#how to bake meatloaf

[lesbiansanemi]

Meatloaf and glazed carrots were a success !!!!!

[catharusustulatus]

Steve and Dustin’s mom Claudia are close.

It starts with Steve practically adopting Dustin overnight, going from barely registering his presence to almost dying for him within a couple of days. After getting the shit kicked out of him by Billy and the close calls in the tunnels, everyone regroups, sweaty, tired, and hungry at the Byers’, and the kids start getting picked up. For some reason he finds himself being dragged into Mrs. Henderson’s car. And then her house, and then her guest bathroom, where she tenderly washes his face and cleans his wounds. She coos at him as he groans, sitting on her carpet covered toilet seat. Her bathroom is warm and cat themed. She holds his chin with so much care as she rubs a warm washcloth along his bruised cheeks. She holds his shoulders as he dry heaves. Steve is concussed, full of adrenaline, shaking, but most of all shy. No one has ever done this for him before.

After a couple days quietly sleeping in her guest bedroom, eating her food, and helping wash her dishes, she asks him about his parents. If they’re worried about him. He says no, she looks sad. She sends him home with a casserole, says see you soon.

Dustin starts following him everywhere. He gives him a walkie talkie for his birthday, tells Steve he’s “part of the gang now.” Steve acts annoyed but cries later, alone in his giant house, with relief, to not feel so alone anymore, even if Dustin and his friends are kids, and even if one of those kids is Nancy’s little brother.

He starts spending more time at the Henderson’s. The three of them watch Cheers and bake cookies. Mews 2 loves Steve, purrs in his lap. He starts bringing t-shirts over; Mr. Henderson's clothes were way too big for him. Soon he has a toothbrush there. Then he has a house key.

Claudia doesn’t bring his parents up anymore. Whenever he's there for dinner, or for more than dinner, it's with her full approval.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Me: well, we're out of eggs, so I had to improvise. I have made a weird, horrible meat cake and some lovely potatoes. They should be ready in like 60-90min.

Wifey, looking utterly horrified: I need you to never use the words "meat cake" again

[rotzaprachim]

I’d love to get into the biz of dissecting the actual cooking styles of fundie videos and tradwife videos because as someone who loves to bake there’s a Lot going on and it’s kind of fascinating. Some aspects of the fundie chic:

Hatred of plant based foods and veganism and a focus on “ancestral foods” that just so happen to correspond with (their idea of) white and vaguely 21st century waspy American foods (I can guarantee you their ancestors did not have meatloaf ever night back in Yorkshire or Scotland or whatever.)

anti seed oils obsession

anti pasteurization obsession

interesting aesthetic mix - super modern fridges and shiny blender and mixer appliances mixed in with “rustic chic” bowls and appliances that are less sanitary or comfortable than mainstream modern versions. (See also cooking in floofy dresses and makeup/hair in the face in ways that are obviously more for aesthetics than kitchen comfort or safety and would get you a health code violation even in a home business)

and here’s the big one that always distracts me: these freaks don’t measure anything, or even discuss measurements in their videos. They just magically *intuit* how much of whatever they need. Now I know a lot of experienced home cooked just *know* and eyeball things, but these people take it a step beyond and just don’t measure shit, or else have things (pre measured) into aesthetic ceramic bowls - no measuring cups or scales to be found anywhere

[wjhik]

Hellooo <3

can I request a dad!Jude fic where him and the reader invite his family over for dinner but your son is just restless , the kids don't stop screaming and hitting everybody looking for attention, trying to throw plates on the floor even Mark Jobe's games that usually keeps him busy don't work anymore.

-also the reader is like heavily pregnant with her second child so she can't do much to help

I WANNA SEE SOME STRICT DAD JUDE

thank you😻

Attention (Jude Bellingham)

A/N: daddy jude in this 😜 (literally. he is a father.)

Y/N’s POV: 

“Noah, please put that down.” I tell my very rowdy 5 year old who is insisting on playing with our crystal bowl. I smell something burning and quickly leave the pot on the stove to open the oven. My meatloaf is slightly burned on the top, but I can just cut it off. I grab my oven mitts and take the dish out of the oven. I place it on the stove top and look up after hearing a crash followed by crying. “I didn’t do anything!” Noah says, throwing his hands up. I see his twin sister on the floor, crying. I walk over to her and crouch down. “What happened, Nora?” I ask her. “Noah pushed me!” She screams in between sniffles, pointing at her brother. “I did not! She tripped over the couch! I didn’t do anything!” Noah screams, defending himself. “Stop yelling. Mama’s very tired.” I say, shushing them both. I finally got myself situated after a fit of nausea came over me. I’m just about to be 8 months pregnant. Jude and I never expected to have a baby so young, let alone twins. We decided to get married two years ago, and eventually we wanted another baby. We knew having another baby would be hard, but I never thought it would be this hard. Jude not being around as much is only adding to how hard it is.

Jude’s parents have decided to pay us a visit, so I’m attempting to prepare dinner. “Noah, please. I’m not blaming you. It’s okay, just stop screaming.” After Nora blamed him for pushing her, he fell into hysterics, trying to prove that he’s not to blame. He’s been screaming how it’s not his fault for what feels like hours. Nora has already got up and started playing again after some ice was put on her hurt knee. I grab Noah and pull him into my chest to give him a hug. I assure him that I’m not angry and that it’s not his fault. Just as he starts to calm down, I hear Nora fall once more. She was always the clumsy one.

I finally got dinner ready, and I’ve started on dessert. Nora has decided to help me bake a carrot cake while her brother watches some cartoons in the living room. (its one of those american style kitchens that look into the living room with an island and shit. My dream kitchen. Were not leaving a 5 year old unattended) “Okay, now we put 3 eggs.” I turn around to where Nora should be sitting peacefully. “Oh my god.” I say, covering my face. There she sits, covered in flour. I stutter some sounds of frustration before she says that she’ll go so in the living room with her brother to watch with him. “NO! No, don’t do that.” I say, grabbing her. “Just sit her for 5 minutes, honey.” I tell her, handing her my phone to play games on. 

I wipe my hands on my apron after closing the oven door and putting a 45 minute timer for my cake. I lift Nora off the kitchen counter and place her on the floor. I take my phone out of her hand. “Bath time!” I say to the twins. “No!!” Nora yells, her game being interrupted. I hear some grunts of disapproval from her brother. “Please? I have one bath bomb for you guys.” I attempt to compromise with them. They love the way the colors fill the bathtub. They immediately race up the stairs to the bathroom, knowing there’s only one available. In reality, I had 2, but the second one was very fancy and expensive and I was saving it for some moment Jude and I get some time alone. 

I walk into the bathroom to see the twins fighting over who get to use the bath bomb. I remove their clothes as they continue to bicker. I wrap them in their hooded towels and have them sit on the edge of the tub as it fills up with warm water. Once it’s filled, I take off their towels and put them both in the tub together. They eventually stop fighting and start playfully splashing each other with water. I giggle, happy to see them not trying to rip each other’s vocal chords out. I open the drawer under the sink and unwrap the bath bomb from its plastic. “Mama, I want to put it in!” Noah yells! “No! I want to!” Nora replies. I keep quiet, in an attempt to stay calm. They start splashing each other and end up wetting me in the process. They shut their mouths and look at me, covered in bath water. “I’m putting it in!” I say putting a stop to their argument. I drop it into the tub. The kids are in awe of the colors and glitter floating around in the water. 

Once they finally exited the tub, I got them both dressed. I took them downstairs and turned on the T.V. just in time to take out my cake from the oven. I leave it on the stove for it to cool down when I hear jingling at the door. I look up to see my husband walking through the door. The kids  jump up from the couch to greet their father at the door. Jude’s legs are attacked by two little kids hugging him. He crouches down and gives his two kids two hugs with his two arms. He leaves a few kisses and their faces before getting up. They walk back to the couch and continue watching their show. He walks over to me and pulls me into his side. I feel butterflies fly around in my stomach as he kisses my forehead. “Missed ya. How’s my baby?” He asks, rubbing my very pregnant belly. “Very active. Footballer’s genetics, for sure.” I say, referencing the very painful kicks to my ribs. “Whatever you made smells amazing.” He says. “Hmm. You, however, do not smell amazing. Please, go shower.” I tell him, kissing his lips and patting his chest. In my defense, ‘straight out of training in the summer’ is not the most appealing scent. He rushes upstairs to take a shower. Finally, I don’t have to deal with these kids alone. 

“Mama, please!?” Nora begs. “Nora, please. You’re giving me a headache. We cannot get a dog, because I will be the one taking care of it.” I try to explain to my daughter, my head in my hands. Where is Jude when I need him? “Yeah, and you’re too useless to help.” Noah adds. “Hey!” Nora yells. “Noah! That is not nice!” I tell him. “It’s true!” He says, expecting me to agree with him. “Is not!” Nora screams. “Is too!” Noah yells back. Nora jumps off of her place on the couch, onto her brother on the floor. A full blown bar brawl breaks out on my living room floor between my 5 year olds. “Hey! Stop it!!” I yell, trying to pull them apart. “Jude!!!” 

“Hey! Where were you!?” I scold my husband. “Hmm?” He groans, his face in a pillow. He looked so tired when he got in, so I assume he went to sleep. “I needed you!” I tell him. “Hmm… I’m sorry. Come cuddle with me.” I grumbles, grabbing my hand. “No!” I yell pulling my hand away. I look at the clock on the wall. It reads 6:00. Only an hour and a half until Jude’s family arrives. I make my way downstairs and finish icing my, now cooled, carrot cake with a cream cheese icing. I do some cleaning around the house before his family gets here.

“It’s so nice to see you guys! Jude’ll be down in a second. He’s just freshening up.” I say to my in-laws. I guide them to the table and sit them down. I have all the food laid out in a line in front of them. “Everything smells amazing, Y/N.” Denise says. “You really outdid yourself again.” Mark adds. “Uncle Jobe!” The twins come running into the room, and hug their uncle. “Well, what about us?” Their grandfather asks, holding his arms open for a hug. They run to their grandparents and hug them. “Sit down, kids.” I tell them. After a few arguments and a stern look from my side, they finally sit down. 

“Mum, dad! It’s so nice to see you!” Jude says, coming down the stairs. He hugs his brother and father then kisses his mum’s forehead. He sits down at his designated spot at our dining table. I serve everyone their first plate of food. I grab the kid’s plastic plates and put some food on it for them. “Mum, I don’t want veggies!” Noah says. “Me neither!” Nora adds. I look up at Jude who is too busy in conversation with Jobe to parent his kids. After some convincing and the promise of cake, I get them to eat all their food. At this point, the kids have argued with everything I’ve told them. Anything they could make difficult, they made difficult. I can see that Jude has taken notice of his kids’ behaviors. He hasn’t said anything yet, but I can see it brewing. 

“Y/N, this cake is amazing!” Jobe says with his mouth full. “Thank you. I had a little helper in the kitchen.” I say, poking Nora’s side. “I helped too!” Noah shouts. “I’m sure you did, Noah. Don’t yell.” Jude chimes in. “No, you didn’t!” Nora shouts louder. I let out a sigh. “Yes, I did!” The kids start bickering back and forth again. Jude looks at me then to his kids. Before he can say anything, I speak up. “You don’t have to argue, Nora. You both helped.” After a few stern looks from Jude, the twins quiet down. 

“How’s the baby?” Denise asks me. “She’s been okay. Very active. Very painful.” I say. “Mama, can we go play??” Noah asks, itching to get away from the adult conversation. “Sure, honey. Just stay out of the kitchen and the garden.” I tell him. I don’t want them playing anywhere near glass or knives, and the garden is too far for us to monitor them. Jude and I get caught in conversation after eating my carrot cake before we hear a crash and break. Jude quickly stands up, much faster than me, and makes his way to where the sound came from. Mark puts his hand on my back for support while I stand up. I waddle to where now Jude and the kids stand. He’s ushering them away from where I see my favorite mug broken. It’s the mug that Jude got me when I gave birth to the twins. I feel tears well in my eyes, a mix of pregnancy hormones and sentiment hitting me. Jude’s family senses my sadness and Jude’s anger. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.” Denise jokes. Jude subtly agrees and hugs his family, indicating to them that they should leave. Mark gives me a tight hug to tell me that it’ll be okay and they leave. 

Once they’re gone, I feel tears running down my face. Jude walks up to me and gives me a hug. He kisses my head. “So, who wants to explain WHY YOU WERE IN THE KITCHEN AFTER WE TOLD YOU NOT TO BE!?” Jude says loudly. He looks down at our kids who have their heads down. “You two have been nothing but trouble today. Am I right!?” He says. “Yes, dad…” The twins say in unison. “Your mum has been so tired lately, and you two have only contributed to that.” I look at Nora’s face to see her nearly breaking a tear. She’s not used to being yelled at by her daddy. “Jude-” I say, but am quickly interrupted. “No, these two need to face the consequences.” He says to me. He turns his attention back to his kids. “Go to your room. Now. And if we hear any fighting or bickering in there, you will NEVER hear the end of it. Now go.” He says, firmly. The kids stomp their way up the stairs and enter their shared bedroom. 

“I’m so sorry, love. I haven’t been there for you lately. I can’t even imagine how much trouble these two have been giving you. I love you.” Jude says, sitting me down on the couch. He picks up the large pieces of glass and then pulls out the vacuum. He starts vacuuming the hazardous pieces of glass on the floor. Once it’s all clean he cleans up the table and does the dishes. 

He comes back to the couch and sits down next to me. We discuss our kids' punishments and then he helps me up. He takes me up the stairs and into their bedroom. Both Nora and Noah are sitting on their respective beds quietly. “So, your mother and I have decided no T.V. for a week.” Jude breaks the news to our kids. “A week!?” “But that’s not fair!” The kids interject. “No ‘but’s. It’s not up for discussion.” I say. “Honey, go to bed. I’ll be there in a second.” Jude says. “I love you two.” I say, unable to resist. I waddle my way into my bedroom and sit on our bed. I swing my legs onto the bed. “I want you two to get up and apologize to mama.” I hear faintly before the door is swung open. The kids crawl up onto the bed and give me a hug. “We’re so sorry, mama.” Nora says. “We love you.” Noah adds. I pull both of them into a hug and kiss their foreheads. “I love you too. And it’s okay, honey. I forgive you. Now, go sleep. It’s late.” I tell them. They hug their dad on their way out and go to sleep.

Jude quickly grabs me and carries me bridal style. “Whoa! What are you doing?” I ask my husband. He carries me to our large and luxurious bathroom. He places me on the floor and starts removing both mine as his clothes. He takes my hand and helps me step into our hot tub, already filled with warm water, and turns on the jets. He opens our cabinet and takes out our expensive bath bomb and drops it into the water. I watch it fizz away as he gets in behind me. He places his hands on my baby bump and kisses my neck. “I haven’t been giving you much attention lately, have I?” I smirks as his hands move lower and lower. 

Wattpad: funkyfishfeet

DM for requests

[incorrectbatfam]

Could you please do some headcanons about Batmans cooking disasters over the years?

Age 5: Bruce puts tinfoil in the microwave. Alfred shakes his head and laughs

Age 6: He decorates a cookie so badly another kid cries until they throw up

Age 7: He tries to make a PB&J and the countertop is sticky for a week

Age 8: He tries to make Martha's chicken noodle soup but ends up crying on the kitchen floor surrounded by half-chopped vegetables

Age 9: He tries to impress a houseguest by recreating Thomas's mixology tricks (sans alcohol). There's still a stain on the ceiling to this day

Age 10: He makes green eggs. It's not on purpose. He's never even read the book

Age 11: He makes lava in the school cafeteria

Age 12: He tries to make cheese bread by drilling holes into a baguette and filling it with melted nacho cheese

Age 13: He melts a cutting board in the oven

Age 14: He folds a Pop Tart

Age 15: The chocolate-covered bananas he makes for the school bake sale come out looking very very wrong

Age 16: He's asked to drop a home economics class after mistaking refried beans for pumpkin puree in a pie

Age 17: He boils eggs in the carton

Age 18: He makes his entire freshman dorm evacuate after burning his ramen to ash

Age 19: He sculpts a severed hand out of meatloaf and is sent to the university psychologist

Age 20: He tries to bake a cake but doesn't have a cake pan, so he pours the batter right in the oven

Age 21: He tries Thomas's mixology tricks again, this time with alcohol. One of the tricks is flipping it over his head. He ends up losing part of his vision for 3 days

Age 22: He burns water. Harley Quinn is there. She still holds it over his head

Age 23: He packs his first patrol snack as Batman. It's a chocolate bar wrapped in a tortilla. The chocolate melts onto his gloves and he drops the tortilla down a sewer grate

Age 24: He makes an ice cream cookie sandwich to eat while he and Batgirl work on a case, but he's so engrossed in the work that he doesn't notice it melt until Babs points it out

Age 25: He enters the first annual Justice League cook-off and immediately gets banned from ever entering again

Age 26: He tries to comfort little Dickie Grayson by making fried cornbread from a book of Roma comfort recipes. It turns out about as well as you'd expect when you give Bruce Wayne hot oil. Bruce is genuinely bummed out, but Dick says it's the thought that counts

Age 27: Clark delivers a huge hunk of beef from the farm. Instead of waiting for Alfred to come back, Bruce and Dick try to break it down with a power saw

Age 28: Bruce and Dick's latkes are burned so badly they can play floor hockey with them

Age 29: He makes stuffed mushrooms. Badly. Like imagine the worst way you can fuck up a mushroom. It still won't compare to what Bruce did. And it's for a potluck with the West-Allens that Barry won't let him live down

Age 30: Bruce sees Dick struggling to make ravioli and he's like "Let me show you how it's done" before proceeding to make it infinitely worse

Age 31: Bruce sees a hungry Jason Todd and the first thing he does when they return to the manor is make a double-decker bread sandwich. That's bread with two more slices of bread in between

Age 32: Bruce packs Dick and Jason's lunchboxes when Alfred is out of town. They're supposed to include a salad. Instead, Dick gets a whole head of lettuce and Jason's is just a bottle of ranch

Age 33: He makes hot chocolate after patrol... but forgets the chocolate

Age 34: The Manor is too cold, so Bruce tries to warm it up by making Jason's favorite soup. His hands shake the whole time. Suddenly, he's eight years old again, sitting on the kitchen floor surrounded by scraps reminding him of his failure

Age 35: Jack and Janet Drake are out of the country again, leaving young Timmy by himself. Bruce decides to bring some dinner over. It's baked perfectly, but it's full of things that shouldn't be anywhere near a casserole dish. They end up ordering takeout and watching old detective movies together

Age 36: Steph walks through how to make waffles. Bruce is standing there, watching closely and taking notes. They still come out looking radioactive

Age 37: Cass asks if they can get smoothies. Bruce says he can make them at home. She gives him a warning look but that's not enough to stop him. Cue Bruce forgetting to put the lid on the blender

Age 38: Jason's first night back at home, Bruce tries to make that soup. It shoots out like a geyser and hits the lights. He's panicking until he hears Jason laugh, and then the soup doesn't matter

Age 39: Damian screws up hummus and he desperately tries to hide it so people won't see him as inadequate at something so basic. Instead of getting upset, Bruce assures him it's okay and offers to fix it. (He doesn't fix it, he just makes it worse)

Age 40: Bruce's birthday happens while he's fake-dead and away from home. He grabs a convenience store cupcake and sticks a single candle on it. Then he closes his eyes, pretends his family is around him, and makes a wish. (The candle droops and sets the hotel sheets on fire)

Age 41: Back at the Manor, he attempts to make lemonade on a particularly hot day. Selina offers to help, but Bruce declines, saying, "How hard can it be?" (Spoiler alert: it's not supposed to be full of seeds)

Age 42: Kate shows him a video of Canadians pouring maple syrup into the snow to make candy, so he gets her to boil the syrup so they can do it together. The problem comes when they can't control the pour and end up with a glob the size of Damian

Age 43: As part of a school project, Bruce and Duke try to deduce the Coca-Cola secret formula. Duke's teacher takes a point off because at the beginning he told her he'd taste the results, but there's no way he's doing that now

Age 44: The family gets together to make a full English breakfast Alfred's birthday. Each person takes a part—Dick has eggs, Jason has the grilled tomatoes, Tim has mushrooms, Duke has the bacon, Steph and Cass are tag-teaming the sausages, Damian just has to open a can of beans, and Bruce needs to put bread in the toaster. It goes South immediately when Damian reaches for his katana instead of the can opener

Age 45: Bruce puts tinfoil in the microwave. Alfred shakes his head and laughs

[bogleech]

For like the tenth time this year there's a viral twitter thread about how most people don't have an inner monologue or dialog and the people who do have those things overwhelmingly believe this "explains how stupid everyone is" because they assume thoughts only exist at all in the form of words or should come with words even when they're visual.

People without a mental "voice" from what I know have much MORE going on in their mind at once but not in an "intelligence" or "depth" kind of way it's just different and usually extreme chaos. I can't turn off the simultaneous music, non stop visuals, recollections and scenarios no matter how I try. Someone could be dying in front of me and my brain is replaying clips from Gumby cartoons while re-analyzing how to bake a meatloaf and wondering what life on other planets is shaped like.

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter IV

Strange Times

Warning: Explicit

The plan was solid: Piglet was going to eat some flowers (they didn’t taste bad, just weird, like cucumbers, and Piglet hated cucumbers!), then get a mild tummy ache, get his Elain all nervous and then guilt her into giving him chicken and rice. Once he was full of chicken and rice, he was going to be let out of his enclosure, having lulled his unsuspecting humans into a false sense of calmness and security. Then he was going to jump on the tree, topple it, and finally destroy all the shiny balls. He was sure he was going to get in trouble. But did he care? Nope. It would be worth it. 

What his plans did not include was a trip to the vet in the middle of the night. 

Or an angry dad, who was super mad at him, as he strapped him into his new dog seat in the car.

“Don’t think I don’t know that you are faking,” Azriel hissed. “You think I can’t spot a faker when I see one? I’ve played Neymar! That silly fucker dives like he is gunning for an Oscar. You are not far behind. There is not going to be any chicken and rice for you. No meatloaf,”

At that, Piglet expelled a horrified squeal.

“Yeah, too late to be moaning now,” Azriel rounded the car and got into the driver seat. “You done a fuck up, lad. Also, I don’t know how much this little excursion is gonna cost me, but it’s all coming out of your IG sponsorships and allowance. No more Fuji water. You gonna drink tap.”

-

But, let’s rewind. 

“But where are we going?” Elain wondered, as Azriel’s heavy palm squeezed the back of her neck and he gently guided her down the spacious hallway.

There was an open den, where the walls and shelves were covered with trophies, trainers, kits, medals and lots of Arsenal gear. 

“My little spot of pride and gloating,” Azriel joked.

“Nice,” she shook her head, but she was also proud. And therefore, she turned her head to him and said, “and I happen to think that you are brilliant.”

“Aww, baby,” he smiled. “Are you going soft on me?”

She blushed but didn’t answer, only asking, “so?”

“I want you to hear a song that I love. I think that it’s about us,” he told her, a bit bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“A song?” That was unexpected. Elain knew that Azriel was musically inclined–he always hummed something to himself, there was music playing in some manner whenever he was at her house, he made up songs for Piglet, and sang in the shower–she had to admit that he did it well and had a husky, gravelly voice, which had a lovely sexual quality to it.

“Maybe we can dance to it as well,” he proposed quietly.

“Oh, a slow song then?”

“Pretty slow, yeah,” he nodded, and opened the door. To his bedroom.

Elain swallowed, but put on a brave face and entered, though her hands were balled into little fists and he smiled to himself. 

It was a huge space–completely unlike her own bedroom, which was lage, but also cosy and personal. This was right out of a modern hotel catalogue–vast, comfortable, but without an identity.

“Yeah, I know. It needs a woman’s touch,” he chuckled, as she looked around the space. At least it had gorgeous views. 

“None of your lady friends stuck around to redecorate a little?” she asked, her tone a bit tart, as she stared at the oversized luxurious bed. 

“Oh, is my matchy a little bit jealous?” he teased, spinning her around carefully, until she was facing him, her expression sour.

“Not. At. All.”

“Hmmm, you sure pretty girl?”

“Why would I even care?”

He shrugged and then threw himself across the bed, while propping his head and watching her. 

“I’d care!” he argued. “For example, I care about your Lord Eris. I don’t like him very much at all. Not at all. In fact, I think he is a bit of a cunt.”

“Azriel!” she gasped, whirling to him.

He shrugged. 

“What? I am jealous. I am jealous that he got there first. I am jealous that you loved him…kind of,”

“Kind of,” she murmured to herself. 

“I am jealous of all the time he’s had with you that I didn’t,” he continued. 

“You’ve spent all the time with me since you’ve met me,” she reminded him.

“Still ain’t enough. Still doesn’t change the fact that I can’t stand the cunt,” he said roughly.

She bubbled her lips and shrugged, “well, doesn’t matter. You don’t need to worry. I’ve not heard from him in weeks and he didn’t even wish me a happy birthday. I think we can conclusively say that it’s over.”

Azriel smiled, his smile a little too knowing, and then declared, “Fucking brilliant. I am more than happy to hear that.”

“Meanwhile,” she bristled at him, “what about your girlfriends? Mr. Orgy.”

“Ehhh,” Azriel waved his hand dismissively. “My orgy days are long behind me. Don’t have girlfriends. Well…one. She is standing in front of me now. And don’t worry, no one’s been in this bed except for the lonesome me.”

She stared at him so hard, he thought smoke was going to pour out of her ears. 

“I ain’t lying, beautiful,” he raised his hands in futile defence. “Okay, maybe a little,”

“A-ha!”

“I think Cass slept here after shoulder surgery, when I played his handsome nurse,” he recalled, smirking.

At that, Elain’s expression softened and she cooed, “You nursed him?”

“Someone had to. He was as dramatic as Pinky when you break his treat into halves.”

“That’s very dramatic,” she agreed solemnly. 

After a pause, where they looked at each other, Azriel pulled out his phone and Elain asked, “What about this song you wanted me to hear?”

He searched and quickly found what he was looking for. A slow, mellow melody came from the speakers. Then, a woman’s voice sang:

It’s gonna take a bit of work

Oh work

Now that you are here, 

Oh work

Because people come and go

But I think you should know

That I, I think this will work

It’s gonna take a little time

But with you by my side

I won’t let go, till I got what’s mine

Because people come and go,

But you should know,

That I, I’m taking it slow

There was something haunting about the simple rhythm and when Azriel got up from the bed and slowly approached Elain, wrapping his strong arm around her waist and pulling her closer, she succumbed to the flow of the song immediately. Azriel’s scarred palm squeezed her own and he placed it against his chest, as they swayed steadily to the song.

This was their song. Nothing about them and their relationship was quick, and everything took work. Nothing was quick, other than Azriel Night falling in love with Elain Archeron. Because that took no time at all.

When Azriel kissed her at last, he was so slow. So indulgently slow, as his body moved languidly and gracefully against hers, sweeping the two of them in a gradual circle around the room. Elain closed her eyes, giving herself over to the music, but also wholly to him. His lips were hot on her mouth, the kiss lingering there for a while, moving with assured intention. He pulled her closer to him, her breasts smashing against his chest, as she melted in his embrace, her arms circling his neck instinctually, while he made her back arc in his big hands, as he leaned against her. From the small of her back, his warm hands travelled up, and he squeezed her waist and then appreciatively ran his palms over her sides, up and then down, until he splayed his fingers over her bottom and gave each cheek a generous squeeze. 

“Oh,” she gasped into his mouth, but he only cupped her ass in his palm and pressed deeper into her soft flesh. 

If there was a true ‘ass man’ then Azriel Night was the definition of one.

Their kiss was unhurried, but it felt otherworldly in its dreamy hotness. It was like with every kiss, another barrier was broken. Azriel chipped and carved at her defences with lustful, unyielding determination, and Elain clung to him with needy desperation which might not have been attractive with anyone else, but with her, it only ignited the spark of blind, all-encompassing love within him. As he moulded his mouth impossibly closer to her lips, breathing and drinking in her oxygen, he thought for a moment that if they’d cut him right now, he’d bleed Elain. That’s how deeply she was ingrained in his very soul.

Elain stroked his neck with her hot little hands, her nails lightly raking over his skin, pressing into his collarbones and then gripping his broad shoulders. 

When the song ended, it switched to the sexy intro of ‘Beast of Burden’, the riff of Keith Richards’s  guitar completely unmistakable. And Elain loved it. Moving her hips within the circle of Azriel’s hands, she gyrated to the tempo, her head buzzing from the champagne and for the delicious taste of Azriel’s lips. She wasn’t sure what she was doing exactly, but she pulled on his black hoodie’s zipper and bared his sculpted, incredible torso with flourish. 

Azriel tore away from her mouth only to kiss down her jaw before sinking his teeth into her neck. Elain figured that he needed to ‘refresh’ his nearly-permanent hickey that he sucked into her skin. 

“I have to feel you,” he growled into her neck.

“What?” she breathed, half-drunk from their kiss.

He pushed her back towards the bed and all but collapsed on his knees in front of her, his hands on her thighs, rubbing them slowly up and down. 

“Let me give you another present for your birthday,” he pleaded, his voice urgent. 

“What present?” she breathed, though Azriel’s rough, large hands slipping under her knit dress and resting on the bare skin of her thighs, while he fingered the clasps of her garter, which held her knit stockings, told her enough of what he desired. He groaned, as he caressed her fleshy thighs, his palms slipping between them, parting her legs slightly. Elain acquiescent, allowing him to touch her in a manner in which he’d never dared to before. 

“Fingers or tongue?” he asked, his voice rough. Before she could answer, he dragged her dress high up, baring her legs, her stockings, and finally her thighs. Elain’s chest was rising and falling erratically, her breathing heavy and rapid, especially when Azriel rubbed his knuckle over her flowery panties. He shrugged off the hoodie completely, tossing it on the floor and Elain was faced with his absolutely incredible body. Unable to stop herself, she reached to touch the stacked cobbles of his abdomen, carved with an almost obscene precision beneath his bronze skin. The sculpted shoulders and his big, muscular arms flexed and gleamed in the sexy buttery light of the bedroom, thick, black swirls of his tattoos spilling from his shoulders down to his arms and over his pecs. She couldn’t resist tangling her fingertips in the dusting of soft dark hair beneath his navel–and he was right when he teased her about it. Even back then, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. Or from his ridiculously defined Adonis Belt which lewdly pointed straight down towards his cock. It was inescapable.

He didn’t wait for her final decision, and instead, gripped the side of her panties. Before she could even squeak, he ripped the underwear at the seam and crumpled it in his fist, before stuffing them in his back pocket. 

Pressing his forehead to hers, he smiled at her with encouragement and then thrust two thick, long fingers straight into her tight, tender hole. All at once. Rough. The noise that Elain made was something like a pathetic, shocked rasp, while her pussy responded to the invasion with an erotic, almost profane squelch, sucking his fingers deeper. 

Elain’s head lolled back and she fell on the bed, shuddering visibly, her thighs tense, while Azriel settled between her legs, opening them up brazenly and exposing her soft, wet, pink slit. Elain’s moan was loud, explicit and it was obvious that she relinquished all control of the situation, opening her legs further, even without him prompting her to. Azriel smiled and kissed her knee, soothingly stroking her with his free hand between her legs. His eyes were literally glued to her pussy and he was physically incapable of looking anywhere else. It was the prettiest, most perfect pussy he’d ever seen–and he’d seen many. It could be that he was completely pussy blinded right now, and seeing Elain’s for the first time was almost a religious experience. 

She felt tight and soft against his fingers, enveloping his hand greedily, like she’s been hungry for him, or maybe for someone to pay attention to her.

Elain felt so incredibly full with only his fingers inside, and yet, the beautiful torture of having him in her was worth the discomfort. He moved slowly, but firmly, exploring, stretching, spreading her with appalling, delectable vulgarity. God she loved it. Fucking loved it. That hand was brazen and strong, and when the tips of his fingers found her sensitive her front inner wall was, she bowed on the bed, digging her fingers into the plush duvet. 

“Keep like this,” he ordered, “so I can finger you like you need.”

How he knew what she needed, Elain had no idea, but she obeyed him, legs falling open, her pussy fully exposed, as he pressed on her inner thigh with considerable force, keeping her in place. His other hand began to move rhythmically, with deft, knowing movements inside her hole, and she bit her lip so hard, she tasted blood. The intensity of the movements was almost painful, as he took from her with glutinous need, but she couldn't even keep her eyes open from the savage pleasure that she was now experiencing.

Azriel’s voice, hypnotic and breathy with lust, whispered, “is this good, beautiful? Getting what you need?” and then he leaned over her and kissed her deeply and filthily. His fingers never paused or changed their perfect rhythm and Elain clutched the rock-hard muscles of his shoulders, raking her nails down his arm.

She couldn’t explain what he was doing, but he hadn’t even touched her clit, and yet she was arching and shaking like she was being exorcised. But his fingers…god, his fingers. He was so horribly ruthless too–pushing a third finger into her, burrowing deeper and deeper, while whispering, “you are going to be a good girl for me and take it all in your sweet, tight pussy for me?”

She made some inhuman noise and Azriel laughed darkly. The prodded further, stretching and pumping her hard and oh-so beautifully, half of his heavy body covering hers, as he watched her reactions and listened to her loud moans. When she didn’t answer, he murmured ‘yeah you are, gorgeous” and even if Elain rebelled internally for being so predictable and so easily broken, she couldn’t argue, and succumbed to his demanding hand that filled her so completely. Azriel kissed her, slow and tender, his lips in complete contrast with his hand. 

“Can you take one more, sweetheart?” he asked, voice husky, eyes dark, perspiration covering his chiselled chest. Elain grabbed at him just when he pulled his three fingers out and the emptiness had her gushing with her sweet nectar. He breathed heavily, inhaling the scent of sex and her essence, and then leisurely licked his fingers until dry. Elain was panting, watching him half-lidded, desperately needing him back inside of her, So she didn’t ask, but took his hand and brought it back to her plump, bare mound which leaked like an overripe fruit. 

“I want more,” she told him simply, biting her lower lip.

He kissed her brow and nodded,

“I know, sweetheart. Here’s more.”

And he plunged four fingers inside of her with one firm thrust.

“Elain,” he groaned, his own eyes closing, as he felt around inside of her. “You are so fucking tight, baby. I can’t wait for fuck you for real. My cock is gonna go nuts!”

He slowly pulled his fingers back, almost all the way out, but the soft walls of her pussy squeezed him and dragged him back in, before he pressed his thumb into her clit.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned.

Elain felt like she was being torn apart by his savage hand, but the pain was so glorious, and the way it mixed with pleasure only had her opening further for him. She was no longer concerned with any propriety, all her modesty having flown out the window a long time ago. Here she was, turned inside out, groaning and panting, holding most of Azriel’s huge hand inside her pussy and loving every second of it. 

Yeah, this was a gift that kept on giving. And how grateful she was that Azriel decided on giving her another present today. 

His pace was merciless, four fingers inside, pushing and rubbing at her tender inner walls, two fingers curled and massaging that wondrous spot inside of her, while his thumb worked her clit roughly and unforgivingly. 

“Bite me, Ellie,” he offered and Elain didn’t know that that’s what she needed. But when she latched onto his neck and bit him hard, feeling the throb of his blood beneath her tongue, she realised that it was perfect–the taste of his skin, the scent of his body, musky, lightly spiced with cedar, the strength of him–all beneath her tongue.

“That’s good,” he approved, moaning softly with his own pleasure. “Do you want to come for me, sweetness?”

Did she want to?

Yes, the smouldering heat of her body, the spasming muscles of her pussy, the gorgeous pressure on her clit all told her that she was about to explode like never before. But part of her yearned for this to continue for as long as possible. And Azriel was patient. So patient with her, even though he was basically fisting her at this point. She never knew that she’d be able to stretch like that, to accommodate almost all of his hand up to the wrist, where only his thumb remained firmly pressed to her clit. God. It was positively crazy. It hurt and it ached and it was blissful and intense and the sounds that her body emitted–all the slurping, squelching, groaning, moaning–would’ve been completely indecent in any other situation. But today, Elain didn’t care. She guessed that Azriel was the type of man who liked his woman undone. Feral. Unbound. Uninhibited. 

“Azriel, Azriel,” she screamed out, jerking upright, unable to stop, or keep from thrashing against him.

“Say my name, Ellie. Let it all out.”

Fuck, did she ever. An orgasm to end all orgasms. Azriel’s unique gift, his personally crafted orgasm that only he could’ve given to her. Only he had the skill and the unflinching ruthlessness to do this so well. 

Elain came and came, her hole sucking him in almost fully, her voice hoarse from screaming. She probably looked possessed, but she didn’t care. And Azriel was probably going to be evicted, but it would be worth it. It was so brilliant–waves of pure ecstasy crushing all over her body, every muscle inside of her alive with pleasure and tension. 

And then she blacked out.

Legitimately blacked out. 

…Azriel was chuckling.

Elain was being jostled about, something around her getting tugged and pulled. 

When she opened her eyes, while moaning, she saw his smiling face hovering above her.

“What...what happened?” she mumbled, disoriented.

At least the jostling began making sense–Azriel was pulling off her dress over her head. 

Yes, she was still wearing her dress. 

“I might have semi-murdered you with some light fisting,” he said innocently.

“Light?!!?” Elain screeched, a nice, but definitely acute soreness radiating from between her thighs. “You call this light?!”

He was laughing, while he manoeuvred her out of the dress, folded it nicely and left her only in her bra and the stockings, which had descended all the way down to her knees. 

Then, Elain watched him get up from the bed and unbutton his trousers, pulling the belt out of its loops in one crazy, half a second move. She stared, open-mouthed, while he tugged the trousers down and she tensed.

“Sweetheart,” he chuckled. “You pussy ain’t ready for my dick tonight,” he assured her. “I’ve given it a nice gentle pounding,”

“It was not gentle!” she protested.

He stepped out of his pants, got rid of his socks, and stood there, in all of his almost-naked glory. 

That body.

It was almost unfair how stunning his form was–so long and so firm, every tendon and muscle on display, gorgeous lean sinew wrapping around his muscular thighs and the robust shoulders.

“Didn’t I tell you before that I was rough?” he reminded her, crossing his arms on his chest and looking down at her sprawling in his bed.

Elain fucking Archeron, in his bed. 

It was incredible.

Her pussy bare and wet, because of him. Her body, naked and glorious, for him. Her fucked up hair, her smudged mascara, which made her look extra sexy and wanton. The way she looked so cosy and comfortable on his sheets. 

He couldn’t comprehend it. That after all this time, months of courting and cajoling, or slow, baby steps, they were finally here. Elain naked. Happy. Satisfied. Actually passed out from the orgasm that he gave her. 

If he’d known then that he should’ve cherished that moment even more he would’ve. But he didn’t. So he just enjoyed watching his girl in his bed.

Her cheeks turned pink under his scrutiny and he tracked her eyes staring at his raging boner beneath his black boxers. 

“It’s out of your hair tonight, sweetness,” he assured her, palming his cock for emphasis.

“You don’t want me to…” she swallowed nervously and he chuckled.

“Choke on this dick?” he clarified.

She reddened ever more and he thought that it was completely adorable.

“Well, yes,” she nodded.

“Not tonight. It’s your birthday, after all.”

Elain looked down, at her bare stomach, her bare pussy, the swollen, glistening folds, remembering how just a few minutes ago he had his hand in her and squirmed, feeling embarrassed.

“May I have something to wear?” she whispered. 

Azriel landed on the bed next to her and brought her face closer to his, before kissing her lips.

“Baby, you ain’t got nothing I haven’t already seen,” he reminded her, his smirk salacious.

“Well…ummm…still,” she tried, her little toes curling, as she tucked her legs to her belly.

“But I like you naked, in my bed,” Azriel wrapped his arm around her and drew his thumb over her skin which pebbled with gooseflesh.

Elain threw her arm over his stomach and snuggled to him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“What for?” he asked curiously.

“The best birthday ever.”

He smiled,

“Better than Annabel’s?”

“Yeah. Better than that.”

Elain didn’t know that this was the happiest birthday. She didn’t know that she needed to cherish the moments with this man whom she loved. She didn’t know how things would change.

When Elain woke up, she was disoriented. 

She knew where she was–at Azriel’s, because she wasn’t that far gone–but she had no idea what time it was. She was still nearly naked, her pussy lips splayed over Azriel’s thick thigh. She’d drooled all over his bicep–very sexy–but he didn’t mind, and kept her bundled up next to him like she was his plushy toy. Outside was dark, with night lights twinkling all around. She carefully extricated herself from Azriel’s heavy embrace and slipped from the bed. She tiptoed to the bathroom, closed the door and turned on the lights. The bathroom was as opulent as expected–enormous everything, shower so big, you could wash a car in there, a long sink that resembled a trough, a gorgeous bath tub, and even a sauna tucked in the corner. Elain looked at herself in the mirror. Yeah, she looked a proper state. Naked. Her hair a terrific mess, as were the remnants of her makeup. She washed her face, scrubbing at her eyes, then saw Azriel’s hair brush and with no alternatives, combed her hair, before breaking the handle of the brush on a mega tangle. Well, that was just wonderful!

There were bruises on her thighs, and she was sure that it was from the grip of Azriel’s fingers. Her pussy lips were swollen and overly pink. It was obscene and sexy and she didn’t mind the sight of it. Of course she snooped behind one of the mirror panels, finding nothing incriminating, other than an alarming number of face and hair products. Well, that was a surprise. Mr. Night had a skincare routine apparently. There were nice French creams, some very expensive, some cheaper: moisturisers, retinol, anti-wrinkle. Serums, oils, argan and olive oil extracts, Japanese and Korean hair care products, fancy tubes of lip balms from Sweden. 

“Well, don’t mind if I do,” she muttered to herself, as she lined the products on the counter and began sniffing and trying them out.

She was so into it, she didn’t even hear the door open and Azriel padding into the bathroom.

Before she could even begin to lie and weasel out of her predicament, Azriel dropped on his knees behind her and wrapped his arm around her thighs. He rubbed his stubbled cheek over her bare behind, before latching onto her ass cheek with his teeth. 

“Awww!” she cried out, but he only laughed, but also licked away the pain that his teeth caused.

“That’s for breaking my brush on your wild horse mane,” he told her.

“I do not have a horse mane!”

“Right. More like an unkempt lion’s mane.”

“It’s still my birthday!” she complained. “You have to be nice.”

“Oh yeah? How do you figure?” he asked, his hand caressing her hips, both of her bum cheeks before he nosed below and buried his face in her pussy.

“Ohmygod! Azriel,” she moaned, gripping the trough sink, when his tongue swept from one hole to the other. She’d never been licked like this. And when his tongue poked boldly at her butthole she thought she was going to pass out…again. To imagine that Eris or Graysen would do something like this to her was laughable. Eris barely ever did any oral, his sex drive never very high, so much so that he didn’t even ask for oral himself. 

Azriel, ever the biter, bit her puffy nether lips, bit her ass again, lazily licked over her hole, pushing his tongue inside, before scooting back on his hunches and sitting on the floor, crossing his long legs at the ankles.

“I can’t believe you are not just a snooper, but also a user,” he scolded her humorously, shaking his head like a disappointed parent.

“Why do you have all this?!” she demanded instead.

“Don’t change the subject, snoop!”

“I was simply trying out your weirdly huge collection of face products.” she huffed.

“Turn around,” he told her.

“Why?”

“Turn around,” he repeated. “I want to see your pussy.”

Elain blushed like crazy and he watched her squeeze her thighs tightly.

“I can’t,” she mumbled.

“Why?”

“I am not used to this….this familiarity…you are still,”

“If you say ‘a client’ you will make me angry, Elain,” he said sternly.

She bit her lip, not saying the word, but Azriel saw it on her face and sneered with annoyance, before getting up.

“No, don’t be mad,” she begged, grabbing his hand.

“Well, then don’t be daft,” he told her. “Decide what you want from me and for yourself,”

“I know what I want,” she argued.

“Are you sure?” he cocked his brow at her.

“You are being very cross,” she pouted.

“Then give me a reason not to be cross,” Azriel said instead. “Sometimes, I find you very frustrating, Elain.”

“I am sorry,” she whispered guiltily. 

“Why won’t you just let go and be mine?”

Before she could answer, they heard an audible moan.

Azriel rolled his eyes and groaned, “Oh fuck. Now what? What did he do?”

Because the moan was definitely Piglet’s. It was a touch dramatic, which made Azriel wonder what the hell was happening and whether the pug got to a bottle of whiskey or something as questionable as that. Wouldn't surprise him though. 

“Oh my!” Elain cried out, “it’s Piglet!! What happened to him?”

Before Azriel could even respond, she was running off, barefoot and naked, her perfect ass bouncing with every step. Azriel followed, because he knew that he had to see it for himself.

-

Piglet was in his enclosure, laying on his side, moaning. Flowers from Elain’s bouquet littered the floor around him. They’d left the vase on one of the side tables near where he ended up. Well, apparently, he was so starved for snacks that munched on a bunch of flowers and petals, tearing them off the stems. He only ate the heads and only specific flowers. 

“Piglet! What did you do?!” Elain wailed. “Oh my god. Is he going to die?!?!”

“Of course he is not going to die,” Azriel sighed. 

“How do you know?” she was almost in tears. “We need to go to the vet!”

At the word vet, Piglet immediately quieted down and the moaning ceased just like that.

“See, he is faking it,” Azriel nodded towards the dog. “He probably just wants chicken and rice or something,”

At those words, Piglet not only stopped moaning, but also raised his head, giving Elain a hopeful look and a little bark of encouragement. 

“You don’t know this!” she argued.

“I do. I know men and he is a man. He is faking it to get attention and to get the food that he wants. He wants his woman–you, in this case–to cook for him and feed him.”

“He ate half the bouquet!”

“Yeah, probably on purpose,” Azriel noted, to which Elain rolled her eyes. 

At first, things were going well and according to plan. Piglet gave a pretty good moaning performance and soon after he began, he watched his Elain run into the big room. He wasn’t sure why she was naked, but maybe she was drowning herself for fun, like humans tended to do. He trusted his Elain with his own drowning, but he wasn’t a big fan in general, though he enjoyed it when she soaped him up and scrubbed him with a brush. But the drowning…he didn’t like so much.

Then dad mentioned ‘chicken and rice’ Piglet whooped internally and gave himself a high four. But then the words ‘vet’ began spoiling his hopes. What the hell? He didn’t want to go to no vet! Defeated, Piglet watched dad get his phone and start doing something on it, while Elain picked him up and carried him around the room, rocking him like he was a baby.

“Baby, you know it’s Christmas Eve,” Azriel kept saying, as he dialled what felt like the fifteenth number for a vet clinic in and around Canary Wharf. No one was picking up–not surprising, because it was around 11 pm and most outgoing messages stated that the clinics would be closed for the Christmas holiday.

“Can’t we just give him a laxative? So he can shit flowers?”

“This is not a joke, Azriel!” she exclaimed, stroking Piglet’s head and kissing him.

It’s not that Azriel didn’t want to help Piglet–even though he was convinced that Piglet wasn’t as sick as he pretended to be–but Azriel wasn’t trying very hard, because he was currently entranced by the fact that his gorgeous Elain was walking around his home, circling the vast expanse of the flat basically completely nude. He sat back on the sofa, threw his legs on an ottoman and made calls, while watching Elain and her bare pink pussy. Just like that. He didn’t even have to ask for it. It still blew his mind and he knew it was going to take him some time to get to terms with what was happening in his life and that Elain was almost his…but he’d have to deal with that later.

“Yes, yes,” he was surprised when someone finally answered. Elain stilled and looked at him. “We have a pug who ate some flowers…no…not garden…from a bouquet. How old is he? He is two-ish. Oh…I don’t know. He is a big pug. Short legs though,” at that, Piglet offered him an unimpressed side eye. Amazing, how Piglet miraculously understood everything whenever he wanted to. “I don’t know…he is kind of chunky. I’d say 13 kilos? Just under 30 pounds…Well, like I said, he is a big pug. No…not fat. Just bigger than normal pugs.”

He is? Elain mouthed, looking at Piglet.

Azriel nodded. How did she not realise this before? Piglet was only slightly smaller than a Frenchie. He was the biggest pug Azriel’d ever seen, with short little legs. 

“Alright. Thanks mate. We’ll be right over. Yeah, yeah…we have money and insurance too.”

-

Christmas

Piglet raced down the wide hallways and sitting rooms of the palace. 

He wasn’t exactly sure whether this was actually a palace, but this was the biggest house he’s ever been in. He came here a few times a year with his Elain and with Fey, and some of the times Aunt Nesta came along as well. Mostly, he loved it because it had a huge park around the building, and in the summer, there was a pool, where he could splash and where the sisters swam and played with all kinds of toys. Pool was different from the drownings that he was subjected to, and therefore, he loved the pool. And then, there were the meals! Oh, the wonderful meals, where he got chicken and steak, where he ate sweet potatoes, and rice, he ate ham and hard boiled eggs for breakfast, he drank the best water and had so many treats, he couldn’t even count them (okay, he didn’t know how to count). There were fruits and berries in unlimited amounts and pup cups whenever he wanted. Oftentimes, grandpa came as well, and Piglet spent most of his time with him–they went for walks, they played, Piglet could run with all the sticks, he could zoom as much as he wanted, and then grandpa gave him treats, or let him nap in his study. 

As he ran along, Piglet noticed a whole lot of big trees, with lights and shiny balls on them. In fact, the whole house was decorated with shiny things and he was contemplating how he was going to get to some of them.

He and dad came to an agreement earlier in the day.

While Elain was sorting out insurance information at the vet’s, Azriel told Piglet the following,

“Not only do I know that you were faking all of this, so you could get food and attention, I also saw how you’ve been looking at the Christmas tree.”

At that, Piglet made a show of looking indifferent and almost surprised.

But dad, unfortunately, was too smart.

“Here is how it’s gonna go,” Azriel continued, also making a show of watching Elain, because he was always watching her, instead of what he was actually doing, which was scolding Piglet. “You will leave Ellie’s tree alone. You are not going to jump on it, poop under it, or try to tear any of the ornaments off. By the way, they are glass, and it won’t be fun for you, if you do. It’s mum’s tree, she loves it and you will remember that.

“In exchange,” he continued casually, “I will ask the vet not to stick anything up your butt.”

Piglet swallowed audibly.

He hated the vet so much.

And he especially hated it when they put things…up there. Which they did, almost every time. Thinking backwards, he was now regretting the whole flower-eating plan. It was stupid and he shouldn’t have done it.

“The tree stays, and nothing goes up your ass,” Azriel concluded. “If you attack the tree, I’ll tell the vet that he is free to do whatever he wants.”

Piglet quickly barked in agreement. The tree could stay.

“Wise move,” dad approved. 

True to his word, Piglet didn’t get anything stuck up in his butt. They gave him a pill, he had some diarrhoea in the park and that was that.

Mid-day, they all got dressed up and piled into the car. 

Piglet had to wear a tuxedo today–his black dungarees, a white shirt and a bow tie. Dad looked very similarly to him–he wore a tuxedo as well. Today, they were like a real father and son duo, and Piglet liked that. His Elain was dressed so prettily, in a beautiful dress, and she couldn’t touch him, because the dress was so fancy.

There was tension in the car, which Piglet didn’t understand. They humans spoke, but their tones were clipped and there was something going on that he couldn’t quite put his paw on. So when they reached their destination, he was very happy to get out of the car and run to find grandpa, because he was tired of the drama.

-

Rosehall.

That’s what the country seat of the Duke and Duchess of Velaris was called. Rosehall Manor.

Manor was an understatement of the century. It was an enormous estate, with over 10,000 acres of land around it, and a stately mansion with 140 rooms. Though technically it belonged to the current Duchess of Velaris, which was Nesta, the ownership documents stipulated that the house and the land belonged to all the female members of the family. The estate was shared equally between the three sisters, with all of their female cousins having access to it as well.

The family always celebrated Christmas with a formal Christmas Eve dinner–hence the tuxedos, followed by a more informal Christmas lunch the following day. 

It’s not that Azriel was unfamiliar with this level of wealth and old money extravagance, but this was something straight out of Downton Abbey or something. Legions of servants, footmen, maids, butlers, valets greeted them as he helped Elain out of the car. Once unclipped from his dog seat, Piglet dashed inside the manor, feeling perfectly adept with all this finery and not giving a fuck. Azriel envied him. 

Elain took his arm, a lovely smile plastered on her face, but he knew that things between them were tense, at best. She didn’t show it though. When they entered the foyer and then the reception hall, Azriel saw Rhysand and Feyre, posing on the grand staircase, while professionally-looking photos were being taken of the two of them. 

Feyre wore an opulent gown of heavy pale silk with sheer sleeves and neck, embroidered with all kinds of gems. She looked regal and bridal. And happy, draped over Rhys’s imposing, tuxedo-clad form. 

“Happy Christmas. Helios Day, Hello Magazine,” a man approached them, slick and professional, handsome and curious. He handed out his card, which Azriel absently thrust into his pocket.

“We are here to take Christmas photos of Lord and Lady Darling. Their nuptials were so unexpected–but we are lucky to have snagged the first interview and the first photos of them as a married couple.”

He then turned to Elain and said,

“Lady Elain, do you have a few words for the article? And then, if you don’t mind, we’d like to take a few photos of you and Mr. Night,”

Azriel was surprised how quickly the man recognised him, but he supposed that that was his job. 

“And then of course the Duchess of Velaris and Mr. Cassian Night as well…”

Azriel hid his smile. Cassian hasn’t even gone on one date with Nesta, and yet here they were, being photographed as if they were a couple. Apparently, Hello Magazine just christened them as one, and was going to declare it to the world. He wondered how well it was going to go over with Nesta. But Nesta had invited Cassian to Christmas dinner here, at her family home. She didn't have to, but she did act like he was something more than a guest, so perhaps, she wouldn’t be affronted by the insinuation that they were a couple.

Speaking of Nesta–she appeared in the reception hall, with Cassian looming behind her.

She looked beautiful, in a blue gown with a lace overlay, which fit her gorgeous body like a glove. 

The three sisters were pulled to the staircase, and photographed together. Feyre–the bride, Nesta–the blade, and Elain–the flower. 

He might have been biassed, but Elain looked the best. She also wore a lace gown, with a very intricate pattern, in a sophisticated shade of pink, and with a full skirt. She definitely looked like his little princess tonight. 

-

Dinner was a traditional, if elegant affair held in the Walnut Dining Room, and thankfully, Azriel was seated next to Elain. The Darlings were here too–meeting of the families and all–and it seemed like Sir Charles and Lord Darling knew each other from before, and found each other companionable and there wasn’t any odd tension to contend with. Nesta and her father played hosts, he recited grace and then dinner was served. 

There were platters of chilled seafood, blinis with caviar, and cold oysters to start off with, and bottles of champagne. The ubiquitous roast turkey was the main course, but it was stuffed with apples and chestnuts and tasted spectacular (for turkey). Indulgent dauphinoise potatoes, and roasted vegetables made Azriel think that he’d soon need to go on a diet. He was barely training, not playing, and eating apple crisps, and cheese, and bacon sandwiches every day because of Elain. He loved it. Loved every moment of it, but still…And speaking of cheeses–then the cheese course arrived and…well, he couldn’t say no. Lastly, there was trifle and Eton Mess for pudding.

“Interesting menu,” Azriel commented, attempting to start a conversation with Elain.

“It’s been the same since Victorian times,” she answered, sipping her coffee. “Curated by my great-great grandmother,”

“The infamous Elain,”

“Indeed. This is what the Duke of Velaris liked to eat, and what she enjoyed as well. It’s been the same for generations.”

“Not bad. Not bad at all. Beats Brussel sprouts and weird bread sauces.”

“She loved trifle, and he loved Eton Mess, so here we are.”

And then Elain smiled at him and Azriel realised that he lived for that smile.

-

“What’s wrong with you tonight?” 

Cassian’s booming voice sounded even louder in the glass enclosure of the Winter Garden. 

“I think all things considered, everything’s been going pretty well. Nes even agreed to get her photo taken with me. So I guess I am now ‘the boyfriend’.”

He snickered to himself at the idea.

“I think it took her by surprise.”

“But she didn’t say no,” Azriel noted. 

He had loosened his bowtie and took off his jacket. He’d come here after dinner, leaving the revelry behind, because guests began playing charades and Rhys even got behind the piano, urging everyone to sing along to Christmas carols. 

“So, what is it?” Cassian pressed, seating himself in a wicker armchair, not so close to Azriel that it would feel like a confessional, but close enough to listen.

Azriel shook his head with annoyance, and Cassian waited. 

He knew his brother.

Azriel would speak only when he was ready. And that is IF he even decided to speak. The man was not exactly in tune with his sensitive side. 

“Hey beastie the pug!” Cassian suddenly cried out and Azriel knew who he was talking about. “My little wingman–wingpug–got me together with Nes at Fey’s birthday. Come here, boy.”

Piglet trotted to Cassian and Cassian picked him up and laid him on his lap, and as soon as he did, Piglet promptly fell asleep. 

“I am alive! I am dead! I am asleep! I am running! I am dead again! I am asleep!” Cassian muttered, and Azriel couldn’t help but smile. That really was Piglet in a nutshell.

Suddenly, Azriel began speaking, and Cassian stilled, listening and not making a sound. 

“I don’t know what to do, Cass. Like she is driving me crazy. I am so consumed with her, I can hardly think straight. Everything is her. Every word, every gesture. I over-analyse all of it until I give myself a headache. If I don’t talk to her, I stalk her social media, to see if she posted anything…I have this photo of her that she sent me a while back. She was wearing my jersey in it, it was before that game with Liverpool. And I’ve looked at it so many times now, I think I’ve poked a hole in my phone screen. 

“My thoughts…I scare myself sometimes. If she ever said no to me, if she tried to break it off, I think I would kidnap her, Cass. I would steal her and I would keep her in a cage,”

“Whoa,” Cassian breathed.

“I know. And I’d feed her my dick when she got hungry.”

“Az,”

“No, you don’t understand. She is everything to me, Cass. I want to hear her voice first thing in the morning. I want her face next to mine. I fucking want her to submit to me and be fucking mine!”

“I am assuming we are talking about Elain,” Cassian said carefully.

“No. About Kevin!” Azriel snapped.

“Okay, okay. But–I don’t understand–aren’t you with her already? Aren’t you two dating?”

“We are…kind of,” Azriel agreed. “But it’s like she has this wall around her that I can’t seem to penetrate. It’s tug and pull all the time. She is so skittish with her feelings,”

“Elain?” Cassian confirmed in disbelief. 

“Yes! Elain. You think only Nesta is all prickly and cold? You’d think Elain would love all the lame couple things! But no. The moment I push even a little bit, she pulls back, as if she is scared…I’d never hurt her!”

“But others have,” Cassian said reasonably. “Wasn’t she engaged once? And the bloke cheated on her? And her current one–he is AWOL too,”

“I am her ‘current one’!!!” Azriel snarled viciously.

“Okay, sorry, I know,” Cassian said quickly. “That’s not what I meant, you know,”

“That’s exactly how she thinks as well! That somehow, this isn’t real. We are not real. That one day, I would walk away like those other cunts. But that’s not me. She’d have to cut me out of her with a knife,”

“Mate, enough with the graphic imagery today!” Cassian raised his arms defensively. “I just ate.”

“We had a fight today,” Azriel muttered. “A really stupid fight,”

“Aren’t most fights stupid?”

Azriel ignored him.

“What happened?”

“We had to take Pink to the vet,” Azriel explained. “And she texted me something in the car and when it popped up on my phone, she saw what she is saved under,”

“Which is what?” 

“Mrs. Night.”

“Oh, well…” Cassian didn’t know how to respond to that. 

“And she flipped out!” Azriel snapped. “She yelled at me and said that it’s too soon, that she didn’t ‘sign up for this’, that we’ve only known each other for a little over two months, and that I am–and I quote–her client!”

Cassian sighed. He sympathised with his brother, but he also understood Elain.

“Maybe you are moving too fast and it’s scaring her?”

“Oh, fuck off! This is not what I need to hear,”

“Maybe you need to give her a bit of space,”

“Out of the question,” Azriel said sharply. “I am not giving her any fucking space. She is mine. She was born to be mine. I love her and I will make her mine. She will be Mrs. Night. She will carry and birth my children. And we’ll die on the same day.”

“Well, I am glad to see that you are not all weird and intense about it,” Cassian said helplessly.

Azriel buried his face in his hands, shaking his head.

Cassian gently lifted Piglet off his lap and picked him up, cradling him to his chest. Then he got up from the chair and proceeded to give the worst piece of advice that he could possibly give.

“Why don’t you stop obsessing and do what she asks of you. Don’t push. Dial back the intensity like 134%. If she asks you for something, just do it, and show her that you’d be there for her. That when she needs you to do something, you’d do it.”

“Like I haven’t been,” Azriel groaned. 

“Just keep going. Don’t talk about babies and how you’ll make her Mrs. Night. And I’d keep quiet about the cage thing too.

“It’s not a big thing, you know. It’s just a little fight. Everyone has those. Elain just need a bit of time.”

“So, do what she asks?”

“Yeah,” Cassian shrugged. “Do what she asks.”

-

**The song that Elain and Azriel danced to is called “Work’ by Charlotte Day Wilson

The Archeron sisters Christmas dresses (left to right: Feyre, Nesta and Elain)

[vinceaddams]

you know how most recipes that go in a loaf pan can also be done in muffin tins if you bake them for a slightly shorter time? it works for meatloaf too, you can just make meatmuffins.

[saltygilmores]

Methods of Death I Have Imagined For Dean Forrester, Pick Your Fave (Updated for 2024)

(Note: he really did threaten to lay in front of a train in one episode but I can’t remember which one. Pretty sure it was in response to Rory rejecting him for a date or not wanting to watch his softball game or something like that. naturally)

[possessionisamyth]

can’t read even 1/4 of the het ships in this tag because people put all the women into such tradwife roles it makes me want to vomit, so here are my headcanons when it comes to cooking abilities

Jill Valentine- Military rationing because it’s less time consuming. She cooks once and makes enough food to eat on for two weeks. She will eat that soup/beans&rice/chili for every other meal until she runs out. All her recipes are “throw everything in a pot and let it simmer overnight” style. Anything that has her sauteing, baking, or frying will get burned since she gets distracted doing other more important stuff.

Rebecca Chambers- Does not cook. Can not cook. Has not figured out how to cook. Take-out Queen. She can find a good restaurant or cafe in any area and this skill was honed on purpose. Hates long wait times for food though, so if she can she’ll send someone else to get her food/drinks.

Claire Redfield- Cooking level is tolerable as in she can follow easy recipes when there’s a video to watch, but may get an ingredient or measurement wrong and wonder why the dish tastes off. Anything more complicated than meatloaf or country fried steak is her nemesis.

Ada Wong- Fucking hates cooking. Can cook something decent with the littlest variety of ingredients, but hates it so much. She hates the mess during prep time, the mess during cooking, and the clean up afterwards. Hires a personal chef where she can or goes out to eat. (Before anyone disagrees saying she doesn’t trust strangers this much, consider she has a lot of money from her jobs and most people do not actually know who the fuck she is.)

Sherry Birkin- Substitution Queen. Loves to cook, and loves to experiment with food even more. If she starts cooking and finds she’s missing an ingredient, she’ll look at other recipes to see if she can replace it with something else. Will finish eating her food experiments or new recipe attempts even if they’re a little bland while constructing ideas on how to make it better next time.

Ashley Graham- Cooks college student food even into adulthood. Lactose intolerant but ignores it.  Her mom couldn’t cook, and no longer having a personal chef left her in the wild to figure things out. She will put together any strange combination of food for the taste and calories. She mixes cereals together. She mixes plain yogurt into her ramen. She will lovingly add a slice of cheese on top of the most white looking piece of baked chicken before adding hot sauce and sandwiching it between 9-grain wheat bread for the sake of getting some kind of fiber in her body.

Ingrid Hunnigan- The planner. She can follow almost any recipe without too much difficulty, and always makes sure she has all the ingredients before she starts. She cannot improv or substitute ingredients to save her life.

Sheva Alomar- Teaches herself how to cook a new recipe or better a current recipe when she has the time. Has 5 go-to recipes she’s mastered which everyone loves, but no consistent recipe book. Will default to military rationing where she’ll make a big pot of something and eat on it for a few days until she gets bored of it and goes out to eat. Forgets about ingredients she purchased and only used a little of, and they go bad making her feel guilty.

Helena Harper- Frozen meals or box meals where she adds a “secret ingredient” into whatever she cooks. The secret ingredient is always cayenne pepper or bouillon powder.

Mia Winters- Can cook only the most white american food possible, but thankfully is not afraid of spices or spicy food. Hamburgers, steak, casseroles, tuna salad, and so on, she can manage pretty well. Any “foreign” food is lost on her. The first time Ethan brought home an avocado with plans to make guacamole, he caught her using a potato peeler on it.

Let me know if you’d like a similar list with the men of RE.

[vyncentevelyn]

I cannot for the life of me get this idea out of my head…so…

Like we all know Steve, the beautiful single mother of 7, can cook. Has learned to cook a variety of meals and treats. Knows everyone’s favorites.

Max loves roast with mashed potatoes and glazed carrots. Erica loves quiche. El loves French toast with fresh strawberries and lots of syrup. Mike loves tomato soup and grilled cheese made with soft buttered rolls. Dustin loves chicken nuggets with homemade honey mustard sauce, and Steve knows he prefers steamed broccoli even though he won’t admit it. Lucas loves eggplant Parmesan with diced olives in the marinara. And Will loves homemade chicken noodle soup, for which Steve makes fat egg noodles and his own broth.

Steve even knows the older members of The Party’s favorites. Nancy loves vegetarian curry, the spicer the better. Argyle loves chicken pot pie. Jonathan loves meatloaf with buttery peas and roasted sweet potatoes. And Robin, love of his life, loves soft scrambled egg over rice.

He knows all their favorite snacks too. Learns to make potato chips, mini pizzas, pigs-in-a-blanket, popcorn. Always has fresh fruit and veggies with a variety of homemade dips. And when Hellfires starts playing at his house, he learns all of the members favorite snacks too.

He even makes an actual 7 course meal for the end of a Hellfire campaign for Will’s birthday. It impresses everyone.

And none of them complain about the desserts. He learns to bake cookies, brownies, cinnamon rolls, cakes. Anything they ask for, he delivers.

And Eddie, he loves all of it. Will eat anything without fail. Tells Steve after every meal it was his favorite. And when pushed about what is *actually* his favorite food Eddie will say something like, “Babe you could serve me a phone book covered in gravy and I think it would be delicious if you made it.”

So Steve figures Eddie just loves food or there’s something only Wayne knows how to cook a certain way and that’s Eddie’s favorite.

But one night Steve is exhausted. It’s just Eddie and Steve alone for dinner. And Steve just doesn’t have it in him to actually cook. So he makes a box of Kraft mac and cheese. Does the bare minimum. Boils the noodles adds salt. Mixes in the butter, milk, cheese powder. Sprinkles in a tiny bit of nutmeg. Adds cracked pepper. Globs some hot sauce in it. Then serves it.

And Eddie loses his goddamn shit over it.

And Steve can’t comprehend it at first. All of the extravagant meals and this…THIS is what Eddie flips out about.

Steve ends up making a lot of Kraft mac and cheese.

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

Hello Smalls, everything good?

It's time for a simple one, mostly because im baking a cake right now. Who do you think cooks the best in the squad? It's has to be hard living in a world where probably all the food is canned, artificial, or has... dubious ingredients.

Egg Sanmos doodle because yes.

I'm chillin

anyway hear me out. it's Hank

Doc made it through college off of cheap ramen and whatever happened to be free at the time. he can boil water and that's it, better things to do than play ratatouille in the kitchen

Sanford's standards for what is and isn't considered edible are. not great. he grew up in a household that Did Not waste food even if it was burnt or didn't taste great. he's more worried about meeting protein/calorie requirements than how it tastes

Deimos has eaten plastic on several occasions just to piss someone off and lives off of sandwiches and anything small and easy to transport. much like Doc, he has better things to do and considers eating itself to be inconvenient and annoying

now Hank, on the other hand, simply does not do things that don't spark joy. he's always looking for the next dopamine hit and food is no different. if he doesn't like it, he won't eat it. world's pickiest eater so he taught himself how to cook lest he be subjected to "meatloaf" made by Sanford. also he pretends he's killing things when he's chopping ingredients

Victor can cook but he doesn't

[fandom-nursery]

Steven agere headcanons

Regresses between ages 0-8

Starts regressing pretty frequently during the events of steven Universe future 

It was very confusing and scary when it started happening because it was just another thing happening to his body that he didn't understand. Once he knows what is going on 

His regression was mostly involuntary for a long time but Steven is slowly learning methods to manage his age regression and does have times when he voluntarily regresses now as well 

Steven can physically regress his form to that of a child fitting whatever age headspace he is in

Depending on if he’s regressed to an age where he can speak he is very talkative 

When regressed Steven really lets himself cut loose and relax and be the child he didn’t really get to be growing up. His personality is still the same but he’s more relaxed and able to focus more on his own needs rather than other peoples 

Even in older headspaces he will nap as its one of the times he can usually sleep without nightmares 

He loves to be picked up. Being around the gems made him pretty used to being lifted and tossed around and he finds it comforting and fun to be in someone else’s arms 

He loves creative activities like art projects or baking or building sand castles on the beach. He also really loves getting to do the things he didn't get to do as a child. 

Going to Connies house and having her take care of him all day like he was any normal human child is really nice for him 

Steven has always eaten a lot of junk food and pre-prepared meals like pizza and he does still crave those foods on occasion while regressed however he as well as his therapist have decided that having more consistent homemade and healthy meals would be good for him. He does in fact really enjoy meatloaf.

He is very good at trying new things while regressed and has discovered a lot of new favorite foods that he continues to enjoy while out of headspace 

He pretty much always needs his face and hands wiped down after eating even is someone else is feeding him 

Steven is spoiled rotten for toys while regressed. His dad, connie, and the gems all love bringing him new plushies and games and figurines in audition to the ones he still has 

His favorite are his army of stuffed animals that he has created complex family structures for and displayed carefully around and in his bed 

He always packs his cheeseburger backpack with possible items he might need for any age. He brings it with him whenever he regresses voluntarily and keeps it handy just in case he regresses involuntarily. Having it helps him feel prepared 

He’s not particularly picky about clothing when small however since he does physically change sizes when regressed he does have several sizes of clothing on hand 

He does use a paci especially in his younger headspaces  

On the occasion that Steven regresses to under the age of two he does usually need diapers. He maintains a little more control over himself than a regular baby would due to having all his memories but physically he is a baby  

The gems (including lapis, peridot, and bismuth) know about his regression. His dad and Connie also do and, by extension, so do Connie's parents. They are all very supportive 

Steven did not want the diamonds to know about his regression at all unfortunately they found out by accident when they visited while he was regressed. They continuously bothered him about wanting to be there to take care of him until he had a breakdown and Connie and the gems stepped up to get them to back off. It’s still a bit of a strained topic with them though   

Steven honestly could almost do with less caregivers. Connie is who watches him the most followed by Greg. If he is in an older headspace then the gems are allowed to watch him since they helped raise him and know a bit about what to do. Lapis, peridot, and bismuth are only allowed to babysit and only if at least one other caregiver is present because they do not know how human children work at all 

Steven calls Connie by her name and calls Greg dad. He uses the gems names (or as close to their names as he’s able to say) most of the time however there have been one or two times when he’s slipped up and called both pearl and garnet some version of mom. They had a really long talk when he was out of headspace and he also discussed it with his therapist. He confided that he does see the gems as mothers in some ways but feels like fully calling them mom usually brings up too many complicated feelings about Rose for him and everyone else. 

Discipline was something he requested since it wasn't something he really had before. Connie modeled to the gems and Greg what an effective time out should be and that's what happens now when he breaks a rule. He rarely does but the structure is good for him and he likes knowing exactly what's going to happen if he does mess up

[faithums]

ABOUT ME…

Yo yo yo. 148-3 to the 3 to the 6 to the 9, representing the ABQ, what up, biatch?!

introduction— hi call me faith! i’m the girl notorious for bestowing gojo with the title of ‘paul hollywood’. (sorry paul i promise i love the bake off mate.)

just to pre-warn you i’m rather boring.

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 unfortunately | she/her/hers prns. | female

college kiddywinkle (second year) | biology | chemistry | psychology | maths

like wtf do i put here? hello i’ve ran out of facts

omg i can make this as if i’m in 2020 bare with…

i’m learning german on duolingo if that adds anything xoxo

js wanted to say in big up engooland 18 is considered to be an adult! for the uneducated americans out there/hj how sad it must be to not be able to drink until you’re 21 BRINF ME TJE BOOZE

likes—

food (im the biggest back ever), dogs, musicals, human biology, BREAKING BAD, jujutsukaisen, genshin (im srry), diluc, drawing, call of duty, sims4, minecraft, makeup, rollercoasters, talcum powder, horror movies, camping, pedro pascal, seals, noodles/ramen same difference, brainrot, baking, better call saul, academic validation, danganronpa, funkos, mini skirts, guardians of the galaxy, markiplier, tan, rengoku my baby

dislikes—

cheese, velvet (material), crowded places, horror movies (love hate relationship), lack of inspiration/motivation, insects, hypocrites, blueberrys, CATERPILLARS, people who only care for themselves, people, interpret your own ending (no you do it for me, lazy), rude people, any form of faff (drama) leave me out of it, overstim environments

fave animes—

jujutsukaisen, chainsaw man, death note, ouran high school host club, nana, haikyuu, how not to pick up girls in a dungeon, attack on titan, bungou stray dogs, angels of death, sk8 the infinity, toilet bound hanako kun, promised neverland, bnha, demon slayer, tokyo ghoul, seven deadly sins, devilman crybaby, kakegurui, spy x family, spirited away, howls moving castle, assassination classroom, horimiya, food wars

a snippet into my headphones🎧— in no particular order…

hotel calafornia— eagles

skyfall— adele

pray for me— the weeknd, kendrick lamar

i’m outta love— anastasia

ride— sir mix-a-lot

•honourable artist mentions: bruno mars, chase atlantic, lady gaga, james marriott, olly murs, eminem, sade, willow, chappel roan, lana del ray, mitski, megan thee stallion, beyoncé, sza, whitney houston, the supermen lovers, mariah carey, meatloaf, maroon 5, billy ocean, icp, gorillaz, p!nk, childish gambino

༯ ily pooksekins