#vending machine for vegetables

[shoku-and-awe]

Found more old photos of farmstand vending machine produce! These were called 水前寺菜 suizenji-na, or Gynura bicolor, which sounds a little vaginal. I like it.

Obviously it was the purple that attracted me, but unfortunately that disappears once it's cooked. I just treated it like spinach and sauteed it up with olive oil and garlic, but if I see it again, I'll do like they apparently do in Okinawa and add it to miso soup or blanch it lightly and dress it with ponzu. Yum.

[warpolomewdarkmatter]

i think that if Lightyear (2022) didn't have the meat-bread-meat sandwich scene i would like the movie way more. the sandwitch gag was just so flabbergasting and honestly gross (so unhygienic!!!) that it yanked me out of the "being immersed in a story with my disbelief suspended" into "Who In Their Right Mind Wrote This Into The Movie Script. Am I, The Viewer, Supposed To Think This Is Funny?" soooo fast (and it was already losing me with all the new watery characters and the lackluster zurg plotline). there's a cool scifi story happening before & after that scene and Those events are always shown as something natural, i guess (within the setting they make total sense, i mean), and i always trust the main character to know what to do and Belong in the story. but the sandwiches were weird and alien even to him and even moreso weird and alien to me by extension... and that feeling of weirdness contributed to nothing re: mood of the moment/overarching plot/character development and it wasnt even FUNNY. if the creators wanted to include the sandwich so bad they needed to have zurg eat it to show what a deranged freak he is.

[bruciemilf]

Young! Dick thought living with Bruce was unbearable until he ran away and lived with his short of-kind of- through adoption - uncle.

“He has you on a curfew? Lame. Go out, have fun, get stabbed. Builds character!”

“Vegetables? lol?? Here’s 20 bucks and a soda. Vending machines’ down the street.”

“You wanna get a tattoo?? Hell yeah. Come on, my buddy doesn’t check ID. He has his own needles. You’re vaccinated, right?”

TJ completely vanishes when he wants to. Like there’s an underworld in Gotham only he has access to. He becomes one with shadow and leaves Dick by himself for a worrying amount of time.

And patrol? Nightmare. First off, TJ’s turf crawls with filth from head to toe. He’s in the red light district, — every section of Gotham is a red light for Dick, thought, — raging from worst, to a thing beyond worst.

Bruce isn’t surprised when a small bundle leaps into his arms the minute he crosses Owl-Man and his newfound sidekick. Former. Dick is no sidekick. He’s Bruce’s partner.

“Asleep?”

“Sedated.”

“Junior.”

“Have you seen this kid flip? You’re welcome. Anyway, happy I could help. You know you totally owe me one, right?”

“Come home for dinner.”

“Nope.”

“Alfred says so.”

“God damn it.”

[dannysdcxdpblog]

a list of incorrect quotes from batfam and danny's group

bruce: I don’t remember that. dick: Do you remember that night last week when you slept in a revolving door? bruce: …No. dick: Okay, do you remember when you were chased by those wild dogs for two miles? bruce: Not especially, no. dick: It was in between those two things.

-----------

tim: Woah dude, premarital handholding? That’s just not cool or groovy.

-----------

danny: tim, we tried things your way. tim: No, we didn't. danny: I did it in my head and it didn't work.

-----------

bruce: If you think I’m playing favorites, you’re wrong. I love all of you equally! bruce, earlier: I don’t care for tucker.

-----------

barb: :) damian: >:( barb: Turn that frown upside down! damian: ):< barb: Not sure what I was expecting…

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

dani: The scariest president had to be Rushmore because he had four heads. barb: Yeah, it’s a good thing we captured him in that mountain, even if we have to live in fear of the spell wearing off. tucker: Do you two still believe in that legend? Come on, Rushmore was killed a hundred years ago! We’re safe now. bruce: You people have clearly never taken a history lesson. His body was never found.

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

steph: I’m the smartest, wisest person in this group. jason: Really? Then why is your hand stuck in a vending machine? steph: I paid for my Mars Bar, I’m getting my Mars Bar.

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

damian: Ugh, there’s always that weak bitch in the group who isn’t down with murder. damian: glares at bruce bruce: Well, sorry I have morals!

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

bruce: That was the worst throw ever. Of all time. tucker: Not my fault. Somebody put a wall in the way.

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

danny: I'm a nice person, but I'm about to start throwing rocks at people.

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

danny: Vegetable oil is made from vegetables, coconut oil is made from coconuts, so BABY OIL- dick: CAN'T WE JUST HAVE A NICE FAMILY DINNER FOR ONCE?!

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

dick: I am not a whore, and, not that I’ve done the math, but, if I were, I’d be the super classy kind that gets flown to Dubai to stay in an underwater hotel.

--------

tucker: Some people are like slinkies. bruce: What? tucker: Not really good for much but bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs. bruce: bruce: Please don't push tim down the stairs. tucker, pushing tim down the stairs: Too late.

---------

tim, writing in their diary with a glitter gel pen: I'm losing my sense of humanity. Nothing matters. God is dead. There's blood on my hands.

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

dick: Is five a lot of followers? danny: Depends on the context. danny: On Instagram? No, not a lot of followers. danny: In a dark alley? Yes, a lot of followers.

[yerimbrit]

WWIB > 5. lunch with pretty (wc: 1.2k)

danielle grins happily as she listens to y/n explain each classroom and their respective teachers. mrs. kim and mr. park, the math teachers, mr. baek the literature teacher—the list goes on. y/n has more annoyed complaints to say about mr. song, which makes danielle giggle with her hand covering her mouth.

she notices her mentor has a hard time making eye contact with her. everyone that she's talked to is okay, but it seems it's different when it comes to danielle. it reassures her in thinking that her seatmate may already have some feelings for her too.

"mrs. kim is nice, but she keeps giving us pop quizzes," y/n gulps down the last of her pocari sweat and throws it away at the nearest recycling bin. "i don't know about mr. park but from what i've heard for eunchae—the girl who kept poking me in class today—he likes pop quizzes too."

danielle takes a sip of her strawberry milk. y/n was adamant about treating her, even if it was just the school vending machines. they finally replaced the selection with better drinks, and everyone's been swarming the machines during break according to the girl. "that's bad," she pouts, "i can't do well on tests without studying super hard; i'll have to study everyday."

y/n widens her eyes and shakes her head, finally glancing at danielle. the transfer student's eyes glimmer with genuine fear. "ah, it's not that bad! they're usually right after we review some introductory material or something like that, don't worry."

they walk through the hallways. some students stare in awe at danielle as they walk past the pair, even more so when she greets each of them with a bright smile. y/n looks like she's seconds away from either passing out or growling at the other students.

they're about to enter the cafeteria when danielle stops briefly. "you didn't have plans with your friends, did you? i know i asked if you wanted to eat lunch together but it's not too late to back out..."

y/n ponders for a moment, glancing around. "i'll... i want to eat lunch with you, it's okay. do you know anyone else here?" she slowly asks. 'she really has a permanent smile on her face,' y/n notes in her head.

"i have a friend who's a senior, but she's... busy today. i can always catch up with her later!" danielle answers easily, hoisting her backpack up to adjust it.

y/n nods and they walk into the already-bustling lunchroom. they don't bother getting in line since danielle brought her own food for today and y/n had a particularly big breakfast with haerin.

"you're not gonna eat?" danielle decides to question this decision, pulling her comically large lunchbox out of her bag, which separates into three different containers. she almost looks disappointed at the lack of food in front of her mentor. 'she's really expressive,' y/n adds to her mental note.

the girl in front of her stares in bewilderment, looking between danielle and her abundance of food that she prepared for lunch. "is that all for you?" she asks in astonishment, before quickly realizing that danielle might take it the wrong way. "i mean, not that i'm calling you-"

y/n gets cut off by the girl laughing. the sound makes her feel like she's floating, ready to ascend to whatever's up there. 'this must be heaven.'

"it's okay! i'm a big eater, i'm pretty active. i used to do track back in australia, but i had to quit because my family was moving back to korea."

the girl across from her nods in understanding, drumming her fingertips on top of the table. "you're from australia?"

"yeah! i was born there but we moved back and forth between seoul and newcastle. my mom's korean."

danielle takes the lids off of her lunchbox containers, revealing a copious amount of gimbap, some cutlery, and a whole box dedicated to a mix of cherry tomatoes and baby carrots. she gestures to the container filled with the fruits and vegetables. "want some?"

"oh," y/n's mouth forms an 'o' shape, and she picks a cherry tomato from the pile. "thank you."

the australian watches as y/n pops the fruit into her mouth with expectant eyes. "is it sweet?"

"mm, very."

"that's good! i love fruits and vegetables, i can't go a day without having them. oh, especially carrots. i love carrots," danielle rambles as she picks up a piece of her gimbap with her chopsticks and shoves it in her mouth. she repeats this until all of her lunch is gone, before y/n can even blink.

"hey loser," eunchae sets her tray down on the table, taking a seat next to y/n. "hi danielle!"

danielle flashes a huge grin and waves, recognizing the girl as the person that y/n was talking about earlier. "hello! eunchae...?"

"big baby..." y/n mutters under her breath. unfortunately for her, eunchae hears it and pinches her on the side. they side-eye each other.

then, as if nothing happened, she turns back to danielle with a friendly expression. "that's right! yunjin-unnie told me lots about you."

this turns out to be something that danielle didn't expect, because she lets out a loud gasp. "you know yunjin-unnie!?"

y/n curses at eunchae in her head.

the two get wrapped up in an exciting conversation about yunjin and how they know her, and also getting to know each other in the process. danielle, yunjin, and another girl named yuna grew up together, and they still keep in touch even now. they keep each other updated on almost every detail of their lives while danielle is away, and also exchanging small pieces of gossip.

eunchae's older sister, chaewon, is close friends with the musician, and she describes them as a "budding situationship" before she laughs it off and changes to a different subject. internally, y/n takes back the curses she directed to the younger girl as she also got to know the pretty girl better through their interaction.

two figures approach their table and eunchae and danielle's conversation is put on pause in order to see who arrived.

"ah, finally!" y/n stands up, moving her bag so the student council power couple could sit. "you took forever."

"danielle," eunchae starts, pointing to the girls that had just settled down in their seats with a lunchbox that the secretary packed. "this is hanni-unnie and minji-unnie, our very own student council secretary and president. guys, this is danielle, the new transfer."

"wow! it's so nice to meet you! i didn't know y/n-ssi was so connected."

"it's very nice to meet you, danielle," hanni states, making a face at y/n, who flips her off while the bright girl isn't looking.

the rest of the girls finish their lunch, with some taking their share of danielle's offered tomatoes and carrots (minji made a face, though no one except hanni and y/n noticed), and soon lunch was over. y/n's face pales at the bell.

she still has class with the new girl in two periods.

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[lale-txt]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 (𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏: 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

♫ Middle Kids - Bootleg Firecracker

I'll be your midnight bootleg firecracker I could blow up in your hand It could be great or a disaster That's the point that I am after

✰ 𝐜𝐰: the panic attack from the prologue is continuing here for a bit! written part between the handwritten notes and SMAU parts.

⭅ back to m.list

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Everything is on autopilot; it always is when the panic takes over. The blood rushing in your ears, the air squeezed out of your lungs, the blurry tunnel vision. Your shaky hands slam a few banknotes too many on the counter but you don’t wait for the change back; you’re out the door already when a voice is calling out to you, but you ignore it. Everything in you is telling you to run.

Foolish. So damn foolish. You’ve always been like that, haven’t you? Falling in love with the idea of someone; blindly following a siren call only to turn into a wreck. It’s a familiar pain, there’s a strange sense of safety in it. Don’t fly too close to the sun, don’t get loved too much, or else you’ll burn yourself.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

Makki is talking relentlessly to you on the phone. He knows how quiet you get once the anxiety kicks in, how you can’t focus on anything but the overwhelming urge to run, how hard something as simple as breathing is when you get into your head like this. You wish he were here to hold your hand through this. You wish you never came here at all. You wish you weren’t so desperate to be loved.

Are you outside? Okay, good. Can you sit down somewhere till Bokuto picks you up? A bank maybe? Oh, wait, your location says there’s a playground right around the corner. You see it? Do they have swings? Remember in high school when Oikawa kissed the ground face first when we challenged each other who could swing the highest? You and I laughed so hard we almost had an accident. And of course Hajime won, stupid beefy monster that he is. Bet he’d still do, we should really try it out next time we’re all visiting home. Ah, there’s a vending machine? I knew that beeping was familiar. Whatcha gettin’? The same juice box like you always do? You know what we should do tomorrow when you get home? Grab some boba from the store you had pinned forever, my treat.

The tight knot in your chest is slowly unraveling as you listen to your best friend’s voice. In the background you occasionally hear Yukie munching on something, probably the vegetable chips you made yesterday. She’s less calm than Makki is, you can tell from the lack of blissful humming she usually does when eating and her hushed voice, asking Akaashi when Bokuto will get there. Despite everything, you manage to let out a small, hoarse laugh. At least it will make a great story with some water down the bridge.

“There you are.”

A warm voice, kind. Almost familiar, as if you’ve heard it in a dream before. You look over your shoulder and freeze, almost dropping your juice box. It’s not Bokuto, but the same guy from Onigiri Miya who you snapped at earlier when he asked if you were alright, while blotches of snot were dripping on your half-eaten onigiri. You feel hot shame creep up your neck, your heart rate picking up again. He tips his cap back a bit to get a better look at you under the dim light of the street lantern and you feel the urge to flee again.

“You were gone so fast, I couldn’t give you this,” he puffs, as if he actually ran after you. He holds up a brown paper bag, the logo of the shop stamped on it. “Since you didn’t seem to enjoy the onigiri you had at the shop, I packed you some more to eat when you’re feeling more like it.”

“That’s not necessary” you mutter while your eyes dart left and right, searching for a way to escape this situation. Somehow he is making your skin crawl; not because you feel like he’s gonna harm you, but because he makes you feel seen and you really, really hate that.

“Please.”

He takes a step towards you and shoves the bag into your hands, almost making you drop your phone. Makki on the other end calls out your name, sounding slightly concerned, but who wouldn’t be when their friend was approached by a stranger at night in an unfamiliar place far, far away from home?

“I don’t want it,” you say, your voice a bit more steady now. Your brows furrow and for the first time you look back at him. Somehow your panic is slowly getting replaced by irritation. Just what was his problem? “You’ll get in trouble when your boss finds out that you’re giving out stuff for free.”

This makes him laugh; a sound so clear and warm, washing away your worries for a fleeting second. How strange.

“It’s sweet that you worry, but I am the boss,” he replies with a smug smile and uses the second of surprise to firmly plant the paper bag into your hands. His fingers graze your skin and you can’t help but notice how warm they are; and you think about flying close to the sun again and it makes you want to cry.

Everything in you wants to run from this kindness. Run, before someone can notice that you don’t actually deserve it. You’re good at that, aren’t you? 

For a few heartbeats you’re too stunned to speak and the bag with onigiri weighs heavy in your hands. Hot shame crawls up your spine and your neck again, remembering how you cried at the counter and snapped at him like a hurt dog. Why would he even come after you, when you’ve already made your best effort to push him away? To get rejected again? You couldn’t even fathom to imagine.

“Hold up,” you say eventually when he’s about to turn around and leave, probably sensing your discomfort. You wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, with this faint smile playing upon his lips and his dark eyes searching yours, searching for something you could never offer and yet you can’t look away either. Your stomach is doing a funny little flip. 

From the depths of your bag you pull out the marred box of cupcakes you still have with you and hold them out for him. You don’t dare to look inside, but you can imagine they must look like a hot mess by now (probably even worse than you feel at this moment). 

“They’re lemon lavender cupcakes,” you explain and look away, rubbing the back of your neck. “After my own recipe. I baked like ten trays of them last night and those are from the best batch but I doubt they’re still any good now. The rest I left with my roommates, though honestly they’re not the best food critics and just happy when they’re being fed.”

Without noticing, your voice gets a bit more steady and excited now that you get to ramble about food, your brain pleased over the distraction. It’s the one thing that always helped with the panic. Your fingers are still fiddling, your weight shifting from one foot on the other, but your breathing is calmer now and the instinct to run is subsiding. 

“The lavender syrup I used for them is homemade, too. Tastes great with some sparkling water and mint. We grew the lavender I used on our rooftop garden. I’ll admit I’m not the best at keeping plants alive, but Akaashi does that for us thankfully, he’s amazing. I also have some tomatoes growing there, and tomato salad in this summer heat just hits differently in my opinion. Anyway, sorry for the cupcakes, I don’t know why I gave them to you, they’ve probably gone bad by now so you can just throw them out and–”

“What’cha talkin’ about? These are amazing,” the guy mutters with his mouth full, one smushed cupcake in his hand that he took a big bite out of like an apple, buttercream at the corner of his mouth. You snap out of your haze and blink at him as he takes another big bite, eyes widening and head nodding approvingly as he chews. 

He doesn’t seem like he’s lying or doing it only out of politeness–because you obviously had a very bad night–no; it’s as if he’s genuinely enjoying the food you made. Something inside of you twists again and it’s all too much. 

Thank fuck you don’t have to think about this any further, because the familiar face of Bokuto appears from around the corner, eyes lightening up when he recognizes you as well. He waves from a distance and you grab your things, hurrying past the boy who makes your tummy feel funny and towards Akaashi’s boyfriend who holds out his arms for you. You fling yourself into them for a quick hug and then quickly drag him away, unable to think about anything but putting some distance between… well, everything. 

“Was that Myaa-sam? You know him?”, Bokuto asks when he shoulders your bag, one arm around you as you walk back to his place. He’s not loosening his grip around you and you have a good idea what Akaashi must have ordered him to do: Don’t leave Y/N alone until she’s on her train back tomorrow.

“His onigiri are the best! I always tell Kashi he should bring you some when he’s here but he has no self-control and eats them all in one go. They taste best fresh anyway, you should try them while you’re here,” Bokuto rambles. You’re grateful for it, though. It’s easier than having to explain everything that happened and why your heart seems unable to stop pounding, and it helps you not to scream when really it’s all you want to do right now.

✽ 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐫𝐮𝐧…

only a handful fun facts because this chapter is long as it is heh

yes the Tokyo group can afford an apartment with a rooftop garden. no i don't know how. one of them is secretly rich i guess (probably Makki)

Kiyoomi and Y/N sang Good Luck, Babe! 31 times that night

Atsumu makes a horrible bartender but somehow no one is stopping him either

Y/N likes to scribble every fleeting thought down because otherwise she will forget them in a heartbeat

grocery store runs together are one of her favorite activities with friends

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@brithedemonspawn @notverymarley @yuminako @gigiiiiislife @wyrcan

@krissiekris @kentocalls @simp-simp-no-mi

send me an ask or dm to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[autumnmobile12]

I'm imagining before they took over the Paranormal Liberation Front, these guys probably survived off of vending machine snacks, canned whatever, and maybe had to dumpster dive at least once. (Oh, the indignity.) They don't strike me as having hunter/gatherer know-how unless it's raiding somebody's vegetable garden.

...definitely an interesting sight, turning on your porch light and finding the nation's most wanted squatting in your backyard like a bunch of raccoons as they make off with your turnips.

And what's funnier about the canned goods situation is the LoV didn't seem to be hiding out in places that had electricity/gas/running water, so there's also the nightly dilemma of either eating cold soup or playing Russian roulette in asking Dabi to heat it up and praying he's not in a murderous mood.

[jonnywaistcoat]

What is the best soup?

Awful vending machine vegetable soup on a cold winter day - the stuff that's basically hot thin stock with three croutons floating in it. That's the good shit.

[splitster]

answering ASKSSSSS

featuring: headcanons, mspaint yonny, and more

check it out! ↓↓

UHH the timeline is already hard enough to follow for 4 it's a little messy... I imagine for the pom wraith AU, it's mostly the events of pikmin 4 with some extra bits tacked onto it (like Olimar encountering the plasm at some point on his lonesome).

WAHHH THANK YOU... heres some secret mod lore, yonny is the HARDEST motherfucker to draw for me. he was ever since i started drawing the rescue corps and he still is!!!!!!!!!!!! his stupid face is so HARD GRRUUAUUGGHH

THANK YOU!!! i have a few bernard drawings/doodles in the pipeline to post eventually

(ive done a few ask masterposts at this point so forgive me if i already answered this one) AHHHHH i mean pom DOES really like Olimar. he challenges her skills out on the field when she's trying to track him down as a leafling which she finds engaging, and she finds him quite charming from the logs she reads. after he's cured, he's nothing but kind and supportive.

i don't think she'd try to take off with him like the plasm, but she'd feel protective over him if something were to threaten him

WAUUGGHH THANK YOU!!!! putting my favorite fictional characters into an enclosure and watching them

THANK YOU!!! you get it, he's so wet and pathetic

YEAH i have more bernard incoming!!! he's so genuinely supportive and it kinda freaks pom out because she can't tell if he has ulterior motivations or not (he doesn't. he's just a really cool dude. they'll become besties💖)

i'll perform the summoning ritual for you anon

there he is. what a jolly fellow

THIS IS A REALLY GOOD QUESTION... i had to consult with my friends for a lengthy food discussion (big hearts to @cosmicocoffee who helped me with like literally all of them)

for Pom, she's a wraith, so she just likes interesting and strong tastes. she's very partial to sweet things, and she LOVES chocolate (because that's one of the first sweets she ever tasted). although, she also like really spicy things because it's a neat feeling. as for least favorite, uh... i mean, the girl will literally eat soap for fun. it's very rare for her to have a food item she despises. they DO exist though, she fucking hates raisins

Dingo likes MANLY food, like MEAT and RIBS. well, he mostly likes being seen eating it. he does have a fondness for sweet things and smoothies. the town he grew up in could get pretty cold, so he grew up eating quite a lot of hot meals like caldo de res (he's especially fond of soups made the way his mama used to make them). he also picks up a fondness for hot tea from growing up with yonny, but he always puts extra honey in his cups. dingo HATES some foods though, especially sushi. the last time he tried to impress people by eating sushi, Dingo was hunched over outside the restaurant with Yonny rubbing his back...

shepherd! likes coffee. @soupvnova said she'd go to starbucks (spacebucks?) often to get the pup cup for oatchi which is very good. she has the healthiest diet out of all of them with routine exercise, protein shakes, lots of fruits and shit. she does have a weakness and a bit of a sweet tooth though, especially for cake. it hardly puts a dent in her diet though given her metabolism, she's a very built captain. she's not a fan of steamed vegetables... too squishy for her.

while talking about shepherd it is imperative to share that Oatchi will eat ANYTHING. if something hits the ground it is in his mouth immediately, shepherd has had to wrestle him to get space dog-unsafe food outta there before. although she will also constantly sneak him stuff from the dinner table

collin's fun because he enjoys eating healthy, he's a fan of fresh spring salads and stuff like pineapples and watermelon, but he also has to live off of a lot of processed/vending machine food because the man pulls all nighters frequently. he's also prone to stress eating... you can find him demolishing a watermelon and he's just. covered with seeds. he likes crunchy foods and seeds-- he's very hamstercore. he comes to Despise instant noodles because of how often he has to rely on them for food in the dead of night

fucking uhhh yonny, he likes foods that pair well with reading, he has pretty "mature" tastes and enjoys tea, maybe a glass of wine if he's feeling it. he often gets tunnel vision with his work and will neglect to eat, and as their doctor he'll have to set reminders on his phone to go have a meal so he doesn't fall ill. i can imagine he's not too into sugary things...

we already know bernard has some very expensive tastes, but he might just struggle with some textures or tastes in food. like, he enjoys pizza, this man is just a very picky eater... i can see him having tastes all over the board though. also he's protective over his stuff, he cared more about dingo eating his pizza than abandoning him

russ. uh... russ. yeah

olimar and louie are not part of the rescue corps, but i could see olimar joining (and louie following) sometime after the events of 4! he'd get a much better benefits package... he'd be good at providing logistical support for rangers out on the field, although his achy back would probably keep him off the field himself

AHH THANK YOU!! i have written some things but i don't have anything published -- to be honest, i'm not much of a fic writer. most of my writing is mostly just me talking through ideas/stories/cool character moments with friends, which is not a very shareable format unfortunately💔

i will say, talking about ideas with buddies gives me a shit load of ideas/motivation for drawing, and a lot of the stuff i've posted probably had that as an origin

THANK YOU!! and yeah of course that's fine! every artist is a collection of inspirations, and i'm no exception. my style comes from studying what i like in art and media (made by other people). i'm honored you find me as an inspiration💖

AUGH AUGH THANK YOU!!! i appreciate the anatomically correct hearts 💖💖

YEAHH i have designs that i've been meaning to flesh out but i'm lazy... i've been sitting on a dingo and yonny wraith design for like a month now, i should just bite the bullet and post them as-is if i ever want to share them... oh well! it's all for fun, i'm not gonna stress about it looking good

---

thank you for reading this far!! and thank you all for the asks, i will continue to slowly get through them...

[anjelicawrites]

One step from you

Paring: modern!prosecutor!Aemond Targaryen x commissioner!reader

Synopsis: a surprise dinner invitation, forces closed off prosecutor Aemond Targaryen to start rethink his life.

Warnings: Aemond's social anxiety, dumbass to (maybe) lovers, reader's overbearing family.

What brings Aemond to dinner with your whole family is the botulinum outbreak in the county.

He means no disrespect, when he elects to interrogate your mum you, obviously, can’t; he would have never expected the woman in front of him to explain him, lengthy and with extreme precision, how to prepare: marinated vegetables, tomato puree and many complicated, traditional dishes.

After he was done with her, he had felt full, not unlike after a wedding feast and he had only had one espresso for breakfast!

You found him still at the precinct late that same night, you obviously working on other cases, him drinking that terrible, horrible, no good coffee from the vending machines in the corridor.

You’ve been meaning to talk to him, to say how sorry you were that your mother had dumped centuries of culinary history on him, while not answering the questions, but you were on the cusp of discovering the heads of a big drug ring, and had managed to come back to your office just half and hour ago.

Despite having worked with him countless times, you find prosecutor Aemond Targaryen to be aloof and difficult to talk to, even when it concerned work matters; not that he’s ever been rude with you, just that you find yourself unconsciously checking your posture and don’t really know how friendly you can be with him, even after years of working together. It doesn’t help that you have a crush on the man that forces you to act more distant with him, that you’d be with anyone else: you can’t risk rumors to spread.

Surprisingly enough, it’s him who starts the conversation.

“Commissioner, I thought I was alone with the night shift.”

“I’ve just returned, sir.” You stared at the vending machine for a second. “I’m sorry about my mother, she told me you interrogated her”

“She was more offended that I believed her a bad cook, than the botulinum outbreak accusations.”

“Sir, my mother is the best chef in the county.”

“I haven’t disputed that”

“By implying that her food might be contaminated, you basically did, sir.”

The way he stared at you made a smile break on your face. It’s safe, no one is around to see it.

“I’ve never said that. We have no idea where the botulinum comes from, let alone which hotel is the, metaphorical, patient zero” he said, stiff

“My mother has her own set of priorities, sir. She might not know much about accounting and how to run that side of the business, but in the kitchen? She’d be able to run the place blindfolded and with her right hand behind her back” you couldn’t stop smiling.

Despite how at odds you and your mother are, sometimes, you are proud of her and of the way she had carved her space in a male dominated world.

“I am merely doing my job” he answered, his face set

“I know sir” you tried to school your expression, but the smile didn’t want to go away (danger! Danger!). “And I will tell her how hard you are working to clean everyone’s name”.

After that the conversation abated, you tried not to gag while drinking your coffee, he stared at you, puzzled as to why you find what he’s just told you so funny.

Despite what Aegon tells him, Aemond is keenly aware of the complicated dance of social interactions, he just finds himself with two left feet, in a world where everyone else is a mix between Rudol'f Nureev and Carla Fracci. Take this moment with you: you two were chatting, you are being friendly and he couldn’t respond in tune, even if he wanted to because he had no idea how joke about your mother info dumping on him, who barely knows how to fry an egg.

“Oh, Gods be good!” You said. “I need some shut eye before we start interrogating the detainees.”

Someone else, anyone else, would have found a witty way to ask you how the investigation was going, what escaped his lips was a dry

“Do you think you will close it soon?”

“I hope so, sir,” the smile on your face less prominent. “We all want to see the results.” You answered feeling the easiness of your conversation abating

“Then good luck”

“Thank you sir,” You answered. “Good luck to you too.”

You bid him goodnight and left him to stare at your retracting back, telling himself what an idiot he’s been in being so awkward with you.

You don’t really see him, too overwhelmed with your drug ring case to go look for him and ask how the botulinum outbreak is going; you know that the people at the hospital are getting better, it’s the rest of the story that you are missing. You make a point of not asking your mother, whenever she calls you, not even when she mentions Aemond: it’s a slippery slope to mix work and family life together.

You stumble upon Aemond, again, late at night. You had foregone the celebrations with your team, after closing the drug ring investigation, to spend some time alone in your office to relax, since both your brain and body are still running high on adrenaline, and you’d rather not crash where your subordinates might see you.

The police station is eerily quiet, the echo of the steps of the night shift barely reaches your floor and the sky is dark outside, the moon hidden by a thick blanket of clouds: it might finally rain.

You jump out of your skin the second Aemond calls you from the shadows, you are positive your heart will explode with fear and adrenaline.

“Sir!” You shout, one hand going to your chest

“Commissioner.” He says, eyeing you

“What are you doing here? It’s late!” Comes out with too much emphasis and he winces inwardly

“I could ask you the same question.” He answers, tone clipped as usual

“Jesus weep!”.

Aemond feels sorry at having scared you so. He knows he is light on his feet, but he thought you’d be able to hear him coming: you’re a cop, after all!

In his heart Aemond knows he should leave before the silence becomes too awkward, he might have a handful of seconds before your breathing goes back to normal and he is forced to perform, badly, some sort of small talk.

Sometimes he hates this divide between him and the rest of the world.

He is getting ready to retreat, when you surprise him

“Have you already eaten dinner?”

He doesn’t know what to respond and why do you care?

“I have some food mother sent me and I don’t feel like eating alone.” You say with a brilliant smile on your face.

Aemond hesitates. You mother’s hotel has been cleared of any responsibility, still he has investigated her: it’s not proper to eat the food of a former suspect, he should politely say no and go home.

The idea of returning to the hotel room he occupies, even since he had to relocate for his first assignment, dampens his volition: the room service has already closed and he doesn’t have any food in the small fridge; on top of that, the idea of eating take out again depresses him when he knows homemade food is within his reach.

Before he can’t stop himself he accepts your invitation. You’re glad he’s answered immediately, or you would have lost courage yourself.

The walk towards your office is short.

Aemond misses the old location of the precinct: a Renaissance building, dusty and a bit moldy, but with character and beautiful frescoes on the ceilings. The new place is depressingly anonymous, all metal and white walls.

He appreciates what you’ve tried to do with you office: the plants and the frames on your desk give the room a spark of personality, whilst maintaining a professional atmosphere; the couch near the window looks comfy and, he suspects with a twinge of tenderness, that you might have taken more than one nap there.

There’s an exaggerated number of Tupperwares and jars on the desk you use for the meetings with your men, all the containers neatly wrapped, the contents written on the paper with a flowery handwriting.

“I told you, sir. Mother exaggerated, as usual.” You tell him with mirth in your voice. “Do you mind moving everything on my desk? I need to set the table.”

With that you head towards one the filing cabinets, open one of the drawers and extract a colorful tablecloth, plastic plates and cutlery, to his immense surprise. Gently you put everything on the top of the cabinet, in order to rummage so more, to produce a tube of plastic glasses.

Again, the divide he feels stops him from saying anything funny when you turn towards him with your arms full and stare quizzically at him. He elects to keep silent as he moves everything on your desk, while you set the table for two.

You two work in silence to unwrap everything and he marvels again at the sheer amount of food that’s on the table: various preserved vegetables, bread, savory pies and desserts.

He sits after you and waits until you’ve served yourself, before trying a bit of everything.

He suppresses a moan of appreciation at the way the flavors explode in his mouth; the food he buys doesn’t taste this good, even what the cook at home used to prepare can’t compare, the various ingredients and textures meld perfectly on his tongue.

“Do you like it?” You ask, after a while, to break the silence.

“It’s excellent” he answers.

“Do you understand why mother was so pissed that you thought she isn’t a good chef?”

Aemond stares at you, eye fixed into yours.

“I’ve never said that. Even the best professional might make a mistake which results in people developing food poisoning.”

“Not mother, sir. I’ve been raised by her side, in the kitchen. I know how precise she is with every preparation, the conserves mostly. She knows the dangers of food going bad. She’d rather throw everything out, than risk hurting someone. She’s so strict, that she only uses the food that she grows in the garden; everything she serves, she knows the origin. Even the juices are home pressed”

“You know how to prepare all of this?”.

He hopes his incredulity doesn’t seep in his words. You don’t look like the kind of person who would slave in a garden and in a kitchen to prepare traditional meals.

“I do, sir, and I would make my own food, if only I weren’t always here. It takes time and energy to organize your work and then prepare everything. Have you ever participated in making tomato sauce? You need a lot of people, time and space, it takes days!”.

Aemond focuses on your face: he’s never seen you this animated. When you are with him you are always serious and controlled, now there’s a spark in your eyes he’s never seen, the air around you vibrates with an energy he’s never experienced when you relate him the results of your inquest. You look alive in ways, he thinks, no one has ever seen here.

“I can’t say I have.” He answers, putting the fork neatly beside the plate. “My family doesn’t hold these kind of traditions”.

He grimaces inwardly, like every time he shares tidbits of himself with the outside world, waiting for his interlocutor to use the information against him.

“It’s fun, sir. You are absolutely destroyed afterwards, but seeing the fruits of your labor on the shelves, makes for it.”

You say with a smile that covers for no judgment, he realizes. You are merely chatting with him and he can’t detect any ill intention on your part; he’s not used at doing this, talking with people with the only intent to pass the time and get to know them.

“Will you tell your mother that I have appreciated everything she’s prepared?”

“I will, sir. Be mindful, though, she might start sending you food as well.”

“Why would she do such a thing? She doesn’t know me.” He is honestly surprised.

“Because she’s a feeder. She’s told me at least trice that you look too thin and she fears you are living off supermarket food. Unfortunately she comes from a generation where stating opinions on someone’s body is the norm, but she means well.”

“You can assure your mother I am eating healthy food. Not homemade, because I don’t have a garden, yet it’s not frozen meals.” he finds himself saying with a smile.

It’s not a lie, not the complete truth either, he hopes the cook at the hotel chooses the best ingredients, but he doesn’t have that kind of back knowledge to know.

“I’ll try my best, sir. Despite you having to investigate her and her hotel, she likes you. She’s told me what a gentleman you have been throughout the questioning, calling her ‘Mrs’ and listening attentively. She’s added something I shouldn’t say out loud, though.” You say, evading his eye.

“Commissioner, I don’t think anything your mother said about me warrants you keeping the secret. I don’t think she insulted me.”

He is intrigued now, and this is better than asking himself why he feels so at ease with you.

You play with the food on your plate, trying to find the right words.

“She said you reminded her of her grandfather. He was a farmer, but he had studied in a seminary, until his own dad had passed away and he was forced to quit to help feeding his mum and siblings. He was known to be well mannered, even when plowing the land, and well spoken. People noticed how lord like he was, they didn’t see the mud on his boots.” You take a sip of water. “I have never met him, of course, but all the tales about him focus on his bright intelligence and gentleness. He was wasted potential, but back in those times his family couldn’t do anything about it. All his neighbors used to come to him to solve their problems with borders, cattle and the like, because he was always capable of finding a solution that was good for all parties.”

Your eyes bore into his lonely one, your hands pick at the bread on the table with nervousness.

“I’m sorry if I have offended you, sir.”

“You haven’t.” He answers. “He sounds like the kind of man anyone should aspire to be. It is a great compliment to be compared to him.”

“Oh thank God!” You say, the breath you’ve been holding escapes your lips in a huff.

You didn’t know how he would have taken being compared to a simple farmer, when you know well enough how old and important his family is.

“Is there anything else your mother said?”

“No, that’s it”.

It’s not entirely the truth. She’s repeated you how handsome Aemond is and that you should find out if he has someone in his life, because he looks like the kind of man who is just perfect for you. He doesn’t need to know that and how much you agree with you mother.

“Would it be awfully impolite if we don’t finish everything?”

“Oh no sir! Those are my rations for at least a week. It is physically impossible to eat all!”

“You shouldn’t have shared it with me, if it was supposed to last you for so long!”

“Nonsense, sir. I offered because I was happy for you to have a meal with me. And I have other food at home, not homemade, but you will not tell mother, right?” The smile is bright on your lips.

He stares at you fondly. This is the first time in a long while, that he’s felt not so detached from the world around him, almost at ease with you.

“On my honor, commissioner” he smiles, without even realizing it.

He helps you put the food in the containers and throw out the trash.

You two argue on your way to the exit, because he wants to carry everything for you, it looks heavy and he is gentleman, after all, to which you answer that you are used to carry and lift more than this bag.

Outside, the first summer storm is raging, fat drops of water falling almost horizontally on the pavement.

“Is your car nearby, commissioner?” He asks, voice raised to make himself heard.

“It’s that one!” You answer, pointing at the beaten out Cinquecento parked on the corner of the street.

“Are you sure it will withstand the storm?” He has to ask, the thing looks ancient.

“It will. It’s more patches than everything else, but it still runs strong!”

With a huff you don your raincoat and fit the hood on your head.

“How are you going home, sir?”

“With that.” He answers, pointing to a car that costs like your annual wage. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve driven that through worse conditions.” You stop for a second, unsure of how you should say goodbye. “Well, goodnight sir.”

“Good night commissioner.” He answers.

He stays on the door until you are safely in your car and the thing, miraculously, starts.

Few days pass; he has so much work he might drown in it, yet he has the time to focus on you every single time you two pass the halls of the precinct and of the courthouse. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing, at first, you’re there and he greets you, because his mother has taught him good manners, it’s when he is consciously looking for you, that he realizes what he’s been doing.

It’s strange for him to look out for someone who is not his immediate family: keeping and eye on his siblings has always been a sort of second nature, even though he’s not the first born, because they are his blood and he’s supposed to. You are a nobody, a subordinate, yet he realizes, as he’s pouring over some documents, that his subconscious has been focusing on you for a very long time, the change now being, that he wishes to see more of that spark you showed him during your improvised dinner, at least when you stumble upon him.

For your part, you try not to think about the dinner too much. It had been lovely to see a more human side to your colleague, the downside being that whatever interest you had been developing for him, now has more energy to grow. Your mother is of no help either, she keeps asking about Aemond, as if you were in any position to know any personal information and no, you don’t want to know if he’s single or not, it’s not like you have any chance with him, who has shown zero interest towards you, beside work.

You should have known better.

You mother has a tradition: Friday night family dinner, when she gives the reins of the hotel kitchen to her second in command so she can cook for her family only, and spend time with you all.

She’s been particularly pressing this week, you simply thought she wanted you relax with the people who love you, after the grueling months spent chasing the drug ring. You were wrong.

The first bell should have rang when the space in front of the family home is full of cars. The second when you spotted a car that looked suspiciously similar to Aemond’s posh one. The third the second your mother bear hugged you and then dragged you to the kitchen, chatting like a car salesman to stop your questioning.

“Mom, what the hell?”

You finally manage to interrupt her when you see your colleagues, and their families, helping setting the tables in the back garden.

“What?” She stares at you with fake innocence in her eyes.

“Why is my team here?”

“Oh dear. Didn’t I tell you? I wanted to celebrate your hard work!”

Your mum is many things, a good actress she’s not.

“No, you didn’t.” You say exasperated. “And you called me constantly the past week!”

“Oh, I am getting old and forgetful. I’m sorry dearest.”

You know she isn’t and you are certain she hasn’t forgotten about telling you. You almost start grilling her with questions, when she chirps amiably.

“Oh, look who’s managed to come!”

With horror you see Aemond with a casserole in his hand, your older sister directing him on where to put the thing.

“Mom!”

You think you are going to have a heart attack. You are positive it’s going to happen now, because your heart is beating too fast and you feel like fainting with embarrassment. If you die you don’t have to talk to him, to justify your family probably berating him.

If you’re fast enough you can run to your car before Aemond spots you.

You haven’t considered your mother’s grip on your arm, and your nephews’ sudden influx of love towards you, the three little monster screaming your name and hugging your legs: you are positively struck where you are.

If only the ground were to swallow you.

“Mom, do you have the slightest idea of the family he comes from?”

“Yes, of course I do. They all look dashing, but him? Absolutely breathtaking”.

God please take me now, you think, anything but this!

But God is nowhere to be found and is deafer than ever to your prayers when you see your sister talking to Aemond, who then turns and spots you.

You can’t run away now. Maybe a stray thunderbolt might hit you?

“Good evening commissioner”

“Good evening sir”.

You try to look dignified, pretty difficult when there’s a gaggle of children holding on to your legs and you want to die.

“Children, will you please let me go?” You ask.

“Are you going to run away?” Says nephew number one.

“Mum said to get you, so you would stay!” Adds nephew number two.

“She said you’d try to bolt!” The third one nails the last nail on your coffin.

If you longed for death before, now you wish to burst into flames.

“Why would you leave, commissioner?” Aemond looks sincerely curious.

“I will not. Children, please!”.

The three little monster seem to be happy with the damage they have caused and run away, to play.

“You know how kids are, sir. Minds full of wonder. God only knows what they’ve heard!”

“I think we can use our first names tonight, we are not at work, after all.”

Engrossed as you are in your embarrassment, you don’t hear the insecurity in Aemond’s voice

“Yes sir.” You catch yourself .“Aemond. I hope my family wasn’t too berating.”

“They aren’t. A bit loud, but it calls for the occasion.”

Inwardly he lets go of the breath he was holding. He knows it’s stupid but, like every time he takes a step out of his comfort zone, he feels himself preparing for the worse, for his little attempt to be crushed by the outside world.

“Are you two going to stand there and look pretty, or are you going to help?” Screams your brother in law from where he’s minding the barbecue.

“You do your thing.” You shout back. “And I’ll do mine!”

“He is right. I think there’s more that needs to be set on the table.”

You agree and desperately try not to notice how good Aemond looks.

At work he wears conservative suits, tonight his slacks look comfy and soft, the neckline of his white shirt deeper than the ones you are used to see him wear. His gorgeous hair is in a complicated braid that enhance his beautiful face.

Yes, you need to busy yourself.

Your mum has overdone herself. For the usual Friday dinner, she just sets the table, tonight the whole area is illuminated by strings of light and there’s flowers and plants everywhere. The tablecloths are the finest she owns, the ones she uses only for important occasions. You are moved by the hard work you see here, knowing full well how demanding the hotel is, yet you are pissed that both your mother and sister have ambushed you so; you wouldn’t have refused to come, if you’d known that Aemond would be here!

“What were you two thinking?”

You have managed to snag your sister and drag her in a hidden corner of the garden.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“I am going to throttle you”

“You are worse at lying than mom is! You have any idea of who Aemond is?”

“I perfectly know who he is. He’s the man who’s making me regret I am married and loyal. He’s so dreamy.”

“What for? You work with him!”

“It’s not the same. We don’t have that kind of relationship!”

“But you’ve eaten with him.”

“How do you know that?”

Whatever high ground you thought you had, disappears from under your feet.

“He thanked mum for the food and complimented her, when she called him to invite him tonight.” Your sister says nonchalantly

“How, in the name of God, does she have his phone number?”

At this point you are beyond flabbergasted

“You should ask her! Now come, it’s time to eat!”

Your sister grabs your arm and your nephews appear out of nowhere to help her drag you to your chair which is, lo and behold, next to Aemond’s.

“I’m going to kill you!” You manage to whisper in your sister’s ear

“Enjoy your dinner!” She says with so much saccharine in her voice, you are afraid her teeth will fall off.

Aemond had to prepare himself for tonight, telling himself that being social for one night would be fine, even fun. He knows your men, his consideration of them is almost positive, considering they are cops. Compared to most of their colleagues, they are bearable and not corrupt, which is a first. On top of that, he has already had dinner with you and the experience had been lovely, you were lovely and he couldn’t say no to a mum, his own mother would kill him, but his heart had beaten a tad too fast while he was driving here, the idea of having to deal with so many people, in an unknown context, scared him.

At the courthouse or the precinct, he has a script in his head he can follow, here? He’s left to his own devices and that rarely ends well.

Surprisingly enough, for him, the welcome he received from you family was warm and made him feel like he had always known all of them. Even being, gently, bossed around by your older sister, felt right, not like she was overstepping.

But he can still feel the glass divide between himself and the rest of the world.

It is a strange feeling, to be somewhere, with nice people, and knowing that there’s this distance he can’t overcome. That he can talk with people, break bread with them and yet know that he’s seeing the whole scene from the outside, instead of being part of it, as if he’s the spectator to a play.

Even you, sitting by his side, chatting and laughing, the delicate scent of your perfume in his nostrils, barely manage to breach the gap that had always distanced him from the rest of the world.

Your mum, for her part, tries to make him participate in the conversation, as if she’s aware of the way he’s feeling. But she can’t know, he tells himself, no one has ever been able to, why could she?

And she seems to be intent to feed him like a pig. Aemond can’t say no to her, not when she puts food on his plate and tells him to try this dish, which she had made especially for him; Alicent would kill him if she’d ever knew he had caused grief to a fellow mother, who has worked hard just for him.

“Do you want to get a breath of fresh air?” You ask him during a lull between courses.

“I wouldn’t mind it.” He answers, hoping the relief is not too noticeable.

You hope no one notices you two slipping away to go to the roof of the house. On your way there, you stop in front of an ancient daguerreotype.

“That’s him.” You say.

Aemond behind you hums, his eye admiring the old face staring back at him.

The man looks nothing like him, the huge mustaches occupy his face, giving him a serious look, but that’s not why he understands your mother’s reasoning: it’s the aura he can feel exuding from the daguerreotype, the power that only knowledge gives you, the one Aemond had always felt during his studies, what truly made him feel strong and capable, against a world he rarely understood.

“Thank you for showing me his picture.” Aemond says, meaning it from the bottom of his heart: our family, our roots, it’s all we have, when everything is said and done.

“And this one is my granddad, his son. He’s the one who started the hotel, from his literal home”.

The photo he looks at is yellow with age, a man staring at something just over Aemond’s shoulder, the typical pose for pictures of that time; you look a lot like him, he realizes, in the shape of your eyes and mouth.

“Let’s go, before my sister sends her minions from hell!” You laugh, making your way up the staircase.

The night is warm but a gentle breeze moves your hair, as soon as you and Aemond arrive on the roof.

Like many houses in this region, it is flat and had been used for centuries to store rain water and hang the drying clothes; Aemond notices your family has comfortable garden furniture here and a closed beach umbrella.

Ignoring everything, you head for the edge of the roof, where you can feel the breeze more; Aemond follows you, taking the time to observe you.

You look like summer in your pretty dress and wedge heels, your hair styled and not up in the conservative bun you wear at work. Yes, you are pretty, not that you aren't in your usual clothing, it's just that these illuminate you, make you look happier and livelier. He understands your fashion choices at work. He once heard another female police officer saying that she would have dressed more feminine, but then, where keep her gun? And the field is still so male dominated that showing any other kind of traits, would immediately mean becoming laughing stock.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” A tinge of anxiety marks your voice

“I am. It is different than my usual Friday night, but a good change”

“I’m glad. My family can be hard to handle, even for me.” You say, shielding your face with your hair

“They are a peculiar bunch indeed, but nice and welcoming.”

Silence falls between you two again, broken only by the music coming from downstairs; it’s not heavy, though, Aemond muses, he doesn’t feel the need to either leave or try to awkwardly fill it with words, before the other person decides it has been weird enough. In his life, he only felt like this with his beloved sister Helaena: she never minded sitting by his side, just quietly enjoying life.

“This is my family’s ancestral home. It had been expanded and changed, but my family has been living here since centuries. My grandfather used to rent out all the rooms he could, that’s how the hotel started.”

“It must have been hard.”

“Yes. Many sacrifices were made, but he didn’t want his daughter to slave in the fields all her life.”

“She still decided on physical labor, instead of a managerial position, though.”

“The key is that it was her choice. She wakes up every morning and still wants to do it. It is a luck not everyone has.”

“Do you still have it?”

Aemond doesn’t know where the question comes from, he’s usually mindful of someone else privacy, but with you that invisible, glass divide with the world, seems to become thinner and thinner and he deludes himself with thinking he might truly reach through it and touch you.

“I do, and I don’t sometimes.” You admit, eyes not meeting his. “I love my team and what we do, I just miss how exciting my life was undercover, and after, at the internal affairs.”

“Do you want to go back to that?”

You don’t answer immediately, you let the wind blow through your hair and the lights from downstairs dance in your eyes.

“No, I don’t think I want to. It’s just that this job sucks the life out of you, sometimes. All the violence and the filth and having to shield the people I love from that makes me feel. I think I miss more the person I was, the way I used to look at this work, like a source of a better change for this world. Now that I am older and wiser, I realize that, at best, we try to empty the ocean with a spoon, at worse, we are protecting those who have reduced the world into what it is.”

If he were another person, Aemond would have reached for your hand, to give you comfort, but he is who he is and doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t expect your question.

“What about you, Aemond? Do you still wake up with the same drive you used to have?”

“I do.” He is surprised by how fast he answers, but this had been a surprising night, it’s OK. “I see all of it and it makes me what to double down on my work. But I understand: you are supposed to protect, but whom, truly? The poor person who steals out of hunger, or the company they steal from?”

“You’re lucky then.” You say with a sad smile on your lips

“I probably am.” What you don’t know, it’s that it’s the glass divide he sometimes despises, that helps him keep a distance between himself and the ugly parts of his job.

“I feel like my mind is always there. I cook and clean, play with my nephews and chat with my mum, and a part of me is always pouring over the files. It’s never ending.”

“I have a bike.” He blurts out “We can go on a trip, take you away from your routine.”

He truly doesn’t know where the invitation comes from. Not that he wouldn’t like to go on a spin with you, but when did his brain decide to unlock like this?

“You don’t look like the kind of person who owns a bike.” You are so surprised that you’ve forgotten the sadness of the conversation.

“It belonged to my family for years. It even has a name: Vhagar.”

And I lost my eye for it, he thinks, but doesn’t say.

“I very much would like to.” Your mouth says before the silly embarrassment caused by your crush can stop you.

“It is lovely plan, then!”

Your sister’s voice makes you and Aemond jump in surprise. How long was she listening? You suspect long enough, judging by the way she puts her arm over your shoulder to hug you sideways.

“I hope you have space for the desserts!” She says, dragging you towards the stairs.

“Desserts?” Comes, a bit strangled, from Aemond

“Oh, mum has overdone herself tonight!” She gleefully answers.

By the time the food is finished, Aemond feels like he could easily roll home: he is full like he had never been before. He jumps up and offers his help, when it’s time to clear the table, maybe a bit of exercise might help him and clear his head as on why it’s so easy to reach to you, of all the people in the world.

Aemond finds himself with a carton of food, near the trunk of his car. He had tried to, politely, refuse, but your mother simply ignored him and put even more food in it.

Aemond is closing the trunk, when your mum arrives with a bag of conserves and trusts it in his hands.

“I cannot accept. It is too much!” He says.

“Oh, nonsense.” She answers. “I am happy to give these to you.”

“But you’ll need those for the hotel.”

“I have more than enough stored in the kitchen there. These are the ones I use at home.”

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can.” She gently puts her hands over his. “I know how hard it is, accept a stranger’s kindness and reach out of what comforts you. But it’s worth trying.”

Aemond doesn’t believe in coincidences, but you appear in his line of sight and make a beeline for him.

“Mum? You are needed. I’ll help here.”

Your mother bids Aemond goodbye, who answers with a strange expression on his face that makes the alarm bells explode in your head.

"Aemond?" It is so strange to use his given name so freely. "Is everything all right? Or were we too much?"

His eye focuses on you, he doesn't look like a deer caught in the headlights anymore, yet his face is more animated than what you're used to see.

"Everything is fine." He says, your name follows, his voice pensive. "Your mother possesses far more insight than I thought."

You don't really understand what he's implying, it feels like he's talking more to himself than to you.

"She is an extraordinary woman."

And she truly is, to see him, for who he is, without making him feel naked and defenseless.

"Yeah-." You answer without really understanding the topic.

In silence you help him put the food in the trunk of the car, making sure nothing will be broken.

The air feel pregnant, of what you don't know, but you feel like he's going to say something and he's looking for the right words.

"About that little trip." He finally says.

"Yeah?"

"Do you still want to go?"

You don't know it, but his heart is beating so fast he's afraid it might explode.

"I can't wait. I've never ridden a bike in my entire life."

Another man would have probably said something crass about first times, he simply closes the hood of the car.

"It is the closest thing to flying you'll ever experience. You'll have fun, I promise."

"Good." There's a smile on your face. "I love fun!"

Aemond is driving home. He feels emptied by all the social interactions, yet happy, like he's not going to need to recharge, and it's a first.

His mind drifts off to Helaena and the cryptic words she's told him when he moved here, about strange twists and turns that lend to where one least expects it.

Was she talking about you? Only time will tell and, this uncertainty, doesn't scare him, for the first time in his life.

Everythig taglist: @hightowhxre

Aemond taglist: @phantoms-main-blog @fan-goddess

[s1m0nth3swaggy]

chat i saw someone make incorrect qoutes of Dead Boy Detectives and I wanted to try as well. I saved the best ones, these are awesome

Slight shipping of Niko and Crystal/ Edwin and Charles because these bitches gay

Edwin: You spent all our money on THIS?? Charles, putting tiny raincoats on ducklings: They live outside. They need this.

-

Charles: Life could be worse, Edwin. Edwin: Life could be a lot better too!

-

Niko: According to the footage here, you shook the vending machine and when the shake alarm went off, you punched the glass and broke it. Crystal: …I was hungry.

-

Edwin: I'm not a morning person. I'm barely even a person.

-

Edwin: Start talking! Charles: Well, I- Edwin: Shut up!

-

Niko: Anything else? Edwin: Yeah. Stay away from me! Niko: Alright. See you in the room we share.

-

Edwin: Wakey Wakey Eggs and Bakey! Monty: But I'm a vegan. Edwin: Wakey Wakey Vegetables and Sadness.

-

Edwin, entering the room: Sees Thomas (Cat King) and leaves Thomas (Cat King), watching Edwin leave: There’s my monthly dose of Edwin…

-

Crystal: When I said you should try being friendlier this isn't what I meant. Edwin, stirring a cup of tea aggressively: Oh, so now I'm TOO friendly? There's no pleasing you. Charles, who broke into their house an hour ago: Two sugars please. Edwin: Coming right up.

-

Charles: What’s up? I’m back. Niko: I literally saw you die. You died. You were dead Charles: Death is a social construct.

-

(they are in love your honor)

Crystal: Niko, what does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean? Niko: I don’t know, I love you, talk to you later. Crystal: Alright, I love you too, I'll ask Edwin. Niko: Wait- Crystal, no-

-

Jenny: Crystal has discovered "deez nuts" jokes and it's all they say now. Everything is deez nuts. They simply can't stop. Jenny: I asked Crystal where they learned that joke. They made me promise they wouldn't get in trouble if they told me. I agreed. Jenny: So they lean in and whisper, "deez nuts."

-

Charles: That’s the longest worm I’ve ever seen. Edwin: That’s a snake.

-

Edwin: Someone’s trying to break in. Call the cops! Charles: loads shotgun I got this. Edwin: Last week you fell up the stairs, what do you mean-

-

Charles: What are your adjectives? Edwin: …You mean my pronouns? Charles: No, I know what your pronouns are! What are your adjectives? Edwin: …I dunno. What are yours? Charles: Noisy and chaotic! Edwin: I’ve never had something go from making no sense to making complete sense so quickly.

-

Jenny: I love sarcasm! It’s like punching people in the face, but with words!

-

(Charles being a little bitch i love him)

Monty: What are you two arguing about this time? Crystal: They’re always using common phrases incorrectly! Charles: Cry me a table, Crystal.

-

(after the whole "I wasn't talking about you" scene and when Monty was trying to annoy/ make Edwin jealous or smth)

Monty: You are a solid 11/10. Edwin: Aw, thank- Monty: Which is 1.1 because you look like shit.

-

(i need more niko and monty moments because im convinced they'd be besties)

Monty: makes Niko a cup of tea but puts salt in it Niko: sips tea Monty: Niko: finishes tea Monty: Didn't it taste bad? Niko: Yeah, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings so I drank it all. Monty, tearing up: Oh, okay.

-

Thomas (Cat King): I would say I outdid myself, but I’m always this good, so I simply did myself.

[heavenlyhoundoom]

Sun and Moon show incorrect quotes 3.

1.Ruin: I like wearing oversized sweaters. Not just because they're extremely comfy and cuddly, but because whenever the sleeves are really big, I get to flop them around and smack people.

2.Lunar: When I was your age- Bloodmoon, mocking Lunar: When I was your height. Lunar: Lunar: Listen here you little shit-

3.Bloodmoon, to Moon: How do you tell someone politely you want to hit them with a brick?

4.Bloodmoon rushes by with an armful of water bottles Sun: What's going on? Moon: Bloodmoon wouldn't drink water. Sun: …And? Moon: And I asked them how fast they could chug an entire bottle. Bloodmoon, loudly: 16 OUNCES IN TEN SECONDS, BITCHES!

5.Moon, texting: Ruin, will you please go to sleep? Ruin, texting back: What makes you think you didn’t just wake me up? Eclipse, yelling: I CAN HEAR YOU CLAPPING TO THE FRIENDS THEME EVERY TWENTY MINUTES SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP! Moon, texting: Just a hunch :) You goin’ to sleep soon? Ruin, texting: I’m trying Eclipse, yelling again: TRY HARDER I HAVE A 5:45 AM MEETING TOMORROW BITCH Moon, texting: Okay, don’t stay up too late or you’ll be cranky :)

6.Eclipse: According to the footage here, you shook the vending machine and when the shake alarm went off, you punched the glass and broke it. Bloodmoon: …I was hungry.

7.Sun, texting Moon: Moon! Help I'm being kidnapped! Moon: Where are you? Sun: I'm with some strange person. In a car. Help. Moon: I'll call Earth. Earth, answering their cell: Y'ello? Moon: Where's Sun? They texted me that they were being kidnapped. Earth: Sun? Whaddya mean, he's right next to me- Earth: Earth: I'll call you back. Hangs up Earth: THE NEW HAIRCUT ISN'T THAT BAD! Sun: WHO ARE YOU!?

9.Eclipse: Did you buy eggs like I asked? Lunar: Even better! Eclipse: What the fuck did you- Lunar: holding up a chicken Her name is Fluffy.

10.Bloodmoon: Onion rings are vegetable donuts. Eclipse, used to Bloodmoon being dumb: Sure… Bloodmoon: Your stomach thinks all potatoes are mashed. Eclipse: Okay? Bloodmoon: Lasagna is spaghetti flavored cake. Eclipse: Bloodmoon: Lobsters are mermaid scorpio- Eclipse: Jesus, that one is a little- Ruin, interested: No, no, Bloodmoon, keep going.

11.Bloodmoon, grinning: I have a knife! Earth: Put it down, Bloodmoon. Bloodmoon: Make me! sprints away

12.Monty: Oh, to be a bored heir to the throne who keeps rejecting marriage proposals due to being secretly in love with the cute gardener. Earth: Oh, to be a cute gardener who secretly places roses in the heir’s room because she is in love with him. Bloodmoon: Oh, to be the palace guard who discreetly helps to boost the cute gardener up the wall for her secret deliveries in the middle of the night. Lunar: Oh, to be the heir’s best friend witnessing the two fools dance around each other while knowing damn well that the two like each other. Chica: Oh, to be the noble suitor from another royal family who comes to know of their love instantly and plans an entire plan to get them their happy ending. Ruin: Oh, to be a medieval peasant who knows nothing about the heir’s personal life and who dies of dysentery at age 23.

13.Earth: Regular soda is too sweet!

Bloodmoon: Diet soda has a weird after taste!

Earth: No! Ugh, oh my god. Diet soda is THE BEST! It doesn’t have sugar! It’s SPICY!

Bloodmoon: It has other weird stuff in it! I’ll take REGULAR sugar in my REGULAR soda!

Earth: It’s SO SWEET like it’s a dessert though! Diet feels more like a drink!

Bloodmoon: I’m going to physically attack you.

Earth: Which is better, Ruin?

Ruin: Oh, I usually drink water!

Bloodmoon: Wha- NO!

Earth: DISGUSTING!

14.Sun, hungover: Please tell me I'm imagining that I claimed I was king of the ducks. Moon: I would, but then I would be lying to the King of All Ducks.

15.Eclipse: How would you guys deal with a toxic friend? Earth: Tell them how you really feel. Sun: Slowly distance yourself from them. Bloodmoon: Engage in a 1v1 sword battle and if they lose they have to stop being toxic or pay the price. Eclipse, being handed a sword: …well heck.

16.Moon: Can I offer you a nice stick in this trying time?

17.Bloodmoon and Ruin texting Bloodmoon: Come downstairs and talk to me please. I'm lonely. Ruin: Isn't Eclipse there? Bloodmoon: Yes but I like you more.

18.Eclipse: They… well, I wouldn't call it inheritance per se. What do you call it when you kill someone and get their stuff? Lunar: Um, murder??? Ruin: Adventuring! Bloodmoon: Tuesday.

19.Eclipse: I swear to god I'm the only one here with a braincell. Lunar, Sun, Earth, and Bloodmoon: ALL HAIL the keeper of the sacred braincell!

20.Sun: Christmas lights? Moon: Check. Lunar: Thermos of hot cocoa? Moon: Check. Earth: Santa suits? Moon: Check. Eclipse: Shovel? Moon: Check. Bloodmoon: Alibi and bail money? Moon: Check- wait, WHAT?!

[lifeblogstory]

Sushi & Seafood Buffet

To celebrate one’s birthday, came to this buffet. The counters have many variety of food🐙. Mostly sushi and seafood. Also some meat, vegetables, and dessert. There are vending machines for drinks and ice creams🍨. Include a table of cakes and cream puffs🍰. Can grab a plate under the counters and pick the food we like🍽. End up filling 4 full plate of food. Have eaten squid🦑, crab🦀, lobster🦞, clams, octopus, shrimp🦐, beef ribs🥩, lamb legs, chicken wings🍗, spring rolls, fried chicken, bok choy🥬, lo mien, crab meat slices, oyster🦪, and crayfish. For sushi🍣, like the salmon, tuna, avocado, and unagi. Lastly, eaten a plate of melon🍈, watermelon🍉, pineapple🍍, cream puffs, and cake slices. There are drinks of beverages, milk tea, bubble tea🧋, fruit tea, and Thai tea. Counters have authentic soup. Can ask for a small hot pot🍲, to cook raw food directly. Very full and overwhelming. Best to control how much we can eat. Fun to have once in a while. From “Umi Hotpot Sushi & Seafood Buffet”

[sapphic-sundry]

I HAD A THOUGHT

so I'm abrosexual.

today I was feeling bisexual for the first time IN AGES. like you don't understand how rare that is for me. I messaged this to my friend, who was busy at the time.

then, I had to go out into the real world to do an errand. sad, I know.

when I got home, I messaged my friend again. "home safe. feeling less bisexual by the minute."

my friend then answered back, saying "what does that even mean?"

and I was like, oh my gosh, people won't understand what that means. BUT THEN I HAD A THOUGHT. A METAPHOR THOUGHT.

this is how people usually explain abrosexual:

it's similar to being bisexual, in that it's fluid. but sometimes you can be pan, or ace, or only attracted to one gender, etc. it's like genderfluid but for sexuality.

which is a good explanation! it is! but I thought of a better one.

imagine you've been cursed. (by an evil wizard or fae trickster or old god, whichever you prefer. the origin of the curse is not the point.) (i am not at all saying being abrosexual is a curse, this is just a metaphor to explain it.)

imagine that the curse is that your tastebuds are ever-changing. y'know how like when you get older, you enjoy new things, or maybe hate things you used to love? imagine that's what's happening to your tastebuds, on a daily basis.

you crave different things. sometimes you crave ice cream, or vegetables, or both, or nothing at all.

it's infuriating, because you can't control it.

imagine you have a favorite food. one from before the curse, something you've loved since you were young. let's say it's Reese's peanut butter cups.

HOWEVER. this spell has ruined your tastebuds. for a while now, you've only been craving peanut butter. you stare longingly at chocolate, for you love it. but when you try to eat it, it just doesn't taste right. the joy isn't there. in the past, it has been the opposite. you crave chocolate, but not peanut butter. or even sometimes, you crave nothing at all.

but one shining morning, you wake up craving both. it's a euphoric moment. you say to yourself, I'm going to have a peanut butter cup today. I'm going to enjoy it so much.

but before you can, you get busy. have stuff to do. before you know it, when you're finally done, you think about that peanut butter cup again. you head to a vending machine. then, as you punch in the numbers, you realize something. your craving is dwindling. your stomach drops. you know if you don't hurry, it won't taste good. it will simply be bland. you put the food to your mouth, and - it's too late. you've stopped enjoying chocolate the way you could have. you die inside, a little.

in this metaphor, craving chocolate is attraction to women. craving peanut butter is attraction to men. craving reese's is attraction to both (feeling bisexual.) craving nothing is attraction to no one (feeling asexual.)

this is a horrible metaphor as it equates being asexual/aromantic to not having taste, which is simply untrue. aspec ppl have great taste! they can still have attraction in many ways, and can enjoy things like food, fashion, dragons, and unicorns.

BUT I think it gets the point across.

being abrosexual is like craving different things in an unpredictable way. sometimes it can be really frustrating, and complicated, and downright confusing. a lot of internalized phobia and imposter syndrome is involved.

for me, I consider myself Sapphic, as I love women very much. they're incredible. however, I don't always feel attraction to them the way I'd like to. usually, I find myself drawn more to men, even though I could never really see myself dating one (that isn't fictional.)

so yeah, for anyone wondering, I hope this helps.

[rgr-pop]

meal plan text asmr

i normally have breakfast at work because of my proton pump inhibitor. tomorrow i wfh the morning to do a training so i’ll be having sesame toast with a boiled egg, feta, and whatever pickle and veg looks good. then for the rest of the week’s breakfasts i have one yogurt (lucas found me the icelandic coffee yogurt!!) and friday morning tbh, probably the last of my ezekiel toast with communal work peanut butter unless i pick up cottage cheese/yogurt. today i worked remotely at a coffee shop and i grabbed a bad scone, RIP. (adding to shopping list: ezekiel bread, greek yogurt, cottage cheese, bananas, the icelandic coffee yogurt but that’s only at whole foods.)

at work right now i’ve been having paramount (local brand) k cups that corey gifted me. i got him a gift card for the new downtown coffee shop so he can grab it between his bus job (he herds teenagers for the school public bus program. his real title is abussador :)) and he got me k cups for my work. i froth half and half to dress up the k cup, and my coworker brought in half and half she needs used up, so i don’t need to bring mine. (another week before i have to buy more.) i hate using the disposables and am considering literally committing to work french press like an absolute psycho—i just can’t get myself enough time before work to make and bring it from home and the refillable k cups will do but are gross. if you have to survive a keurig at work i recommend nasty refillables + steaming and frothing milk. i have half a bag of not great beans at home. I’ve been spending more on nicer beans for home and it has been worth it, but I am still not quite sure what I like. (on shopping list: coffee beans, decaf beans for winter evening treats.)

came home with a coffee shop noise pollution migraine and made myself cheese ramen with cilantro, sesame seeds, green onion, and a side of this week’s pickled carrot slaw. ramen made two servings for me. it was the last of my shin black and third to last slice of ramen cheese. my cilantro will last another weekend and i have at least week’s worth of parsley and green onions. (adding to the shopping list: shin black, cheese singles, frozen corn, and since i’m thinking about it, shredded mozz for buldak/corn cheese.)

for lunches wednesday-friday i will have dumplings from the freezer (the ones i made and some other ones i have), leftover ramen, and a carrot and cucumber salad (my last two fresh salad vegetables, but i will probably wait out purchasing more). to prep tonight: jar of dumpling sauce, salad. (dumplings are already on my shopping list when i see some that look good. adding dumpling wrappers—making and freezing them was so worth it, but i felt like making the dough wasn’t.)

complicating factor: i should make myself something sweet to keep me out of the vending machines at work. at home i’ve been having what i believe to be yaourti me meli (greek yogurt, walnuts, honey, cinnamon?) but i’m out. i’d like to make a second french yogurt cake to compare it to the other recipe, but again, out. i would also also like to make a coffee cake type food for someone coming over saturday afternoon. do i make a little loaf cake with what i have tonight to get me through the week and then a second thing then? do i have friday plans? if i bake a little quick bread or pound cake for myself tonight it will really cut down on my food ruminations. (adding to shopping list: greek yogurt, walnuts, honey, dried fruit, butter.. baking supplies need inventorying but i’m almost sure i have enough of the basics.)

what am i having for dinners? i need to minimize the chance that i spend any non-grocery money before next week—i will be having a crazy week and likely blowing money i don’t have. tonight i’m having leftover cannellini beans cacio e pepe (‼️ make this ‼️). i have enough beans (although running low) to continue having beans meals, but i really really really desire to put my beans meals on potatoes. (‼️ fusion jacket potatoes ‼️ make this ‼️). matias made these perfect black beans with pork and salsa verde and it’s all i can think about. can i pull this off with freezer bacon… i have enough of a serrano to get me through. (adding to shopping list: russet potatoes, garlic, sour cream, avocado, cheap canned black beans, decent looking dried black beans, slightly nice italian brand butter beans and cannellini beans, bell pepper, tomatillos, tomatoes, mexican oregano, sweet potato, pork?? i will put this on my list but never buy it.)

i would also like to make salmon rice bowls with avocado, pickled veg/carrot slaw, cucumbers, etc. to use up my freezer salmon. i would prefer to wait to do this til i’m keeping salad greens (leftover salmon for salads is key for a working woman…)

in two weeks i will make something for a certain someone’s birthday and batch up some granola. i’ve been wanting to try making coffee granola. i also have to make a lasagna before the end of winter this year or i must be executed.

what i’m bringing to work tomorrow for the rest of the week: salad, bags of dumplings, ramen, cilantro (packed separately), one boiled egg, one yogurt, dumpling sauce and any other condiments that look good, and a sweet if i can pull it off.

the question i can only answer for myself tomorrow at 4pm: am i going to the grocery store?