#YOU COOKED ALRIGHT

[hell0jon]

DAYYYUUUUMMMMMMMMMM

FINALLY!!!!!!!! TMAGP LENT ANIMATION HAS BEEN FREED FROM PROCRASTINATION HELL!!!!!!!!

This took way too long bc the malevolent brainrot got in the way so,,,,,, yeah I hope y’all enjoy!!! started this I mid-march so that’s why this has more first half of s1 vibes :))

also the YouTube link!!

[thefishywizard]

Teens but older... advanced teens

[mari-lair]

Isaaaaaa

[mayhemspreadingguy]

"If you stare into the abyss,

the abyss stares back at you."

[xxplastic-cubexx]

cant stop thinkin bout charles and erik readin together on the couch but instead of reading with him charles is listening to eriks thoughts while he reads. Live mind commentary ……..

[ssreeder]

every time I picture chang in LIAB I just think of those little Italian chef statues people put in their kitchens.

just thought to let you know.

well just so you know when I picture Chang this is all I can think about:

I have a type <3

[ghostpebble]

i fear faker is an absolute BANGER and it's stuck in my head

[teddybeartoji]

funniest thing abt self-isolating is that it . very clearly does not work and i still keep doing it like an idiot lmao

[collectingsorrows444]

I may or may not have ideas/concepts for you @slumbrr-r (I’m @ ing you like every hour of the day, I am so sorry 😭)

[in the community, you said you needed ideas. So during school hours, I was sketching all of these (did most of the coloring in shades of black and white, I don’t really know what their color palettes would be)]

(left to right): Bayo, Caspian, and Alon.

Astro Variant: Selene (either strike or med)

Poppy Variant: I don’t have a name idea for her either (Literally a walking sunshine with solar flares prepared to lash out— she’s humming Tell-Tale Heart, music sheet by Micheal Story, first clarinet part/melody)

Glisten Variant + Toodles Variant: Nadia and Clover (Aunt and Niece)

And lastly….

His name is Cole btw

Anyone can use them as inspo tbh :) I am filled the brim with so many stupid ideas that I just blank out and do them lol.

Okay bye! I’ve got to do my homework now :)

*leaves knowing that I am going to procrastinate my work*

[arach-tinilith]

And then they lez out

[potatoplace]

From Scratch

💖 Valentine's Collection 2025: Making Dinner 💖

Elucien x Reader

Summary: You, Lucien, and Elain live together in a cottage on the border of Velaris, finding peace in rural life. On a warm summer evening, the three of you prepare a roast together.

Warnings: None! Unless you count smooching 😚😚

Words: 909

Author's Note: omggg I love this one so muuuch it's so cute 🥰 I think that I adore Elucien x Reader now, Elucien is such a sweet couple (but I feel like they're also horny af yknow? Luce is stiiiill an autumn male 🤭) and they both have cozy but fun vibes. I hope you guys like this one! Read it on AO3

18+ only pls

🤍🩷🤍🧡🤍

The air was warm, with a slight breeze running through your hair as you finished up on Bessie, your sweet milking cow. Practiced hands squeezed her udders while your eyes took the opportunity to look around, searching for where your golden haired lover had taken residence in the garden. It took you until you’d put Bessie back in the pasture to spot her, buried amongst the raspberry bushes that had been bountiful in the summer heat.

You smiled as you took the milk pail into the cottage and emptied it into jugs, sealing and placing them all within the enchanted cold box. You’d skim cream from them later, once it’s cooled. Maybe you’d go into Velaris tomorrow and sell some again, along with any extra produce you’d grown. After all, there was only so much milk the three of you could drink. The three of you could go together, make a day of it.

For now though, you headed back into the summer heat, joining Elain in the garden. You peeked into her basket, eyes widening at how many berries she’d already picked.

“Good yield this year, hmm?” You commented as you kissed her cheek, grinning when she turned to place one on your lips gently.

“Mm, very. I’m almost done with these, honey, you can get started on the herbs for dinner. I was thinking we could roast some root vegetables with the chicken, so anything that would go well with them would be good,” Elain said brightly, popping a raspberry into your mouth before sending you away.

You nodded as you walked over to the much smaller, raised garden beds, each plant marked with a smooth piece of wood, it’s name carved into it. Picking the right herbs was easy, you knew by now the herb mix that the three of you had agreed was best for chicken. Hands easily pulled a head of garlic from the ground, and a sharp knife helped you harvest rosemary, sage, and thyme.

Elain was kneeling on the ground when you walked past her, noisily blowing her a kiss as she pulled a carrot from the ground, her head whipping towards you. A smile bloomed on her lips, her nose scrunching the way you loved so much, and she blew you a kiss back before returning to her task.

You’d just gotten half of the herbs chopped finely, the others set aside to stuff into the bird, and begun mixing them with butter and a small amount of olive oil when Lucien walked through the back door, a freshly butchered chicken resting in a pan. You wrinkled nose at it for a moment before reminding yourself that it’s the circle of life.

You had never quite enjoy seeing the process, though.

Lucien transferred the chicken over to the roasting pan, then washed his hands before he came up behind you as you stirred the herb butter, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “That smells delicious, sweetheart,” he whispered into your ear, his lips ghosting over the expanse of your neck, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulled you further into him. His sinfully soft lips pressed a line of gentle kisses to your skin, your head tilting to the side to allow him better access. He laugh seductively at that, before pulling away abruptly.

“Back to work, we don’t want the chicken to spoil,” Elain giggled as she set the basket of vegetables onto the counter. “There’s plenty of time for that later,” Elain said with a cute wink, her eyes hinting that later may come while the roast was cooking.

“Okay,” you conceded. “Luce, can you put this on the bird?” You asked, turning with the butter in your hands to face him, batting your eyelashes at him and sticking your bottom lip out. “Pleeease?”

His beautiful, russet and gold eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at you. “In exchange for a kiss, my love.”

Without wasting a moment you pressed your lips to his, loving the way you fit together so perfectly. “As though I wouldn’t kiss you every moment of every day that I’m not also kissing ‘Lainey,” you said breathlessly as you pulled away from him, enjoy the slightest hint of pink that rose to his cheeks.

The bowl changed hands and Lucien began spreading the mixture over the chicken, and you and Elain began to work on the vegetables. You scrubbed at potatoes and carrots while Elain took care of the onion, something that she always did to save your eyes, a habit that you absolutely loved about her.

The three of you worked in a comfortable silence, with Lucien bringing the roasting pan to the counter you and Elain were now chopping the carrots and potatoes at once he had finished spreading the butter over everything.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then Elain’s before he began stuffing the chicken with the herbs you’d set aside as well as a chunk of onion. As the two of you finished cutting pieces, he would place them in the pan, making the three of you a quick working machine.

Soon enough the roast went into the oven, leaving the three of you standing close together, thoughts of earlier on all of your minds.

“So… The couch?” You asked, giggling as Lucien and Elain dragged you with them to said couch in an instant.

After all, dinner wouldn’t be ready for over an hour.

🤍🩷🤍🧡🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare @wrenisrad

[thats-how-i-like-it]

hi, here's a little vijinx - another love (tom odell) edit (feat. caitvi)

[hergan416]

sherlock x louis fighting about william?

On any given day, should Sherlock Holmes be looking for one Louis Moriarty, the kitchen was not a bad starting point. Although as head of MI6 Louis no longer was required to perform the same kinds of menial labor he had been tasked with prior to the Final Problem, he had trouble letting go of the responsibility entirely. It showed up most in his desire to prepare snacks, serve tea, and even cook meals for his agents to eat upon their arrival at home.

Today as Sherlock meandered into the warm room, he found Louis hovering over a double broiler, a serious expression upon his face. The labels for several pricey bars of bakers chocolate littered the countertop, bragging of 95% cocoa content.

The chocolate itself was melting along with a healthy portion of butter and Sherlock smiled at the sight.... at least until he realized that Louis was adding another, highly unusual ingredient to the pan.

He let out a protest, reaching forward to stop Louis from this terrible error, but was too late to prevent the spoonful of anchovy paste from making its way into the double broiler with the otherwise perfectly normal chocolate-making materials.

Sherlock frowned, wondering what had overcome Louis to make such a terrible error when he was usually an accomplished cook.

"What's wrong?" Louis asked, frowning.

"Anchovies? Really?" Sherlock replied instead. "Not that they can't have their place, but you're making chocolate."

Louis blinked. "They're for my brother," he replied, as though that explained everything.

And in some ways it did. Liam's favorite food, starry-gazey pie, was pungently fish-flavored. And he did prefer it when Louis made it. But if Louis were hoping to impress his brother, there was no reason he could not have simply made the dish as intended.

"Why?" Sherlock found himself asking before he could stop himself.

"It's going to be Valentine's Day very soon," Louis added, as though Sherlock were a very slow child.

"So you decided to ruin perfectly good chocolate and feed it to your brother?" Sherlock protested.

"My brother enjoys this sort of thing," Louis replied with a shrug. "And I enjoy the challenge of making it palatable."

He stirred the melting substance carefully, and Sherlock watched, fascinated, as the fermented fish, chocolate and butter began to coalesce into a single innocuous-looking substance.

"That can't be good for him."

He could see Louis' shoulders tensing up, and realized he'd hit a nerve. Well, there was no point in backing out of this line of thought now. He might as well finish making the point.

"Wouldn't it be better to just get him to understand the delicious flavor of normal chocolate like the rest of us?"

Certainly it would be better for Sherlock's peace of mind.

"There is nothing wrong with my brother's tastes. And of all people, you should be one to talk about following what's normal."

"Nothing wrong -- Louis, you can't earnestly be this blind to his faults."

"What faults?" Louis hissed, his hand reaching for his knife. Conveniently, it was nearby, he had evidently used it to break apart the chocolate bars before adding them to the double boiler.

Sherlock waved his hands in front of his body dismissively, not wanting to face Louis' ire.

"The ones that make him a human like the rest of us," Sherlock tried to reason, grinning. "It's fine, it's fine. Don't let your chocolate burn because of me."

Louis frowned deeply, choosing to ensure Sherlock didn't miss the murderous glint in his eyes before turning back to his cooking. This was far from over.

"Get out of my kitchen," Louis commanded forcefully. "Or I will feed these to you."

"Yes, of course, love," Sherlock returned weakly, turning to leave. He'd have to pay close attention if he accepted any chocolates from Louis any time soon.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Rewatching 97 because I just need to get on with it but GAWDDD at this point I'm literally not watching all the rogueneto scenes IT'S SO UNCOOL 💀💀💀💀 ERIK WOULD NOT DO THAT WTF DISNEY

its just really funny in regards to 97 specifically because they never even interact in 92 (or if they do its incredibly sparring) so it's just the most out of nowhere thing possible. like oh we're doing this now ok

[ebitenpura]

Commander Stew

Theron cooks something for the Commander.

Odessen - The Kitchens

A young man sporting a dollop of white hair and refined features entered the communal kitchen of the Alliance carrying a large crate, wearing a plain burlap apron, rubber gloves, and waders over what usually would qualify as a stealth suit–a bit of an odd sight, but one Theron had gotten used to over time.

“Hey! You’re back early. Put ‘em down over there,” Theron glanced over his shoulder, nodding briefly at the young man, then motioning with his head at the kitchen island. Eight squeezed past him as he ran his hands under the faucet, careful not to bump into the other spy. They set down the box on the counter and patiently folded their hands, awaiting instructions.

Theron turned off the sink and flung the remnant droplets off his hands, drying them with a slightly stained checkerboard dish towel.

Even with his fearsome past, Theron found the quiet operative to be pleasant company most days, with Eight acting as his assistant in daily matters ranging from mundane chores to deadly missions. All at the behest of Lana, of course. She was the one who insisted on (see: forced) a pair of helping hands for him after he'd incorrectly assumed she’d wanted him to take on all her burdens.

Not that he was complaining about the extra hands. Certainly not today of all days–he was planning something special, and that required all of the help he could get.

Theron opened the flaps of the crate. Fresh from their gardening plot in the Odessen fields, the box was practically bursting with colorful root vegetables and leafy greens native to the planet. Purple, orange, striped yellows and swirls of blue–all packed with vitamins and the healthy color of a successful crop. Plain proof that their efforts to cultivate more organic food for the personnel had finally given fruit, after several long winters of withered stalks and exhausting meals of food chips.

Theron smiled wryly. He’d have to make a toast to Dr. Oggurrobb’s fertilizer and the Force Enclave’s agricultural knowledge later.

“Will this be enough?” Eight asked, mellow as ever. He watched him coolly through deep umber eyes.

“It’s more than enough,” Theron answered, a bit of uncertainty leaking into his tone as he stared at the foodstuffs. The vegetables taunted him from their comfy spot atop the counter next to the impressive array of knives and cooking utensils laid out side-by-side like an interrogation toolkit. “...I think.” He wiped the tip of his nose.

Theron hated to admit it, but he was no culinarian. Master Zho had never taught him (really, what could you teach a kid to cook in the wilderness besides canned goods and pre-packaged rations), and his stint as a SIS agent since his youth had left him with little time to prepare nor care. The extent of his cooking repertoire could quickly be summed up to sticking a frozen Orobird leg in the flash oven and waiting for two minutes, sadly.

So why was he making an effort now?

The image of the Commander’s tired face weary from battle and sleepless nights, aging lines etched deep into their skin with the carvings of a destiny too large for one person, flashed in Theron’s mind. He’d seen the way they’d fought–skipped meals, denied themselves sleep, hid the way their gaze turned vacant when they thought no one was looking, left their cafeteria plate practically untouched, compounded blackened bottoms of endless cups of caf, the stims—the Commander was burning themselves at both ends.

Hypocritical as it was, he couldn’t stand watching them drive themselves into the ground. The galaxy’s fate was important, but…not as important as they were to Theron. Yet he found himself at a loss; what words he wanted to tell them to eat better, to sleep more, to stop hurting themselves fell short whenever the Commander gave him that one look. That look of resignation, deep as the dull ache that would settle in his chest afterwards.

“I’m okay,” They’d tell him, smiling wan, “Thank you, Theron.” It’s alright. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me.

Like hell he couldn’t. He–

“Theron…?”

Theron snapped out of his reverie, realizing he’d been wringing the dishcloth far too tightly for too long. Eight stared at him, puzzled. He released it. His knuckles returned to their previous pink.

“...Sorry. Just. Tired,” Theron shook his head, massaging his temples. Tired. Yeah. He was sure someone else was too, and he hadn’t asked Eight to come here to watch him have a breakdown. Pushing off from the counter, he clapped his hands together, mustering up a second wind. “Let’s get to work. Shall we?”

Commander Stew

Ingredients:

Young Makrin Legs

Orobird Soup Stock

Rootleaf, 1 Head

Imperial-issued Instant Glowblue Noodles, 1 Package

Republic Synth-Ham and Grophet Sausages

Odessen Wild Onions

Mandalorian Spice Sauce

Zakuulan Swamp Glowshrooms

Slice of Ration Cheese

Directions:

Prepare the young makrin legs by soaking them in water and shaving the fibrous exterior with a peeler.

Theron stared at the unassuming pile of…legs that resembled roots more than they did the limbs of any creature, and secretly shuddered. Makrins weren’t particularly uncommon on terrestrial worlds, but their crabby, tree-like appearance and tendency to wallow in loam didn't make them his first choice to eat. He wasn't exactly opposed to adventurous cuisine, but he wondered how exactly the legs of a chitinous creature equaled something that would make the Commander more appetized.

As if sensing his cause for pause, Eight peered over his shoulder where he stood frozen with peeler in hand. “The Jedi recommended them for use in medicinal dishes. When eaten boiled, it lowers blood pressure, and contains many nutrients.” He said thoughtfully, as if reading an entry from an encyclopedia.

“Is that so.” Theron inwardly balked at the mention of the Jedi–a little known fact was that Master Zho had raised him on Jedi cuisine, most of it vegetarian, but even then he hadn’t sampled every bit of agriculture the galaxy had to offer. Makrin legs were a bit out there, but seeing as they were native to Odessen, recommended by the enclave and another piece of stress relief on a plate for the Commander? His survival training told him the harmless limbs could only benefit, despite their gnarly appearance.

Remove the tips and fibrous base. When cleaned and processed, set aside.

He buckled down and began shaving the legs. Lack of proper nutrition was always a deciding factor in conflict–Theron had seen his fair share of soldiers who contracted disease from improper eating and lack of supplies– and he would feed the Commander any bit of ugly vegetables if it meant seeing a little more life restored to their pallid cheeks. His fingers found their rhythm as he removed the tough outer skin from the legs exposing their soft white core beneath the blade of the peeler, their texture reminding him oddly of Dantooinian tubers with an extra coat of slime.

Slice and dice half of a medium-sized onion.

Theron had to pretend he wasn't looking particularly emotional as he chopped the onion. Or maybe he was simply brought to tears at the thought that their food could have flavor for once, all thanks to the Alliance’s team of scouts who procured such supplies for them from the unmapped regions of Odessen’s wilds. Eight was among that team, hence Theron's willingness to let an Imp spy of all people join him in cooking. There was only a small handful of people he could use to conceal his efforts from the Commander, and Theron would make use of both his ability to obtain food in secret and his espionage skills to see this through, opposing factions be damned.

And if others worried about poisoning, well. He didn't pride himself on being Chief of Security for nothing. The safety of the Commander was his priority, as were the characters of those he chose to fight alongside them. They were his responsibility. His to trust with their most important fight and everything in-between. Theron couldn't afford to keep the old grudges that the Republic and Empire maintained in these desperate times, and he would not fall victim to their need to blind themselves with their unending war. He had to fight for what was important, and that was…people. Not sides.

Theron would always be a son of the Republic at his heart. But now his heart belonged to another, and those lines had long blurred.

Slice the glowshrooms length-wise, removing the head from the stems. Set aside.

Clean and cut the rootleaf in half, then the following halves into quarters; chop into smaller squares until you have about 1 cup’s worth of rootleaf. Store the rest in a cool, refrigerated place.

Unpackage the Synth-Ham, Republic Ration #0625, and slice to desired thickness.

Theron opened the can of mystery meat and upended it onto the chopping board. The green ham-like substance plopped onto it with gelatinous grace. He poked it with his cooking knife. It jiggled away from the tip.

Eight placed an empty pot next to him along with a can of opened grophet sausages and an unwrapped package of Imperial ration Glowblue Noodles, their signature color shining through the foil. Theron quickly thanked him out of the corner of his mouth.

Arrange the rootleaf, onion, makrin legs, and glowshrooms at the bottom of the pot in even layers.

Add a helping of Mandalorian Spiced Sauce on top.

Theron couldn't forget Torian and his people. They were the ones who suggested using their own spices for the hotpot, as “no other spice in the galaxy compares to that of a Mando’s.” Though he’d initially expressed some reservations at setting the Commander’s tongue aflame, this special mix had been made with their preference in mind; Shae had been so impressed by their valor that she presented several crates worth as a gift after the battle of Darvannis. Spices were a luxury if not a grand gesture in wartime, and not one Theron intended to use lightly.

Add the Synth-Ham, grophet sausages, and top with a slice of ration cheese over the previous ingredients.

Finally, add the Glowblue Noodles and 3 liters of Orobird stock.

Theron blinked at the finished product. “Wait a minute. This is…”

“Revanite stew?” Eight once again helpfully supplied.

It was Theron’s turn to ask the questions as he raised a suspicious brow towards his sous-chef. “They ate this during the coalition, when the camps combined. How did you get the same recipe?”

Eight smiled quietly to himself, in his mysterious and elusive way. “Our Commander was there. It was their idea to share food across factions. I still haven't forgotten its taste. If you ask any of the soldiers from that time, they will say the same.”

Theron stared at him, speechless. To think the same recipe he’d been making this entire time was a result of their union on Rishi…he recalled seeing Imperial and Republic soldiers bonding over a cookpot, but hadn't joined in, content to watch the proceedings from a distance. So much had happened during Revan’s rise that he’d failed to pay enough attention to something so innocuous as a moment of camaraderie between unlikely allies.

It had been their idea to eat something both Imperial and Republic that fateful night. To form the basis of their Alliance over a simple, warm bowl of soup.

Theron felt his heart swell.

He…he had to remind them of what they had built. What they meant to him. With this.

Set on top of a burner and deliver to recipients with bowls to share.

Theron held his breath as he wheeled the cart of foodstuffs to the Commander’s quarters, careful to avoid jostling the stew that balanced atop it as he reached his destination. He rapped on the door with the back of his knuckles.

A puff of pnematic air revealed the Commander, yawning wearily from yet another sleepless night of work and burdens. “Yes–” They stopped. “Theron? What are you doing here?” They eyed his cart. “And what's with all the food?”

Theron cracked a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thought you could use some dinner, so…I brought you some. If you don't mind, that is.” He quickly added, feeling out of place in the deserted hallway.

The Commander smiled, a genuine one that reached their eyes, crinkling at the edges. “I’d love to try whatever you made. Come in, we can eat it together.” They stepped aside to allow Theron room to maneuver.

Enjoy with your intended party.

As expected, it was delicious.

Not as filling as seeing the Commander laugh to the point of tears at his explanations as to why he'd been so secretive all week trying to hide the fruits of his cooking from them, but filling nonetheless. He'd give it a 5/5, personally, as a true soup for the soul. (And a note to make it again with less sneaking around).

If the Commander was satisfied and satiated... so was he.

[phoenixcatch7]

We could make Sqq a transformer in his past life. Like optimus prime sorta transformer. Cybertronian.

He'd be the only surviving seeker (winged guy) on the autobots side (I don't know all the canons but I don't think they have, like, any). Pretty young when the war started - unfathomably ancient for humans, the kiddie of the group to them.

And he arrives on earth. Discovers the Internet. Immediately gets hooked on critiquing stupid Web novels in every language, which being a sentient machine he can do at great speed without forgetting anything. Decides to read the final chapter during a battle because he's so close to the end and airplane had better pull SOMETHING good. Is so infuriated (distracted) by the ending he messes up and immediately gets killed by some low level decepticon. After FIVE MILLION years of war he gets offed by some loser over a stupid human story that wasn't even very good. He dies SO furious.

And then he gets reborn a human.

He is, as the kids say, big mad.

How by Primus do they do anything??