#bet they eat carrots together too

[neuneulette]

[kuroppiii]

     day by day ᵕ̈           husband!timeskip!kuroo tetsurō x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : little moments from your ⋮⋮  daily life with your silly little husband

📋 content         ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮         ♡ # 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 🥛         ♡ # 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 - 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱         ♡ # ~700 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ this is like word vomit but pleaseee he plagues my mind , i ' m clawing at the walls of my enclosure ( not proofread !! ) ”

um yeah so congrats to timeskip!kuroo for being able to live his best life

an even greater life with you in it, of course

because although he swaggers along in his little suit and tie handing out his card willy-nilly to god knows who all day,,,

you bet your sweet ass he’s got a picture of you in his wallet

and that wallet is constantly getting whipped out around the office as he looks at your smiling face

looking longingly and with a little lovestruck sigh

(he’s so dramatic)

he has your drink order on lock and will pick it up coming back from work

but he is the type to take a “sip” out of your cup in exchange

(half your drink’s gone after that 🙁)

he “needs help” tying his tie like every other morning

“y/n love of my life can you help me with this”

it was cute

like the first couple times

maybe not so much at the twentieth time

at this point you just tell him to do it himself so you don’t have to get out of your bed bc you know what he’s trying to do

"have you ever considered trying a clip-on tie, tetsu?"

but granted, whenever you do cave, it’s impossible to miss in the corner of your eye the way his eyes are filled with pure unadulterated admiration as he watches you tie the stupid tie

(it was never about the tie)

(he just needs to look at you before he has to go the work where he can’t look at you like this until he comes home later that night)

and sometimes when he gets home he really tries to take up making dinner some nights to give you a break

he even wears a little apron (your apron) over the wife pleaser and boxers he’s so accustomed to changing into upon arriving home

(really not necessary but you two watched the bear together one night and he’s really just trying to get into it with the apron)

he looks ridiculous but you hate to admit you find it so adorable

"can someone get me a fucking sharpie, that fucking works!!!"

"i'm sorry for cursing at you babe, i don't even need a sharpie, i was just saying the thing from the thing–"

the best he can do is like cold noodles or the occasional steak dinner which really aren’t that bad when those are on the dinner menu!!!

when it comes to everything else? well... yeah he’s better off without the apron

but make him lunch for the office? oh he’ll propose to you a second time right then and there next to your fridge

put the cute character cutouts in there too, as if he cares what his coworkers might say bc anything you touch is gold to him no matter what

“ok but where are your guys’ carrot flowers, huh? don’t eat your veggies? have you ever considered that what you should actually be concerned about, is that you’re not eating as balanced of meals as i am every day?”

part of me wants to say when all is said and done, you two share a bottle of wine or smth under the night sky together to wind down

but honestly i don’t think a moment with this man necessarily calls for being a little buzzed like that

he makes you laugh simply by how he talks about his day, and with his little comments and reactions to whatever you may tell him about yours

"some people may wonder how he got demoted from a coordinator position–but y/n, honey, if you saw the way he parallel parks on the street outside our office, you would agree he's very much lacking in the skill of coordination."

"wow, i can't believe she treated you that way. and you're sure she knows the 'h' in 'hr' stands for 'human', right? because she sure isn't acting like a good one."

"😧 ..."

it’s like your home becomes your own personal comedy-club to round off yet another day with the love of your life

with the sounds of both of your laughter mingling together in a solemn late-night harmony only ever truly appreciated by the both of you

and when you two finally head to bed

his arm can’t help but snake its way around your waist

"g'night my love..."

pulling you close and breathing in your scent as you both get lulled away into a deep sleep

all to repeat everything again the next morning <3

[snk-smartpass]

TEXT Vol. 23 Mikasa’s Recipe

The “new Squad Levi” had made a remote home into their base of operations. There they hid Eren and the highly important Historia from a society that had been thrown into chaos as they feared the Titans who appeared within the

Walls, preparing to make their next move.

[Potatoes, carrots, meat, milk, flour, butter.]

[Wash vegetables well and cut into equal-sized pieces]

[Start simmering the toughest vegetables first…]

“Hm? Is this yours, Mikasa?”

“What…?”

As Mikasa performed ab exercises despite the injuries she’d sustained in the earlier battle, Sasha noticed a scrap of paper that had fallen out of her belongings and picked it up.

••••••

Mikasa trained atop the bed where she was supposed to be resting her wounds. Having realized that she had dropped something, she went to pick it up.

“Was that a scrap of paper from your notebook? It looked to me like something that had to do with cooking…”

Just as the ever-hungry Sasha said, it was a note that Mikasa had written carefully about ingredients and instructions for a recipe. She’d kept it in her military notebook, but it must have fallen out as she organized her belongings in order to live life undercover in civilian clothing.

“I don’t want to forget it, so…”

“I didn’t think you’d need to take notes to remember how to cook in the barracks. You had such good grades in our classes.”

“This dish… doesn’t have to do with training…”

On the inside, Mikasa was glad she’d found the note. She put it back in her belongings and recalled the time she learned to cook.

••••••

“Listen, Mikasa. You need to be careful when using a knife. Especially with meat… Yes, very good.”

Mikasa was still young that day. She’d joined Eren’s family for a short while after her parents had been taken from her, and there she lived in peace and quiet.

“What about this flour…?”

“You dissolve it into the butter and milk to thicken the broth. Be careful not to let it burn. Once the vegetables and meat are simmered, you mix it all together.”

Carla, Eren’s mother, was even kind to Mikasa, being every bit the mother to her as she was to Eren. When Mikasa asked to help her in the kitchen, she even taught the girl her specialty.

“This used to be popular at the store I worked at, too. The trick is to stay calm and mix well.”

“…Okay.”

As Mikasa awkwardly did her best to follow directions, the rest of the family gathered around.

“I’m home! Hey, something smells good!”

“Call your father over before you start stealing any bites, Eren.”

“Okay,” said the energetic voice, followed by footsteps running toward the underground office.

The young Mikasa wrote the recipe down when it became impossible for her to ever return to this home again, keeping the memories of her second mother alive .

••••••

Though Mikasa had been reminiscing all on her own, Sasha, who was sharp-eyed only when it came to food, seemed to figure out that when she said the memories had “nothing to do with training,” she meant they were from before the Walls came down.

“Yeah, some of those ingredients are really valuable now. It couldn’t be a recipe you learned in the military.”

“You read it…?”

“Just what I got a glimpse of!”

There was no particular problem in it being read, but it did seem somehow embarrassing. Like Sasha had pointed out, Mikasa understood most things after being told them once, so this seemed unlike her. Regardless of Mikasa’s expectations, though, Sasha smiled.

“There are a ton of recipes that I used to be able to make before the Walls were destroyed that I can’t eat now… Seeing that took me back.”

Sasha’s hometown would have thrown away their traditions because of the Titan invasion. As hunters, they must have had unique dishes.

“It’d be nice if you got to make that sometime. I bet it tastes great if you thought it’s worth writing down.”

“I… don’t know if I could make it well. But… when the person who taught me it made this… it was so…”

“You’re still in here?! The meeting’s about to start.”

“Oh! We’ll be right over!”

Though she was interrupted by Armin, who had come to call them over, she wasn’t bothered. Sasha was right. It would be a joyful thing if the day came when she could make the recipe again and serve it to someone else.

For now, though, it was still a distant dream. Mikasa made sure that her body felt alright before carefully leaving her bed behind.

••••••

SOURCE: Attack on Titan: Short Stories 3

TRANSLATION: Ko Ransom

[st0r-fruit]

HEAR ME OUT HAYARYUU SHIPPERS!!

Hayaryuu as girldads. Yes. You read that right.

Kamitani learning to tie his daughter's hair, learning all the styles so she can have variety of looks. (Akdhslkak imagine the visual of him sitting behind his daughter with his sleeves rolled up as his hands parting hairs into sections while the rubber band is hold by his mouth)

Ryuuichi cooking up her favorite things, packing up cute bentos for her lunch. (you can't tell me this man would NOT wake up earlier just to make bunny shaped rice with seaweed face or swan-carved carrots for his daughter)

Kotaro and Taka becomes best uncle babysitters, both being chaotic. Gaming together, eating together. She said "oh i can't play with my uncles tonight they have homework" and people around her are confused as hell. (Age add by 10 years so the kiddos r 12 years old)

Ryuuichi and Kamitani spoiling the hell out of their girl. Tea parties, picnics, outings, pretty outfits, toys, etc. They won't be adopting another kid because they have their little brothers to take care of as well so the little girl was the perfect addition.

Kamitani teaching her handy things in life like how to change tires, which screw is which, how to drive how to shop smart, baking, etc while Ryuuichi teaches her cooking, soft skills like talking to people and handling them, presentation, life lessons and morals, etc.

Both dads being supportive as heck in whatever their daughter does. They're the loudest cheerleaders and you bet they make motivation banners and props. Kotaro and Taka is there too, being their biggest fan aside from the dads.

Getting side eyed by parents in their daughter's class thinking their daughter should need a mother not two fathers but they're one of the PTA organizers and class representative and they're the cool parents kids love.

Ryuuichi bringing snacks to class events, and every kids love them he starts thinking of selling them in school. Kamitani being the competitive sports dad that argues with the coach when the coach gives a yellow card to his daughter cause what the hell. (He almost got into a fight with the coach)

Being protective girl dads, but not to the point it's toxic. Kamitani being the average dad when his daughter brings a boy to their house, very suspicious but is still polite. (Do no harm but take no shit--Kamitani)

They're definitely emotional in their adult daughter's wedding. Surprise surprise Kamitani's crying, sobbing. Ryuuichi having to have tissues by his lap to wipe it away on Kamitani's face.

I have more but this is it at the moment.

[drpeppertummy]

finally fed max after saying i was gonna like 84 years ago. very mild forgive me the next one will be more thrilling

[very mild hunger, very mild stuffing]

"Look at you, with your little summer tummy," Marsha giggled, slipping her arms around Max's waist from behind. The summer tummy was a rare sight. It only began to show up around July, and it was typically gone not long after the beginning of September. It was small, just barely enough to it for it to poke out against his shirt, but it was there: a tiny little pooch of proof that Max was, for a few months, relaxed enough to eat regularly. Right now it was particularly visible, peeking out ever so slightly beneath the hem of the little tank top that he usually only wore to bed.

"I bet we could get you lookin' nice and solid if you got yourself a new job," said Alfie. "Get a nice sit-down job, you'd get a good belly on you."

"Oh, please," grinned Max, rolling his eyes. "I have a sit-down job, they just don't let me sit down for it." He went on chopping vegetables, trying not to squirm at the tickly sensation of Marsha kneading that tiny bit of softness. Finally, he stopped and turned around in her arms.

"You are gonna make me chop my fingers off," he said, hugging her tight. He rested his chin atop her head. Alfie bumped him aside with his hip and took over the chopping.

"Hey, lovebirds, you're slackin' off."

"Hey, lovebird yourself. C'mere and gimme a kiss," said Max, leaning down to give Alfie a peck on the cheek. Alfie set down the knife and threw his arms around Max, pulling him down for a kiss and nearly toppling both him and Marsha over in the process.

"Alfie, you ape," exclaimed Marsha, laughing. Alfie leaned in and gave her a kiss too before releasing them. As he did, Max's belly rumbled softly. Alfie smiled and patted it.

"Come on, let's get this shit in the oven," he said, dumping the vegetables in the pan.

Together, the trio made an attractive dinner of roasted chicken and vegetables, primarily carrots and potatoes, laid out comfortably on each plate over a bed of rice. Marsha dished out the portions evenly while Max set the table and Alfie wiped down the counter. Three Marsha-sized portions meant, of course, that Max's was a hair too big for his appetite and Alfie's was a hair too small, but that was alright. There was plenty left in the pan, and Alfie could dip into it for seconds if finishing off Max's leftovers still failed to fill his bottomless stomach.

Max was hungrier than he'd thought. He'd eaten lunch earlier than usual that day, then spent a long afternoon straightening up the house, not that he ever let it get particularly un-straightened. Still, after hours of dusting, sweeping, and vacuuming, his stomach was growling eagerly for a bite of hot food, and he happily dug in. The tender chicken and flavorful vegetables were a welcome guest in his watering mouth, and even more welcome in his hungry belly.

"I may have put a little too much on your plate," said Marsha. "Although, who knows, maybe you've got room in there." She gave Max a friendly poke in the tummy.

"I don't know, that thing's pretty small," said Alfie with an impish smile. Max gave him a look of playful annoyance. "Hey, we'll work on it! Go on, get eating, we'll have you fattened up in no time." Max rolled his eyes and scooped up another forkful of rice.

It didn't take long for Max's hunger to be sated--he was never a big eater, after all--but he still had food on his plate and some space in his stomach, his capacity improved by eating more regularly than he did during the school year. Still enjoying the tasty homemade dinner, he went on eating where he might ordinarily have had to call it quits. He felt pleasantly full, and while there was a vague snugness blooming in his tummy, discomfort was not yet on the horizon.

"Hey, you're really going at it," remarked Marsha, impressed. "I didn't think you'd be able to finish that much!"

"Well, I know a couple of good cooks, and they make it hard to quit," said Max. He was admittedly beginning to feel pretty full now, but there was only a little bit left on his plate. He paused for a moment, considering his belly. It felt tight, but not uncomfortable. He let a tiny bit of swallowed air rise up and silently escape, and then he scooped up another bite.

The last few bites were more difficult to put away than the rest had been. Space was limited now in Max's full tummy, and each bite made it feel just a little bit tighter. For a moment, he thought he wouldn't be able to finish after all, but, against all odds, he cleaned his plate.

"Hey, alright, Max!" Alfie gave him an approving thump on the back. It dislodged a sudden burp, and Max blushed, but Alfie just laughed.

Max didn't realize how much his belly was poking out until he stood up to clean. It was still smaller than both his partners' bellies even when they weren't full, but it was noticeable on his skinny frame, especially in his little tank top. There was more skin peeking out than there had been before, revealing a snug little bulge framed nicely between his hipbones. Marsha smiled and hugged him from behind, cupping his tummy in her hands. She was amused to find that some of the softness had been lost to the tautness of his full stomach.

"I can't believe you finished all that," she said, bumping her head against his shoulder. "You must be stuffed!"

"A little," he confessed. "It was good, though."

"Well, it makes me happy to see you eating more. You get so damn skinny during the school year!"

"I know, I know. I'll be better about it this year."

"Mm, I'll believe it when I see it," chuckled Marsha.

[lilac-5ky]

Roommates from Hell, pt.3 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 3: Eat ✓ Pray ✕ Love ?

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests

A/N: TOJI POV TOJI POV TOJI POV last chapter dedicated to the same day, I promise!

Warning: Sexual imagery and slight angst.

If Toji knew that the tradeoff for forfeiting his hold on you involved wearing an apron three sizes too small and one shade too pink, he could and certainly would have refused.

But Toji was never good at placing bets, let alone winning them, and when you handed him a bouquet of bushy carrots demanding they be diced-not sliced, he found himself wielding a knife of a different kind than the ones he’d been used to carrying.

Carrot peels, he came to realize, cling to fingers with more persistence than blood. His frequent visitations to the sink were timed with fleeting glances at the chirpy whirlwind that zoomed by him, your stare and grip too focused on beating a bowl of eggs into submission to pay heed to the butchered vegetables on his side of the counter or the enamored gleam that sparked in his eyes. Intentional and raw.

Before meeting you, he could count the times he’d eaten a homemade meal actually meant for him on the fingers of one hand. At the Zen’in household, whatever chewed up and spat out leftover remained of his parents or brother’s meals ended up on his plate. On a good day, there’d be a chunk of meat to sate his hunger, but on the bad days… Well, those definitely outnumbered the good ones.

Even the pesky whining guard dogs his uncle kept around had the privilege of stuffing their bellies with specially imported Scandinavian canned food. Not him. He didn’t know the taste of real food until you forced your way into his unordinary worthless life, making all the soggy french fries his intestine had suffered through in the name of waiting out your shift’s end worth it.

Without you, he would have starved a long time ago, both literally and figuratively, as the sight of you doing what you loved the most fed into his hungry eyes. You loved cooking and he loved watching you cook, and he couldn’t wait until the two of you cut down on excess subjects coming in between. He wanted the reason for your smile to be him, not some stupid free-range egg deal you’d gotten from the farmer’s market.

“You done with the carrots?”

Your question faded into a sour statement after facing the carnage of snipped carrot greens and what was left of their orange counterparts, closer to a pulp than a usable ingredient. You probably expected to hear an “I’m sorry,” or at least an “Oops,” but that was far from what he had in mind.

You look like a fucking housewife.

With your little apron -snatched straight from your workplace’s greasy kitchen- hugging your perfect waist perfectly. With your messy hair pulled in a meatball-shaped bun, a wooden chopstick piecing it together. With your feet defying their weary state from working overtime, just so he could enjoy himself a plate of warm food—

All those little things filled his scattered brain with all sorts of ideas. He could hoist you up so easily. Loop his arms around your hips and spin you round and round the tiny space, not a single complaint escaping your lips before they are made his. You’d be pressed flush between his body and the cabinets with nowhere to go, your thighs welcoming him with the spot he longed to call home, and only then would he let his mouth run off to describe the tantalizing details of all the fantasies he’d ever had watching you in that apron, the vilest of all that you one day wore it as his wife.

“Toji…?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you listening?”

“Yeah.”

Your fingers tapped at your sides, elbows angled into triangles, and nose scrunching up. Shit. He remembered your lips moving, though he had no real recollection of what you’d just said to him. More like asked of him, judging by your irritable tone.

He shook his head unceremoniously and tossed whatever edible of the carrots inside a bowl, scrapping the peels and leaves into the trash and then he gave it up for inspection. Had you scolded him, he might’ve pretended to care, but you didn’t. Instead, you juggled a handful of onions that he caught mid-air, and he prepped his knife for the second round of calamity.

This time he’d do good, Toji inaudibly promised. He’d show you just how good he was with his hands, even if the task was so menial a fourth grader could pull it off.

Soon enough, a mountain of flawlessly chopped onions, sliced mushrooms, and cubed ham stacked up on his cutting board, their executioner impatient to receive your seal of approval. You worked with your back against him, cold air tingling the short hair at the base of his neck whenever the refrigerator opened to reveal the next ingredient. Namely something in a bowl, something in a bottle, and something in a Tupperware container. That’s as far as he could tell, his view of you narrowed down to your skirt flowing in and out of his eye’s range.

But what his eyes failed to discern, his ears made out just fine, the somewhat familiar tune you hummed gaining lyrics in his brain. It wasn’t the worst song, and as far as Toji was concerned, he wasn’t the world’s worst singer either. He could pitch in right where the chorus began, though decided against it at the very last minute. His rougher voice would stifle rather than compliment your own.

And so, he let his chance at a duet be snatched, first by the oil sizzling in the pan, and then twice again by the exhaust hood’s mortifying buzz. The song changed to one he didn’t recognize, and he was left in the awkward spot of having absolutely nothing to do other than stare at your profile and scowl at the lack of acknowledgment.

You didn’t bat an eye when you reaped the seeds of his hard work— didn’t pay a single compliment before tossing them into the fire.

Stingy ass bitch. Words cost nothing to spare.

He decided to hold onto his childish grudge for a while longer and retired against the wall nearest to the stove, a light thud echoing from where his head hit the cabinet.

Toji did love watching you in your element, but at the same time, he was so terribly… bored. You bossed him around like a dog and lacked the common decency to throw him a damn bone. Worst of all? You ignored him. His little huffs and frowns and carrots— okay, maybe he did fuck up when it came to the carrots, but what was your excuse for giving him less attention than you gave that stupid pan?

Luckily, there were plenty of ways to turn this around, especially with how unguarded the curves of your waist and shoulder were, both perfect fits for his arms to wrap and chin to nuzzle. The rest would be history. You could call him a bastard and flip his dinner over his head (oh, what a terrible waste of ingredients) after he scratched that itch.

“Are you plotting my demise?” Your voice nipped a string of indecent thoughts right in the bud. “You’ve barely said two words since we started. Makes me think either there’s a cut-off tongue in here,” you pointed at the rice, giving it a thorough stir “or that you’re scheming my assassination.”

If only you knew, he smirked, drawing away from the wall.

“Who’d ever pay to assassinate ya?” rephrased to “Who’d ever wanna assassinate a B-tier waitress,” as if to mellow the sting of his first statement, both sounding equally hideous to your ears.

“Didn’t know waitresses have tiers,” your grip on the ladle tightened, voice gaining a sudden edge.

“Course they do, dummy. Waitresses who toss in extra ketchup packets automatically rise to C-tier. Then,” Toji grinned, “there are those who wear nothin’ under their little skirts and flaunt their asses over your face for extra tips— now, those are A-tier.”

He could tell you were holding back more than the groan you let out, two of your fingers hiking up your nose and pinching at the bridge.

“What about B-tier, mister diner-expert?” you faked a smile, teeth trembling beneath pursed lips.

It was so easy to get under your skin. Shame he couldn’t say the same about your panties.

“A mix of A and C. They give ya bonus ketchup and let their ‘assets’ dangle for free, but—”

The savory aroma of oyster sauce flooded his senses, distracting his thoughts and diverting his attention from the threat your ladle posed until it batted his hand away from the pan with a vicious swing.

“—Slap ya before you can whip out your wallet,” he growled.

“As if your wallet contains anything other than soapland cards and betting slips from ‘98.”

Green eyes darted to the ceiling, a soundless whistle between his puckered lips.

“You don’t have a wallet, do you?” you said as if it was the greatest revelation of the century.

“Don’t need one,” he glared.

You sighed. “There seem to be a lot of things you don’t need.” The ladle tapped against the pan’s side for the excess grains to drop. “Or at least things you claim you don’t.”

“Need? Nah. Want, though?” Toji quickly bounced back, mischief beaming in every aspect of his expression while he rubbed his palms together like some pesky housefly.

“I can think of a few, roomie.”

“Gonna keep it up with that nickname?” you tutted.

“Don’t like it?” You shook your head. “Alright, pitch in some ideas, ‘m all ears.”

“What kind of pretentious asswipe picks their own nickname?” You shoved past him to fetch another container from the fridge, a hint of green glinting underneath the transparent lid. Uh-oh.

“The kind who refuses what others call ‘em.” His neck craned forward as he propped himself against the counter.

The view was much better from that angle. He was able to notice details he previously missed, such as the drops that’d gathered on your forehead from working over heat for so long, how your lips twitched to find the perfect comeback, or the loose strand of hair that dangled dangerously close to his eyes, inspiring him to play with it like a cat mindlessly yanked on a ball of unraveled yarn.

“I have a name, you know.” You caught onto his staring and tucked the hair behind your ear. Tsk.

“Boring,” he yawned.

“Did you just call my name boring?”

“Nah, called you boring, smarty pants.” Toji cocked his head. “Oops. Couldn’t help it.”

It was your turn to scowl, and he’d be damned if the way your fingers clutched onto the counter didn’t bring a stretch to his lips. More so than aspiring to be the one who made you smile, he took pride in being the only one who could annoy you to such great extents.

“Won’t be able to help if your tongue ends in your plate either,” you snarled.

The Tupperware opened to reveal a sea of disgusting green beads, confirming Toji’s worst fears as you stuffed your hand inside and began pouring them into the pan. Although he was nothing short of an omnivore, he never hid his distaste for the healthier nutrients of vegetables and legumes— peas included. You always tried to sneak them here and there, typically in his fried rice or curry, and every single time he’d leave the plate with enough pearls to string a necklace.

You were about to add in a second handful when the way his far more menacing green orbs drilled holes into your skull became apparent.

“Right—”

Your closed fist emptied the peas back into their container— or so would have happened, if it weren’t for the unforeseen snare around your wrist.

“What are you doin’ ?” Toji snapped.

“S-sorry,” you stuttered. “Forgot how much you hate that ‘stinky green shit’.”

“Well, they are stinky and green and taste like absolute horseshit,” he affirmed. “But you still like that shit, don’tcha?”

“I do, but-”

He dragged your hand above the fire, ushering your fingers open, while you stared at him in utter disbelief. “I’ll just spit ‘em out.”

A short breath hitched up your throat and you peeled your eyes off him, the words “How convenient” washed away once you escaped his grip and neared the sink, scrubbing your hands with soap and water.

Toji lingered around the stove a bit longer, sprinkling some more peas and a lot more ham into the pan to even things out. After all, ham was better than peas.

“And by the way,” he rubbed the greasiness against his apron. “There are better ways to shut me up.”

“Hmm?” you missed his voice under the running faucet. “What was that?”

“Said,” he moved closer, plucking the towel from the handle where it hang, and offering it to you with his most charming (read: sleazy) smile. “Could always shut me up yourself if ya wanted to.”

Reluctantly, you accepted the towel, your eyes narrowing in suspicion. He awaited your next outburst of “creative cursing” in about three seconds, but the longer you maintained eye contact, the thinner his patience wore. A million great things about you, but none of them made you any less of a pussy.

And he would have called you out on your one fatal flaw if a sequence of scenes in slow motion didn’t begin to unfold before his awestruck eyes: You beckoning him to come closer; Your slippers tipping forward and your fingers reaching out; A delicate stroke against the crown of his head, followed by another, and then another; Languid circles that didn’t comb so much as ruffled his hair; A tinge of oblivious red on his cheeks, and a conscious pink on yours; The affectionate warmth your voice basked in as you praised him, telling him he’d done well— and heavens, if he was asked what noble deed deserves such praise, he’d have no real answer to give.

And lastly, the shit-eating grin that plagued your lips as you seized victory. “See? Shut you up so easily.”

The part of him that urged to bite your hand in return for treating him like a damn puppy must have been neutered, considering the only conceivable thought that was left in his brain was to give you a reward befitting of a winner. An action more than a thought, and a reality more than imagery.

Without warning, his lips brushed over your skin, landing on your cheek in the gentlest way imaginable. Fleeting enough to convince him it didn’t register until he pulled away and saw your expression shift to that of a sore loser.

“W-what the h-hell was that?” you fumbled with your own words as if they were shoelaces bound together by some despicable bully— in that case, him.

And like every self-respecting bully, Toji enjoyed nothing more than watching his victims shudder. Your brows knitted and knees trembled at the slightest touch, making him wonder just what kind of reaction a kiss on the lips would elicit. Smirking at the notion, he knelt before you to lift the towel you’d dropped, and with a rapid flinch, he settled it on his shoulder.

“Warned ya.” He ignored your attempts at extracting further information as he walked over to the stove and pinched a pea straight from the pot, cringing as soon as it grazed his tongue.

“Stinky green shit.”

The next frame in your newly-assembled album of domestic bliss depicted a trope far too common for those familiar with 1950s movies. The spent husband who’d returned home after a tiresome day at work sprawling his limbs on the nearest kitchen chair available, fingers laced behind his head and biceps flexing in accordance, while the dutiful wife served him dinner with an extraordinarily loving smile carved on her dolled-up face. They’d sit together, laugh at how fortunate their one-dimensional lives were, and name each other “Honey”, if not “Dearest”. And of course, there would be pie for dessert!

But after the film had dried and all the smoke and mirrors were dispelled, what was left were the remnants of a reverie.

The only truth about the husband lay in how he’d spilled over your kitchen’s sole chair -the second of the set standing limp somewhere in the corner- and as for the wife, one could claim it was a honed habit, rather than blinded subservience that’d led her to the table with a most splendid dish in hand. This was as far as similarities went, for you were no husband and wife, and had no intention to break into chortles over your shared misfortunes. Besides, there was no cherry pie to justify such a crude act.

“About time.”

The last traces of pseudo-romanticism dispersed at the sight of Toji’s feet weighing down the table, the audacity in his tone tempting you to ask for a tip. This was no different than working overtime at Sakurai’s, except that old geezer, rotten as he were, always paid your extra hours. Toji, in all his unpredictability, wouldn’t waste the chance to suggest a tip of a different kind.

Casting his feet on the floor, Toji made room for you to drop his plate, and when you finally presented the finished product in all its glory —tomato-flavored fried rice tucked below a blanket of sheer gold and garnished with fine strings of ketchup— the small appreciative dimple etched on the left side of his lip felt like a privilege.

“Gonna keep loomin’ over my head like a vulture?” he gestured with his spoon.

You glanced at your own plate, and then at the broken down chair whose prayers to be fixed were never answered, and decided to dine alone in the living room. Some drama was bound to have its rerun on NHK, but before you could so much as round the table, an arm raised forward like a traffic barrier.

“There’s nowhere—”

“Here.” His other hand patted a seat on his thigh. “Don’t wanna kick ya out your own kitchen.”

“Are you serious?” You were doubtful of his invitation even as he dragged you onto his lap, your omurice all but growing wings and flying in the air.

“Dead serious,” he smirked, his knee parting your thighs while his non-dominant hand wrapped around your hip. “All nice and comfy, aren’t we?”

This is the opposite of nice and comfy, you meant to object.

You could feel everything. Every peak, every crevice, every bulging muscle of a body that was trained against its will to be hardened and rough, impenetrable to any weakness. And when you squirmed around to meet his gaze, they were the unreadable eyes of someone who’d played this game far too many times to keep count of his winnings— the bored eyes of someone who knew scoring another victory was merely a matter of minutes.

“You better not try anything weird, or I’m out,” you mumbled with less conviction than intended.

His thumb rubbed a languid circle against your hip bone as if to remind you of its presence. A battle of wits could go either way, but when it came down to raw physical strength, there was no slinking away unless he decided to let go first.

“Relax,” Toji assured with voice smooth as silk. “Just want us to eat together, that’s all.”

You had a hard time believing that was indeed all, and you were right not to, because no more than five bites into your ham-laden omurice, his knee bounced, and your legs were slung over his lap so effortlessly as though you’d moved them on your own. And in this new position, where his arm engulfed your waist from one end to the other and his fingers slyly cascaded down your skirt’s seams to brush against your bare skin— that was really all he did.

“We need new furniture,” you quavered.

“Nonsense,” he shrugged undisturbed, stuffing a spoonful in his mouth. “What did ya do with the money I gave ya?” he asked once he’d swallowed.

But you hadn’t.

“Hmph, Hmphight!” you grunted, quickly downing your bite with a chug of water. “Oh, right!” you rephrased. “Was gonna return what was left at lunch, but then you dropped the bomb on me and I forgot.”

“No need. Gave it so the kid spends it however he wants.”

“Kenzo is only eight, Toji. If I gave him the money, he’d spend it all on a mountain of cotton candy and umaibo. Got him a nice car-racing set and that was it.”

“Lame,” he sneered, your body involuntarily bending forward as he reached for his glass.

You were compelled to watch the rise and fall in his throat, lips glistening with clear droplets that dribbled to his chin. Some, he wiped with the back of his palm, while others, his tongue licked clean, and you silently wondered if there was a right and wrong way to do something this trivial, because if that was the case, then Toji’s way could only be right.

He made drinking water seem entrancing.

The next dive was imminent, but this time you were prepared. You curled closer to his chest and trusted in his arms that deliberately dipped lower than needed, cradling you even after he’d let go of his plate. You were pleased to find a single-digit number of peas remaining.

You are growing as a person, Zen’in Toji.

His gravelly voice snapped you from your thoughts. “Then, you keep the rest.”

“Well, we could use the rest to buy some extra furniture, such as a bed, a sofa, or… a chair,” you emphasized the last beat.

“Aren’t ya the sensible one?”

His fingers crept under your skirt to bestow a light squeeze on your thigh, a haughty smile spreading to his lips. It baffled you how he acted on every single impulse without hesitance. Just pure action and reaction. Zero contemplation whatsoever.

You interjected before he could get any funnier ideas and peeled his hand off— or at least dragged it to a less risque area of your body.

“And as the sensible one, I get to call the shots,” you declared. “We are goin’ tomorrow.”

A few murmurs of protest buzzed in your ears though none significant enough to defy you. He agreed to drive you wherever as long as you paid for gas, and it was fair, considering he was paying for everything else. And when you recited the list of chores around the house that were postponed due to either lack of height, strength, or sheer laziness, and he inaudibly acquiesced, you thought that this just might work.

“So, you’re crashing the couch tonight?”

No answer.

“Toji?”

“You smell nice,” he blurted seemingly out of the blue, with a strand of your hair wrapped around his forefinger and held near his nose.

“Not letting you use my shampoo,” you scoffed.

“That’s not what I meant, idiot.”

He released your hair with a not-so-gentle yank, coaxing a high-pitched squeal.

What an asshole.

“You’d smell nice too if you ever used something with fragrance,” you said.

“Suggestin’ I reek?” Toji glared.

Much to his dismay, a snort preceded your answer. “That’s not what I meant either, idiot. All I’m saying is you have no real smell. Every self-respecting playboy oughta ‘t least smell like cheap hotel and drugstore cologne, or smoke, or you know. Something sleazy that screams ‘I’ll hump and dump you.’”

His expression remained sour, almost defensive. You should’ve just taken the compliment. A grumpy Toji could turn insufferable in minutes.

“Hey, I-”

“Work calls for it,” He cocked his head. “Can’t be invisible if I leave a trail of peaches and jasmine back.”

“It’s gardenia, actually,” you smiled.

“Whatever,” he muttered.

Even as he faced away from you, his fingers refused to unlatch from your waist—and truthfully, you wouldn’t mind staying like this a while longer. On a typical Friday night, you’d be stuck in front of the TV with a cup of Nissin Noodles, too tired from your shift to consider going through your contacts for some cheap company, and too prideful to hit him up only to have some bimbo answer his phone instead. But he was there now and you felt relieved you didn’t have to stay awake in a cold bed, wondering what color handbag his newest conquest carried and whether it matched her five-inch heels— but most of all, you were relieved that bickering in his arms felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“You like your job, Toji?”

You brushed up a question you’d asked far too many times throughout the years and whose answer remained quizzically the same; “Dunno.”

“Don’t you ever want to quit?” you pressed on. “Shower yourself with an absurd amount of perfume, or go ‘round stomping your feet really loudly?”

“Are those supposed to be your arguments for me to quit?” His eyes rolled to the back of his skull while he leaned against his chair. “I’ll raise ya this. Easy cash and double-digit annual workload, versus however many hours you work at that rathole for breadcrumbs. That settles it?”

“Money has nothing to do with enjoyment,” you said.

His tongue clicked into a sharp sigh. “It’s the one thing I can do.”

“That’s not true. There’s plenty you can do!”

You punched his shoulder playfully, and he couldn’t be less thrilled to find what you’d come up with.

“You really showed those carrots who’s the boss," you chuckled. "And, you’re not half as bad as a human chair. Got a bright future ahead of you.”

“You want me to quit?”

His sudden question threw away whatever light-hearted atmosphere and tossed it in the trash, voice cutting with the sharpness of a hundred razors.

“It’s not my place to tell you whether you should or shouldn't quit, Toji.”

“I’ll quit if you ask me to.”

The silence felt… weird. Like a forced cliffhanger in the middle of an episode, your answer gaining more weight than it ought to. However long you postponed, the commercial break never came, and you were left staring into a pair of eyes that flickered back and forth between a state of narrowness and wideness. Of patience and demand. Of sincerity and uncertainty. Of trust and distrust.

Even for a second, he’d put his fate in your hands, and you held onto it so scarcely as if the wrong kind of shake would break it— would break him.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” you confessed, warmth spreading from your voice to where your fingers found purchase on his cheeks, soft thumbs rolling unhurriedly against flushed skin. Because you are precious to me.

“If you got another scar,” you continued “it’d be as if you are permanently frowning. Or,” You nudged the left corner of his mouth upward, “smiling.”

And what was about to come next, you should’ve been able to predict because all the signs were there— His absolute compliance and relish for the slow, kneading motions of your fingers; The intensity in his stare waning past heavy eyelids; The hand that moved higher up your back and the one that wrapped behind your neck to reel you in; His lips eagerly parting before they even had the chance to meet with yours.

The incoming storm gathered one dark cloud at a time, though it took the first drop of rain for you to heed the warnings of your bleary conscience.

“Don’t,” you whispered one breath away from sharing his.

Toji was all but disheartened, his eyes focusing solely on your mouth and ignoring what came out of it. “Let me kiss you.”

The softness in his tone kept you from turning around until the last minute, your aversion rousing spite in him. “I said, let me fucking kiss you.”

And while his hand moved patiently the first two times, it forcefully pushed you onto him the third, your last line of defense being your fingers as they were caught in the crossfire of his lips.

“We shouldn’t.”

“Why the hell not?” he hissed.

“Because…”

Because we can’t— an all-time classic.

Because we are friends— an excuse.

Because I don’t want to— a lie.

Because it won’t end at just a kiss— a truth.

And finally, the real reason; Because I love you.

Tears threaded your eyelashes, your vision of Toji turning watery, yet not blurry enough to drown the cadence of emotions in his eyes. Confusion, hurt, and anger. So much anger that it stifled all potential answers and seared your fingertips which were still attached to his lips, and as shallow as it sounds, you were ecstatic to find the one spot that was utterly soft in his slanted scar.

If a scar is evidence of pain, what is evidence of heartbreak? If scars are healed pain, what becomes of a pain that never heals?

Your thumbs slid across his jaw and returned to your sides, the lump in your throat dissolving into a broken sigh as you attempted to dismount from his lap.

“Because new rule: no kissing your roommate unless their life depends on it.”

“Like hell, I agreed to this,” Toji grunted, his grip -desperate now- bruising your waist.

Just when you thought your self-hatred reached its peak, you shoved his hands off your body and jolted up, legs slightly numb from balancing on his for so long.

“Agreed or not, my house, my rules. If you can’t respect that, there’s the door” you snapped, sending whatever desire might have sparked straight to the guillotine.

“So what’s it gonna be?”

His fingers wove through raven hair, his palm concealing the blown pupils as they reached their crescendo; fury.

A pang echoed against the hollow table, followed by the slight reverberation of the cutlery in the plates, his fist the sole culprit. He scoffed, muttering to himself something about blue balls and rules that were meant to be broken, profanities that could make even a sailor’s ears turn red spilling left and right until he gritted his teeth and locked in his final answer.

“Better brace yourself then, because I’m getting that kiss, be it in life, or in death.”

tags: @absoluteindulgence , @evansuvamp , @sarwhorius , @liluvtojineteyam

Anyone else, comment so I can tag your @.

[swanimagines]

Bastard and the Blood Princess [Chapter 8]

Read it on AO3 | Read it on Wattpad

As the evening grew darker, the pub’s interiors grew in noise volumes. Everyone else around you was laughing and clinking their glasses together - a group of people at the other side of the pub was apparently celebrating someone’s birthday and they made the most noise, but the situation wasn’t much less noisy in other tables either.

You and Kaz ate in silence, with you trying to not look at Kaz as his discomfort very clearly came through. The waitress had asked Kaz while looking at you if he’d like to buy today’s special for his girlfriend, and he had immediately barked at her, correcting her that you were his acquaintance, or actually less than an acquaintance. The waitress had given him a weird look as he handed her some coins to pay for you both, and you were trying to suppress a smile at her confused expression.

And now he was stiff, occasionally squeezing his cane with his other hand while eating, chewing slowly - you recognised the signs, and you knew it was because he didn’t particularly enjoy sitting with the daughter of his arch enemy, eating as if you were on a date. You knew he despised the feeling. So you sighed and leaned forward.

“Kaz, should I–”

Kaz interrupted you. “Who were you writing a letter to? Your father?”

You froze - how did he know? You opened your mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “I–”

He scoffed, the fork clattering on the plate as he raised his head a bit. “I’m not stupid. An ink bottle in the bathroom? I’d think someone like you would know how to lie better.”

You blinked at him as he slowly raised his eyes to meet yours, and then you groaned. “Well, I hoped this wouldn’t come up. The truth is… I have a boyfriend in Dime Lions. Or well, had. And I think he was the one who ratted me out. He swears he isn’t the one, but I know it’s just a trick… I was intending to send a letter to him to threaten him that once I come back, I’ll gut him too once my father is out. But I was interrupted and the ink bottle spilled on me, I was in so much rage that I forgot everything around me. I lied because… well, it’s still a delicate subject for me and–”  you ended your sentence abruptly, pretending to choke back a sob. “I don’t want to seem weak. I’m not. Love is a weakness, and those who seek it are to be victims of their own heart. I think that I knew, deep in my heart, what my father truly is and I sought comfort from Tiernan, which was stupid.”

Kaz thought for a moment and then huffed. “So, the rumour was true. The Blood Princess and Tiernan Dwyer being involved.”

You suppressed back a snort. Idiots, seeing chemistry between you and Tiernan.

“Was it that obvious?” you mumbled, lowering your spoon slightly. “I thought I was good at masking my feelings.”

Kaz picked up his fork again. “There was a bet going around. Jesper betted on you two not being together because according to him, he's basically a love doctor and knows love when he sees it, and the way you looked at Tiernan wasn't it. Everyone else in that group betted on something more going on. And now Jesper would lose a fair share of money for it if I were interested enough to tell them this.”

You sighed. “What a shame. Seems like I bring nothing but bad luck for that man.”

Kaz shifted before picking up another piece of carrot. “He needs a kick of bad luck sometimes.”

—

On the road again, the sun had set an hour ago and darkness had descended over the valley like a shroud. You could barely see, and you both knew it was dangerous to ride without seeing anything, but the job wouldn’t wait - you’d need to be at Rotrov before sunrise, you’d need to snatch the uniforms in the middle of the night. There’d be a lot more guards during daytime, but at night only one or two. Or that’s what Kaz told you. You guessed a warehouse for uniforms and weapons branded by Little Palace symbols weren’t a popular thing to snatch.

You passed a bridge, the sound of water flowing below it, making you think of that old farm your father sometimes brought you to on business trips only a few years ago. You weren’t able to adventure though, you were mostly babysitting toddler Alby and watching as he mashed toy carriages together while babbling something unintelligible. But when you were sitting outside with him, you heard birds, water flowing in the creek, wind blowing through the trees, rustling leaves.

There, you felt content. A little vacation, away from the grime of Ketterdam, away from your cellar. Your father tried to teach you to feel empowered through torture, and you did in a way - but when you sat on that blanket, looking at Alby playing, you found yourself wanting to stop the time and sit there for the rest of your life.

You always brushed it off though. Ketterdam was merciless for the weak, especially for women. If you sank too deep into some stupid flower girl dreams, you could as well end up in a pleasure house.

“We’re getting close,” Kaz’s voice pulled you away from your thoughts. “We’ll have to leave the horses here. By that little pond over there.”

You did as he told, dismounting your horse and guided her next to the pond. She immediately dipped her head down and began to drink greedily, which made you smile a little and give her a pat. Kaz came to stand beside you, and pointed towards the small building behind the bushes, and its open window in particular.

“There, you see that window?”

“Yes, I see it. That’s our way in?”

“No,” Kaz replied, and you turned to look at him. “It’s your way in. You’ll open the door for me once you’ve taken out the guard.”

You narrowed your eyes at Kaz. “This is that test, isn’t it?”

He didn’t reply to your question, and instead made his way behind the fence. “The guard has just switched his post with his colleague. You can get in right away, but we need to make it seem like nothing is stolen, and that the guard slipped and hit his head. You need to hit hard enough for him to not realise what’s happening, it needs to look like an accident. Otherwise, they’ll–”

“Inform the Little Palace that they need to check their guards, which could sabotage our plan. Got it.”

Kaz nodded and then gestured to you to come closer to the fence. “There’s a crack here. Slip through.”

You took in a deep breath and carefully slipped through the crack in the fence, and crouched down as you sneaked your way to the window.

The torch of one the guards almost illuminated your form as you scrambled towards the window, and you glanced back at where you last saw Kaz - but the man had disappeared. A suspicion of it being a trap crossed your mind, maybe he had known you’re lying about the letter? Maybe he guessed that you were trying to trick him? Dirtyhands was skilled in detecting lies, you had heard. Which you had taken as a challenge, but in moments like these, you cursed yourself for not being more careful.

But the fact that you getting caught could sabotage the plan of getting to Little Palace for him too was the thing that made you push up and get yourself through the window.

The hut was smaller than it seemed from the outside. There was a small closet which supposedly held at least some of the uniforms, and the guard himself sat on the chair near the window, his dirty boots lifted on the table, and you heard deep breaths with occasional, faint snoring. The chair was slightly tilted backwards - which was a perfect setup. Luck was clearly on your side tonight. You’d just have to make the chair fall down hard enough to knock the guy out, it would look like he had fallen down while sleeping.

So, you sneaked up on him and in a swift move, you slammed the chair to the ground. The guard cried out and you jumped back, realising you hadn’t hit him hard enough. Shit.

Blood stained the floor as he continued moaning in pain, and you were just about to kick him in the head, but then a torch light illuminated the hut, making you crouch down. “Bocharov! Are you alright?”

Shit, shit shit shit.

You quickly made your way to the closet, pressing yourself against the back wall, praying to Ghezen that any of your body parts wouldn’t be sticking out.

The torches illuminated the closet briefly, making you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, and when you opened them again, you saw how three men had entered the hut.

“What happened?” one of them asked, and the man, Bocharov, groaned.

“I slipped.”

“You were sleeping again? You know General Kuznetsov won’t like that.”

“He makes us work for an inhuman amount of hours for just a few vlackhi. It’s not fair if we aren’t allowed to rest.”

Judging by the sounds, someone helped Bocharov to stand up and the third man spoke, “You have a wife and kid to feed, so you’d better have your priorities up with it. Now, come to get patched up - work can wait for a little longer.”

The four men then exited the hut, Bocharov being assisted out by two of his comrades, and the door shut. You swallowed, staring at the door for a moment longer, before you slowly made your way out of the closet and unlocked the door, carefully peering outside.

No sign of Kaz.

“Damn it, Brekker,” you grumbled and turned your back to the door, going to the closet and carefully taking out two uniforms, and then seeing a set of knives at the back of the closet. You stared at them for a moment, trying to decide whether to take them or not. You didn’t have a weapon against Kaz, and time was running out - that would be a perfect opportunity. You turned around again to lay the uniforms on the chair by the door, and paused upon seeing Kaz standing there. 

Damn it.

You masked your surprise by rolling your eyes. “I thought you’re leaving me here.”

Kaz’s eyes shifted to the uniforms in your hands. “It did cross my mind, considering you almost ruined my plan. Come.”

“What a gentleman,” you mumbled, but followed Kaz out of the area. And soon, you were back on your horses, the uniforms tightly secured at the back as you began your journey towards Os Alta.

—

You’re enjoying his company, a voice at the back of your head said. It’s messing up with your plans. Are you really trying hard enough to make up a way to get rid of him?

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your eyes on the road and not glance back at Kaz. You scowled at your thoughts and whispered, “Shut up.”

Of course you were still planning, giving your everything for those plans to work. You were about to snatch a knife from the closet, but you weren’t quick enough. You were planning to kill him at that motel, but then the non-creaking floorboard messed up with your plans. You were trying, but luck wasn’t on your side. And now time was running out, you’d need to make up a new plan once you’d be out of Little Palace. To get rid of Jesper and Inej would be a remarkable problem, though. But, a small voice still snickered, saying you're only trying to make excuses.

Again, Kaz’s voice interrupted your thoughts. “We’re almost at the Palace. Let’s go change clothes, and find some distraction.”

You turned to look at him. “Distraction?”

Kaz scoffed at your question. “We can’t just put uniforms on and walk through the gates without anyone trying to identify us. We need to blend in.”

You pursed your lips and sighed, before turning your eyes back to the road. “Right, that's true. Where will we change clothes?”

Kaz passed you with his horse, and gestured towards a pond that was barely visible behind the thick hay. “There’s a small warehouse hosting gardening supplies around the creek, near that pond. Go there to change, I’ll go find our distraction and take my turn after that.”

You slowed down your horse as Kaz started to ride away, and you yelled after him, “And what exactly is our distraction?”

Kaz didn’t reply, which made you groan. Typical. You started to have a feeling that this man would drive you crazy eventually, in one way or another.

---

<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

NEXT CHAPTER ->

Taglist: This does not and will not have a taglist, so please don't ask to be added. If you want to get informed about new chapters, I recommend subscribing to the work in AO3. Or adding the story into your library in Wattpad, but I'd recommend getting AO3 account more.

[ireallyamabear]

i'm finally cooking what you guys told me to cook and i promised you a recipe, so here it goes:

Franconian Lentils (Fränkische Linsen)

you need:

1 big pot with a good bottom for browning meat

ca. 250g pork, can be any cut but preferably one with a lot of fat

a bit of butter

500g dry brown lentils (Tellerlinsen)

4 to 5 carrots

celleriac (didn't have one today, imo you can leave this out)

one big white or yellow onion

1 stick of leek

chicken or vegetable stock

salt, pepper, oregano (Majoran), a bay leaf

some mustard, tomato paste, white vinegar, Worcester sauce

To prepare: 2-3 hours before: put the lentils in a bowl and cover with water to let them soak 1-2 hours before: pull the meat out of the fridge, salt it on all sites and let it rest on the kitchen counter to get up to room temperature and tenderize

Put your pot on the stove and let a bit of butter melt, when the pot is hot put in the meat and let the fat render out - basically let it brown and crisp up a bit on every side or 2-3 minutes, don't move it around too much. If you have a lean or tough cut of meat, then you have to put a bit more butter.

While the meat is going, cut up your onion, carrots and leaks (you can use a kitchen machine for this step to make it easier!) (you can also use other vegetables). Cut it to the size you like, i like quartered carrots.

Put a bit more butter in the pan, where it should mix with the pork fat. Add pepper, dried oregano (or other herbs you like) and let them cook out a bit (don't let it burn!). Then add the vegetables and give it a stir. Put on the lid and let it cook down

While the vegetables and meat cook down, mix the mustard, tomato paste and a splash of Worcester Sauce and a splash of vinegar together. Take out the meat at this point, push the vegetables to the side and add a bit more butter (:D), let that blob of butter get hot, then put in the paste you just made and let that cook out a bit - for exactly the time it takes to cut your meat into chunks. Add pork back into the pot where the paste is just cooking, toss it all and mix with the vegetables and let it all fry down for a couple more minutes

Add about 500ml of stock, bring it to a boil. Drain the lentils from the soaking water and add slowly. Add more water until everything is about covered. Add salt to taste and a bayleaf. Bring it all to a boil, then turn the heat down and let it simmer for about 30 minutes, or until the lentils still have a bit if bite.

The consistency should also be nice and schlonzig, which I think is a self explanatory word.

Eat with your favorite carb. You can also add Wiener sausage for more authenticity. Also, you can freeze this easily!

This is a german recipe, so very pork heavy. I bet you can make this a vegetarian dish, but then it's just lentil stew. Which is very good also.

xoxo

[spencermorgans]

Incorrect Quote Generator IV

I must be stopped

Everyone is giving advice to Spencer JJ: It's okay to ask for help. Derek: You're not a burden. Hotch : Murder is okay. Rossi: Your feelings matter.

-

Rossi: Spencer's refusing to wear their glasses! Spencer: Rossi, look, I wore the glasses for a day. My eyes are much better now. Watch. Spencer: points to Derek Derek. Spencer: points to JJ JJ. Spencer: *points to Hotch * Sasquatch.

-

Hotch : Mice are having sex in my walls. Spencer: Tattletale! JJ: You're just being ungrateful. Derek: It's their home too, you know. Rossi: So what? Don't slutshame them. Hotch : The mice are fucking AND now I'm getting heckled.

-

Rossi: Who the fuck broke the toaster? Derek: It was Spencer. JJ: It was Spencer. Hotch : Spencer broke it. Spencer: Spencer: …yOU PROMISED-

-

JJ: Christmas lights? Derek: Check. Hotch : Thermos of hot cocoa? Derek: Check. Spencer: Santa suits? Derek: Check. Emily: Shovel? Derek: Check. Rossi: Alibi and bail money? Derek: Check- wait, WHAT?!

-

Rossi: Hey, I was wondering, have any of you guys ever seen Spencer’s bedroom? Emily: No, they refuse to let any of us visit. You know what that means. Derek, nodding: Dungeon. Hotch , nodding: Rich. JJ, nodding: Homeless. Rossi, nodding: Secretly in the mafia. Emily: What? No, I meant they’re messy. What the hell is wrong with all of you?

-

Spencer: Derek kissed me! Emily: Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Spencer: It was unbelievable! Emily: Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! JJ: Okay, we wanna hear everything. Emily, get the wine and unplug the phone. Spencer, does this end well or do we need tissues? Spencer: Oh, it ended very well. Emily: Do not start without me! Do not start without me! JJ: Okay, alright, let’s hear about the kiss. Was it a soft brush against your lips or was it like a, you know, “I gotta have you now” kind of thing? Spencer: Well, at first it was really intense, you know? And then, oh God, and then we just sort of sunk into it. JJ: Ohh… So, okay, were they holding you? Or were their hands on your back? Spencer: First they started out on my waist and then they slid up and then they were in my hair. Emily and JJ: Ohhh. meanwhile Derek eating pizza in their house: And, uh, and then I kissed them. Hotch : Tongue? Derek: Yeah. Rossi: Cool.

-

Derek: So, Hotch is late today. Anyone wanna bet why? Derek: I say they slipped through the subway grate and is having terrible sex with the mole man. Rossi: I don't know about that…I think either their alarm clock didn't go off, or they're in line at the bank. Spencer: Take this more seriously! Hotch was clearly taken in their sleep! JJ: I bet they tucked themselves into the bed too tightly and got stuck. Emily: Maybe they fell into another dimension where they're more interesting…? Hotch arrives Hotch : Sorry I'm late - there was a problem at the bank. Rossi, clapping their hands in excitement: HOT DAMN!

-

Penelope, gardening: Hey, can you bring me the hoe? Derek : Yeah, sure. A few minutes later Derek : Here you go. Penelope: Derek : Spencer: Why am I here?

-

Penelope: Guess what number I’m thinking of. Spencer: 420? Penelope: No, that’s really immature of you. Someone else guess, and please take this seriously. Derek : 69. Penelope: Yeah it was 69.

-

Penelope: Go and tell Derek why you insisted on putting a normal-sized carrot in a bag of baby carrots. Spencer: Penelope: Do it, tell them what you told me earlier. Spencer, stuttering: I-it's because… th-they need adult supervision… Derek :

-

Spencer: is wearing silk pants How does this look? Derek : Like its slips on and off really easily. Spencer: Derek : No, I didn't mean it like that- Penelope: We know what you meant.

-

Everyone is playing a board game together Rossi : I will put 'A' down to make 'A'. Derek: I will add onto your 'A' to make 'AT'. Hotch: I will add onto your 'AT' to make 'RAT'. Spencer: I will add onto your 'RAT' to make 'BIOSTRATAGRAPHIC'. Hotch: flips the board

-

The gang responding to being stabbed by a sword Hotch: Rude. Derek: That's fair. Rossi : Not again. Spencer: Are you gonna want this back or can I keep it?

-

Derek: Subs are so fun to play with. All you have to do is hint at what you might do, back them into a corner with a look, or grab their wrist in a certain way and they're a wide-eyed mess. Hotch: What the fuck kind of Subway are you going to? Spencer: Substitute teachers deal with so much shit. Rossi : Guys.

-

Spencer: Who would you kill out of the four of us, Derek? Derek: Rossi , easily. Rossi , laughing: What the fuck, man. Derek: Well, Hotch would be too easy. They’d probably be into it. Hotch, now standing in the doorway: What the fuck, man!?

-

Derek: Small creatures are much more vicious because they have a smaller body to bottle up all their emotions. Rossi : Ridiculous. Give me some examples. Hotch: Wasps? Spencer: Terriers? Derek: Spencer.

-

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Idk way but imagine here with me.

Win cassie got turn into a animatronics I say it was a shock for her win she woken up as a small animatronics Wolf like roxy little sister.

But who was the first being did she see ?

I believe it was Roxanne wolf was the first to who she seen

(( and if there like the bio fuel power type I can see Roxy hording different types of food from pizza to literally a box of dog treats ))

First person she sees would depend on where she is. They're not letting an animatronic wolf into a hospital, ya know? And I doubt her dad would want to be away from her at all after all of that, so it's probably her dad. He'd know more about the medical situation and well, he's her dad. He'd be a really big comfort to have nearby, especially in those early days.

Roxy is probably only seen a little while into her recovery. She'll likely have been tasked with helping her adjust to the animatronic aspects of herself now, but honestly, would have done it anyway without anyone having to ask. She's not sure what she's doing and she's not exactly doing this with any sort of real confidence, but to be fair, she's basically having to teach a kid how to exist as an animatronic. How often do you have to teach a human to human after all?

Then again, I suppose that's basically what parenting is?? I guess?? I guess she's co-parenting with Cassie's dad now in a weird way?? I can see at least Monty joking that she made a child with a staff member if that's the case lmao

Actually, Monty seeing this version of Cassie for the first time with no context on what happened, silently looks over at Roxy and says "did you wish really hard, or did ya knock up an old guy?" Or something lmao sjsjsjs

Anyway, Roxy with a biofuel thing going on would be so fun. Cassie keeps bringing her things to try and at some point Roxy ends up zooming over being promised her favourite chocolate or something. Chica would get to coach her on how all of that works too I bet she'd enjoy that. I bet they'd have fun

This version of Cassie having it too would mean Cassie gets to share all of her food and sweet treats with Roxy and that's so special to her. They're eating carrot cake together now! And starting wars over who gets the last doughnut in the box! They're having fun!

[anonofseasons]

I know Vivian sees Gideon as his savior in youth, because he did give him food/shelter/education, but Gideon's parenting actually did more harm than good to Vivian's trauma. Vivian's abusive upbringing under the read-more.

Vivian patterns his own parenting so much after Gideon, but he also greatly acts from the temper that Gideon's methods of discipline failed to quell. Vivian's early childhood involved a lot of neglect, intentional starvation, being slapped and beaten, and there was sexual abuse from some of the siblings. A lot of things fucked him up. Gideon's structure--albeit harsh--gave Vivian some comfort. That's why he accepted that acting up got him whipped with a belt--even well into his 20s. After all, Gideon provided consistent meals, education that Vivian had been denied, never would've put up with sexual abuse from his wards towards anyone, and gave him shelter. And honestly, Gideon's intentions weren't necessarily bad? He was arguably kinder than most parents are in the current time line of the story. Vivian was a traumatized kid who didn't trust people. Gideon was so distinctly different from the family Vivian had before, and the punishments Vivian received were all from doing what he shouldn't have been doing, so Vivian felt that everything Gideon did was justified. He started to trust Gideon. Because of that, he didn't question how Gideon handled misbehavior. But even Vivian seems to have chosen to forget that whenever he got his ass belted, he only got angrier. He didn't act out immediately--knew he'd get worn out again if he dared--but long term, he usually repeated the same fucking mistakes over and over again. At least when it came to his temper and interactions with Gideon's other wards. (Nearly all the punishments Vivian got from Gideon after about two years of staying with him had to do with fighting with the other boys. There were some serious hostilities that never got properly addressed, because getting whipped together only meant they were pissed at one another even more.) Vivian definitely saw how children were brought up around him, too, so why even question it? That's the way things are! Some further "justification" (in Vivian's mind): He did learn some wrongs/rights, so clearly Gideon's methods worked, yes? He doesn't steal! (Until circumstances force it again, and let's not even go into how much tax evasion this man commits with his husband, alongside avoiding bills while leeching services like electricity and sewage.) He learned enough to get a good-paying job! He has some moral codes, like being against sexual harassment or murder, but those don't come from Gideon. They come from enduring what he went through. He nearly died a few times in his youth. He was sexually abused. He still misses the point on bodily autonomy, obviously, given how he treats his own kids, but... Gideon didn't fucking help him understand any of that. Sadly. And this isn't quite aligned with everything, but Vivian starving as a kid and later having to scavenge and steal to get by even after Shannon's birth is part of the reason everyone tends to save every bite of food they don't eat in that household. Howie and El are pretty much used to it and automatically save their meals for later. Even if it's only a couple of bites. The only time Vivian will throw food out is if it does pose a safety issue. I doubt this is often an issue, because I bet that man keeps a list somewhere of when food was grown/purchased/etc. and labels everything carefully. Goes through the list frequently and says, "this needs to be used up before it might potentially expire" and that's suddenly dinner. Sometimes they eat really nice meals, but leftovers are also frequent in their home. Beau would know, that poor boy just won't learn to eat his veggies and will hold out and hold out until he's swallowing carrots in tears halfway through the afternoon, because he's not allowed to leave the table until he's had x amount of bites of veggies. 😭

[joy-of-life88]

Inked Temptation [a Damian Priest story] 25 Can you believe that?

Ellie POV

As fast as I could in my freaking pregnant state, I went to the catering to get something to eat. My stomach was growling like crazy even though I had just eaten an hour ago.

"Hey Wombat and Wombat mama.... How are you girl?" asked Rhea who suddenly appeared next to me.

"Oh we're fine. Just hungry as hell. Little man takes after his daddy and he's always hungry." I laughed.

"I'll bet he is. How much longer do you have to work? Isn't it all a bit exhausting with flying and all?" she wanted to know as she walked me along.

"Only this week. Damian insisted that I stay at home for the last two months because the traveling plus the summer heat is getting to me. Can you believe that? Only two more months!" I replied.

"I know! The time has gone by so fast. I can't wait to see what Wombat looks like!" she said.

"Probably like an exact copy of D. Or at least that's what I'm hoping for." I replied with a smile.

"Quite possibly. Have a seat. I'll get you something to eat. What do you want?" she said as we arrived at the catering.

"Hmmm.... Pan fried rice and some carrots. Hudson loves carrots." I replied as I carefully plopped down on a chair.

"Coming right up." she grinned.

"Thank you so much. You know... you don't have to try so hard. You're going to be his godmother anyway." I laughed as she came back.

"What, are you serious?" she asked in shock as she handed me a bowl and placed the carrots on the table next to me.

"Of course I am. Although you'll probably spoil him just as much as his dad!" I replied with a giggle.

"Amazing!" She cheered and hugged me.

"What's going on?" I heard Damian's deep voice suddenly ask.

Instead of answering him, Rhea jumped up to him and hugged him tightly, too.

"Oh, I guess Ellie-Bell told you the news, huh?" he chuckled.

"Love, I think her reaction shows we made the right choice," I said.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. Oh I need to start looking for the best gift in the world right now. Maybe a tiny little leather jacket. Or maybe I'll get the little man a unique piece of art with his name on it. Well, his real name and not Wombat." she babbled while Damian sat down next to me and gave me a kiss on the temple and rubbed his hand on my belly where the baby's foot was clearly visible.

As always, he looked at me with pride. He loved to feel his son through my skin. And as far as I could tell, Hudson felt the same way. He loved it and it always calmed him. It was the same with Damian's voice. Whenever Hudson kicked me aggressively, he calmed down almost immediately when Damian spoke to him.

"How are you Mami?" my husband asked me quietly as Rhea headed out.

"I'm fine. Well, now that I have something to eat." I replied, setting the bowl down on my tummy to grab a carrot.

"Is the little man behaving himself today? No heavy punching or kicking?" he wanted to know with concern.

"Nope. We are getting along just fine. Don't worry about it, love. Your family is just fine." I replied as I put my free hand to his cheek.

"That's what I like to hear. I have to get back to work. Can I have another kiss for the road?" said D.

"Always." I replied.

He gave me a long kiss before looking deep into my eyes. A smile on his perfect lips and a sparkle in his eyes.

"Love you. And you Wombat." he said and then pressed another kiss to my bump.

"Love you more. Oh... Before I forget. The furniture for the nursery will be delivered in two days. That means we can assemble it together." I replied.

"That's out of the question. I'll do it on my own. You bake the bun in your oven. That's enough for you." he contradicted me.

"Ha... We'll see about that, Mr Priest." I said with a smirk.

"We will, Mrs Priest." he replied and gave me another quick kiss before he went back to work and I went back to the important things. My food.

[afterthegreatunknown]

Fernald Thinks of the Past, and Gets into a Role

Hello! Welcome to the second 'chapter' of my Seven Six Widdershins Family Members AU. Inspired by the Six Baudelaires AU by tumblr user unfortunate-stranger-losers, in this AU, the Book!Widdershins Family and Netflix!Widdershins Family are now combined together to make a family of six. This 'chapter' focuses on the Reptile Room, meaning only the two Fernalds -Verne who is Netflix!Fernald and Book!Fernald- are present. It's a mixture of actual fanfic written out, and a summary of events. More summary than fanfic, in fact.

So! Violet, Klaus and Sunny are living the best of their lives -so far- with their Uncle Monty, and plan on going to Peru with him soon. Olaf, disguised as Stephano, the new lab assistant, pretty much ruins that. Soon, it's almost time for the group of four (would be five if Monty didn't tore up Olaf's ticket) to go to Peru, and nothing has yet to happened. Well, nothing happened yet when when looking at what the Acting Troupe is doing back in the City...

“Hold it steady, Verne. Steady…steady…steady…steady…steady…steady…steady…”

“Stop saying steady so much, Harper. It doesn’t sound like a real word anymore. Why can’t we do something else? Playing cards are meant to be play with! Not building houses! We can play a nice game of—”

“You’re the one who destroyed my last two attempts of building a house of cards. They were near completion too. It’s only fair that you help me with my last attempt.”

“I said I was sorry. Twice.”

“I know. That’s why I said it’s only fair. And I don’t want to play card games, especially with you. If it’s the game I think you’re thinking of, Penny and Lucy told me how you convinced them to play, and how you won over their favorite hats. I’m not taking the chance to lose my own favorite hat.”

“You don’t have to bet on a hat. You can bet on something else. Like your scarf.”

Fernald shifted around on the sofa, eyes still closed shut, and continued to listen to Uncle Verne and Harper talking to one another. Uncle Verne was really trying to get someone else to play a particular card game. Fernald wouldn’t mind playing it, for it’s a fun game. But very much like Penny and Lucy, he didn’t want to lose anything he wager. Uncle Verne was pretty much unstoppable. No one can defeat him.

Well, except one person. But that’s in the past.

The front door soon opened up, and the sounds of two pairs of boots hit against the wooden floor of the old living room. Fernald opened his eyes, and sprung upward. He saw Uncle Verne and Harper stopping their house of cards. Uncle Verne also accidentally knocked it down again, with Harper giving out a sigh.

“I guess there’s always tomorrow,” said Harper, shrugging their shoulders in defeat.

Fernald slid off the sofa, and stood up. Fernald focused his attention onto Penny and Lucy, now standing in the living room proper. The former was holding a copy of The Daily Punctilio, while the latter was carrying two plastic bags of what Fernald hope is food. The leftover pasta and pudding were all eaten up, and Olaf well…

The bastard only had wine and beer around the house.

“Please tell me you have some grub for us, Lucy,” said Fernald, walking towards them.

“Yep! And it’s not that crap from the Anxious Clown this time!” Lucy had a giant smile plastered on her face, and her eyes twinkled like a kaleidoscope. “We got take-out food from this lovely Chinese restaurant, as well as this cute bakery that’s sadly about to close! The latter gave us free cupcakes because we were the first customers there!”

“Is the cake vanilla, chocolate, or carrot flavor?” asked Harper, approaching them.

“It’s lemon flavor,” answered Penny, unfolding the newspaper. “I say we eat the cupcakes first. You know how the boss is sensitive to the word ‘lemon’ and ‘lemony.’ By the way, speaking of Olaf, is he still at Dr. Montgomery’s home as ‘Stephano’?”

“We’re not sure. Seller went downtown to try make contact,” said Uncle Verne. “But he hasn’t come back yet.”

“I hope the jackass got arrested,” commented Fernald, and smiled. “Out of all of us, I think he deserves going to prison the most.”

“Don’t say such things, Fernald,” said Uncle Verne, giving Fernald a glare. “I’m sure Seller’s holdup is due to the Olaf’s situation. Montgomery is the most intelligent man we know. I wouldn’t be surprise if he figured out what happened to Gustav, and is doing everything to prevent the boss from taking away the Baudelaires.”

Penny kept quiet as she continued to unfold the newspaper, her hands trembling with each unfold. Lucy’s lower lip quivered, and hands the plastic bags to Harper. Lucy then rubbed her eyes, and sniffled. Fernald gently placed a hook over Lucy’s shoulder, and gives her a reassuring smile. Despite Gustav being their enemy —Fernald still can’t believe that’s his reality; same goes to Uncle Monty— Lucy’s behavior was understandable. Lucy and Penny when given the order, couldn’t go through with it.

No one wanted to murdered Gustav, in fact. Not Harper, not Uncle Verne, not even Fernald himself. It was an order from Olaf that no one wanted to do. Except that asshole Seller. However, Olaf was smart to not ask Seller of it.

“I still think Gustav should have been tied up to a train,” said Lucy, her voice barely above a whisper, making it hard for Fernald to heard. “He would be out of our way, and alive. I don’t…I can’t bear the thought of Sally eventually discovering her brother —the only family she had left— dying from foul play. You think they’ll ever find his body?”

Fernald briefly turned his head towards Uncle Verne’s direction. Uncle Verne was lowering his head, and closed his eyes.

“Who knows,” answered Uncle Verne, his voice also barely audible. “This is Olaf we’re talking about.”

Penny shuddered, and blinked a few times. She then finally unfolded the newspaper completely. She flipped some pages, and showed everyone the review written by Gomez Guzmán, actor turned dramatic critic for The Daily Punctilio after an event Fernald doesn’t like to think about. “Speaking of the boss, guess whose ridiculous, terrible play got blasted once more!”

[Trying to work HTML in the new editor refuses to make align center show up, let alone proper breaks. So breaks of sections is me rambling in brackets. Moving on now...]

The Acting Troupe take some joy on reading Guzmán’s review of The Marvelous Marriage, while eating the cupcakes all to themselves. Verne tried convincing everyone to save at least one cupcake but he got outvoted four-to-one (Fernald personally can’t understand why Verne wants to be nice to Seller).

Guzmán criticized the lack of plot and flat characters for a full page, and mentioned how a majority of the audience found themselves dozing off until the ending. Guzmán himself admitted how he had to pinched himself awake to be able to write the review.

Guzmán’s review: “The one exciting thing of this pathetic excuse of a play wasn’t part of the play at all. The reveal that everything was a terrible, yet brilliant planned ruse for the main male lead to attempt on stealing the well-known Baudelaire fortune woke everyone up. Everyone was figuratively fuming to where this critic was certain someone from the audience was ready to literally beat the main male lead up to a bloody pulp.”

Fernald, stabbing his cupcake: “I would have loved to see this with my own eyes!”

Guzmán did gave praises as they were rightfully deserved. He praised how while there were limited sets, they were easy on the eyes, and fitted the lack of plot as best it could, especially on an obvious cheap budget (which make Harper, Penny, and Lucy smile). He praised how the costumes, while also on a cheap budget, got allocated well to look almost professional (which has Verne taking pride how one of his skills is getting appreciated). In particular, it’s the unexpected pirate outfit that got Guzmán’s attention.

Guzmán’s review: “Seeing a pirate outfit on the stage in such a long time has me thinking of The Pirates of Penzance. One performance in particular, but this review isn’t meant to be reminiscing of the pleasant past.”

Penny was about ready to read the wonderful words about Fernald’s acting, and Fernald himself found himself hyping up to it (for Penny had read it before the return back, and mentioned to Fernald that it’s a good one), Seller barged in.

Seller, pointing to Fernald: “You! Get your ass out of the chair NOW! You’re the lucky one to be chosen by our boss to help out his latest scheme!”

Penny, peeved: “Good to see you too, asshole!”

Fernald, standing up: “Why does the boss need my help in particular? Surely you or someone else could take my place.”

Seller: “He thought you can redeem yourself after your little stunt during The Marvelous Marriage! Besides, he said you’re the only one who knows know to get to the late Dr. Montgomery house without needing a map. He brought up how you used to visit the herpetologist’s house alongside your annoying-ass stepfather and—”

Verne, standing up also now: “Montgomery’s dead!?”

Seller: “Dead, and dead, and dead indeed. Now Fernald, GET YOUR ASS MOVING!”

But being so late at night, Verne managed to convince Seller to let Fernald go in the morning, which Seller reluctantly agreed too. The next morning, Verne quickly gets to work on Fernald’s disguise as Doctor (O.) Lucafont. Due to the rush, Lucafont resembles more of a private detective than a proper doctor/medical examiner: trench coat and fedora hat. Lucafont has a fake mustache, and has circular red-tinted glasses that has Fernald wondering if Olaf wanted him to wear such a silly disguise.

Fernald on the drive to Monty’s house, took the chance to steal a real doctor’s medical bag that actually has medical tools. Too bad they’re not needed for the corpse. Upon arriving to Monty’s house, Fernald is order to ‘examine’ the body. He gets a bit too into the role of Lucafont, for he found a pad and pencil inside the bag.

Lucafont: *writing his ‘observations’ down* “I don’t think the Baudelaires will enjoy hearing their poor uncle cause of death.”

Inside the kitchen, Lucafont showed everyone his badly written notes of Monty’s death: killed by a Mamba du Mal. Lucafont was so into showing his notes, he failed to realize how Stephano was fuming at the notebook. Still, Stephano gives Lucafont a cup of coffee when asked, since Fernald’s role is done, and he politely asked for it (Olaf knows Fernald is a coffee fanatic, and tolerates it).

As Lucafont, Stephano, and Mr. Poe discuss driving and seating arrangement, Lucafont ended up pissing off Stephano. This is what happens with Fernald is too into his role.

Stephano: “I got it. I will drive the children in Dr. Lucafont’s car, and Dr. Lucafont can go with you and Dr. Montgomery in Dr. Montgomery’s jeep.”

Lucafont: *awkwardly pushes up glasses with wooden hand* “I’m afraid that won’t work. The city laws won’t allow anybody else to drive my car.”

Stephano, realizes Fernald is way in-character: “Oh? Pardon me for not knowing.”

Mr. Poe: “Oh my. Then what will that mean about the children’s luggage? We didn’t even discuss the matter on the children’s luggage!”

Going back to the canonical ranches, Violet had figure out how Stephano killed Uncle Monty, Klaus had read up about the Mamba du Mal, and Sunny decided to fake getting attack by the Incredibly Deadly Viper. This of course, gets Mr. Poe to freak out in the funniest way possible, which leads to Stephano slipping up about how the Incredibly Deadly Viper won’t harm her. Lucafont, realizing what might happen next, attempted to tap Stephano’s shoulder with his wooden hand. Stephano pushed back Lucafont for his interruption. Shoved him in fact.

As such, Lucafont upon seeing Stephano getting reveal as Olaf and getting caught…

Lucafont: “I daresay you deserve to get caught after everything you did!”

Lucafont still of course help Olaf to escape by offering to put him in back into his car, and to give him up to the authorities. Violet and Klaus said their goodbyes, and Sunny, being a clever baby that she is, decided to bite one of the wooden hands. Violet starts freaking out (“SUNNY!?”) but upon realizing the doctor is second hook-handed Man, tries to go after him. But of course…

Mr. Poe: *stops Violet* “He can’t be the Hook-Handed Man! That is the man is who Olaf called Nemo on his walkie-talkie! This is the man who gave the on-stage pirate monologue that was the only worthy thing of that dreadful performance! I’m surprised by your accusation, Violet!”

Violet, bewildered and pissed: “Mr. Poe, there’s two accomplices that has hooks for hands! This one just hides them with fake wooden hands!”

Fernald drives himself and Olaf back to the City and back to the house, all while breaking traffic laws and speed limits. Fernald on running away lost his other wooden hand, so now he’s just wooden hand-less. When they finally made it back at the house, Fernald told everyone what happened, and gets teased on what Sunny did.

Verne: *laughs* “I’m sorry, but it’s just so funny! You got outsmarted by an infant!”

Verne eventually stops laughing when Olaf attempted to strike Fernald across the face, with Fernald ducking in time.

Seller: “Boo.”

Olaf: *managed to shove Fernald to the floor, and begins to walk away to the Tower stairs* “The next you’re working alongside me, you better not make another damn mistake, if you want to see the light of day ever again.”

Fernald, quiet and shaken up: “…”

Harper: *crossing arms* “Said the jerk who actually made the mistake himself.”

[shadowredfeline]

Here's a two in One Post. Which are Art trades I have done with @ftgxsee

He asked me to draw some characters from @murumokirby360

First post is Bonn and Rita wearing the Tune Squad outfits. With their exercise and workout skills and agility, I bet they can team up with their kids as well as for the Rabbits and Caleb in basketball.

For the second post. We have Riya dressed as Super Riya again. After she had some delicious carrot cake for dessert, she had too many that she grew so big. Which I thought of if she, Spot, Vanilla, Shadow and Lisa ate so much ice cream after ballet dancing together, they might grow so chubby and big. And much like with ice cream and carrot cake, it had so many carbs and so much sugar, that they could eat something like that as well for Lighting and Penny can eat too. If they are bloated Ballerinas, I'm sure they might dance by hop dancing or other ways to dance.

[healeroflightanddark]

The Lucky Dragon, Chapter 17: Pillow Fort

It was much cooler in the evenings at the winter branch, and the snow was already starting to fall. And the cold weather meant that snuggles were even more cozy! The five boys spent the evening building a pillow fort to cuddle in.

The best part about pillow forts was being able to cuddle together and feast on spicy soup and delicious tea that Zarc and Yuto had prepared.

“Mm, this is so good!” Yuri sighed, enjoying the heat of the spicy soup. He loved spicy foods, and Yuto had made sure that his soup was extra spicy.

Yuya nodded in agreement. He wasn’t as good with spice as Yuri, but he still enjoyed the soup he had. Yuto had made sure the spice level was the perfect amount for each boy. Yuya sipped his soup and smiled. “So good!”

Yugo, meanwhile, was more interested in eating oranges than soup. He peeled an orange and popped a slice into his mouth. “Why do these oranges taste better than usual?”

“Because these oranges are from Yuri’s orange trees,” Zarc explained. “They’re finally grown enough to start producing fruit! And you know how well Yuri cares for his garden!”

“Ohh,” Yugo nodded sagely. “Yeah, Yuri’s garden makes the best food! Even the veggies are delicious!”

“I bet you’d love my carrots if you gave them a try!” Yuri said with a grin. Yugo immediately made a face. “No, never! No carrots! I’ll try all your other veggies, just no carrots!”

“Oh, please, Yugo?~” Yuri purred. “My carrots wish to be eaten!”

“Then eat them yourself!” Yugo pouted furiously. “I don’t like carrots! They’re yucky!”

Yuto finished his bowl of soup and sat back against Yuya. “Carrots are good for you, Yugo,” he said. “They’re good for your eyes, too.”

“I don’t care,” Yugo said. “No carrots!” He stuffed another orange slice into his mouth sulkily. Yuri started to speak again, but the blunana stuffed an orange slice into the cabbage’s mouth too.

Zarc chuckled, watching his boyfriends begin play-fighting. There was nothing better than spending time with his loved ones!

[consciousgordiacea]

Well, I have tonnes of ideas! We could go for a walk in the woods! But I don’t really know if worms like that because y’know, isn’t that where worms usually live? That would be like if I asked you if you wanted to see your own house! Which might be boring for you. Unless you like that! Then we could do that! That would be fun! Well, for me at least, I don’t actually know about you yet because you can’t really respond to me while I write this. Actually did you come from the woods? Or are you like one of them sea worms? I would invite you to come to the beach with me but from memory the last time someone invited you there, they tried to kill you! Which was super lame! Unless you like the beach! Then we could go to the beach! I think the beach is really cool! We could get like dinner too! Usually the beach has places to eat! Wait, can you even eat? Because you’re like 350,000 worms? Do you need to eat? Huh. Never really thought about it. Anyways! Maybe we could go to my place! We could watch movies! Have you ever watched movies Gordon? I bet you haven’t. I think you’d be a lot more chill if you’d seen iconic teen movies! It’s like essential for healthy development! Maybe that’s why you want to take over the world! Maybe your world domination urges will be quelled with classics such as Freaky Friday! I wouldn’t know though, because I’ve never wanted to dominate the world! Because I’m not 350,000 worms! If you give me enough notice, I can pick up snacks too! But that relates to my earlier point of not knowing if you eat human food. So you’ll have to give me some notice on that one otherwise we’ll be eating carrot sticks and hummus because that’s the only thing I’ve got left in my fridge! Oops! I really need to go shopping! Omg! Idea! We could go shopping together! That could be fun! We could buy like cool stuff! Anyways, the choice is yours worm boy!

I HAVE NEVER SEEN A MOVIE. I WOULD PREFER THAT. LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU WANT TO MEET UP AND WHERE. HOWEVER, I AM ONLY DOING THIS ON THE CONDITION YOU COME OFF ANON. CHOICE IS YOURS