait, Ed doesn't like tomatoes though...so lets chuck those out then... Mushrooms. Okay so far nothing's too odd and pretty common. Baked beans. For breakfast? And with ketchup and sugar instead of molasses? Well, alright, Americans do tend to like things sweeter than most. Bubble and Squeak? What the hell is that? Hmm...potatoes cabbage, carrots, brussel sprouts...why can I not picture him eating brussel sprouts...lets tweak that a bit... A fried slice? A fried slice of what? Oh, bread....you literally fry the bread in egg and bacon fat. Black pudding? That sounds delicious. What is it...oh...OH....Blood sausage. Well...that's less appealing sounding. Huh, kinda looks like summer sausage...I somehow can't imagine finding it here…

After spending time looking for the right ingredients, swearing up a storm as I searched for the right type of beans. They had been very specific about the fact that they needed to be in a tomato sauce. Boy doesn't like tomatoes but inhales ketchup by the gallon. If I was going to do it, I was going to do it right or not at all. I knew he's appreciate the sentiment either way but I wanted to get it as close to the original as I possible can. I wasn't about to let some damn bean sink my fry up. Luckily, the market had quite a large selection of international food and carried the right bean. I triple checked, since apparently we Americans have our own version of Heinz beans and I wasn't about to have spent all that time searching for them, only to be beanboozled. I even added a box of English Breakfast tea to my cart. Finally I had made it back to my apartment, my arms full with the successful trip. After staring at everything, it suddenly seemed like a daunting task. I wasn't exactly what you'd call a whiz in the kitchen and this was a pretty big meal to cook. Not exactly hard, but timing seemed to be key. Timing was something you gained with cooking experience.

I knew that Ed didn't get up extremely early on the weekends. I was fairly certain he had set an alarm to wake himself up to send that good morning text. Most likely falling asleep right after he sent it. So I didn't start cooking until around nine. Sure enough around nine thirty I heard my phone chime, his message coming through. I quickly dial his number, holding it in place with my shoulder as I worked on the potatoes and veggies. His sleepy accented voice soon greeted my ear, causing a smile to break across my face.

"Is  everreythin 'right?" He asked groggily. I could see the sleepy eyes blinking, burying his knuckle in them as he yawned. Hair tousled, his tongue running over his strawberry lips.

"Everything is great." So far the breakfast had been fairly easy. I wasn't sure what I was too worried about. I stuck my fork in the potato, determining that they were done enough to start mashing them. "Why don't you put some shoes on and come over? I've got a something for you that I think you'll like."

I poured the potatoes in a strainer, giving them a few good shakes. I was proud of myself for not slicing a finger or palm open as I was peeling them. Mom had made taught me how to peel them but after I cut the same finger open three times, she mostly dealt with that part of dinner prep.

"Oh? What do you have up that fine sleeve of yours?" I noticed that some of the grogginess had dissipated.

"Well get over here and you'll find out won't you?" A whiny sigh came through.

"Do I have to put pants on?"  He reminded me of kid. But I don't want to put pants on.

This boy and his war on pants. Usually the first thing to come off when he came through the door according to him.

"Like, proper pants or pants in general?" I wouldn't put it past him to show up in a t shirt and his boxer briefs. His fuzzy legs on full display for everyone to see. The way they'd cling to those beautiful thighs leaving nothing to the imagination…

"Proper pants. Do I have to wear jeans or can I just come as is?"

"You can come as is."

"I could be lying here completely naked for all you know." I could hear the smile in his voice as it sounded like he rolled over, probably reaching for his watch on his stand.

The image flashed in my minds eye of him lying in bed with nothing on but the duvet that, let's face it, wasn't covering anything at all. His colorful torso standing out in stark contrast with the crisp white linens. His legs sprawled out, his back arching slightly as he stretched. I felt my hand slip off the masher, colliding with the side of the bowl.

"Well, then by all means...definitely come as you are." I heard him chuckle. "Aren't you being a cheeky lass. Alright. Let me hop in the shower and i'll be over. I'll text you when I leave."

An image of him in the shower now graced my mind. The hot water beating down on him, steam all around him. The water running in little rivulets down his body. Water droplets being sent flying as he pushed his hair back off his forehead as he began to work the shampoo into a lather. The suds now inching their way down his body in a steady crawl. Apparently I hadn't learned my lesson the first time. Cooking is not the time to be having steamy fantasies. Thank god I wasn't using a knife or he may very well have ended up with blood sausage.

I had turned on my playlist and was soon dancing my way through the kitchen. I had secretly been going through and listening to his music. Before I had only heard a couple of his songs. I actually had Don't set as a guy's ringtone in my phone. A reminder that words meant shit, he's shit and don't fucking answer the phone. I had heard Ed sing silly little songs around my flat that never failed to make me laugh. It seemed a bit awkward to listen to them with him around though.

Needless to say I was blown away.

As I bopped around my kitchen, my confidence growing as each item was done. I was slaying this. Master Chef, here I come. I had been watching the bacon carefully, making sure it didn't get too done. It was supposed to be soft, not as I had read, hard enough to be used for roof shingles. When they had became bacon that Goldilocks would have have ate right up I began to fish them out of the skillet. Quite clumsily I might add, splashing the grease everywhere, including my arm. Being the stubborn shit that I am, I kept right on pulling them out, not letting no damn hot bacon juice dictate how my breakfast turned out. I set the skillet back on the stove, digging through my fridge for my eggs. That and the fried slice were the last things left I had to cook. As I shuffled things around trying to reach my eggs I hear the smoke alarm begin to beep shrillily. I popped my head out of the fridge, eggs clutched in my hands  to see the grease had started smoking and it was quickly filling my apartment. Swearing once again, vowing to never cook another damn meal, I dropped the eggs on the counter and moved the skillet of the burner before looking up at the smoke detector in defeat. There's no way I can reach that. I drug one of the bar stools underneath it, climbing on top of it and still coming up short.

Never. Cooking. Again.

Just when I was about to start jumping I heard my door open and turned to see Ed walking through the door. With absolutely no hesitation or question he rushed over, grabbing me by my waist and pulling me off the chair and set me gently on the ground. He climbed up  in my steady and hitting the small off switch. I quickly prop open the door to the fire escape, letting the smoke find its way out. I turned back to Ed with a sheepish look on my face.

"Erm...surprise."  

"Is trying to burn your apartment down the surprise, because I was promised something I'd like and I gotta say, I don't like that one bit." Humor gleaming behind his eyes as a smile came across his face.

"No. I cooked us breakfast." I pointed to the bar, where most of the meal sat. He turned around to look at what I had prepared. In the commotion he hadn't taken a moment  to look around. His eyes went straight to me and never left.  

"Are you shitting me?!" He turn back to me, "You cooked a fry up?!" His face was beaming before he rushed over to me, giving me a giant hug that knocked the breath out of me. "Adi a fry up! You did all this for me?!"

"I remembered when you told Levi and me that you missed home and that you hadn't a proper one in a while so I thought I'd try and bring a bit of home to you...and catch it on fire because I don't cook..."

"Adi. I can't believe you went through the trouble of doing this." I could hear the emotion in his voice.

"I've still got the eggs and fried slice left to do so if you want to sit down, I can finish up."

I don't know why I expected him to sit idly by as I cooked. We stood side by side as I cooked. He'd hand me what I needed so I could focus on the food. When he saw the burn, he tsked lightly, his lips pressing against it. It was such a simple act, yet such a caring one. Once everything was done we sat at the bar, since I hadn't bought myself a kitchen table. It seemed pointless since it was just me. I watched him as he took his first bite, holding my breath in anticipation. His eyes fell closed and a smile slowly followed. They remained closed as he chewed.

"You say you don't cook?" He glanced my way, "You could have fooled me, this is excellent. You even took the time to pick veggies you knew I liked and left out the ones I didn't. You put a lot of thought into this. I'm impressed and touched. " He took a sip of his tea before he continued eating. "You actually found Heinz baked beans?! Jesus Christ you went all out! If my mouth didn't taste of beans, I'd kiss you right now...fuck it." He quickly swallowed and gave me a kiss. The tangy tomato sauce was still lingering on his lips. Not that I particularly cared. I was eating the same meal he was after all.

Once the meal was done he insisted on doing the dishes, saying I had did more than enough and I needed to relax. I felt a little bad sitting at the bar drinking my tea as he cleaned the kitchen. His hands plunging in and out of the soapy water, watching him dip the plates in the water. Wincing slightly as he took them directly from the soapy water to the drying rack without rinsing them off. He just shook them off and put them aside to dry. Correcting him seemed a bit ungrateful.  Once he was done we spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch binge watch the Fresh Prince. Once sleep started to sink its hooks in us, he decided it was time to head home.

"Thanks for giving me a taste of home. You were right, I did like it. Quite a lot actually."

"I'm just glad it was just editable. You can take the leftovers home with you. I made enough for you to have another decent breakfast. Just, don't sit on it too long, okay? I don't want to make you sick."

"You're the best, you know that?" He smiled as I handed him the bag of tupperware full of food. "This'll be a life saver when I'm not feeling up to cooking anything."

"Does that happen a lot?" I realise that that came out a little rude but he didn't seem to mind.

"No, I actually like to cook. I also like the instant gratification of ordering food and getting it quickly. So it just comes down to how hungry I am."

"I can't wait to taste your food then."

He smiled "You like fajitas? I make a wicked fajita." "Like is putting it mildly."

"Well then, you're in for a treat. I'll make them for you soon."

"I can't wait. Hopefully you're better in the kitchen than I am."

He snorted. "I haven't the foggiest what you're talking about, this was fantastic. But no I won't set the kitchen on fire." He gave me a kiss before adding, "Though, tell me the next time you cook so I can be around to hit the button for you, short stuff."

"Oh, fuck off kindly please." playfully shoving his shoulder.

He gave me another kiss, accompanied by a wink before he left. Later on he sent me a picture through Skype that said "I tried this thing called cooking" over the meme of the little girl standing in front of a burning house. He captioned it "I had to love xx."

I shook my head as I laughed, shooting back a quick message that read "See if you get breakfast again haha"

"What are you talking about, I'll have breakfast tomorrow. It's a daily thing yknow."

"Ugh, Just go to bed."

"Hope you don't need any warm milk to help you go to sleep. You'll be stuck there with no one to push the button. "

"Good. Night. Ed."

"Good Night sweet girl"

A/N 

This story is by no means based of true events. No, not at all. This totally isn't what happened when I cooked a fry up. 

Fun fact- My gramma would cook this exact meal on Saturday mornings so I guess I grew up slightly British. 

Another "fun" fact- The meal Ed was eating in Chapter 6 was what he had left of the breakfast. You're welcome.

[howdysinners]

It Started and Ended with Crying (aka Great Puns make Great Marriages)

(Sorry this took so long!!! This is one of the one shot winners for my 100 follower milestone, though they wish to remain anonymous. Hope you like it!)

Sans x Reader (reader uses she/her pronouns)

Sans’ POV I was pacing around his room, trying to figure out what I should do. I love her, I really really do; Y/n was the best thing that has ever, in any reset, happened to me (other than Papyrus of course). But I don’t know if I can do this…

I hold the small box in my hand, staring at it as if this little box was the key to everything in life and to me, it kinda was. Opening it, I see the ring that took ages to make nestled inside.

Yeah, you heard right, make. I wanted to give Y/n the perfect ring so I spent months learning how to make a ring and even longer trying to design one that I thought was worthy of the most amazing girl in the world.

The ring inside was absolutely breathtaking. It was a sterling silver band that was shaped like a bone. The ends of the bone didn't touch each other, but they cradled a beautifully clear gem from the star cave that is shaped like a heart. And around the length of the band were smaller gems the color of her soul; a dark and beautiful hue of blue.

But it wasn’t the ring that was making me worried and confused, no. It was how I was going to ask her. What if I screw up? What if she says no? What if she says yes but a reset happens? There are so many things that could go wrong that it makes me ‘bone-tired’ just thinking about it.

I chuckle slightly at the pun, saying it making me feel a tiny bit better but not much. Suddenly, I hear the door open and her voice call out to me and my soul sinks. Oh Asgore, this is it…

Y/n’s POV As I walked into the house, I call Sans' name, wondering where he is. He’s been really reclusive as of late and he always seems so nervous and it’s definitely making me worry.

And speak of the devil, Sans appears in front of me, sweating slightly with his usual dopey grin on, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Hey babe. H-how’s it going?”

“It’s going fine Sans, but are you ok?” I ask, tilting my head. “You seem nervous and shakey.”

Sans stands stiffly, his hands still buried in his pockets. “S-shakey? Nervous? I’m fine babe, really! Just hearing you come in uh, ‘rattled my bones’, y'know?” He says, faking a laugh.

I decide to let it go, worried still but not wanting to push it. “So, what do you want for dinner Sansy?” I say, teasing him slightly with the nickname.

Sans smiles, seemingly loosening up. “I’m good with just ketchup, but I’m assuming you mean actual food.”

I laugh, “Of course I mean food you numbskull! I guess I’ll pick tonight.”

I take out some ingredients from the fridge, getting ready to make some black beans and tomatoes over rice. (Irl, this is one of my favorites :3)

I look over at Sans to see him fidgeting with something in his pocket, again looking nervous. My hands start to shake as I slam them on the counter in frustration.

“Dammit Sans! Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong! I want to help and your just pushing me away.” I yell, my hands clutched at my side.

Sans looks startled at my sudden outburst, but soon has a slight frown on his face.

“I can’t, ok Y/n! I just can’t! Why do you want to push me, huh? Stop trying to help because you’re not!”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Tears welling up in my eyes, I run upstairs to our room, going in and locking the door. If he doesn’t want me to push, fine! I’ll just leave him alone and give him the space he wants.

Sans’ POV When I first saw the tears, I knew I fucked up. And when she slammed the door, my soul just shattered. I sink into my chair, head in my hands as I grumble.

“I’m such a 'bone head’…”

Suddenly, an idea runs through my head on how to make it up to her. This could work!

-Several hours later-

Y/n’s POV I hear a knock on the door as I lay in bed, reading to take my mind off things. Cautiously, I open it to see… no one? I open the door wide and see only a small note on the ground. Picking it up it reads, “I’m”.

Confused, I look around to see more notes lying on the ground in a sort of trail. Quickly, I go over to the next one to see it says “so”.

I pick up the rest of the ones that I can see. They read, “I’m so very sorry. But I want to tell you that…”

The trail lead to the door and sure enough when I opened it, there was the start of another trail of notes.

I follow the trail outside of our house to the hill outside to the edge of the flower fields to the entrance of our favorite park and to the start of a walking trail.

I had 59 notes collected and I was definitely happier. In all, they read, “I’m so very sorry. But I want to tell you that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I’d never ever give you up. I love you so much and I want you to know that you complete me. You are my missing piece, the one I’ll always need. So, if you’ll say yes,…”

I couldn’t see anymore, which confused me. There’s gotta be more, It can’t end here! I followed down the path, rereading the notes until I see one more at the end of the trail. But this one is special, because under it’s surrounded by rose petals.

Quickly walking up to it I pick it up to see the words “will you”.

“Will you?” I say outloud, looking at the card. “Will I what?”

“Will you marry me?”

Shocked, I look up from the card to see Sans in front of me on one knee in the rose petals, holding a box with the most beautiful ring inside.

“Look, I know I’m just a short, pun loving skeleton and you’re this perfect human that deserves the whole universe, but I love you… and I want to spend the rest of our lives together. So, will you marry this pun-ny skeleton?”

I nod quickly, running up to him and throwing my arms around him. “YES! YES! An infinite number of yes’!!!”

I weep happily as he wraps his arm around me. It might not have started well, but this was the best thing I could have ever imagined.

“I love you Sans, no 'bones about it.”

“Heh, I knew I asked you for a reason babe. And uh, I love you too.”

[sadmudzines]

EEL IN THE BATHROOM - PART TWO

(Featured in The Salmons Vol 1)

Earle opens his eyes.

DR EEL: Predictably sad when fucking? Or assumingly awkward?

Earle sighs.

EARLE: Did you have my stuff?

Dr Eel’s facial features twist into a smirk.

EARLE: You said I could have my stuff, the bits-

DR EEL: Patience-

EARLE: Look, I’m the one with legs here-

DR EEL: Legs which I could bend like soggy bread sticks-

EARLE: Please?

Dr Eel tuts. He gestures to the cotton wool pot on the side.

DR EEL: In there.

Earle lurches towards the pot. He throws the cotton balls out one by one, searching for his fix. Eventually, he finds a small baggie of white powder. He pours the bag onto the tiles and without straightening into a line he snorts it in one.

Dr Eel flicks his tail in the water like a clap of appreciation.

Earle slumps on top of the toilet seat. A warm smile forming across his face.

Earle often thought about that moment as the white stuff went up his nostril and hit his brain. He liked to think of it on its way around, like a speeding caterpillar. It was cuter that way, thinking of it as a smiling bug rather than rat killer or an ingredient in tooth paste banned for human consumption. That thing earlier –what you don’t see is more frightening than what you do - Earle’s method was to slap a smiley face on it, cover it in glitter. He then always moved onto the mantra out of mind and out of sight, when it’s done it’s done, when the bag’s finished its finished. But it rarely worked like that. There was always going to be more hours in the day until the day there’s none. He felt a tension in these moments after. The tension between night and day, the tension between good or bad. Though he wanted to be good, the night always won; the strain pulled tighter to the inevitable.

INT. BATHROOM, OCEAN VIEW HOTEL – NIGHT

A dozing Earle snaps awake.

EARLE: Do you have any more?

DR EEL: You’re just a City Boy Cunt Fuck under that Dumb Stoner Cunt Fuck skin of yours, aren’t you?

EARLE: I’m not a Cunt Fuck.

DR EEL: You are, Cunt Fuck.

EARLE: Whatever, have you got-

DR EEL: Scratch my back and I’ll scratch-

Earle squints his eyes and leans in to stroke Dr Eel’s back.

DR EEL: That’s exactly why you’re a Cunt Fuck! I didn’t mean literally…

EARLE: I doubt Shep has more Fanta… Those cans were dusty…

DR EEL: I need friends, Earle. Friends like me.

Earle stares blankly back.

DR EEL: Eels, Earle!

EARLE: Can’t you just call down the plug hole?

DR EEL: Fresh fishy ones, Earle.  

EARLE: I think my dad has some fish fingers in the freezer, I-

DR EEL: Eels or nothing.

Earle turns to the window where the rain and wind lashes onto the outside pane. It’s stormy out there.

EARLE: Maybe I don’t need more.

Earle wets his finger and dabs the remnants of the drugs from the side. He sucks his fingers. He repeats the action, this time more desperate.

Earle tries to shake of Dr Eel’s smug look. Ignoring him as he licks the last of the drugs straight off of the counter.

EARLE: How many eels?

DR EEL: A bushel.

EARLE: Tell me, how many?

Dr Eel enjoys watching Earle falter. Earle pines for his next hit. His forehead sweats.

DR EEL: Four.

Determined, Earle storms from the room.

Dr Eel cackles triumphantly as much as an eel can cackle.

A layer of dewy sweat spread across Earle’s forehead. His jaw tight. His palms wet. His heart punching.

EXT. SEA FRONT – NIGHT

The rain pounds down. Crashing waves bully the land. Lightning awakens the purple and black sky.

Earle leans forward into the lashing wind, dangerously close to the swirling water. The fishing rod line he’s holding onto – knuckles white - is nearly lost to the storm.

INT. BATHROOM, OCEAN VIEW HOTEL – NIGHT

Earle grimaces as he pours a bucket into the bathtub. Three baby eels slop into the water. Dr Eel writhes amongst them. The silky, silver eels clamber over one another.

Earle leaps to the cotton wool jar. He scrambles through the remaining cotton wool but is confused not to find his stash.

EARLE: Where is it? My bones are damp. Where’s the stuff?

DR EEL: I asked for four, but there’s only three.

Dr Eel gyrates amongst the eels.

EARLE: Have you seen it out there? I was practically swimming-

Dr Eel hisses as if kissing non-existent teeth.

EARLE: These are all there are, unless you want a handful of cockles. Or some two-bit dead gangsters who’ve drifted down from London…

Dr Eel ponders.

EARLE: Please can I have more?  

DR EEL: I’ve decided I want something else.

EARLE: That’s not fair, I-

DR EEL: I’m not the bargaining kind of fish.

Earle sighs, knowing he has no choice. Dr Eel smiles at Earle’s obedient silence.

DR EEL: I want a human.

EARLE: What for?

DR EEL: What do you need tiny bags of white powder for?

EARLE: Hmm… I’m maybe missing something from my life. Mum always said I had an overbearing personality, that I was a difficult kid and-

DR EEL: I’m not your therapist, Earle. Human. Now. Go.

EARLE: How am I meant to get someone here? What am I meant to say?

DR EEL: How much do you want it?

Earle was getting tired, the coke was wearing off, he didn’t think he wanted more but Dr Eel was persuasive. Just one more job, then one more line then the night will be over. He tried to fight the feeling the party had become the chore.  He thought about falling asleep to Inspector Morse, he thought about the takeaway he’d have the next day as if that had been the end goal throughout all of this. A reward, a relaxer before Monday morning hit and it was just another set of days, set of jobs, set of feelings, set of meals before he could do it all again.

Sugar-On-Sea wasn’t full of people, they existed on their own apart from certain hours in the day where they’d have to speak to other humans – for necessity over appearance. It was probably harder getting a stranger to Earle’s house than catching four eels in a storm. He could have given up then and gone to bed, but he didn’t want to disappoint Dr Eel. That’s what he told himself: Dr Eel would be very disappointed in him.

In the dead of night, there was only one person he could think of that would be awake: Marge. He went to school with Marge, kids thought he smelt like butter but Earle always thought of it as buttery onions. Greasy, buttery onions. He never liked hanging around with Marge; it would always make him hungry. He’d think of those orange hot dogs with the bursting skin, doughy rolls, sharp tomato ketchup and sloppy and sweet, greasy and buttery onions… Even thinking about Marge made him hungry but he slapped himself. This wasn’t the time for hot dogs.

Marge worked the night shift at the toll bridge. That little booth was his kingdom he ruled like a king, opening and closing the moat to those he decided were worthy. And by worthy, that meant big breasted or cash-rich. It’s why the natives of Sugar-On-Sea rarely left, why they only travelled in daylight. They were never well endowed or money-crazed enough to pass Marge’s shallow standards. Earle thought it was laughable that the monster who scared the townspeople, who commanded how and when they journeyed with as heavier hand as the fiercest dictator was a flour-filled council worker called Marge.

Earle cycled to Marge’s booth in the rain. He could smell the onions from the other side of the bridge. His stomach grumbled. He thought the portable heater Marge used in the winter must be on full blast; it cooked his scent, intensified it. Marge refused to raise the barrier, as predicted, so Earle had to do an awkward shuffle to his window under the stop sign. Marge was listening to krautrock; another fucking unbearable thing about Marge. Marge nearly slid the booth’s window shut before Earle had the chance to speak but Earle blocked it with his torch. He caught Marge rolling his eyes. He had no use for Earle; what could Earle give him that he didn’t have already in his booth. He knew Earle had no tits and no money. Speaking through the thin gap of the window, Earle asked what time Marge was clocking off – did he want to hang? Marge’s breath made wet steam on the glass as he said he was here until morning.

It was his duty to stay here until the sun broke the sky. Earle persisted; he’s got Inspector Morse and Pringles. He lied about the Pringles but reckoned by the time Marge came back and saw Dr Eel he’d hardly be hungry for Pringles. If he was hungry then he could always lick the salt from some old pretzels Mrs Salmon kept at the back of the cupboard for emergencies like these. It was obvious Marge was weirded out by Earle’s visit; his nose twitched suspiciously. He wanted him gone. Isn’t he lonely, said Earle. Marge snorted; some people don’t get lonely. Not being lonely isn’t a symptom of having friends, those with friends can be lonely too. Other people annoy him, demand things from him they don’t give themselves. Why would he want to be around people who give him nothing, but take? Inwardly, Earle agreed with Marge but the way he said it in his snotty voice meant Marge just came across like a fucking bore. Marge went on in his rant carried away on the winds of his own depressing imagination until an exasperated Earle blurted out: is he okay? Is Marge doing okay? Dumbstruck, Marge’s mouth immediately closed. It tightened every now and again at the corners, it wobbled. Earle was confused – he thought to himself, is Marge about to fucking cry? Is that a fucking tear? A trickle escaped from Marge’s eye, it sucked in the white light of the booth and shone bright. Marge was silent and swallowed his Adam’s apple to squash any guttural sobbing which could have escaped from his tiny mouth. Is that or no or a yes, Earle followed up but Marge could only mutter no-one’s ever asked how he was before. They shouted and threw things like cabbages and McDonald’s at his booth… But never stopped to ask how he was, how he truly was, how he felt. Earle was about to correct him and tell him it was a yes or no question but he didn’t think it was right to stop a man from crying. He saw it so rarely that sometimes he felt it never existed, that it wasn’t possible for a man to cry. He himself had never cried, for example, but he was savvy enough to know just because it has never happened to him doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Like, he’s never surfed or been in love but he was pretty sure it existed. Marge surprised Earle and agreed to come with him, it would only be a few hours before the sun rose anyway. This was a special day. A beautiful day. A day Marge thought could change everything. Maybe he didn’t have to be on his own, maybe he could share himself, piece-by-piece; his soul weakened like squash but easier to drink in social situations.  

It was if a rock had been lifted from his shoulders, he went with Earle with little force. Marge was happy, despite Earle’s grouchiness. He reckoned he liked Marge more when he was a fucking dick but he thought about Dr Eel and what Dr Eel wanted. Dr Eel would like to meet Marge, and he’s sure Marge would be interested to see the pulsating serpent in his bathroom… Though he wouldn’t say that out loud, Marge was weird but he knew that sounded like a creepy invitation.