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nelapanela94 · 1 year

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY @yakaaamoz this one is for you!!!

EVERYONE SEND BIRTHDAY WISHES TO MIA!!

WC: 2k

TW: fluff, domestic fluff, post war, a smidge of smut (nothing explicit)

You and Levi celebrating your first Valentine's Day after the war.

Dot, dot.

“Levi, you’re too slow!” you chrip and wedge between him and the railing, making the five-story building rumble with your zing and agitation.

He’s left alone, amid the flight of stairs between the first and second floor, with the lingering clatter of your boots. Grumbling, he rolls the eyes, fixes his hat and hobbles after, his hand tightening around the handle of the walking aid. He meets the startled neighbor from the 201 and nods apologetically. “Sorry, but it’s the last episode.” Levi shrugs.

“It’s ok.” The man chortles. “My mother loves that play too.” A cigarette dangles from his lips. He shoves his hand into his pockets and climbs down the stairs. “Good evening, Mr. Ackerman.”

You stumble into your apartment, scuff off your shoes, tripping and clinging to the wall. A gush of pain blows up in your toe, and you curse at the coffee table for happening to be in the middle of the living room. You don’t have time to cry, anyway; the pendulum keeps swaying; the seconds tick. You plunge on your knees before the intricately carved wooden box, and static crackles as you turn the dial, the tiny red line moving back and forth between the numbers, the scratchy noise vexing and probing your patience.

Finally, the sultry voice that gives life to Werner Fischer hones in the last scene of yesterday’s episode and, splaying a hand on your chest, you heave a sigh of relief. You huddle on the couch and stretch your wool sweater over your knees, expectant. Tonight, Sarah will choose between her fiancé Werner, the wealthy, extremely good-looking and perfect future son-in-law, or Thomas Meyer, her family’s gamekeeper, and the love of her life since they were fifteen.

The notes of the Wedding March purl in, and Sarah’s journey to the altar commences.

“No, Sarah, don’t.” You mumble, clenching the hem of your sweater and biting your lips. Meanwhile, Thomas is waiting at the train station. Steam hoots, people blather, iron wheels hurtle by and screech. A letter rumples in his hand.

The door thuds and the foyer lights flicker to life. Levi takes his time. He hooks the cane on the nail, then shimmies off his trench, his jacket and slips them on the branches of the tree-like hanger. Then his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. His spine cracks as he groans down onto the bench.

Maybe he is getting old.

But aren’t the forties supposed to be the new thirties? That’s what the guy in the hair dye add says.

Deliberately, he takes off his shoes, fishes yours with his toes and pushes both pairs under the seat where they belong.

That goddamn play has become your new vice and sometimes he regrets buying the damn radio for your last birthday. Nah. He loves seeing you smile. He’ll never forget the spark in your eyes when music blared into the house for the first time, and you beckon him to the dance floor even though he was still doomed to the wheelchair. The candid and carefree way you react to the small things in life fascinates him.

He limps to the kitchen, ties the apron on and rummages through the scanty content in the fridge, diving into the drawer of forgotten veggies where your attempts for a healthy lifestyle lie.

The box of chocolate bars rests in plain sight.

He unwraps one, furtive enough to go unnoticed by the acute ears of a telegraphist. Even though you’re too absorbed in the play, he cranes his head over his shoulder, squinting. Nothing. You’re rocking with apprehension, riveted to the radio.

The bomb of textures and flavors explodes in his mouth, the chewiness of the caramel mates immaculately with the crunchiness of the wafer.

The foil falls into the bin, and he wipes his fingers clean.

The heater hums; the windows rattle with the sharp and crispy wind.

Onions, tomatoes, garlic; mouth-watering sizzling. Through the chop chop chop, he strains his ears to catch the final scenes. Though predictable, like your romance novels, he’s engaged in the plot too, listening in secrecy while making dinner. Now Sarah runs across the town in her hefty wedding gown, crossing her fingers for Thomas not to hop in that train. He leans over the countertop, scrapes the cutting board into the pan, his hand threatening to solder to the knife handle.

The trains whistles to depart, and Sarah’s harrowing pleads stop the machine.

You’re clapping and sniffling and wiping your tears; your nails most likely reduced to the roots.

And they lived happy ever after.

“Did you like it, Levi?” You chime from the living room, stoking the coals in the fireplace.

Shit.

You turn off the radio and pad on your kitty socks to the kitchen, your eyes red and swollen and the hem of your sleeves tinted in a darker shade of taupe. “Next week starts a new one, we should listen together,” you say, flitting like a hummingbird from pantry to pantry to spoil dinner.

“I’m not into that crap.”

You raise a brow, hands hooked at your hips.

“I wasn’t.” he grunts, and your peck on his cheek softens him.

You stride around him, filching a chunk of carrot, sniffing the sauté, and turn toward the fridge, while Levi rakes an excuse in his head he’ll need for when war drops the question mark.

“Levi! That was the last one!” you pout.

But he shrugs and sighs, bullet-resistant to your whining. “You said you wanted to lose some pounds; I was helping.”

“You’re saying I’m fat.” Your jaw drops to the floor.

He opens his mouth to concoct his defense and closes it immediately, sewing his lips into a thin line before he, involuntarily, wreaks havoc in your kitchen. He knows that whatever he says, you’ll twist his words against him, transmute them into a dagger. One doesn’t fight battles that are already lost.

Levi surrenders, turns around, and you trap him in your arms, pressed between your body and the granite edge. No time to hunker down in the trench. You kiss him, slipping your tongue in his mouth, unannounced, cajoling sweet sounds and little grunts, savoring him; his not so shy hands teasing with the hem of your sweater.

You pull apart, holding down his hands, his lips dewy and pink, his eyes glazed with endearment. “You taste good,” you purr against his lips, running your fingers through his hair, some strands dusted with the white of age.

Dot, dash, dot, dot. Dash, dash, dash. Dot, dot, dot, dash. Dot.

In the pot, water burbles to a boil, the ring of blue fire fizzing. You prattle about your day, tangling and combing out his soul with your sweet voice.

☺

He lids the leftovers of the stew, and you help him to the couch. He snuggles in your arms, in his safe place, his ear pressed on your heartbeats. His solace and reassurance. His purpose. His beacon.

You caress his hair, fondly, with the adoration of a devotee raising their palms in hallelujah.

“Levi.” You whisper.

“uh?”

“Do you want to be my Valentine?”

“You’re what?”

“Valentine.”

He raises his head, scanning your face. “What is a Valentine?”

“I’m not so sure.” You tap a finger on your chin, gazing up and blushing. “I heard the girls in the office blathering about chocolates and roses, but I was too embarrassed to ask. It seems they celebrate love, the fourteenth.”

Levi ponders. Now it makes sense why so many lovey-dovey mawkish couples have been swarming the tea shop since the beginning of the month. Does he look that dumb when he’s staring at you?

He jots in his head to have Gabi and Falco garland the shop with red and white.

He smiles. “I’ll be your Valentine. Whatever that means.”

Your eyes glint, and you plant kisses on his head. Rosemary sheds from his hair.

☺

You tear off the 13th from the calendar; but the elation soon dwindles.

The restaurants are bursting at the seams. At Montolivo, the line snakes around the block, and Levi’s gammy leg is giving up. The wind blows slashing your cheeks, and people’s breaths amass in a cloud.

“I’m sorry, Levi.” You mutter halfheartedly and disappointed, “I should’ve made a reservation.”

He winds an arm over your shoulders for support, “and I should’ve brought the damn chair.”

After the war time rolls by leisurely. You take your time, shamble down the street festooned in red hearts, the throngs splitting to give you way. Matching coats and scarves. There’s nothing else to worry about other than what you’re going to eat for lunch.

A little boy, around eight with his hair slick-parted to the side, stops before you and hands you a rose. You know him. Every Friday, he and his mother place a message for his father who works at a mine two hundred miles to the west.

“You’re pretty,” he mumbles. His plump cheeks flush, his hands tethered behind his back. He scuffs a foot on the pavement as you pat his head. “You’re so sweet, Matty. Thank you. Happy Valentine for you too.” You bend and drop a kiss on his head, and all his face heats with red.

“Who is that?” He points at Levi, both glowering at each other.

Her official Valentine. Brat. But Levi bites his tongue before he screws up and ends up sleeping in the couch tonight. Thankfully, Mrs. Russo saves the day. She calls Matty and he waves goodbye to you, before slithering through the crowd.

Jewelry stores gleam; marbled chocolate truffles are dusted with gold. The air is dense with the perfume of roses, and beams of sun pierce the mantle of clouds like search lights.

“Let’s grab a large pepperoni. There’s a Malbec waiting for a special occasion at home.” You come up with a quick plan as your stomach grumbles in reproach.

Why do we wait for special dates to use the good stuff? Life slips through our fingers as we wait for the right moment, and then it is too late.

You eat the cheap greasy pizza on the finest china that had never seen the daylight, sloshing a glass of wine back and forth, laughing between hiccups. The gramophone’s flower spills the chords of Debussy and fills every corner of your home.

Home.

You and him.

You eat in silence, with the notes climbing and swirling down in the comfortable kind of silence lovers share.

“Some fresh moon flesh, my sweet valentine?” He opens his mouth, and you stick a wedge of soft camembert. The runny interior, smooth and silky against the pleasantly bitter rind. There’s always a wheel around; you just cannot have enough cheese. “Wine burns fat.” You always say and pour to the last drop. Levi’s cheeks flush, his dimple at full display, crow feet wrinkling the corners of his eyes. He’s mellowed with time.

The cardboard box is blotted with cheese, bestrewn with dried oregano and dough crumbs. In the middle you place a can, the expiration date says it’s fine, but the label has been ripped. It could be anything: beans, sweet corn or spaghetti o’s. You cross your fingers for it to be something sweet.

You find out together. With the tip of a knife, you flick the lid open, and Levi smiles. “Peaches?”

“Peaches.”

You dip two fingers in, tow one slippery half, and nab it, humming with delight, the sugary juice dripping on your hand. Levi laughs, shaking his head and follows you. Sunrise sliding down his throat.

Sweet shops and pastry shops were overflowing with lovers you couldn’t wrest out a slice of pie.

“I’ll do the dishes later,” you say as your pile up the plates in the sink. But you’ll forget and Levi will do the washing up.

You give him a hand and haul him to his feet, then turn around, and he wraps his arms around you, his chest against your back. “Ready?” You clasp your hands on his, holding tight.

“Yes.”

The fireplace crackles, sputtering fire flakes, the flickering glow lapping your naked bodies in bronze. Intertwined like Sinding’s lovers. He presses down into you, your belly flat on the carpet, your name falling in whispers onto your hair.

Writhing and panting. He kisses the spot under your ear, his fingers stroking the knobs of your spine. The rose feels shy and jealous, and her petals unfurl toward the window.

Dash, dot, dash, dash. Dash, dash, dash. Dot, dot, dash.

He taps a sequence of dots and dashes on your shoulder. And you smile. All week you’ve been encoding, sending, and decoding the same array for strangers. Three words, eight letters. Twelve short beeps, twelve long beeps, strung in a pattern that’s already carved in your head.

“I love you too, Levi,” you breathe, your body quivering with pure bliss.

His hand finds yours, wedding bands glinting, and he gives you a squeeze.

You are his safe place, his quiet corner, his sweet surrender. You two are the best love story. Better than any cheesy radio play.

And he mutters, “I want to be your valentine forever.”

Tag list: @stygianoir @lamees004 @lovolee3 @notgoodforlife

If you want to be part of the tag list, fill out this form.

#Levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman/reader #levi ackerman/you #Levi ackerman attack on titan #levi aot #levi attack on titan #aot #attack on titan #snk #snk levi #aot Levi #Levi ackerman fic #Levi ackerman x y/n

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postwarlevi · 1 year

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AOT characters favorite Halloween candy

Levi - Whoppers. He likes the weirdest stuff sometimes, and gets them all to himself.

Hange - South Patch Kids. First sour, than sweet. The most fun candy ever!

Erwin - Bit o Honey. Old school dad candy for Erwin. Also likes Mary Janes.... yep.

Miche - Runts. Loves the fruit explosion. Would pick orange as his favorite if he had to.

Eren - Snickers. Hangry Eren? Throw him a Snickers! Caramel, peanuts and chocolate does a body good.

Armin - Twix. Likes the crunch and can save one for later.

Mikasa - Smarties. Give her a roll and she'll pick them out one at a time and make it last.

Jean - Skittles. He likes both regular and sour. Green is his favorite, the lime version!

Connie - Candy Corn. He will argue with anyone who doesn't like it.

Sasha - Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. This girl knows what's up. Likes the big cups best but will take any!

Historia - Red Hots. She likes her spicy candy and has a high tolerance level.

Ymir - Three Musketeers. Fluffy, light mousse interior. It makes her happy.

Annie - caramel Ghirardelli squares. She wants the best or nothing at all.

Reiner - Lemonheads. A classic that lasts long enough that he doesn't have to eat a handful.

Pieck - Mounds. Loves dark chocolate and coconut. Will accept Almond Joy as an alternative.

Porco - Jolly Ranchers. Is addicted to them. Always has some. Watermelon and fruit punch are his favorites.

Niccolo - Peanut M&Ms. Doesn't care for other versions. Maybe it's the peanuts?

Colt - Kit Kat. Classic crispy wafer. Eats one at a time, cannot just bite into the whole bar.

Gabi - Nerds. Sugar. Sugar sugar sugar! Eats directly from the box. Prefers that to the rope.

Falco - Gummy Bears. Plays with them before he eats them by making gummy armies (don't tell Gabi).

If anyone wants to do another version with other candies or ones they hate go for it and tag me! I'd love to know your list :)

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for-camilla-hect · 8 months

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One time I went to the Atlanta bodies museum on a school trip and lemme tell yeah when the bones are preserved like that and have ✨osteoporosis✨ they look a little crispy cronchy. You know it tastes like those vanilla cream wafer stick cookies. This is what the government doesn’t want you to know

forbidden bone snack yum yums… they are kept from us. storm the museum. find our birthright. partake.

#anon i just want you to know i am so thankful for u #i just cried so hard i almost threw up and seeing this immediately a switch flipped #now i want bone snafks

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drustvar · 1 year

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Ch. 14: Sulky Sunrise

Although the morning dawns bright and cheerful, Rosie feels anything but.

WC: 1,493 A/N: I love getting to write Rosie when she's having anxiety. It's very cathartic! Ao3 Link in reblog || Full text under cut

When Rosie awoke, she was disappointed to find that she was not in her own bed and that Julian was not beside her, but that she was instead back in her room at the Palace. The cheerful sunlight that filtered through the curtains or the trilling birdsong outside her window did little to improve her mood. Jasmine smoke drifted lazily through the air from where the incense sat smoldering on the vanity. She had no idea who kept lighting it; she could only assume it was the same servant who came in to make her bed whenever she left in the morning. She was starting to hate the smell.

She had also started to take issue with the wardrobe the Countess had provided. It wasn’t that she found the finely tailored clothes ugly—they were quite beautiful. But they weren’t hers . Dozens of tailored outfits made of rich, unfamiliar fabrics that hugged her curves closely and nipped in at all the right places. Rosie worried that if she flexed her shoulders the seams would pop. The longer she spent at the Palace the more she was beginning to feel like the Countess’ little dress-up doll. She hated it.

|| ‘ Please, let this all be over soon ,’ Rosie thought as she made her way down to the dining room. Just as she reached for the gilded handle, a servant burst through and almost ran into her. “Oh! Magician! Terribly sorry,” the servant hurriedly apologized as they tried to keep from dropping any more papers. The poor young man seemed even more frazzled than she was. “It’s alright dearie,” Rosie said as she caught one of the wayward envelopes and handed it back to him. “What’s all this for, though?” “RSVP’s, accommodation requests, you name it!” The servant said as he straightened his uniform. “It’s been so long since a Masquerade’s been held, everyone’s going nuts to make sure they get a spot.”

‘Shit ,’ Rosie thought as she brushed past him. ‘The Countess wants it held on the Count’s birthday…and she wants Julian hanged just before that…we’re running out of time! ’ The very thought made her stomach turn.

Stepping into the dining room was like stepping into a hive; servants hurried to and fro with arms full of envelopes and scroll cases. At the very center, seated at the head of the table was the Countess. She was reading over a stack of correspondences, somehow as composed and serene as ever. At her right was Asra, who smiled warmly at Rosie as she slid in next to him. Faust was coiled around his goblet sharing his water. Rosie reached over to brush her thumb over the serpent’s head.

“Ah, Rosie,” The Countess glanced up from the crisp, patterned paper in her hand. “You’re just in time for breakfast.” “Did you get enough sleep?” Asra asked as his pinkie brushed over her hand. Rosie nodded as she poured herself tea. She was already feeling the pinpricks of anxiety crawl along the back of her neck and her arms; if the Countess was this deep into plans for the Masquerade, she would be expecting a verdict soon. Even though the Countess had said she wanted to hold a fair trial, Rosie had the horrible suspicion that anything but Julian being sent to the gallows wouldn’t be enough for the court. She politely declined the fancy pastries a servant offered her, too worried she would vomit if she tried to eat.

“Rosie didn’t get back from the shop until very late.” Asra’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “It’s a long walk.”

She murmured in agreement as she sipped her tea. For some reason she didn’t want to meet his eyes.

“It’s a pity you didn’t ask for a carriage, Rosie,” The Countess said as she carefully signed one of the many papers in front of her and handed it off to a servant. “The Palace would have been happy to provide one.”

“Oh, uh, that’s alright. I’m uh, claustrophobic,” Rosie said. She took a crispy wafer from Asra’s plate and dunked it in her tea, trying to seem nonchalant. The way the morning sunlight filtered through the expensive curtains and shiny, artisan windows made her feel like she was under a magnifying glass.

The Countess made a sympathetic noise. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Not yet. There’s a few things I couldn’t find,” Rosie said, trying not to tug at the lace on the fancy tablecloth. The sooner she was out of the Palace and back in Julian’s arms, the better. “Oh my, really? Perhaps you should organize your shop better, if it is that hard to find reagents in it.”

‘ And what’s that supposed to mean? ’ Rosie thought as her lip curled.

Asra must have sensed Rosie bristling next to him, because he quickly interjected before she could say anything snappy. “That’s my fault, your ladyship. I never make Rosie clean up after herself.”

“Oh? I never clean up after myself?” Rosie managed to laugh as she lightly pinched Asra’s arm. “Hmph. Pot, meet kettle.”

The Countess smiled, amusement glittering in her eyes as she watched the two laugh. “Now,” she paused to take a drink from her cup. “I’m told you’re quite knowledgeable about magic, Asra, and that you are Rosie’s teacher.”

“Oh, Rosie’s always been pretty talented with her own kind of magic,” Asra said. “She knows her way around herbs and their uses in magic far better than I do.”

“I see. How interesting,” The Countess said. “And how refreshing it is to be surrounded by real magicians. I’ve little patience for the common frauds that litter the fortune-telling tents at the market.”

Rosie bristled again. The fortune tellers in the marketplace may not have been as skilled as her or Asra, or had any formal teaching, but she knew them to be good people. Good people who were trying to earn a living in a city that was still struggling to thrive. Before she could say anything in their defense, Portia bustled into the dining room. Her smile was almost as bright as the golden kettle in her hands. “More tea?”

The Countess rested a hand on Portia’s elbow, her smile indulgent. “You’ve been working so hard today, Portia. Won’t you take a moment to join us?”

“I really shouldn’t, milady, there’s so much to do today-” Portia met Rosie’s eyes as she mouthed the word ‘please’ . Portia’s smile returned as she brushed off her hands on her apron. “But I guess I could, just for a few minutes.” She gave Rosie a wink as she plopped down across from her and Asra. “So,” Portia pointed a finger at Asra, her other hand tucked under her chin eager to listen. “Is your magic different from Rosie’s? What kinda stuff can you do?”

“Rosie’s magic is greener and focused around the hearth,” Asra said as he placed a hand over Rosie’s. “Mine is a bit more abstract and connected to the world of the arcane.”

“And water, you conjure bubbles for the children at the market all the time,” Rosie said fondly. Asra returned her smile before he turned back to Portia.

“Are you interested in magic? I wouldn’t mind teaching you a few tricks.”

“Oh wow, would you? Could you?”

The conversation carried on, lighthearted and frivolous words that Rosie tuned out. She was having trouble thinking straight; one moment she was thinking about the way Julian’s hands had felt on her skin last night beneath the olive tree, and the next she would be struck with fears and worries about him being caught, of where he was right then and if he was safe and warm and fed. It was so jarring that several times she almost dropped her teacup, but nobody else seemed to notice. “I have kept you all long enough for the time being,” The Countess’ eyes were warm as she rose to her feet. “Perhaps we shall reconvene during dinner, if our arrangements permit it.”

Rosie sprang to her feet, glad for the background chatter and footsteps of the couriers and servants coming and going to hide the sound of her knee hitting the table. Before she could step away, she felt Asra’s hand on her arm. It was as gentle as always, but there was a firmness behind it. “Meet me at the fountain at noon. We need to talk.” She didn’t like the way he had said that, but he swept away before she could question him. She watched him go, wandering slowly and seemingly without purpose, as if in a dream.

‘ How can he be so calm in a place like this? Doesn’t it make his skin crawl? ’ She wondered. She gave one last glance to the Countess, whose attention had turned to direct a handful of servants where to take the ever growing pile of letters for her to read. Seeing she was dismissed, Rosie all but sprinted from the dining room.

#kismet #rosie #the arcana #arcana #asra #portia #nadia #mine

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okinawa-division · 9 months

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It’s just that Japan has turned around into the midsummer —The perfect time to enjoy a beach trip for most people.

Once a certain jet-black car has reached its destination at one of the best hot-spots being reviewed in Okinawa, the boy with reddish hair has been spotted stepping out of the car …with a number of boxes in his arms.

The seashell chimes hanging above the bar’s doors let out their lovely rattling sound as he gets inside.

“Good afternoon, mister. Are you perhaps Mr. Young of Eagle’s Nest? I’m Yuuya Kanata from Nara division. I’m here today to relay the birthday presents from my team.”

“This box is my gift. They may look all yummy but they are in fact scented candles I found nice. If by any chance, I think they will make good decorations to your bar at nighttime. Their smells are quite something too. This one has a vanilla scent, this one is strawberry milkshake, this one is butter cream, and many more —Well, they all smell like desserts in my opinion.”

And then he brings out a cooler box.

“Okay, these ones are actually edible haha. They’re Monaka ice cream made from my teammate despite him telling me that making ice cream isn’t really his land of expertise. Even so, he expects something cool like ice cream would sell off rather well in summer and more particularly; maybe somewhere with a tropical climate like in Okinawa. And in case you want to be more creative with them, the empty shells (crispy wafer) are also available in the additional bag.”

“From Saigo-san are the beautifully painted ceramic plates and the last one is from Mr. Chishio —Hmm, the latter is like… the assistant of Saigo-san? Honestly, just how many jobs this guy has been carrying under that title. I don’t know why, but Mr. Chishio seems to know your place rather well even before we entered the DRB. He even asked me to tell you ‘Thank you for the trading’ and give me his own gift for you.”

Inside the box from the guy called Chishio are a collection of kitchen knives for various uses ...Just don’t get the wrong idea. Japanese are known for using different knives for each different role in the kitchen. So, the ultimate motive behind this gift is only for cooking …Definitely, not for murdering someone, maybe?

“And that’s all we’ve got for you today. Lastly, Happy Birthday Mr. Young —EH? YOU ALSO GOT A KITTY?”

Seemingly distracted for a minute, the boy soon keeps his composure back from petting the kitten a couple of times.

“…It’s a shame that I’ve to fetch some seafoods for my teammates before dinnertime, so let me say a good-bye for today. Nevertheless, hope you and your teammates all have a nice year!”

——— BONUS: about fifteen minutes ago

Chishio: We’ve already arrived at the bar so why don’t we order some liquor on our way home?

Yuuya: How do you forget that I’m still underage and alcohol seems likely to be downright sedative to me? What wicked humor you have today, Chishio-san. At least don’t convince your minor to be your drinking friend!

Chishio: *chuckles* Aren't you 19 this year, kid?

Rashaad smiled at the handful of gifts he had received from the Nara Division. Truthfully, he wasn't all that familiar with them, though he did know of them. It was one of the many perks of being a bartender; you knew just about everyone in Japan, whether they had revealed themselves or not. He made a mental note that he'd have to interact with the Nara team later on when he had some free time. Before he departed, the bar owner disappeared quickly into his bar before returning with a bottle of sake and some cups.

"For Chishio-san and Fuyugami-san," Rashaad stated, handing him the bottle and the cups. "Tell them to make sure it's thoroughly heated first."

Bidding the young teenager a farewell, Rashaad looked at the gifts he had received. Out of all of them, the candles were perhaps his favorite. Opening a random one, he quickly lit it with his lighter. In a matter of seconds, the entire bar seemed to smell like some fruity cereal, making Rashaad nod his head, enjoying the aroma.

Sitting down on one of the stools in his bar, he chose the vanilla and chocolate parfait as he began digging into it, eating it was his hands. He heard a small 'purr' from above and looked as it was his kitten, Coco, whom Rashaad had forgotten was on top of his head. Looking up at him, he placed a small thing of ice cream on one of the plates, Fuyugami-san had given him.

The feline, not needing to be told twice, dug into the sweet milky treat, using his small tongue to eat it. The scene made Rashaad grin; this birthday was truly shaping up to be, perhaps, his best upon leaving the States.

Thanks for the gift!

#hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #hypmic #hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #rashaad young #happy birthday rashaad 2023 #nara division #miraitabi #yuuya kanata #asahi tomoharu #saigo fuyugami #chishio

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valkeakuulas · 1 year

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98 for fox/wolffe if you’re interested?

*stares at the prompt*

*stares at what she wrote*

If you wanted some angst, you caught me in a definitely wrong mood, my dear Anon. Hope you don't mind.

98. “I can’t watch you with someone else. It’s tearing me apart.”

With furrowed browns, Fox stared at the scene before him. “This feels wrong,” he sighed heavily before running a hand through his hair. “I thought I could do this but I was wrong.”

Wolffe froze, the cup of kaf halfway to his lips, and gave Fox a startled look. “What - what are you talking about?” he asked, confused.

Releasing a sound of pure frustration, Fox waved his hand at Wolffe’s direction. “I am weak, that’s what I’m talking about. I told myself that I was strong enough to do it but now I find out that am not.”

The bicolored eyes of the Wolfpack Commander widened for a second, looking now more than little alarmed. “What is going on Fox?” Wolffe asked quietly, almost as if he was talking to a skittish animal instead of his lover. “You know you can talk to me.”

“I can’t watch you with someone else. It’s tearing me apart.”

“Someone - ? Fox, we are alone in your bunk. There’s no one else here.”

Fox shook his head dramatically, not meeting Wolffe’s eyes but instead staring somewhere at his sternum. “I feel like I’ve betrayed you.”

“Fox?” Wolffe asked, gentle and Fox watched him slowly lower the cup, carefully resting it on his thigh in order not to spill whatever caf as left in it. It was white and was missing a handle, and there was a wobbly, clearly hand-painted seal of the Galactic Senate on one side.

“Hey, look at - wait. You’re - ? Why are you staring at the kaf cup?”

“It’s not your fault, my sweet one, I swear, I am the one at fault,” Fox whispered solemnly to the caf cup even as he reached to run his fingers on the rim. “I promise to cherish you no matter what. I hope you will forgive me for this lapse of judgement.”

“You... You fucking asshole, are you talking to the cup?”

Fox lifted his head with a scoff, ignoring the half-bewildered, half-annoyed expression on his lover’s face. “But of course I am, who else I would be talking to?” he asked matter-of-factly.

Wolffe made a sound similar to a mousedroid when they accidentally got stepped on, high-pitched and full of indignation.

“For kriff’s sake, here, just take it,” he growled, thrusting the cup at the other man.

Deftly, Fox freed it from Wolffe’s hand and cradled it against his chest. “Come to buir, my sweet one,” he cooed at the white piece of ceramic, “I missed you so much.”

Fox was aware that he was definitely overdoing it but the way Wolffe slumped against Fox’s shoulder hard enough to jostle him, his arms crossed over the strong chest only highlighting his lover’s pout, made it worth it.

“Asshole, nearly gave me a kriffing heart-attack there,” Wolffe grumbled heatedly before pausing. “You never sweet-talked about me like that,” he informed Fox with a huff but his tone was much closer to a whine than Wolffe was aiming for. “Makes a man question their place in your heart.”

“Oh don’t you worry, cyare,” Fox assured Wolffe, wrapping an arm around the pouting man and pressed a kiss on his temple. “You are have a very special place in my heart...”

Wolffe relaxed when Fox hugged him close, mollified by this act of affection.

“... right after the cafmaker,” the Coruscant Commander added, grinning mischievously when he felt Wolffe stiffen against his side. “And those delicious crispy wafers the senator of Alderaan leaves for us. Oh, and then there’s that giant potted plant that makes the best place to nap after a shift at the Senate! And I think I should also mention the delivery droid that tripped Thorn last week. Such a dear being, made the rest of my shift so much more bearable.”

“Damnit, Fox!” Wolffe growled, twisting his way from beneath the arm, only to turn around lightning fast to hit Fox with the pillow he had snatched from the bunk.

Fox, too busy at cackling at his own wittiness, to dodge the pillow and just let himself be pummeled with it.

#Commander Wolffe #Commander Fox #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #valkeakuulas writes AKA butchers English grammar #askbox writing prompts #clone shipping #OTP #this is crack #just pure crack

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rustedhearts · 5 months

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🍪 + 📼 for the ask game <3

🍪 favorite kind of christmas cookie

my mom got us a tin of european christmas cookies (no idea where from) and there’s one that’s like a really crispy wafer cracker and then a fudge stamp on top with a jester on the chocolate and i really like that one 💀

📼 favorite christmas movie

the holiday! i also really love home alone

christmas ask game!

#rolly!#asks

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laughingcatwrites · 5 months

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Favorite chocolate/candy

Question for all: what is your current favorite chocolate/candy? Could be something unique to your country or a local specialty or just the first thing you think of when you want a treat.

My current favorite is śliwka nałęczowska, or chocolate covered candied plums from Poland.

I stumbled across them when trying to find Hungarian candies exported to my country (thank you to my dear friend and enabler, you know who you are) and I just want to state right here that Poland and Hungary Do Chocolate Right.

If you can get Polish chocolates imported, I recommend the chocolate covered plums x1000. They are the perfect amount of sweet, the candied plums taste like if you took dried cherries and removed the tartness, and the chocolate is milky and smooth and delicious.

If you are lucky enough to get Hungarian chocolates, oh my gosh, get yourself a Balaton bar. Or two. Or twenty. They are the BEST chocolate covered wafer bar I've had in my life. Crispy and delicate and delicious and they don't tear up the roof of your mouth. And if you dream of pure chocolate perfection, go for a Boci bar. I wish I could recommend the chocolate bar brand that had the plum bits in it (the one that made me wonder why my country doesn't do plums in chocolate), but I sadly forgot to take a picture.

So please share your current faves. I want to know what everybody's nibbling on (or horfing down à la I Love Lucy) this holiday season.

#chocolate #can you tell I just had a plum?#they are like being snuggled all cozy by a fire with a warm blanket over your shoulders #I have no idea how all of that is encapsulated in one bite of chocolate #but it absolutely is #śliwka nałęczowska

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minecraft-munchies · 1 year

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Birch Log and Birch Planks

Taste: These look like they'd taste like vanilla, the planks would be a lighter taste, while the log tastes stronger.

Texture: You know the vanilla cream wafer cookies? They would feel just like those, light and crispy, but full of flavor

#mineblr #minecraft munchies #sweet

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dreamgirledward · 7 months

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bestie what is coffee crisp (yes i could google it but it's more fun to ask you)

omg well coffee crisp is a canadian chocolate bar it's delicious and crispy and the layers of wafers are so thick but the chocolate that covers it isnt too much so there's also amazing crunch to them and the main flavour is literally just coffee but it's the kind of coffee flavour that's formulated for a kid's palate so it's sweet and delicious and almost creamy? but there's no cream element to the bar itself.

anyone from canada could probably point out a coffee crisp bar by smell alone, it's so distinctive and flavourful. kit kat and coffee crisp are probably tied as my fav chocolate bars and i WISH more people knew what coffee crisp tasted like🤌

the red 'favourites' box is (yes im biased but im also right) the best one to buy for halloween imo and they also included smarties which are another canadian chocolate candy! and those are essentially just sweeter m&m's with a harder candy coating (and honestly i prefer them to m&m's)

also just bc i have to add i JUST remembered these existed:

and they probably still do idk they're one of those chocolate bar chocolate milk drinks (they made a few of these, i think rolo was another one) that i only had a couple times when i was a kid if my mom let me and i remember thinking they tasted SO GOOD but they would probably taste crazy today

anyway i love coffee crisp a normal amount

#ty for allowing me to manically ramble on about coffee crisp arden :)

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cra3ymonk3y · 2 years

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Bokka le - 2

Open with a fancy, colourful curtain. It says, ‘Gone Mad’s Guide To Exams.’ The VO says the same too.

Cut to: Interiors of a cheap office. A man who looks like the leader of a gang of Gundas is sitting there.

Gunda Leader: You want to get past your exams? Good. That’s what I’m about to tell you.

It’s simple. If you can’t take it, fake it. You’ll see how.

*Gunda Leader Claps.*

His associates, all hefty and dark, looking like villains out of a movie, enter the frame carrying small desks, (the size you’d find in kindergarten classes.)

One Gunda puts down a sack in the corner of the room. A frightened (read kidnapped) teacher crawls out of it.

The Gundas take their position; sit on their desks and are ready to enact the ‘exam hall scene.’

Cut to one Gunda saying ‘psst. show’ to another Gunda.

The teacher catches him cheating. Comes close to him and pulls his ear. The Gunda stands up starts shouting and then falls down on the ground and starts holding his leg.

Suddenly, the referee rushes in, blows his whistle and shows the red card to the teacher. He then looks outside the class and signals, ‘substitution.’

A typical Indian nerd kid: hair overly oiled, big glasses, buttoned shirt and a tika on his forehead, comes riding a toy truck and a book is hanging in front of his head. (Like the donkey and the carrot story.)

He enters the room, sits on the bench of the ’injured Gunda kid’ and begins to write his exam.

The ‘injured’ Gunda kid gets up, sits on the toy truck, hands the teacher a Gone Mad and drives out of the class happily. (Groovy music playing in the background)

Cut to the surprised reaction of the teacher and zoom in to the Gone Mad stick in his hand.

Cut to Gone Mad Choco Bar Graphics, the chocolate filling the wafer and all that, with a VO: Presenting Gone Mad - a mad-mix of sugar, chocolate and everything mad; wrapped in crispy wafer so you can take a bite and survive this mad mad world.

Cut to the same banner as seen in the first scene.

Gunda Leader again on screen. Takes a bite of the Gone Mad stick.

Just then the ‘injured’ Gunda kid enters the scene on his toy truck, the Gunda Leader rides pilion

The Gunda Leader says: Stay mad, kids.

And they drive out of the frame.

End.

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rabbitcruiser · 2 years

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National Waffle Day

August 24 is National Waffle Day. Pass the syrup! We’ll welcome any occasion to indulge in this iconic international treat. With so many varieties — Belgium, Hong Kong, stroopwafels, galettes – to enjoy in countless ways from adding classic toppings like butter and syrup, fruit, and chocolate, to waffle sandwiches and hotdog buns, we can’t wait to eat them at every meal.

History of National Waffle Day

The contemporary waffles we enjoy today hail from France and Belgium. Earlier versions of the waffle, made of grain flour and water, date back to Ancient Greece. At that time they made obelios, or flat cakes, cooked between hot metal plates. In the Middle ages wafers were made using round plates with images of Jesus, The Crucifiction, and other religious scenes and symbols. Through the centuries both the ingredients and cooking methods of waffle making evolved until finally landing on one of the dozens of common varieties we love today.

The Belgian Waffle made its way over to America during the 1962 World’s Fair in Seattle, but it wasn’t popular until the 1964 to 1965 World’s Fair was hosted in Queens, New York. The waffle was originally known as the Brussels waffle. It’s defining factors are it’s crispy exterior and light, airy, and fluffy interior. It was served both plain and with whipped cream and sliced strawberries. No one was really attracted to the “Brussels Waffle,” but the family selling them in Queens realized it was due to the name. As soon as they advertised it as a Belgian waffle, they saw a spike in consumer interest and popularity.

Waffle day began in Sweden through a mishap that mixed up similar words meaning waffles and “Our Lady’s Day”. It is celebrated in several European countries by eating waffles on March 25, and marks the beginning of spring.

National Waffle Day timeline

1725 First words

The word “waffle” first appears in the English language.

1869 Coming to America

Cornelius Swarthout receives the first waffle iron patent in Troy, New York.

1911 It’s electric

General Electric creates the prototype for the first electric waffle maker

1953 The ice age

Eggo waffles, the first frozen waffles, make their way to supermarket freezers.

National Waffle Day FAQs

Are waffle and pancake batter the same?

In short, yes. Both types of batter include the same base ingredients with waffle batter containing more sugar for caramelization and more fat for crispier edges.

Who invented waffles?

While waffles have been around for centuries and the Dutch are credited with bringing them to the States, Cornelius Swartwout is given a great deal of credit for being the first to ever hold a patent for a waffle iron.

What kinds of waffles are there?

Belgian, American, Brussels, Liège, Flemish, Bergische, Hong Kong, Pandan, Scandinavian, Gofri, Galettes, and Stroopwafels are some of the most popular varieties of waffles.

National Waffle Day Activities

Go savory

Get a waffle iron

Eat waffles with other foods

Waffles aren’t just for breakfast and dessert. Try a garlic and herb batter and use it in place of bread with an entree or as a sandwich.

Time to snag that waffle iron you’ve been thinking about. With endless shapes and designs — including cartoon characters, mini size, and vintage cast iron — you may find, just like waffles, you want more than one.

Chicken and waffles are a very popular pair. But what about waffle ham and cheese, waffle pizza, waffle nachos, or waffle s’mores?! Get adventurous. You never know what waffle match made in heaven is out there waiting for you.

5 FACTS ABOUT WAFFLES THAT WILL BLOW YOUR MIND

Choices, choices

Super Size Me

New country, new twists

Ingredients for maximum fluff

Waffle parties

There are at least 13 prominent types of waffles.

The world’s largest waffle flips out the griddle at a whopping eight feet and 110 pounds.

Belgium style waffles are by far the most popular around the world, but every country from the United States to Hong Kong has its own unique cultural twists.

Peaked egg whites folded into the batter, club soda, and cornstarch can make your waffles extra fluffy.

Early Americans, including Thomas Jefferson, threw waffle frolics, parties with the sole purpose of feasting on waffles.

Why We Love National Waffle Day

New shapes

Savory and sweet

An international delight

Waffles can be made into all kinds of shapes from states to floral damask patterns. We love enjoying one of our favorite foods with a new look.

We love the versatility of waffles because we can have them at every meal. With cheese, ice cream, fried chicken, savory sauces, chocolate, dipped, fried, on a stick... the choices are endless.

A thin and crispy caramel filled stroopwafel in Germany or a hot waffle topped with three kinds of gelato in Italy? A local dive diner serving up a classic waffle breakfast or a new up and coming cafe with waffle topped bloody marys? We love traveling, near and far, sampling as many waffle delicacies as we can.

Source

#Pecan Crusted Chicken and Waffles #Belgian Waffle #ice cream #berries #fries #USA #Canada #street food #restaurant #Breakfast Waffle Burger #Nihonmachi Special #sunny side up #maple syrup #original photography #vacation #travel #National Waffle Day #24 August

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