#Sauté em

[shippo-clan-75]

not to be Irish on main but i fucking love potatoes

[heartsofminds]

if you could see my thoughts, you would see our faces

“I do a lot of things you don’t do. Doesn’t mean you should be knockin’ yourself out to try ‘em.” or Carmy takes an impromptu smoke break and you're begging him for a drag.

A/N: just a sweet little blurb that's been sitting in my back pocket for a while. hope y'all love it as much as i loved writing it!

Smoke breaks never last forever. 

The cacophonic slam of a door, the pliable edges of a pack of American Spirits, the grooves of a lighter’s spark wheel, the mix of brisk Chicago wind smacking your face, and the heat of a silently shameful cigarette caressing it in a false sleeve of comfort – The world is silent during a smoke break. 

Until the door opens and someone asks to bum a light. Or until you get called back in because everyone and their goddamn mother in River North decides to come in to try the dinner special, yet pretend like they’re actually fucking curious to know what you think the best thing on the menu is. Or until the ignored panic in the back of your mind knocks the wind out of you when taking a particularly long drag that leaves you stifling a deep and hearty cough. 

The small moment of peace before it all still remains good. The moment of peace is fine. The moment of peace is all you can afford to get sometimes. 

A smoke break never lasts forever, but the temporary solace it provides is enough for Carmen, whose brain never seems to stop spinning no matter how fast or slow the world is turning without him. 

He’s gotten better, he thinks, about voicing his discomfort and finding ways to “cope” with his feelings of metaphysical spiraling. He’s still getting the hang of this whole “finding meaning outside of the kitchen” thing, but he figures that twenty-eight years of having your worth summed up in how well something was chopped or seasoned or sautéed or whatever the fuck is ridiculously hard to disengage from. 

His therapist would kill him if she knew that he credited a portion of the advancement of his well-being to you. He can hear Erin tell him that he can’t rely on people to make him feel better; that the only person who can determine Carmen’s worth is Carmen himself, but quite frankly he doesn’t give a fuck. 

And then he remembers that not giving a fuck is him making his own decision about his life (which he was never allowed to do before, which is why he thinks he was damned to hell to pick the profession he has), and his heart swells a bit with pride. He cares about something for once that has all to do with him and the meaning of life and living and being alive and in charge, and that idea is no longer a room with a false ceiling that can cave in at any moment. 

He doesn’t give a fuck because he does give one, and he has never known that something as simple as being loved, fully and authentically, was something that would make all the difference. 

Despite not being stressed out nor having a “real” reason to smoke (except for the fact that he’s a creature of habit, and you seem to love the word “addicted” even though he disagrees), he finds himself lifting the window near the fire escape of his apartment and stepping out onto the rusted steps that are less than functional and whips out his lighter and the red cardboard package harboring his cigarettes. 

The lights are off in the apartment and the soft whistling of the heater helps him make sense of the foggy window glass. Chicago is nightmarishly cold in November, yet his body doesn’t seem to mind the teen-digited temperature that plagues the indigo-hued 1 AM sky. 

Carmy loved in living in the city (and the actual city of Chicago and not Naperville or Joliet or Downers Grove like all the other self-proclaimed “Chicagoan” jagoffs that littered the outskirts of the city for sleep, but polluted it for play). 

He liked living in New York City but he loved living in Chicago. New York was too noisy which, he knows, is so fucking ironic given the fact he lives in the heart of all things bustling and boisterous. 

But New York had the kind of noise at night that was isolating; the sounds of cars honking and the squeal of the subway telling the stories of a million different lives of a million different people that he didn’t know. 

New York City is the largest city in the United fucking States, yet a twenty-two-year-old Carmen could not have felt lonelier while he was there. New York City is the perfect city in the United fucking States to go soul-searching in, and yet a twenty-two-year-old Carmen could not have been more clueless about who he was at the time.  

And he’s still figuring out this “thing” called having an identity and finding peace, and he’ll never feel like he knows a whole lot about anything, but he does know two things for certain. 

He fucking loathes feeling lonely and he fucking despises feeling clueless. 

Chicago is noisy, but the kind of noise that sends an irritated streak of comfort down your spine; the hatred of your twin bed and its mismatched sheets in your childhood bedroom, but the comfort of knowing a refreshing and safe sleep is to follow that night. It was the kind of noise that filled living rooms on Christmas Day or the backyard on the Fourth. It was the sound of a vacuum cleaner running on an early Saturday morning during the first week of summer break and the ticking of kitchen timers and arguments and laughter and tears of all kinds. 

He was always reluctant to come back. His pride is something he holds close to his chest but wears with quiet confidence. He would rather die than it seem as if he ran away from New York back home with his tail between his legs. He would rather die than admit to himself that Chicago is where he was meant to be and where he should have always been. He would rather die than admit that through his fucked childhood and even fuck-ier adulthood (Thank you Mikey and Mom and NOMA and Chef David), the city is his safety blanket. 

Carmen hasn’t been back to the house since the incident five Christmases ago. Everyone mutually (and very silently so as to not piss his mom off even more than she always perpetually seemed to be) decided that Christmas Eve dinner is much better suited for Uncle Jimmy’s house. When Natalie called on the phone to let him know about the change of venue the following year, he had known from her tone that another Richter scale meltdown had occurred once their mother found out. 

From then on he found ways to stay away; to stay put and to put his life on hold and it was the closest thing he could get to not breathing with, you know, still actually fucking breathing. 

And it worked for a while. It worked for one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days, to be exact. 

But then Mikey died and then there was a restaurant and then there was every relative that had ever known of his existence knocking down his door and begging him to let them in; asking him if he was okay and prodding him with questions about any and everything in between his mom driving her car into the fucking house and his brother deciding croaking was better than sticking around this hell hole. 

And it’s crazy, he thinks, how him simply observing the weather and thinking about possibly smoking a cigarette before bed created this rabbit hole of what would usually be the beginning of an anxious spiral. 

Fucking Christ, I need a cigarette. 

His fingers create an unrecognizable beat on the package of cigarettes in his hand and he takes the first step out onto the fire escape. 

Carmen’s body weight bares down on a piece of the wired metal and it groans in protest. The sounds of tires passing through slush on the road create soothing white noise for his ears. The thin blue henley shirt he has on does little to shield the wind from icing his skin, but he doesn’t mind. 

He can’t chance going back inside to fetch his jacket. The coat rack near the front door lies at the end of a pattern of creaks from your apartment’s shitty floorboards. You’re not a light sleeper in any sense of the word (nor are you entirely sober right now), but he knows that he never places that one particularly decrepit plank of wood right, and the noise will jolt you out of your slumber. 

His nimble fingers swiftly pull a cigarette out of the carton. He cups it with his left and uses his right to cradle the flicker of his lighter. The orange flame disappears as fast as it had been kindled and he inhales deeply and his exhale is shallow. 

Carmen had been smoking since he was fifteen, but he never really had a reason to do it other than Mikey did, and it was a way to spend more time with him. It was their little secret; something that was his and Mike’s and something that seemed like a big deal at the time but would mean jack shit the second he turned eighteen. He never really loved the way cigarettes smelled. He could hardly stand the taste and the constant health class lectures about them being bad for your lungs freaked him out. 

But now that he knows what it feels like to have no thoughts in his head and be left alone in the solace of smoking a cigarette in the dead of night, he thinks he gets it. 

The silence is cut in half by the sound of the rickety floorboard groaning out in a warning. He doesn’t have to peek his head inside and look around to know that it’s you. You never sleep well after a night out and even though he had to carry you up the stairs, drag a damp washcloth over your face to remove your makeup, and bribe you to stand up long enough to take out your own contacts, he should have known better than to be anywhere but in bed next to you. 

Your drunkenness has started to fade and you’ve gone down on the meter from “off your ass” to “slightly tipsy.” Him picking you up from your girls’ night at one of the clubs downtown was more than two hours ago, but he figured you would’ve came and found him by now. 

You have such a fear of missing out and while it’s not Carmen’s favorite thing about you, it does warm his heart to know that you want to spend time with him or that you’re scared he’s doing something interesting without you around. He wishes your ‘fomo’ was based on some issue that he could tangibly fix and not on what he knows is your badly bruised self-esteem. It makes his chest heavy that sometimes you can’t see how great you are; that sometimes you don’t understand why he wants you around and loves you so dearly. 

He can hear your footsteps approach the window ledge and he wordlessly holds his arm out for you to grab onto. Your fingers come out from under the blanket you’ve thrown over yourself like a shawl and grasp his like a lifeline. 

Your body effortlessly molds to him; your front pressed to his back and his unoccupied arm pulling you closer like a seatbelt on your waist. The subtle pressure on your midsection comforts you and your body lodged into his helps alleviate some of the sting he’d been suffering from the cold. 

“You’re mad at me,” you speak. Your voice is small and soft; gentle just in case he really is mad at you and this isn’t something your drunk mind conjured up as you lay in bed alone. 

He sighs and turns his head to take another drag from his cigarette. He makes sure that your hair is out of target of his smoke exhale. A subtle whine leaves your throat as he steps away from you and he grins. Carmen loves when you’re like this; when you’re clingy and being near him is never enough to satiate you. 

“M’not,” he says. You shift from one foot to the other and his eyes momentarily gaze down to make sure you put on socks before you come out here to join him.

 Even though he can’t see your face, he knows that the corners of your mouth are posed in a frown. You hate it when he doesn’t elaborate. It makes you feel shut out. He’s not helping his case of denying your accusation. You may just burst into tears if he doesn’t provide more dialogue. 

Your nasty habit of feeling like everyone is upset with you all the time is swelling. His nasty habit of smoking more cigarettes a day than he knows he needs is bulging. 

Another drag from his cigarette. Another exhale of smoke. Another attempt at trying to be better for you. 

“Can’t ever be mad at you, baby. Not with a face like that,” he croons. The words come out of his mouth so easily; endearment dipped in honey and love warmed by sunshine. Adoration is easy when it comes to you. He’s never known a peace like this. 

“Sly dog,” you mutter. The brain fog from the four tequila lemonades you downed earlier makes you slow in finding a smartass thing to say. Carmen fights the urge to poke fun at you because he knows that you’ll take him seriously. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” your words silently praise. 

“You make it easy,” his hold on you acknowledges. 

Your face is numb from the cold and the alcohol making its way through your system. The lips pecking a kiss against your temple can barely be felt, yet you contently hum once the damp seal of them releases the affection you’ve been longing for. He never makes you work hard for his undivided attention when he readily has it. Wordlessness crafts a cradle of comfort for you both. Soulmates in ways that soulmates usually aren’t. 

Another drag from his cigarette. Another exhale of smoke. Another show of actually being better for you. 

A beat of silence passes with the whistling of the wind. 

“Can I try?” your voice is small with unacquired confirmation of what his answer will be. 

He giggles and you’re mesmerized by the way the smoke exhales with each minuscule twitch of his chest. You turn around at the feeling and press your palms to his torso. It’s impossible not to admire him. You’re always starstruck but he makes it easy to be that way when he looks so peaceful and sweet and good. 

Good for you. Good for your heart. Good for each other. 

You make a mental note to tell him that he should wear this shirt more often but know deep down that you’ll forget to do so until it comes back clean in the laundry basket in a week. You need to work on that, you think; telling him that you love him when you feel it. Moments like this don’t last forever, and you fear for the day that the ooey-gooey feelings of love in its purest forms are fleeting. You know that Carmen makes it impossible, but you can never be sure. Much like he, you’re always half expecting the ceiling to cave in. 

“Sweet baby wants to be a smoker?” he chides. He doesn’t feel bad when you flash him a pouty frown. 

“Carm!” you gripe. Your cheek presses to his pec. You hate when he does this; when he can’t give a straight answer. It isn’t something that needs an answer, but the satisfaction of having one, of being connected to him and the inner world of his mind he tries so hard to keep from everyone, would feel nice. 

Carmen’s tattooed hand snubs the cigarette out on the dish left on the ledge of the window. His fingers curl to let his knuckles brush the hair on the top of your head. You try your hardest not to melt into his touch. He’ll have a field day if you let him have the satisfaction of making you visibly weak in the knees. 

“Didn’t even say no yet, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, but you’re being mean. Just tell me “no” instead of making me suffer.” 

He quirks his eyebrow and brings a gentle hand to guide your chin upwards, forcing you to make eye contact with him.“Well, m’gonna if you don’t lose the ‘tude, baby.” 

The shift in his tone of voice and the forced eye contact sends a beam of warmth down to your stomach. He has a way of leaving little leeway for negotiation and argument. It’s abstract to his everyday life, but that was complicated, you know. When it’s you and him and him and you, there is never a need for a fight for dominance or a clarification of authority. You both understand each other on a level that is molecular. There is never any need for guessing. 

His finger flicks your lip playfully before swiping a calloused thumb gently on the plush of them. You had fought him so hard earlier when he tried to swipe the lipstick and liner you had put on earlier off with a washcloth. He finds it wild that you’re wide awake and coherent after witnessing the mild temper tantrum you had thrown about it not even two hours earlier. 

Carmen spots the gentle gleam in your eyes and his heart instantly softens. He sighs, momentarily taking his hands off of you and reaching back in his pocket for his carton of cigarettes and lighter. 

“Fine, but you gotta light it.” 

The aforementioned cigarette sits unlit between his lips, the end sticking out like an invitation and the filter hid between his teeth like a dirty secret. He half expects you to chicken out when he hands you the lighter. You always freaked out a little about the flame being so close to your fingers. Something about feeling the heat so close to your hand made you insanely nervous and he could never seem to fully understand. 

His expectations are exceeded when your thumbnail crafts friction with the spark wheel and the illuminated peach of his lighter of the month spurs to life. You don’t cup it with your hands to shield it from the wind. You let it grow and shrink as you lift it up to the unlit butt sticking out of his mouth. 

Your eyes watch in childish awe as the wrapped paper gives way and reveals the hearty smell of tobacco and a sunburst of ashes upon making contact with the manufactured heat. You had watched Carmen smoke hundreds of times, but something about seeing it now right in front of you kindles a spark of curiosity deep in your belly. 

“Can’t believe my sweet girl wants to puff on a cancer stick,” he says. You know that he’s joking, but his trying to get you to change your mind strikes a nerve deep within you. 

“You do it so why can’t I?” you huff, agitated with him seemingly withholding the cigarette you so desperately crave. 

“I do a lot of things you don’t do. Doesn’t mean you should be knockin’ yourself out to try ‘em.” 

You roll your eyes. “It’s just one. Don’t be so mean.” 

He pulls the stick from between his lips and creates a perfect “o” ring with the smoke in its wake. A dopey-eyed grin plants a home on his face and his eyes look deep into yours. 

Fucking show-off. 

“All it takes is one to get addicted,” he continues to smoke and the cigarette butt starts to diminish with each puff he takes, “You sure you wanna bite, sweetheart?” 

“One won’t hurt.”

His gaze lowers to your lips and back up to your eyes. “Don’t wanna end up like me. All sad and addicted to cigarettes.” 

“Carmen, please. I just want one,” you huff, lightly pushing his chest away. He moves slightly with your force and has to stifle a laugh. 

“They ever show you Teri the Smoker in health class?” Carmen takes the cigarette out of his mouth and pretends to examine it, faux and forced curiosity at the cylindrical tube sitting between his lithesome fingers. He’s not giving into you on purpose, you know, and he’ll give in eventually, you also know, but him trying to delay the gratification of getting what you want is starting to annoy you more than it usually would. 

“Yes? What does that have to do with anything?” 

He pops it back in his mouth and takes an obnoxiously long drag. “Nothing,” he breathes out the smoke with his statement, “Just funny that you know that and here you are, damn near hands and knees, gagging for a cigarette.” 

“Carmen.” 

He laughs and you can’t help but love the sound. 

“You know, it’s real fucked up of you to ask for a drag from my cigarette that I get with my hard-earned money,” he says and you roll your eyes, “You should know I love you too much to let you stick a cancer stick in your mouth.” 

“It’s just one!” you plead. 

“It’s never just one, sweetheart.” 

“Well, who says’m gonna get addicted like – like you and Teri the Smoker?” 

“The nicotine content on the carton. That’s who.” 

He’s not paying you any attention and it’s starting to ache your heart a little. You know that he’s distracted; that he’s just trying to prevent the ashes from getting on your blanket and from getting the smell of smoke in your hair, but him biting at your insistence a little less than he was previously sends a pang of gloominess through your chest.

“You smoke all the time, and if you get a hole in your throat because of that then you’re so mean.” 

His lips upturn in introspection.“M’mean?” 

“Very,” you answer dryly. 

“Humor me.” 

“Because then I’ll have to live the rest of my life without hearing your voice again and then I’ll be so sad.” 

He shrugs, half knowing that you’re joking but half expecting something more to come out of what you’re getting at. “Ehh, don’t think anyone at the restaurant would miss it.” 

“I would!” 

You smack at his chest again lightly and he remembers how touchy and wild you get after you’ve been drinking. It’s never bad or out of control, but you’re more affectionate than usual and less gentle than you normally are. 

“Yeah, baby? Gonna miss my voice?” 

“Mhm,” you purr, leaning up to get closer to his ear, “Gonna miss how you call me a good girl. And how you whine when I pull your hair and how you tell me that I’m the tightest and wettest little th-” 

“Jesus,” he laughs, playfully pushing the side of your face away as your teeth nibble a tiny bite on the thick of his palm, “Fuck off.” 

You like to play around, too. That’s also something he sees more of after a night out. He never indulges; knows you get too riled up and in your head when it goes somewhere he’s not comfortable with, but he loves it nonetheless. Being together has helped the other not be so scared of permanence. Moments like this confirm what he knows, and he realizes that you’re a saint and he wants to marry you. 

The stuff that comes along with it has been plaguing his mind as of late, but he realizes how little it matters when he sees you all happy and grateful to be around him and doing the most mundane of things. He’ll get you that ring and that house and those babies and the happiest fucking life in a heartbeat, and he’s oddly comforted by the fact that he knows you’ll let him. 

Carmen’s never been the best at not wearing his feelings on his face and you know he’s deep in thought when the banter dies and the whistling of the wind takes its place. You hope he isn’t spiraling. He tends to do that a lot. You tend to feel powerless when it happens. 

Your eyes study his face; the lightness of his irises, the spiral of curls, the slope of his nose. The tequila from earlier remains in your system, but it doesn’t change the fact that you love him so deeply. 

“You know, it’s bullshit that you’re giving me hell about putting a cigarette in my mouth.” Your voice cuts through the quiet and he starts to grin again. 

“Hey, s’only bullshit because you’re sittin’ here beggin’ and then telling me I’m gonna have a fuckin’ hole in my throat from smoking too much.” 

“I never said that it was gonna be bad, Bear. I just said I was gonna miss hearing your voice is all.” 

His free hand comes out to sit on the base of your neck. A calloused thumb draws small semi-circles on the bottom of your hairline. 

“You know, her quality of life was probably amazing,” he speaks, “Like didn’t she have kids and grandkids and friends and shit? Health class is fucked up for making her out to be the ‘throat hole lady’.” 

“You shouldn’t say that,” you grimace and he plants his lips on your forehead. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

You make him softer. If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t think twice about how insensitive it had come off. His therapist is always saying people can’t make you better, but she clearly hasn’t met you. 

“But that was kinda the whole point? You shouldn’t want to be like her?” you pause and the frown lines in your eyebrows write “pensive” on your face before you even realize it, “. . .Because she does have a hole in her throat. And her quality of life was just very. . .different?” 

Carmen nods. “They’re fucked up for that.” 

“Jesus, Carm. Do you think smoking is bad or not because you’re giving me soooo many mixed signals here,” you sigh, your forehead moving forward faster than you intended and hitting the bony composition of his collarbones. 

He hums softly; part listening to what you’re saying and part acknowledging that he wants to move on from what you had said. 

“Did you know that your life expectancy goes down by eleven minutes or some shit like that each time you smoke a cigarette?” he swiftly changes the subject. 

You pick your head up and narrow your eyes playfully. “Oh, you don’t even love me enough to let me smoke one so I can be put out of my misery a whole eleven minutes earlier when you die from smoking a gazillion packs a day and leave me all lonely and wrinkly.” 

“I think you’d be hot wrinkly,” he replies matter-of-factly. 

“I think you’d be hot if you let me smoke one.”

“You’re probably not gonna like it.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

He realizes that the cigarette has pretty much burned itself out. There’s possibly one or two more drags left before he has to ash it out completely. He debates on whether he should let you have at it or silently take the last two and usher you back inside. If he chooses the former, he knows that he’ll feel bad if you don’t like it, and he worries that your realization will kickstart the unraveling of something almost perfect he’s found for himself. He can’t bear to take another loss in his life. If he chooses the latter, he knows you wouldn’t even be aware that he had smoked it entirely by himself, and that you’ll gripe and complain for the rest of the night and table the conversation for another time when he’s in a less resistive state. 

“Carm, you have to give me a puff from it,” you complain, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

He’s giving in to you. He always does. He doesn’t know why he pretends like he has free will when it comes to you. 

“C’mere,” he beckons your face closer, “And don’t use your hands. You have that blanket on and I don’t wanna have to call Chicago Fire tonight.” 

Carmen lifts his hand up to your mouth and gently laughs when you go cross-eyed to eye the filter sitting in between his pointer and middle fingers. 

“You just inhale, hold it, and then breathe back out,” he instructs. He feeds the filter to your lips before suddenly pulling it back. “Don’t choke yourself out though. That uh – that won’t be good and then you’re really not gonna like it.” 

Your neck extends to get closer to Carmen’s hand and you do what he says. You inhale, hold it, and exhale. You don’t think you’re doing it right (and he knows that you didn’t, but doesn’t say anything because he knows it’ll make you whiny) but you’re satisfied that he trusts you enough to try. 

“Took it like a champ, baby,” he cheers, “So proud!” 

He pushes the butt of the cigarette into the dish and your blanket-covered hands come up to palm his face gently. The plush of the cover feels soft against his stubble-covered cheeks, and your gazes catch each other’s. 

A moment of tranquility. A moment of peace. A moment of love. 

He so desperately wants to marry you. 

[diazsdimples]

hi! if you're still doing them from the make 'em swoon prompts: pulling them on their lap + bucktommy pleasee <3

Hey! I sure am! Enjoy!

Tommy was early. Tommy was early for their date and Buck was stressing.

They'd organised for Tommy to come over at 6pm, and Buck was going to stun him with his culinary prowess and cook them dinner, after they'd snacked on some of the chips and beer Buck had fished out of his pantry.

Buck had been prepping for dinner all afternoon, getting the chicken marinading nice and early and chopping the vegetables so all he'd have to do was throw them in the pan and sauté them while Tommy waited. He'd been so busy doing that that he'd completely lost track of time, and now it's 5:55pm, he's not put any of the snacks out and Tommy is fucking early.

"Hey," Buck greets Tommy as he pulls the door open, sounding extremely flustered.

"Hey yourself," Tommy says, slipping in through the door. He snakes an arm around Buck's waist and pulls him close, pressing a soft but sweet kiss to his lips. "How are you doing?"

"Better, now," Buck says, letting out a breathy sigh as he lets himself melt into Tommy's embrace. "You're early."

"Yeah," Tommy shrugs, a small, almost apologetic smile on his lips. "I got excited. Can I help with anything?"

"No, no, I got it. Go sit down," Buck says with a wave of his hand, directing Tommy to the couch he'd finally picked out a few weeks back. "Make yourself at home."

Tommy gives him a little salute before turning and walking off, and Buck lets himself admire his ass for a moment, biting his lip before he shakes his head and turns his attention back to the kitchen.

Buck flies around like a man on fire as he rushes to get the chips, dip, and beer onto the coffee table. Tommy watches him with a half amused smile playing across his lips as Buck trips over his feet and knocks over a cup. He's dimly aware of Tommy asking questions or making conversation as he hurries around, but he doesn't really reply, too focused on getting everything perfect and the way it should have been before Tommy arrived.

Buck has just placed down two bottles of beer on the coffee table and is about to rush off to grab napkins when Tommy stops him with an arm around his waist, and pulls Buck into his lap.

Buck sits down heavily, letting out a small squeak of surprise, and squirms to get out of Tommy's grasp.

"Hey, Evan, slow down a second," Tommy laughs good-naturedly as he rubs soothing circles into Buck's arm.

"But I-" Buck begins, gesturing helplessly towards the kitchen, where their dinner lays, waiting to be cooked. "I've gotta make dinner!"

"Dinner can wait," Tommy replies, tightening his grip around Buck's waist. He nuzzles at Buck's jaw, pressing a light kiss right the hinge. "Been wanting to hold you all day."

Buck lets out a breathy sigh, tilting his head slightly, and his eyes flutter closed.

"Really?" He murmurs, allowing himself to relax and cuddle further into Tommy's arms.

"Yeah," Tommy smiles, placing another kiss to the underside of Buck's jaw. He slides a hand up Buck's chest, cupping his cheek and pulling him closer until their lips are barely brushing. "Missed you, baby."

Buck's lips twitch up into a smile as his eyes slowly flicker open. He reaches a hand up to tangle in the hair at the nape of Tommy's neck, and pulls him in for a searing kiss.

The angle is a little awkward, with Buck having to lean down and twist his torso, but neither of them seem to care, both content to let themselves melt into the kiss. Tommy's hands roam along the planes of Buck's back, scratching with his blunt nails, and Buck's fingers shivers as the sensation sends zings of electricity down his spine and straight to his slowly-hardening cock.

When they pull away, they're both breathless, panting lightly into each other's mouths. Buck leans his forehead against Tommy's, letting his eyes drift shut and his breathing even out.

"I missed you, too," He murmurs, running his hand through the hairs at the back of Tommy's neck. "You sure you're not hungry right now?"

"Oh I'm hungry alright," Tommy replies, his voice deep and husky, and he reels Buck back in for another bruising kiss, their teeth clicking and lips moving in tandem as they each fight for dominance.

Yeah, Buck thinks they probably won't be eating for a while.

Make 'em swoon prompts!!

Tagging some Bucktommy friends (I think?)

@theotherbuckley @bidisasterevankinard @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @loveyouanyway

@wikiangela @jesuisici33 @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @neverevan (lmk if Bucktommy isn't actually something you vibe with and I shall not tag)

[kaiserposting]

Michael Kaiser, Shidou Ryuusei — Red

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader, Shidou Ryuusei/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.5k TYPE: Humor, Bad Flirting, Petty argument WARNING(S): tw Kaiser, tw Shidou

Kaiser is maybe pissed off or developing chronic depression (or uncovering a long going, underlying mental health issue).

Well, not to be overdramatic, but his life has fucking sucked ever since he came to this wretched place they call ‘Blue Lock’!

More like stupid shit lock, but he wouldn’t be caught dead saying something this immature out loud. Yoichi scored one more goal than he did — an entire goal, one of it, in surplus that is — and made a fool of him. Now Kaiser is spiraling and wanting to prove himself like a loser, when he’s the one who’s supposed to make others feel this way.

What is happening right now, in front of his very eyes, is egregious torture. Cinnamon to sauté the pear of anguish in.

He went looking for you in an only slightly creepy stalkerish way, which he already wasn’t happy about, since he had to walk around this soulless building and see too much of it at once. And when he finally finds you in one of the few communal spaces (gross, by the way), what are you doing? Betraying him by talking to Sae’s pink pervert and laughing. Your audacity to have fun while Kaiser is suffering is insolent. Ness should give you a yellow card for that.

Even if it’s below him, Kaiser can prove himself, though, both on the field and when it comes to strange rivalries with questionable undertones. He is better and more deserving of all attention, including yours, and he’s going to show you. He’s going to show you so hard, you’ll regret your ignorance so much that you’ll drop out of here and go back to school or whatever the fuck.

With this objective in mind, he reminds himself to act natural and walks up to you. In fact, Kaiser is confident no one has acted this natural before.

“Hi,” he says in an unnecessarily firm tone, with the most forced smile of all time. Maybe he should’ve come up with something before interrupting your conversation, now that he thinks about it.

Your heads snap in his direction at the same time with a weird synchrony. “Hi,” Shidou mocks, imitating Kaiser’s expression, going as far as to suck in his lips to make it seem more exaggerated and stupid.

Somehow, this situation strikes you as awkward, so you settle for staring at him expectantly. He probably had a reason to approach you, right?

“How… are you… doing?” Kaiser asks, ignoring the bug in favor of swinging an arm around your shoulder and leaning in way too close to your face. This is mostly an action meant to distract you from how strange he is acting. The only language he is proficient in is shit talking, so now he finds himself at a loss for words.

Shidou, however, is adept at smelling weakness. Without thinking twice about it — pathologically impulsive — he pushes Kaiser off of you, and his grin grows menacing. Now he’s the one draping himself over you, and he looks at Kaiser, who seems a bit caught off guard all things considered.

“We,” Shidou points a finger at himself and then at you, maybe attempting to insinuate something, “were doing great! And then the double-rat-tailed wonder came in.”

The who?!

Kaiser maintains a cheerful facade. “I don’t know if you’re aware because you seem quite stupid, but the point of a nickname is to be short. At least my hairstyle obeys gravity.”

“Wow, hear that? No way you like ‘em uptight and snobby like this guy, babe.”

“Really? Because I would’ve thought the vulgar type who treats the plays leading up to scoring a point like edging doesn’t suit you at all. Right, darling?”

Babe? Darling? May God touch these people’s wretched souls.

“Aww, you remember that? You watched me? Good times. I’m getting so popular.” Shidou lets go of you, much to your surprise. Then he stretches like a cat and yawns, overdoing it just to illustrate his boredom with Kaiser’s presence. “Anyway, forget about gravity. Pink is much better than blue-”

“No, it isn’t,” Kaiser argues childishly, crossing his arms.

“-We all know it! And what do you have in your hair? Blue. And what do I have? Pink.”

“This is stupid. They’re just colors.”

“Someone’s mad he doesn’t have pink instead of blue.”

“What? You’re so dumb. You know it’s not natural, right? I made the choice to dye it blue. If I wanted pink, I would’ve-”

“‘You’re so dumb. You know it’s not natural, right?’” Shidou repeats in a snotty tone, then throws you a meaningful glance and snorts, waiting for you to join in on the bullying. Apparently mimicking Kaiser is something he’ll add to his list of things he considers funny from now on.

You wonder if either of them have noticed you’re yet to speak at all.

“Well, what about you?” On cue, Kaiser addresses you. Are you seeing things, or is his eye twitching? “You understand opinions about colors aren’t objective, don’t you?”

Shidou perks up. “What do you prefer? Pink or blue? You love pink, right?”

“No, I bet you’re just… obsessed with blue. I bet it’s all you can think about, along with football, of course.”

“But isn’t pink so much more energetic and wild and cool and lovable?” Shidou flutters his lashes and strikes a pose as if he’s trying to act coy but in a manner so overt, it becomes clear he’s not really trying to sell his performance.

Are they even talking about colors anymore?

You shrug, deciding to treat the situation like a game. “I haven’t decided yet. Convince me which one I should pick. Get me on board.”

“I have a car,” Kaiser blurts out. Is this the only positive quality he thinks he has when it comes to his personal life? You don’t know if you find it funny or sad.

“So what?” Shidou asks, unimpressed on your behalf. “I’ve always wanted to hijack a car.” Then he wraps his fingers around one of your shoulders, overcome with excitement all of a sudden. “Let’s go on a date when this is all over and hijack a car! We could hijack his car.”

“See, he’s psychotic.” There is an arrogant smile on Kaiser’s face again.

“You’re also kind of crazy,” you say.

“There are no positives to being with him if you think about it rationally,” continues Kaiser, like he didn’t hear you calling his sanity into question. “Even if you wanted to be a deranged criminal, he’d just get you caught. Me, personally, I could plan it all out with you.”

Scratch that, he’s an overly willing lunatic who’s shielding his emotional dysregulation by talking about logic. Like that’s ever worked for anyone.

“So what if I’m impulsive? There are positives to being with me, duh!”

“I doubt it.” Kaiser’s skepticism is palpable.

Shidou’s gaze returns to you, so he can look at you straight on while delivering his next line. “Well, I’d give you a really enthusiastic massage.” Oh, this is the route he’s taking. Ok. “Jitter up your neurons like you do mine.”

“Do you even know what a neuron is?”

“Even a foot massage?” you ask, amused.

“Sure, I can do a foot massage.” Shidou remains carefree at the suggestion.

“Do you know foot reflexology?”

“No, that’s so boring.” You frown, just for the sake of seeing his reaction more than anything. Shidou tries to amend the situation, “I can learn?!”

“You can’t let him massage you anywhere,” argues Kaiser, and he seems quite offended by the notion. “He’ll probably do it wrong and fuck you up because he’s a brute. You’re gonna get injured.”

“Well, can the blue rose princess do any better?”

“Stop calling me convoluted nicknames. And maybe not, but I could hire a massage therapist with a five star rating or something. How’s that sound?”

“You’re such a robot! You’d rather be with a brute than with a robot at the end of the day, right, babe? Team pink wins all day.”

“How am I a robot?”

Gleefully, Shidou expands on his point with his grin turning even more devious, “It’s not about giving a good massage! It’s all an excuse to be all over someone. And by the way, you don’t seem cuddly at all. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.” His definition of ‘cuddly’ is probably questionable considering it includes Sae, but still.

“What! Yes, I am! Don’t talk about touching me, you moronic deviant!” Kaiser then deflates and seems a bit unsure despite the earlier conviction and aggression in his outburst. “I mean, if you think it’s an attractive quality, that is. But if you find it degrading, then I’m not huggable at all.”

Wow, they’re both suckers. You wonder how far you’ll be able to push it in the future?

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Ace Trappola - Beach Wear Vignette

"An amazing and memorable summer"

[Uninhabited Island – Cottage]

Ace: HIYAH!

[wind magic]

Ace: Awesome, bullseye! Finish 'em off, Housewarden!

Riddle: I don't need you to tell me twice. HUP!!

[fire magic]

Ace: That's a Housewarden for you! Alllright, let's nab all the parts ASAP.

Riddle: You've improved, Ace. But the number of robot attacks seems to be increasing.

Ace: Yeahhh. Maybe Gantu's finally taking it seriously?

Riddle: …Everyone is so elated by the resort and surfing, but I believe we should take a breather to think more seriously.

Riddle: At dinner, we should speak to determining a security system.

Ace: So I got stuck patrolling around the cottage based on Riddle-ryōchō's suggestion…

1. Let's do our best! 2. I'll join you.

Grim: Nyahaha! Gantu's robots ain't no match for me～!

Stitch: Yeehaw ♪

Ace: NO, BUT SERIOUSLY, WHY AM I STUCK WITH THESE GUYS!? THIS DOESN'T MAKE ME FEEL ANY SAFER!

Ace: Stitch is one thing, but you two from Ramshackle're not really good for fighting!

Grim: Whaddya say～!? Humph, I ain't gonna save you if you're attacked by a robot.

Ace: That's my line. Don't get lost wandering around on your own.

Ace: Anyway, [Yuu], you better not leave my side, especially 'cause you can't use magic.

[nods]

Ace: Eh, I mean, I guess we don't really run into any of those robots at night anyway, so I think you'll be alright.

Grim: Alllright, so let's get this patrol on the road. Follow me!

[Uninhabited Island – Tropical Forest]

Ace: Wheew～ The breeze's nice. It's great to have since it's still pretty humid at night.

Ace: I was worried what would happen bein' stranded on this deserted island and all…

Ace: But thanks to us having that cottage, I'd say we're survivin' pretty comfortably.

Ace: If we didn't have Stitch or our upperclassmen, we'd probably have been stuck sleeping in that cave the whole time.

Ace: Thanks, Stitch.

Stitch: Ehe!

Grim: Funyaa! Hey, I also was out there collecting vines and branches and fruits and any other stuff out there we could use!

Ace: Sure, you're helping in your own little way, but when it comes to the fruit, you were basically eating them as soon as you found them.

Grim: That’s… Uh… Yeah, I was tasting to make sure it was good! It woulda been bad if you all got upset stomachs, after all!

Ace: If you eat everything yourself, then that's no longer taste testing.

Ace: Eh, I mean, it's not like I really want fruit, anyway. All of Floyd-senpai's dishes were totally delish.

Ace: The white fish sauté, the seafood simmered in coconut milk, the carpaccio, and that fruit salad...

Ace: All those dishes tasted like they came right out of a restaurant. There's no way I'd be able to go back to normal food after that.

Stitch: Right!

Grim: I wanna barbeque again! I can't get enough of that juicy, savory flavor of all that shellfish～

1. The grilled shrimp was delicious.

Ace: Totally. It's gotta be the fact that all these ingredients are super fresh that it tastes so good.

2. The meat was good, too.

Ace: I totally get it. I'm still a growing boy, y'know? Fish is good and all, but it's just not enough without some actual meat.

Ace: The cottage and food are getting' more and more extravagant, so it really feels like we're at a private beach resort.

Ace: Gettin' to be more of a celebrity getaway, 'stead of us being stranded. Honestly, I've always wanted to experience something like this.

[Grim's stomach growls]

Grim: Funyaa～ …All that talk of food's making me hungry. Hey, hey, why don't we go back to the cottage already?

Grim: The other guys are also out patrolling, so they'll all be fine without us.

Ace: Don't be stupid, Grim. Riddle-ryōchō and Azul-senpai are still at the cottage.

Ace: If it's found out that we slacked off, we'll definitely lose our heads.

Ace: C'mon, we're basically living that resort lifestyle, no one wants to be wearing that heavy collar around. Let's just do our job and patrol.

Ace: And besides, Gantu's capturing robots won't pop out at us, so… Just going on a stroll while chattin' it up ain't bad once in a while.

Ace: Honestly, being around my Housewarden, or my basketball clubmates day in and day out just kinda tires me out.

1. Yeah, seems like.

Ace: I knew you'd get me.

2. Doesn't look like it to me…

Ace: You don't get it at all. 'Sides, it's called being polite not showing how tired I am!

Ace: Putting that aside… This has been pretty great, hasn't it? We all got to go surfing together, too.

Ace: Whatever else there might be, don't you think this is turning out to be an amazing and memorable summer?

[Uninhabited Island - Tropical Forest]

Ace: Putting that aside… This has been pretty great, hasn't it? We all got to go surfing together, too.

Ace: Whatever else there might be, don't you think this is turning out to be an amazing and memorable summer?

Ace: Sucks that my phone battery died so I couldn't take any pictures…

Ace: But when we get back to campus, we totally gotta brag to Deuce that we had an awesome vacation on a tropical island.

Grim: Yeah! Deuce is probably super depressed right now.

1. It would have nice if we could all have come together.

Ace: I wonder～ Well, I guess he does have a ton of stamina, so he might have been super useful gathering water and food.

2. It would be nice to come together next time.

Ace: EH, NEXT TIME!? I mean, sure, we're having fun and all, but I definitely don't want to get stranded like this a second time.

Ace: But hey, I guess I feel sorry for him that he was the only one left behind.

Ace: Guess it wouldn't be too bad to invite Deuce and we all go somewhere together for summer vacation.

Stitch: Ohana?

Grim: Hm? You talking about Deuce? Yeah, he's another one that I look after.

Ace: I question who's looking after who, here…

1. He's our friend. 2. We get along well.

Stitch: Great!

[rustle, rustle]

Ace: Hm? Did you guys hear something behind us?

Grim: Probably just the leaves rustlin' in the wind. Look at you, a real worrywart.

1. Huh? Where'd Stitch go? 2. Wait. Stitch is gone!

Ace: Stitch? If you're still here, say something.

Ace: No way. I got a bad feeling…

Ace: EH!?

Grim: Hey! Stitch! You better not be trying to scare me… HRMPH!

Ace: Shhhh!!! Both of you stay quiet.

Ace: I knew it… Something huge is coming this way.

Ace: Is it an enemy? Shoot, of all times to show up, it had to be right when we lost Stitch.

[rustle, rustle, rustle!]

Grim: Eek… Th-Those footsteps are getting closer!

Ace: I'll do what I can to stop them. So you two need to head back to the cottage and go get my Housewarden and Azul-senpai.

Ace: When I give you the signal, run and don't look back. …It'll be fine. I'll be able to fight them off, at least until you get back.

Ace: …Here we go.

Ace: [YUU], GRIM! RUN!!!

???: GRAAAWR!!!!

Ace: I WON'T LET YOU PASS ME!

Ace: I'll beat yo… Uh, wait. Huh?

Floyd: Boo～! Whaddya think, did I scare you?

Ace: FLOYD-SENPAI!? AND STITCH!?

Ace: O-Oh, come on～～! Don't scare me like that!!

Floyd: Aha! Look how scared you were, Crab-chan. Hilarious!

Stitch: Yahahaha!

Ace: Hey, you, Stitch～! You totally abandoned us when you realized Floyd-senpai was near, didn't you?

Ace: And here I was praising you so much, and that's how you repay me?

Floyd: Just let it go. "I won't let you pass me," you said? Don't think I've ever said that kind of line before.

Floyd: [whistles] Crab-chan, you're so coool～ You thought so too, right, Shrimpy-chan?

1. You were totally cool. 2. Thanks for protecting us!

Ace: Ughhhhh! Floyd-senpai, stop teasing me!

Ace: And the rest of you better not join in, either! Don't tell anyone about what just happened.

Grim: Nyahaha, maybe I will, maybe I won't～

Ace: If Trey-senpai or Cater-senpai, or even Deuce hears about it… They won't ever let me live it down.

Floyd: Ah, don't get all crabby on me. There's some chilled jelly waiting for us when we get back to the cottage.

Ace: Whose fault do you think this is…

Ace: No, it's fine, I guess I am pretty hungry, so I'll take that jelly and call it even.

Ace: Sigh, I feel so tired all of a sudden. And the best way to get rid of this icky feeling is…

Ace: To eat some delicious food again tomorrow with everyone and just have as big a blast as I possibly can!

Requested by Anonymous.

[thecircularsystem]

for something to write about: do you (individually or collectively) have a favorite dish or cuisine?? if it’s something you make yourself, how did you learn to make it/do you have any strong memories of making it??

We have a few dishes we love. Collectively, we all love mashed potatoes. It’s a safe food of ours; our mom, when we were sick, would always get us one of those microwave mashed potato bowls, and we would put cheese and BBQ sauce in it to make what we called muddy mash. It was sooo delicious. We don’t usually do BBQ anymore since it’s so unpredictable (safe food = the same or nearly the same every time).

Since being with my partner (now spouse), we get homemade mashed potatoes anytime I’m sick. I love them so much; to me that’s so much effort, especially when things are so hard for us right now. But regardless, they still do it, because they love me just. That much.

In terms of individual parts, some of us gravitate to specific cuisine! Numb struggles a lot with the desire for raw meat, but Protector Instincts yell at him that it’s unsafe, so we found a lot of joy from sashimi and sushi for him. Octavian also loves Japanese food, with a major soft spot for ramen. Roy gravitates towards southern foods — because of course he does — and if we drink whiskey, he’s automatically out (even if we were unaware there was whiskey in the drink).

Debra likes all food, but she’s got a soft spot for deviled eggs and for popcorn. Extra butter obviously.

Lastly, we as a system actually love cooking. It can be stressful, yeah, but once we’re actually doing it, it’s incredibly satisfying to see a meal come together. I have a lot of good memories of cooking. A favorite dish of ours to make is this creamy spaghetti and beans dish. My parents used to call it Vendetta, which was some sort of inside joke involving V for Vendetta and the Simpsons? I couldn’t begin to explain it. I remember butterflies were involved?? Anyways.

We love the taste of it. It’s really filling, so one batch goes for awhile. When I think of my limited good memories of growing up, Vendetta is one of those memories. We found out later it’s a Rachel Ray recipe of all things, but we’ve made a few edits to the original recipe.

Here’s a quick recipe for those interested in trying it out (with the ONLY picture of it on my phone that I could find, good lord):

Creamy Spaghetti and Beans

Ingredients:

1 pound box of Spaghetti

4-6 cups of Vegetable Broth

Butter for Sautéing

At least a pound of mushrooms (I recommend mixing and matching for new flavors; if you can get your hands on some maitake, I highly suggest some of it. Paired with some oyster and some common white?? Delicious)

4 cloves of garlic, minced

1 mid onion, chopped

~1 cup of shredded carrot

1 can of cannellini beans

1 cup of white wine

1 cup of grated parm (have more for later)

As many seasonings as your little heart can carry

The only seasoning that is mandatory is lemon pepper

Instructions:

Add butter to a skillet. Let it melt, then add in the onion and garlic. Once the onion is translucent, add in the carrot. When cooked through, add in the mushrooms.

While the mushrooms sauté, add in some seasonings to the veggies. My go-to are usually red pepper flake, chili powder, lemon pepper, tumeric, rosemary, thyme, basil, and some powdered ginger. If I sees it, it goes in. Lemon pepper is a must, and you should use some later too.

Once the veggies are done, move them to a different bowl.

In the same pan, on a slightly lower heat, put the dry noodles in. Yes. Dry. Don’t boil em. Toss them in and let them burn a little — not a lot, but you want them to start browning. It should let off a nutty sort of smell. You may need more butter.

After about 3-4 minutes of toasting the noodles, add in a cup of white wine. BE CAREFUL OF STEAM BURNS. I have burnt myself numerous times because the wine steams horrendously. Let the noodles absorb the wine.

Add a cup of broth. Let the noodles absorb it. Then, add another cup. Let the noodles absorb it. Then, add another cup. Let the noodles absorb it. Magically, despite the noodles not boiling, they should now be soft and limp like a noodle should be. Incredible.

Add another cup of broth. When you do this, go ahead and now add in the veggies so they can get some good broth action.

At this point, you’ve got a choose your own adventure novel. My spouse loves saucy meals, so I do another cup of broth before tossing in the cup of parm, the can of cannellini (with about half the juice, which is disgusting but @circulars-singlet loves it), and another cup of broth if it’s not saucy enough — and some more parm if it needs to thicken. If you like it drier, you can add less broth, and drain the cannellini before putting the beans in.

Top with more parm and some lemon pepper. You should also use salt and pepper to your hearts content.

NOTES:

Mushrooms are easily replaced with bacon if you’d like that, and if you are vegetarian like Mush is, then tofu might be a good route to go — especially crumbled for the texture. But you do you boo.

The original recipe suggests doing this all at the same time, but I find that way too overwhelming. If you’d prefer to do it at the same time: start with the noodles at the same time as the onions, garlic, and carrots. Add the mushrooms at the same time as the first cup of broth. The mushrooms WILL absorb a LOT of broth, so be prepared to use closer to 6 cups.

My mother once put peas in? Feel free I guess.

If you can avoid whole wheat noodles, highly suggest you do. They taste… odd in this. They’re also thinner in my experience, and you really want a nood that can absorb nicely without being TOO thick. I haven’t tried this with a lot of other pasta types, though!

Recipes are just suggestions, you can change anything you want!!!

[bad-time-theater-au]

Underling, you said you like crunchy animals? Now I gotta try! How should I cook?!

( "There are lotsa ways to eat bugs! You can eat some of them raw, but some of them might not be safe to eat like that and they dont always taste good. You can fry em, sautée em, you can even coat them in chocolate. I like to deep fry them for extra cronch!" )

[darkmetaknightspussy]

whats in the dark taranza meal

- large fry with special wizard seasoning (it’s just chili salt and luster dust)

- double bacon cheeseburger with cave aged cheddar, brown sugar cured maple bacon, buttered angus beef patty, sautéed lobster mushrooms, crispy fried chili-dusted crickets and sticky root beer barbecue sauce on a lightly toasted brioche bun. topped w gold leaf

- the Sinister Potion

- a rock. collect em all

[spacefinch]

Pokemon Incorrect Quotes: Unova Edition

Hugh: *handing out smiley balloons* I have no soul. Have a nice day!

Colress: I don't have one either.

Drayden: Let me see what you have!

Iris: A knife!

Drayden: NO!

Cilan: Fun fact! Blueberries are the only fruit named after a color.

Iris: Star fruit?

Cilan: ♥️ So close! That is a shape ♥️

Colresss: Welcome to physics!

*science project explodes*

*screaming*

Hilda: 🎶 ANNIE ARE YOU OKAY, ANNIE ARE YOU OKAY, ANNIE 🎶

Hilbert: *banging pots and pans*

Hilda: 🎶 ANNIE ARE YOU OKAY, WILL YOU TELL US THAT YOU’RE OKAY 🎶

Teacher: Uh, Cheren, can you read number 23 for the class, please?

Cheren: No, I cannot. What up, I’m Cheren, I’m 19, and I never fricking learned how to read.

Chili: Hi, welcome to Chili's.

Elesa: Hey, I’m lesbian.

Emmet: I thought you were Unovan.

Clay: I wanna be a cowboy, baby!

Alder: Hell yeah!

Clay:  I wanna be a cowboy, baby!

Hilbert: TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN

Cheren: Why are you guys reblogging this in December?

Hilda: TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN

Rosa: TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN

Cheren: It is February, you ANIMALS

Nate: TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN

Emmet: "Average person eats 8 spiders a year" factoid, actually statistical error. Average person eats 0 spiders per year. Spiders Georg, who lives in cave and eats over 10,000 every day, is an outlier and should not have been counted.

Chili: Oh sorry, I fell asleep while I was waiting on you to make me a sandwich.

Cress: Go back to sleep AND STARVE.

Ingo: Perhaps it is the context in which words are spoken that gives them the power of meaning. *yelling* I LOVE YOU, JOLTIK!

Emmet, banging on pots and pans: I DON'T GET NO SLEEP 'CAUSE OF YOU! Y'ALL NOT GONNA GET NO SLEEP 'CAUSE OF ME!

Hilda: Would you like something to drink? *opens fridge* We have water, milk, juice, Joltiks, Dr. Pepper…

Cheren: Joltiks?

Hilda: Joltiks it is, then.

Cheren: Wait, that’s not what I meant—

But she was already pouring him a brimming glass of Joltiks.

Ingo and Emmet: *in the middle of an intense Pokemon battle*

Hilbert: Can I get a waffle? Can I PLEASE get a waffle?

After said battle:

Hilbert, pointing at the losing Pokemon: He need some milk

Ingo: Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does!

Rosa (pointing at a flock of Swanna): Look at all those chickens!

Ingo: *filming in selfie mode*

Emmet: (in background) Bop it! Twist it! Pull it!

Colress (grinning): I'M GOING TO JAIL!

Cheren: Tumblr is just talking to yourself but with an audience.

Cilan: That’s called a soliloquy.

Cheren: Found the theater kid. Get em boys.

Iris: Hey OP, how do we know you’re not a theater kid?

Cheren: I’M AN ENGLISH LIT MAJOR, YOUR HONOR

Cilan: Eating chips with chopsticks is unironically galaxy brain. Your fingers don’t get greasy and it lasts for longer.

Chili: Fork

Cilan: Oh, yeah, I’m going to stab my crunchy foods and make them fall apart like an absolute absentminded dunce, fool, clown, jester, like a monstrous moron, an idiot of Shakespearean proportions, a cretin.

Cress: Um, you seem to forget that ‘chips’ can also mean fries. And that’s probably what he was talking about, haha

Cilan: I did not forget anything. I purposely ignore the idea of using British vocabulary to do my part in helping it die out.

Cilan: KNOWLEDGE is knowing that a tomato is technically a fruit.

Cress: WISDOM is not putting it in a fruit salad.

Chili: PHILOSOPHY is wondering if a tomato is a fruit, does that make ketchup a smoothie?

Cheren: COMMON SENSE is knowing that ketchup isn't a smoothie.

Ingo: I went to the store and bought Quick Oats. The next day, my brother came back with Instant Oats. I will not be humiliated like this. I must now find an even sooner oat.

Hilbert: I hope nobody is evil

Ghetsis: >:)

Hilbert: Oh no

Elesa: Don’t post your negativity on a positive post.

Volkner: Electrons

Elesa: I should kick your ass.

Cilan: Being alive is great because there are so many different vegetables you can sauté. But then there are also the horrors.

Cheren: People who say ‘oof’ and people who say ‘bruh’ contribute nothing to a conversation.

Nate: OOF

Hilbert: BRUH

Ingo: Early to bed, early to rise, Burger King burger with Burger King fries

Skyla: Later to rise, later to bed, Burger King burger on Burger King bread

Elesa: Eat at morning, eat at night, I participate in a Burger King fight

Emmet: I slap my knees, I slap my thighs, tonight is the night that Burger King dies

Cheren: I currently have seven empty notebooks and I have no clue what to put in them.

Cilan: Put spaghetti in it.

Cheren: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone except you.

Bianca: Put spaghetti in it.

Cheren: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone except you two.

Nate: Put spaghetti in it.

Cheren: I am no longer taking suggestions.

Roxie: *playing guitar*

*suspicious crashing noises in distance*

Roxie: *plays guitar louder*

Hilbert: Big mood.

Emmet: What does that mean?

Hilbert: Well… it means, me too, I guess.

*the next day*

Ingo: I'm worried about Team Rocket using our subway system.

Emmet: Big mood, brother. Big mood.

Ingo: HILBERT WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

Hilbert: Z is just a sideways N

N: Please stop it

Hilbert: Zo

Elesa: I can't find my earbuds and Target is closed. This is a nightmare.

Burgh: Put a Durant in each ear and they will sing to you.

Elesa: Not a half-bad idea actually.

Emmet: I go to Home Depot

Emmet: I eat the tools

Ingo: Stop it

Emmet: Crumch

Roxie: Is it cheating to teach Toxic to every member of my Pokemon team?

Elesa: Not at all, I'd love to hear them sing it.

Clay: None of y’all know what propaganda actually is, do you?

Hilda: It’s when a British person takes a good look at something.

Elesa: What are you guys going to be for Halloween?

Ingo: Sad

Burgh: Gay

Skyla: Sexy

Emmet: Goblin

Ingo: What if I was evil and ran towards you at very fast speeds

Emmet: My arms are strong, I would catch you and hug you

Clay: Children, this is dirt.

Nate, Rosa, and Hugh: dirt? dirt? dirt? dirt? dirt?

Hilda: Shoutout to all the people who started saying “same” as a joke once in a while but now use it for the most random things like a car honking their horn at another car.

Cheren: Yesterday a book fell off my desk but instead of picking it up, I just looked at it for a second and said “same”

Hilbert: LOL same

Bianca: Why are we like this?

Cheren: Is there anything better than pussy?

Cheren: Yes, a really good book

Cheren: *plays the keyboard*

Hilbert: Who’s the hottest Uber driver you’ve ever had?

N: Ummm… I never went to Oovoo Javer.

*HAS NEVER WENT TO OOVOO JAVER*

Looker: Where’s the best place to buy fireworks?

Hugh: Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?

Looker: Where are your parents? Kid’s sketchy, back to you.

Emmet: *screams into jar and then screws on the lid* Everything’s fine.

Cilan: Hi, could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire?

Nate: Microwave for 40 minutes

Cilan: Why were you microwaving a lemon??

Nate: I read boiling lemons helps cover up bad smells (I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges), but I didn’t own any pots.

Cilan: Did you burn an orange too? How??

Nate: Microwave for 40 minutes

Classroom: *silence*

One of the students: turgle turgle

Cheren: WHO TURGLED

Hilda: Hey everyone, today my brother pushed me, so I'm starting a Kickstarter to put him down. Benefits of killing him would be that I get pushed way less—

Cheren: I get that you're angry, but killing Hilbert is not the solution.

Hilbert: When will Ted himself finally show up to the talk?

Bianca: The final boss

Cheren: Guys, you do realize that TED stands for Technology, Entertainment, and Design, right?

Hilda: I will not let Ted hide behind these lies any longer.

Cheren: I love the word methinks. It’s accurate. Me does think. Thinketh me do.

Hilbert: Methinks therefore me am.

Nate (bragging.): I know every digit of pi.

Nate: I don't know what order.

N: He doesn't know what order.

"Hey besties friendly reminder to drink water, feed your lab Rattata, turn off your evil nuclear generator, change out of your dirty lab coat, go for a walk, and take care of yourself!"

“@evilscientist13”

“@evilscientist13”

“@evilscientist13”

“COLRESS WAKE UP”

“@evilscientist13”

“@evilscientist13”

“@evilscientist13”

“COLRESS THE REACTOR”

(during a game of Uno)

Ingo: Brother, please, no.

Emmet: I’m sorry. I have to.

Ingo: Please, I’m begging you, after all we’ve been through?

Emmet: I’m sorry. [places a draw 4 card] Uno.

N: Any questions before I move on?

Porygon: *garbled electric noises*

N: ... Great. I really understood that well.

Elesa: This is camp.

Ingo: What does camp mean?

Emmet: Like when something is so yass and slay

Emmet: Do you think Joltiks take fall damage?

Ingo: Emmet, what the heck?

*at Drayden’s home in Opelucid City*

The Pokemon streaming service profiles read as follows:

Drayden: “Person who pays for the account”

Iris: “Granddaughter (Free pass)”

Ingo: “Parasite 1”

Emmet: “Parasite 2”

Cheren: How long does someone have to be dead before it's considered archaeology and not grave robbing?

Lenora: As an archaeologist, I find this a VERY AWKWARD QUESTION.

Cheren: Answer the question, grave robber.

Elesa: Carpe diem— seize the day

Skyla: Carpe noctem— seize the night

Emmet: Carpe natem— seize the ass

Ingo: Seriously, if you guys don't stop reblogging this, I am going to carpe someone's neck and break it.

Grimsley: Carpe collum— seize the neck

Cheren: Not all math puns are bad.

Cheren: Just sum of them.

Roxie: There is so much panic right now and not nearly enough disco.

Elesa: Where do bad rainbows go?

Skyla: …

Elesa: Prism. It's a light sentence.

Skyla: *groan*

Hilda: If you don't know the difference between "their," "they're", and "there", your a idiot.

Cheren: Well, this is awkward.

Hilbert: I was born ready!

Hilda: You were born in Nuvema Town.

Hilbert: When I was your age… (tells Hilda something he did a few minutes ago)

Nate: A theif

Cheren: Thief?

Nate: Theif

Cheren: I before e, except after c

Nate: Thceif

Cheren: No

Hilda: (singing) A potato flew around my room before you came—

Hilda, Hilbert, Cheren, and Bianca: AAAAAAAHHHHHH!

Hilbert: I'm nuts about these nuts. But you know what I'm also nuts about? My close good friends!

Hilbert: *gestures to Hilda, Cheren, Bianca, Nata, Rosa, Hugh, and N* My close good friends!

Ghetsis: Remember one time I liked you?

N: No.

Ghetsis: Good, because IT NEVER HAPPENED! *evil laugh*

Cilan: Would anyone like some stew? Would anyone like some stew? Would anyone like some stew?

[maracujatangerine]

Being Rover - Part 5

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

Previous - Next

Rover carefully turned over the thin strips of beef sautéing in the frying pan, pouring a steady stream of full-bodied red wine over the meat. The scents of cooking meat, garlic and yellow peppers made the pet’s empty stomach clench painfully.

It was thankful it was just hunger pains. Pets were hardy, they didn’t need a lot of food. It was used to blinking away the sudden lightheadedness that stole over it.

It could hear its mistress coming down the stairs and had time to quickly stir the pan one last time before kneeling to greet her.

“Get up and go on cooking.” She ordered, placing two tablets on the counter next to the stove. “Take your pills, Rover.”

The pet stood up and immediately swallowed both pills dry, scratching its throat from the inside. It recognised the pink vitamins it had been prescribed, but even if the medication had been unfamiliar it wouldn’t have made any difference. It didn’t behoove pets to ask any questions. A pet should just obey.

It turned back to the frying pan, relieved that nothing had burned during the moment its attention had been occupied.

”I know it is good for us to be friendly with the de Vaals, but I don’t know if I can stand that woman any more. She is almost as empty-headed as that pet she keeps doting on.”

The pet’s Mistress was talking with its Master on the phone. She was so near, walking back and forth just behind the pet’s back. It could feel its heart picking up its beat, the tiny hairs on the back of its neck standing on edge.

The pet tried to focus on keeping its back straight, on turning the food over smoothly and silently in the pan, on the feeling of the cold floor against its bare feet. It tried to tell itself that this state of heightened attention in its Mistress’s presence was a mark of the love and respect any pet should feel towards its owners, but in a treacherous little corner of its mind, it knew it for what it was - fear.

“I know, I know. But you should hear the way she keeps fussing over them, her pet and Rover both. It is disgusting, as if she thinks they are children - as if they were people, almost.”

The pet tried to lean as unobtrusively as it could on the kitchen counter, as another wave of dizziness stole over it. It just had to finish the cooking and serving, then it would most likely be allowed to kneel down in the corner. To be slightly hunching over its cramping stomach would not be noticeable, and it would lessen the pain. It closed its eyes, for just a moment.

A sharp pain exploded in the back of its head. Only long training kept it from gasping out loud.

Its Mistress had slapped it and was now staring disapprovingly at it.

“Pick up the pace, Rover.” She said. “I’m hungry.”

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[apolloendymion]

listen to me. i am talking directly in your ear now.

save your kitchen scraps. I'm talking carrot tops, peels, and greens. the tops & skins of onion and garlic. celery leaves. squash rinds. citrus peels. apple cores. tomatoes and lettuce that are just a little too wilted/mushy to be palatable. eggshells. cheese rinds. chicken skin. potato skins if you washed the dirt off. the water/oil from canned foods. BONES!! skins, peels, stems, leaves, anything that isn't poisonous but you wouldn't normally eat. we're going to make some fucking Broth.

(note: cruciferous veggies like brussels sprouts are ok in small quantities, but keep in mind that they're bitter and may bitter-ize your broth in larger amounts.)

put those scraps in a bag in the freezer. I'd recommend storing the liquids in a separate bag from the solids. add scraps whenever you've got em, until you've accrued about half a gallon ziplock of solids. now, you're Ready.

put a little oil at the bottom of a soup pot. just enough to sauté your solids. add some minced garlic and herbs/spices, if you have them (dried is fine, but i don't recommend powdered spices unless they're all you've got.) i like warming spices like star anise and cardamom pods; they make it taste like pho, sooo cozy. and of course, bay leaves!! if you have them, put at least 3 in there. minimum. trust me.

(if you don't have/want animal parts, add a little more oil than necessary for sauteing. you're gonna want the extra, believe me. I'd also sauté for longer, and pick an oil with a little flavor if you can, like olive. canola/vegetable is perfectly fine though.)

add the solids and sauté. i usually just thaw them in the oil, but if you're better at planning than me, you can put them in the fridge the night before. ideally you should sauté until the veggies start to brown. I'm not always that patient. it's fine. just make sure everything fully thaws and separates from one another. get a thin coat of oil over everything.

next, add the liquid ingredients and fill the rest of the pot with water (taking care to leave some space in case it boils over.) bring the pot to a boil, then turn it as low as your stove allows and leave it to simmer for as long as possible. this is KEY. let that shit MARINATE. let it STEW, no pun intended. i usually try to start this project in the morning, so i can leave it for the rest of the day. i have left it on overnight before but i can't recommend that in good conscience. do not burn your house down for broth. 2 hours would probably be my absolute minimum. stay close by, and stir it every so often so it doesn't boil over. chill on the couch. watch tv. enjoy the smell that permeates your house and makes it feel like a home. it's cozy time.

add salt, tasting as you go. you don't want to overdo it. some folks say to add the salt at the sauteing stage, but i feel this gives me too little control over the final product. i need control. I've got anxiety. but you do you. live your life. I'm not your boss.

once it tastes how you want it, strain out the solids. if I'm going to make soup right away, then I'll strain the liquid directly into another pot, throw in the soup ingredients, and simmer till everything's soft. otherwise, put it in a container you can freeze for later.

rejoice. broth be upon ye.

sip it when you're sick, make it into soup, use it in a casserole, cook rice with it. give a jar to your neighbors. you are the broth god. you are unstoppable. you will never waste a vegetable piece ever again.

go forth and Experience The Broth.

[barstoolblues]

heres what youre gonna do. youre gonna go to the fish market and buy a good half pound of smoked sockeye salmon. take that home and start breaking it into small pieces by hand. then youre gonna roast some beets. while those are cookin youre gonna dice a yellow onion and sauté it until translucent, next add that onion to the smoked salmon and mix it together. ok now youre gonna want to make a couple trays worth of thin sheets of pasta dough cut into 2-3 in squares. take the salmon and onion filling and fold your uszka. while that’s happening youre gonna make your barszcz. peel and chop your beets add your vegetable broth and allspice and marjoram and caraway and salt. this might sound crazy but add some v8 to that shit. trust me . while thats bubbling away take your uszka and i like to cook em straight in the soup for extra flavor, but when they rise to the top theyre ready.

[eijirousbestie]

what their instagram feeds would look like

MHA HCs

Kirishima

I feel like he’d follow every single celebrity he loves so his feed would be flooded with blue check mark accounts

Definitely cooking videos. He’s not the worst cook but he’s also not the best so I feel like it’d be so therapeutic for him to just sit and watch people cook on ig reels

“So that’s how you sauté…”

He’s gotta have some fitness in there too so you know he’s gonna follow fitness accounts. And maybe a few motivational quote accounts too cuz… it’s him for fucks sake.

I also think he has an odd obsession with slime videos. Like the trend died out years ago but he’s still just a little die hard slime fan (his favorite is crunchy slime and you can’t convince me otherwise)

Side note, I think he’d be so obsessed with reels he wouldn’t even download tiktok💀

Bakugou

His instagram is so dry he might as well not have it like this mf is inactive as hell

Just like Kiri, he follows cooking accounts (cuz you know he’s pretty damn good at it)

He really only follows them to try new recipes he hasn’t before but he also criticizes their cooking methods when he doesn’t agree with them

“The fuck are they cutting it that early for? It didn’t even rest yet!”

All Might. He 100% follows All Might’s account and responds to every single hate comment under his posts

“That’s funny coming from a shithead with no profile picture”

Sero

You know those skateboard edits with the vhs filters and throwback music in em? He definitely feeds off those and has a shit ton of em saved

Rug making videos are an interest for him too. I think he’d see one of his favorite character or pro hero and instantly fall in love with rug making

Amateur musician reels are his THING

He’s a guy who loves to discover new music and it’s even more rewarding when he finds out they have a small following

Underground artists>>>

Now we all know he’d follow meme accounts. I can just see him walking around the dorms singing the “Didn’t I do it for you” song and sticking borzoi drawings all over the kitchen

[ye-onge]

The best chicken soup recipe you will ever eat.

1 half eaten Costco rotisserie chicken

6 carrots that your roommate picked up for you

6 stalks of celery that your roommate also picked up for you

1.5 onions

Avocado oil

Egg noodles your roommate yet again picked up for you

2 roasted garlic heads, entire heads. Not cloves.

Basil

Parsley

Rosemary

Thyme

Chopped bay leaves!

Salt

Pepper

chop half your carrots, the .5 of the onion, and half your celery. Do it roughly, doesn’t need to be diced. Big chunks! Take the meat off of the bones and tear the carcass apart so it can fit in your pot. Listen to some music while you do it. Ask your roommate to pass you the avocado oil. Sauté the onions in avocado oil. Sear the bones of the carcass again too. Add the carrots and the celery to warm them up a bit. Idk, I think it helps. Add 10 cups of water. Bring to a boil then reduce and simmer. You’re gonna do this for 1.5 hours! Talk to your roommate and find a phone charger. Hit your weed pen a few times. Look around the house. Enjoy what’s going on around you. Stir the stock occasionally. Fix your Xbox 360, boot up your old favorite game. Your friends send you a bunch of memes! Think about tomorrow, you’re done with homework. Enjoy the peace for a bit, just not worrying about anything but your soup. 1.5 hours pass. You are going to strain your stock! Find another pot, put a colander on it, MAKE SURE YOU PUT A POT UNDERNEATH THE COLANDER OR YOU WILL UGLY CRY, strain and let the bones and veggies cool before throwing them out. NOW chop your celery, carrots, and onion (use a kinda small onion) into bite sized pieces! Maybe cut your carrots into hearts even. Fry some of the leftover chicken skin onto a pan, it helps add more flavor. Good grease. Add your onions and a bit more avocado oil, sauté your onions, soften them. Tear your chicken into bite sized chunks, use your hands. It makes it feel more homemade. Look at your chipped nails, they’ll grow back stronger. Add your chicken to warm it up a bit and melt some collagen. Add your Carrots and celery. Cook for like, 20 mins on medium low. Soften em a bit! Add everything into your stock now! Squeeze out all the roasted garlic. You forgot that you roasted it the other week and should put a few more bulbs in the oven later this week. Taste and season, make sure to use bay leaves. Add more salt than you’d probably think. Both of those add love to the recipe I think. Add your egg noodles. Take a few more draws of your pen. Realize how far you’ve come. Love yourself for the first time, fully and truly, and realize how capable you are of amazing things. Work and focus on yourself. Your future. You love life again. You’re opening yourself up to so much opportunity. I love you. I’m so proud of you for getting to this point in your life. Boil till your noodles are softened.

you’re home and you’re safe. Your soup is in the kitchen to share with your roommate and when your friends come over later this week, they’ll have to try some. They love your cooking. You’re safe and have healthy, long lasting friendships with so many people. You finally got to the point where you can say you’re proud of yourself. You’re doing amazing.

eat your soup. tomorrow brings even better days. The future holds true, unknowing as it is. Work towards your goals and never stop doing it. I am so proud of you. Everyone’s gonna appreciate how much of yourself you’re being and putting work towards. Your friends love you so much, you sweetheart. You genuinely deserve such good things.

maybe less rosemary in the soup though, there’s always room for improvements ;)

[emma-d-klutz]

I actually think the bean soup thing makes sense, because the girl didn't just say, "I am going to show you how to make bean soup." She said, "I am going to teach you a recipe that helps relieve period pain." So I'm sure in the minds of all of those commenters, they weren't asking, "How do I make beanless bean soup?" but "Does anyone here know of an alternative that will give the same benefits?"

If someone with celiac asked if there's a good substitute to make a cake recipe gluten free, I wouldn't think that's insane. I'd think that's a perfectly normal question to ask, especially in a comment section - a place where you can ask loads of people discussing the same topic at once. Maybe someone knows!

The bean soup thing has been turned into an emblem of people on the internet needing everything to be all about them all the time, which is definitely a thing, but I don't think this deserves to be a symbol of it. I think that's just having follow-up questions. And if the answer is, "Sorry, I don't know another way," that's always fair, too.

That said:

Bean soup can help period symptoms because of the iron. Here are some other dishes with a lot of iron (with recipes I got from search results and cannot personally verify the tastiness of)

Tuscan chicken

Sautéed Spinach

Dried chanterelles (you can just add em to stuff or snack on them as is or grill them or whatevs)

Mapo tofu

Pan-seared qunioa and chickpeas

Dried dates (a friend of mine swears by it)

[angelmush]

the soup you made recently looks like it’s very tasty and comforting 😋 (the salmon, mushroom, cabbage soup with ginger, soy broth over rice.) do you think you could give us the recipe? it can be condensed. i wanted to know the preparation method and order of the ingredients. for example, did you boil the cabbage and mushrooms or sauté them first?

i mixed water, miso, soy sauce, mirin, fish sauce, and a tonnnnnn of grated ginger into a pot and set it on medium heat. then i added the cabbage leaves, they were kinda poking out and above the broth. i put the mushrooms on the leaves like kinda just nestled em in there. then i covered 6 skinless pieces of salmon (any fish would work tho) w salt and put them on top of everything to steam. i put a lid on the pot, put some rice in the cooker, sliced some scallions, and let it all do it’s thing for like 10 minutes. then it was done and i served w a drizzle of sesame oil, the scallions, and sesame seeds! so fast and easy i feel like you could do it any number of ways :)