#food is TREACHEROUS

[marigoldbaker]

“stabbed myself repeatedly under the fingernail with hardened cheese” is definitely making the list of Top 5 Most Memorable Finger Injuries I’ve Gotten Lately

[oldshowbiz]

[the-gone-ton]

On the subject of former chain restaurants, I also went to one of the last 2 standalone Arthur Treacher's Fish & Chips restaurants, located in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio. It was once large chain that helped popularize the English fish & chips recipe, aided by the celebrity tie-in of Arthur Treacher, who was known for his roles as an English butler in movies. A succession of parent companies made a succession of mistakes, leading to the brand's near-extinction. I got chicken & chips, both of which were tasty! The new owner of the two freestanding locations wants to open more soon. Besides that, there are a number of combo stores, especially with Nathan's Famous.

[septemberlikestea]

days since a cooking related crash out has occurred: 0.

[keeps-ache]

porch time porch time woowoo !! :D

[camelotfallen]

His King is hungry? Then they (she? better to err on the side of caution) get Mordred’s food; mainly meat and vegetables. Not like he was going to eat it, anyway.

"Sir Mordred. While this gift is appreciated, as both your king and parent, i must refuse. A proper Pendragon cleans their plate without fail, and no child of mine will be a picky eater."

"This is non-negotiable."

[arcxnumvitae]

The problem is that you always want something when you absolutely can't have it.

[evansbby]

i just read all about the uruguayan plane that crashed in the andes mountains which the movie “society of the snow” is based on and oh my god, it’s crazy what the human body can achieve in survival mode, and it’s also crazy the power of faith 🥹🥹

[montparnasse]

just threwed up AGAIN

[thelasttime]

what's your favorite dessert or sweet snack !

a good creme brulee!!! also i love mochi donuts

[mvllendowski]

Lewy said beautiful things about Thomas again in his new interview video with Ferdinand🥰

ok SO i just finished watching it and,, ughfjfjggh that was so sweet man. like you can genuinely tell how much respect and admiration he has for thomas from the way he talks about him. as he should tbh. and the way he always says thomas and bayern are each other’s future??? like thats so poetic i bet he would write the most incredible müllendowski fic

also im kinda emo over him talking about thomas in the past tense. “always he was so positive” like ok ouch :( he still IS bro

anyway tysm for telling me about this!! it’s actually very sweet to know someone saw müllendowski crumbs and thought of me 😭 it’s what i aspire to honestly

[nature-played-a-trick-on-me]

I feel like an unusually high number of dutch tourists died on vacation this summer... very sad but also bewildering to me how people will go out hiking alone, in a place with a completely different climate and a completely different landscape. 0 survival instinct unfortunately and just also a terrible way to die. Please don't go hiking alone in an unfamiliar environment like that....

[monkeyssalad-blog]

1980s NYC Arthur Treacher’s Fish & Chips Ghost Sign by Vinnie DeVille Via Flickr: Vintage image of a ghost sign for a long-gone Arthur Treacher’s Fish & Chips Fast-Food Restaurant in New York City. No information on the exact location other than New York City. This found photograph comes from the collection of an unknown and/or unknowing art collector. It’s always a thrill when it’s from Vinnie DeVille!

[tsuyalovebot]

make him lose his cool.

suggestive and sexual content. mdni, ageless blogs dni.

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader.

cw. drabble (~1k wc, written in one sitting. ignore any typos.) no sex, but caleb popping a boner like a victorian man. afab reader (that also wears bras). mc=reader.

"caleb is an ass man!" "no, he likes tits!"

personally, i think caleb would have a near panic attack upon seeing your shoulder, elbow, or ankle.

he just does a really good job of pretending he doesn't mind it. after all, the two of you grew up together. he's had to put his hands on you many times — carrying, tending to scrapes and cuts, tickling you, ruffling your hair, squeezing your face. skinship was a language that the two of you were plenty fluent in.

but the year spent apart failed to maintain this, like some half-assed video streaming subscription, and caleb's the newborn fawn learning how to walk.

so what happens when he knocks on the room to his bedroom — it belongs to you now, technically — with a plate of breakfast before coming in, and he witnesses you sitting up, all sleepy and the neckline of his shirt slightly sliding down your shoulder?

he's going to throw himself off a cliffside. maybe even off skyhaven itself.

the plate hits the bedside table on your side with a loud clatter. none of the food spilled over, luckily. he has half a mind to garble some lame excuse about being busy and a quick good morning before trying to bolt.

but, caleb nearly snaps into two when you tug at the hem of his shirt, slumber still slurred in your words as you ask where he's going. there'd been no strength in that tug. yet, he stopped in his tracks all the same. he ends up listening to your grumbles, ones reminding him that it's his day off, remember? you promised you'd spend it with me.

"i gotta take a shower first," he chuckles, hoping his voice wasn't too shaky. please don't notice. please don't notice.

"but caleb," you keen.

god, it's like when he'd take leave from the academy for a few days just to go back to you and gran. always coming home to you, thoroughly acquainted with you not being a morning person but still making the effort to cling to him and savor every second you two spent together.

he assumed it would be the same now, but clearly, that was a mistake. because the coiling tension of warmth threatening to boil over in his stomach was nothing short of treacherous.

caleb does manage to escape; albeit pained by the half-awake whines behind him and the sound of you falling back into bed. god, how badly he wanted to cave into your demands. you don't even know the half of it.

he wonders if you've ever curled into his side of that bed he once slept on, seeking his cologne, his body, his warmth the same way he looks for your silhouette in every corner of this home. a melody he knows, but a name he can't quite place in this shell of a house that transformed in your presence.

regardless, it's really difficult to let this relationship rebuild organically when he was popping a boner over the slightest sliver of skin. the shower's streams are icy on his skin, the impromptu bath having thrown a wrench into his morning routine. he refuses to even touch himself. letting the proof of his sin soften under the biting cold of the water, despite the discomfort.

because nothing was more horrific than having his body react to you like a prepubescent teen discovering porn online for the first time.

caleb thinks he's safe after spending an hour in the bathroom, fingertips pruned and mind cooler than the iciest of planets. but as he's changed back into his clothes, he discovers you beside the door, a blanket around your sitting form and those eyelids droopy.

"pipsqueak? what're you doin' here?" he's crouching down — mortifying boner forgotten as he gathers you into his arms before he realizes it.

then, you stir. a whine muffled into the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him, the vibration seeming to ripple down his spinal column. the blanket falls from your body in the motions, and you're so soft compared to the firmness of his body.

his arms tighten around you on instinct and you let out a pleased sound and—

he stiffens. you weren't wearing a bra.

"caleb, you're done." you yawn, like the spoiled, pampered figurehead of royalty you are. you arch up into him, and he swears he feels several of his neurons die, dropping like flies in the empty cavity of his head.

"take me back to bed." he feels the air shift as you seem to inhale his scent. your voice softer, more content when you say, "i wanna sleep some more."

he's so fucking doomed.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

BLOODTHIRSTY

PAIRING: logan howlett x vampire mutant!female reader

RATING: mature | WORD COUNT: 990

SUMMARY

when your next shipment of blood won’t be delivered to the x mansion for another two days, logan offers to help keep you fed.

part two, animal instinct

WARNINGS/TAGS

typical vampire themes (blood, biting), no use of y/n, reader being picked up, grinding, kissing

LINKS

masterlists | support for palestine

You're pacing the length of the kitchen, filled with anxious energy. There's a pit in your stomach, a gnawing pain that's keeping you awake and lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling wasn't helping.

You hear footsteps in the hall and pause, watching as the thick wooden door opens and Logan steps into the kitchen, flicking the light switch and bathing the room in brightness that hurts your eyes. He raises an eyebrow when he sees you.

"Can't sleep either?" he asks, sauntering further into the room. He's fully dressed, a tight white t-shirt stretching across his defined chest and biceps and a pair of jeans hugging his legs, covering boots that click against the tile with each step. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his neck, to the thin skin that covers his fluttering pulse, but you look away quickly in shame.

"Too hungry," you reply. He looks around the room.

"Well, you're in the right place for eating. There's plenty of food."

"Not the kind I need."

He tilts his head, assessing you. "You some kind of vampire or something?"

"Or something," you reply, dancing around the truth. You're not sure what you are, not exactly, but Charles has helped you unlock enough information to get by. "Anyway, Charles said the next shipment should be here in a couple days. I just have to make it until then."

"I could help you out," Logan suggests. You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Absolutely not," you snap. You move to leave, walking past him, but he wraps a hand around your arm to stop you.

"Why not? You can't kill me. You won't even leave a mark."

"You don't know what you're offering, Logan."

"I got a pretty good idea," he says with a huff of laughter. "You're a predator. I know what it's like to suppress that side of yourself."

You don't know much about Logan. He hasn't been at the X Mansion for very long, but he's made quite the impression among the staff. You can see why -- he's charming, handsome, rough around the edges. You know of his abilities but you don't know him, not really, and the fact that he's offering himself for your hunger is planting nasty seeds of suspicion in your brain.

"I can't," you whisper. He steps closer.

"Why not? Afraid you'll get addicted, sweetheart?"

He's goading you, tempting you. Your gums ache with the need to bite, to feed, to fill yourself full and find sweet relief from the pain of hunger. He pulls you closer and your treacherous body obeys, ignoring the warnings from your logical brain.

"Come on," he says. "You'll feel better."

It's been a long time since you've fed from a living person, having grown so used to the donor blood Charles is able to obtain for you through various channels, but the muscle memory is there.

You're chest to chest with Logan now, pressed so tightly to him that you can feel his heart pounding against you, can hear the rush of blood in his veins. He smells like the woods and smoke, an earthy combination that makes you a little lightheaded. He wraps an arm around your waist.

"You want it?" he asks. You nod. "Do it, then. I've got you."

You're helpless to it now, nothing in your mind except survival instinct demanding to be fulfilled. The prick of pain as your mouth grows crowded with longer, sharper teeth meant to tear and ravage and maim. You lean into him, running your lips against warm skin and relishing in the sharp breath he takes at the contact.

Like any predator, you give no warning, sinking your teeth into his flesh. Blood rushes over your tongue, warm and lush, invading your senses. His heavy palm settles on the back of your neck, cradling you to him, and the intimacy of it pulls a moan from deep in your chest.

"Fuck," Logan growls, his other hand tight on your hip. You lift your head to ask if he's okay, but the words are lost when he bends his knees and grabs the back of your thighs with both hands, urging you up. He settles you on the counter, fitting himself between your spread legs.

"Again," he demands, eyes wild and teeth bared in a snarl. You switch to the other side of his neck, biting down hard. He moans, loud and deep, hips flexing into yours. You can feel the hard length of his cock through his jeans and the friction against your core makes you whine and writhe against him.

You drag yourself away from him, licking your lips. His pupils are blown wide, the black of them nearly engulfing the gorgeous hazel of his irises. His gaze drops to your lips and he leans in, kissing you like a hungry animal, trying to devour you in turn.

He pulls away from you, begins to trail kisses down your jaw to your neck. You grow tense, the sudden realization that Logan's favor has devolved into something more hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You push him away by the shoulder and he stares at you with a furrowed brow, confusion coloring his features. His chest heaves with breath and his mouth is stained red, lips kiss bitten and slick. The wounds you would have left behind have already closed, leaving no trace of you on his skin. You swallow around the lump in your throat.

"Thank you, Logan," you whisper. You ease yourself down from the counter, the man stepping back slightly to give you space. "Goodnight."

He clears his throat. "Right. Hope you can sleep now."

"I hope you can, too."

You leave the kitchen, the weight of his stare on your back not lifting until you're in the hall and can take a deep breath. When you return to your room, you still can't sleep.

But it's no longer because of hunger.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or commenting, I’d love to hear from you 💕

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

All masterlists

Logan Howlett masterlist

[mutter-of-dragons]

Not to mention, Sansa was in no position of true danger prior to that if you consider that the biggest threat to her life was the same as towards everyone else: the white walkers. But she had to antagonize the only person who had a proper army at that point, lmaooo. I wonder for how much long she would have survived without the Dothraki and the Unsulied to die to keep her ungrateful ass safe. She was the Lady of Winterfell, she still had authority, she was still relatively safe in her home, she had even reunited with what was left of her family. Her insistence on getting the North being independent came from either paranoia or pure greed (considering her ending I think it's the latter), Daenerys didn't even harmed her after all the disrespect thrown in her face. I doubt that Robert Baratheon or even Robb himself would let that shit go unpunished if they were disrespected like that. Sansa had no real motivation other than greed and keeping power to herself to be hostile towards Daenerys. I would have loved to see Dany actually letting the North being independent though, just to watch them trying to fend off for themselves after the true winter had arrived and most of the men having died

to be honest if i was daenerys during season eight episode one & sansa bitterly snipped "and may i ask how are we meant to feed the greatest army the world has ever seen? while i ensured our stores lasted through winter, i did not account for dothraki, unsullied and two full grown dragons. what do dragons eat anyway?" i would have said "lol nothing i guess," given the order for my troops to turn around & march back to dragonstone & let the north deal with whatever they had coming.